When he got home to Revington, not being able to tranquillise his mind, he vented his excitement upon the two letters which I have mentioned as having reached the family of Kincton, at the breakfast-table.
“Read that, Clara, my dear,” said Mrs. Kincton Knox, with a funereal nod and in a cautious under-tone.
Miss Clara read the letter, and when she came to the passage which related that poor old Sir Richard Maubray had had a second and much severer paralytic stroke, and was now in articulo, she raised her eyes for a moment to her mother’s and both for a moment looked with a solemn shrewdness into the other’s; Miss Clara dropped hers again to the letter, and then stole a momentary glance at William, who looked as if he were very ill.
As a man who receives a letter announcing that judgment is marked, and bailiffs on his track, will hide away the awful crumpled note in his pocket, and try to beguile his friends by a pallid smile, and a vague and incoherent attempt to join in the conversation, so William strove to seem quite unconcerned, and the more he tried the more conscious was he of his failure.
CHAPTER XL.
MRS. KINCTON KNOX PROPOSES A WALK WITH WILLIAM
In fact William Maubray had received a conceited and exulting letter from Trevor, written in the expansion of his triumph once more as the Lord of Revington, the representative of the historic Trevors, the man of traditions and prestige, before whom the world bowed down and displayed its treasures, and who being restored to reason and self-estimation by his conversation with Miss Perfect, knew well what a prize he was—what a sacrifice he was making, and yet bore and gave away all with a splendid magnanimity.