“I'll go, of course,” said Alice.
“Well, yes—I think you must go. What is the place? Twyford, the ‘Royal Oak?’ Look out Twyford, please Mr. Darnley—there's a book there. It must be a post-town. It was thoughtful saying it is on the Dover coach road.”
Vivian Darnley was gazing in deep concern at Alice. Instantly he began turning over the book, and announced in a few moments more—“It is a post-town—only thirty-six miles from London,” said Mr. Darnley.
“Thanks,” said Lady May. “Oh, here's the wine—I'm so glad! You must have a little, dear; and you'll take Louisa Diaper with you, of course; and you shall have one of my carriages, and I'll send a servant with you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?”
“Immediately, instantly—thanks, darling. I'm so much obliged!”
“Will your brother go with you?”
“No, dear. Papa, you know, has not forgiven him, and it is, I think, two years since they met. It would only agitate him.”
And with these words she hurried to her room, and in another moment, with the aid of her maid, was completing her hasty preparations.
In wonderfully little time the carriage was at the door. Mr. Longcluse had taken his leave. So had Richard Arden, with the one direction to the servant, “If anything should go very wrong, be sure to telegraph for me. Here is my address.”
“Put this in your purse, dear,” said Lady May. “Your father is so thoughtless, he may not have brought money enough with him; and you will find it is as I say—he'll be a great deal better by the time you get there; and God bless you, my dear.”