“Or agonising for her in your heart!”
“And yonder,” said Sir John, glancing from the window—“yonder is the chaise at last, I think.”
The vehicle in question having drawn up before the inn, Sir John put on hat and cloak and they descended the stair, all three, and with never a word between them.
“The valises, Robert?”
“Here, your honour!”
“The trunk, Robert?”
“Aye, sir!” And, beckoning to the post-boy, Robert hurried back upstairs, leaving Sir John to glance at the chaise, the horses, the blue sky and the deserted street, while Sir Hector stared gloomily at his own shabby hat, turning it over and over as if it had been some rare and very curious object.
“’Tis to Parus ye’ll be gangin’, John?”
“Very like, Hector.”