“She is well, I hope?”
“Yes; a little strange and restless to-day, perhaps.”
“What is it now?”
“Oh, some little fall of the spiritual barometer, I suppose. She has not mentioned anything specific to me.”
“You received my telegram of this morning?”
“Saying that you would come at half-past one? Yes.”
“Well, I am lucky to have found you alone, for in what I have now to suggest to you, I do not wish my influence to appear—let it seem to be done entirely on your own impulse—but I have to beseech you, Mrs. Mordaunt, to return to Rigsworth this very day.”
“To-day? Rigsworth? But there are still a host of things to be seen to before the wedding—”
“I know, I know. Even at the cost of putting off the wedding for a week, if you will do all that is to be done from Rigsworth instead of in London, you will profoundly oblige me. I had hoped that you would this do for me without requiring my reason, but I see that I must give it, and without any beating about the bush. Only give me first your assurance that you will breathe not one word to Violet of what I am forced to tell you.”
“Good gracious! What has happened?”