“Just gone! When do you mean?” cried Jean, forgetting the relief she felt in hearing of his absence in surprise at his late departure.
“He went half an hour ago, in the last train, miss.”
“I thought he was going early this morning; he told me he should be back this evening.”
“I believe he did mean to go, but was delayed by company. The steward came up on business, and a load of gentlemen called, so Sir John could not get off till night, when he wasn’t fit to go, being worn out, and far from well.”
“Do you think he will be ill? Did he look so?” And as Jean spoke, a thrill of fear passed over her, lest death should rob her of her prize.
“Well, you know, miss, hurry of any kind is bad for elderly gentlemen inclined to apoplexy. Sir John was in a worry all day, and not like himself. I wanted him to take his man, but he wouldn’t; and drove off looking flushed and excited like. I’m anxious about him, for I know something is amiss to hurry him off in this way.”
“When will he be back, Ralph?”
“Tomorrow noon, if possible; at night, certainly, he bid me tell anyone that called.”
“Did he leave no note or message for Miss Coventry, or someone of the family?”
“No, miss, nothing.”