CHAPTER XLIV.
BACK TO CAMBRIDGE
The letter upon the table was thus:—
“⸻ October, ⸻ 1860.
“Mrs. Kincton Knox understanding from Mr. Herbert that he wishes to visit Cambridge upon business, begs to say that she will oppose no difficulty to his departing on to-morrow morning with that view; she begs also to mention that Mr. Kincton Knox will write by an early post to the Rev. Dr. Sprague upon the subject of Mr. Herbert’s engagement. A carriage will be at the door at eight o’clock, A.M., to convey Mr. Herbert to the railway station.”
“What have I done? I’ve certainly offended her—she who wrote all those friendly little notes; I can’t think of anything, unless that boy Howard has been telling lies. She’ll give me an opportunity of explaining, I suppose, and it will all be right; it can’t be much.”
Glad he was to get away even for two or three days to his old haunts, and to something like his old life. He made his preparations early for his next morning’s journey, and sate in the evening with his ingenious pupil, wondering whether a change of mood might not bring him a relenting note on the usual pink paper inviting him to visit them in the drawing-room, and debating whether it might not be a wholesome lesson to the capricious old lady to excuse himself, and so impose on her the onus of explanation.
“I say, old chap, listen. What do you think?” said Master Howard, who had been whistling, and on a sudden, being prompted to speak, poked the point of his pen uncomfortably into the back of William’s hand.