“He was not hurt at my note, I hope,—was he, Jane? Speak truly.”
“Not hurt; but disappointed, certainly. However, he is noble and sensible, and saw that it was right.”
“You think so.”
“I am sure of it, by his manner.”
“Do you think he will go away directly?”
“Yes; perhaps he is already gone. I could see in the firm and resolute step with which he walked away from me that his decision was taken.”
“Then it was not at the hostelry that you saw him? Where did you meet him?”
Jane now detailed, in part, the circumstances of their interview, as already related; suppressing all mention of the passionate words and gestures of Francis, and any notice of her having been seen in his company by Juxon. It had been the first intention of Jane to proceed to the house of Ruth’s mother, on whose protection she could depend, and to wait there till Francis, who she doubted not was the lodger spoken of, should return thither; for, before Jane left Milverton House, Francis had already disappeared from the Beechery. It would be easy to invent some plausible excuse to Ruth’s mother for her visit to Warwick; and, having contrived her interview with Francis as if by accident, to return to Milverton, if belated till dusk, under the old woman’s escort. But this plan was rendered unnecessary by the circumstance of Francis overtaking Jane upon her way to the city.
“My dear affectionate girl,” said Katharine to her sweet friend, “how much, how very much, I thank you:—kiss me, dear, and leave me to compose myself, if I can, to sleep.”
But sleep was impossible in her frame of mind at that moment:—it was solitude she needed, that she might meditate and weep alone. However, there was a high sound principle ever at work in her bosom; so that a little solitary and prayerful reflection never failed to restore the calmness of her mind, and the strength of her resolutions.