“And do you really think, Reginald, that I would be less safe than you? or, from what you know of me, should you suppose that I have much of that woman's weakness about me which might make me an easy prey to one who wished to do me harm?”
“I know well what you are, mother dear,” said Reginald, taking her hand tenderly in both of his. “You have the tenderness of a woman and the courage of a man; but still I feel uneasy. At any rate, promise me one thing. You will let me know what you are doing.”
“I do not promise to write regularly,” said Lady Dudleigh, “but I do promise to write the moment that any thing happens worth writing about.”
“And if you are ill, or in danger?” said Reginald, anxiously.
“Oh, then, of course I shall write at once. But now I must go. I shall not see you again for some time. Good-by.”
Lady Dudleigh kissed her son tenderly as she said this, and left him, and Reginald returned to his place by Fredrick Dalton's bedside.
That same day, shortly after this interview, Sir Lionel and Lady Dudleigh drove away from the inn, en route for Dudleigh Manor.