“Come, mother, you will be wet through.”
Lady Selina yielded at length to importunity. She passed, erect, through her people, and took the path to the village, pausing to speak to the landlord of the Chandos Arms, to whom the board and lodging of her servants had been entrusted.
“I will see to it myself that all is in order.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Then, resolutely, she turned her back upon all that was left of the home to which she had come as a bride. In silence, leaning upon her daughter’s arm, she walked wearily, spent by her physical exertions. Goodrich followed, and others. Burdens greater than those of fatigue weighed heavily upon her. By the time she had reached the tree upon the green, the first tropical downpour was over.
“I must rest a moment,” she said faintly.
“Are you in pain, mother?”
“Of course I am, but that is of no consequence.”
“When will Mr. Grimshaw be here?”
Lady Selina sat down, gasping a little. Nicodemus tried to stand up.