“Come, mother, Major Throckmorton and I will take care of them.”
Mrs. Temple yielded.
“I will take care of Beverley while you are gone,” she said, and Judith blushed. Was she forgetting the child?
In five minutes both of them were ready. Judith had pressed her soft cheeks to Beverley’s as she leaned over the sleeping child. Surely nobody could say she was a forgetful mother.
The sleigh was Jack’s. He had sent away and bought it, and it had arrived that evening. Jacqueline sat on the front seat with him, her face glowing with smiles on the clear, cold night, as he wrapped the fur robes around her. Throckmorton did the same for Judith. For once she had left off her widow’s veil, and for once she forgot that secret pain and determined to be happy. Jack touched up the horses, and off they flew. As for Jacqueline and himself, their pleasure was of that youthful, effervescing sort that never comes after twenty-five; but Throckmorton and Judith began to feel some of the exhilaration and excitement. Throckmorton had lately heard Mrs. Sherrard’s views about Judith’s marriage, and it had made him feel a very great pity for her.
“Where are we going?” cried Jacqueline, as they dashed along.
“Anywhere—nowhere—to Turkey Thicket!” replied Jack, lightly touching the flying horses with his whip.
“We will frighten Mrs. Sherrard to death!” said Judith, from the back seat, burying her face in her muff.
It was not a time to think about anybody else, though. The five miles to Turkey Thicket sped away like lightning. When they dashed through the gate and drew up before the house, half a dozen darkies were there gaping; and Mrs. Sherrard, with a shawl thrown over her head, was standing in the doorway, and standing behind her was Freke.