So, on the whole well pleased, the ladies betook themselves to their beds, and Mrs. Kincton Knox lay long awake, constructing her clumsy castles in the air.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
VANE TREVOR AT THE GATE OF GILROYD
Next morning, at breakfast, as usual, the post-bag brought its store of letters and news, and Mrs. Kincton Knox dispensed its contents in her usual magisterial manner. There were two addressed in Vane Trevor’s handwriting; one to the tutor, which the matron recognised as she sent it round to him in Howard’s hand, the other to herself.
“Pray, no ceremony with us,” said the lady of the house, with a gorgeous complacency; “read your letter here, Mr. Herbert: we are all opening ours, you see.”
So William Maubray, with an odd little flutter at his heart, opened the letter, which he knew would speak of those of whom it agitated him to think.
It was dated from Revington, whither, with a sort of home sickness new to him, Trevor had returned almost directly after his visit to Kincton.
Vane Trevor had, without intending it, left, perhaps, on Maubray’s mind an impression, that a little more had occurred than the progress of the drama could actually show. He had not yet committed himself irrevocably; but he had quite made up his mind to take the decisive step, and only awaited the opportunity.