“It was for her own good. Poor little soul! I’m sorry for her. What on earth made him choose tombstones as a topic of conversation.”
“I know. He has been staying in Canterbury. Lettice told me that he had written to her about the Cathedral,” said Norah dolefully. “I wonder if I ought to go and join them! She asked me, and pinched my arm to make me say yes, but I thought Arthur looked as if he didn’t want me. Can’t we make an excuse and call her in? She looks so tired.”
“Well, they are the funniest pair of lovers I have ever seen!” said Raymond, nodding his head with a knowing look, as if he had had an extensive knowledge of engaged couples, whereas he had never been in the house with one before. And just at that moment in marched Lettice, her fair face disfigured by a weary, irritable expression.
“I think you are all very unkind! I asked you to come into the garden. It’s very mean to leave me all alone, when I have only a f–f–fortnight more at home!” The last word in a burst of tears, and she ran hurriedly upstairs to her own room.
What was to be the end of it all? Her sisters stared at each other with wide, frightened eyes, too miserable and uneasy to speak.
Chapter Twenty Four.
Before the Wedding.
A week before the wedding Miss Carr came down from London, and with her came also Mr Herbert Rayner, who had paid frequent visits to Westmoreland during the last few years, and was now regarded as a family friend who could not be spared on such an historical occasion. His lameness was not any better for the lapse of time, but Hilary’s exhortations had taken effect, for he was much less sensitive about his inability to do as the other men did, while as for the rest, he had every reason to be cheerful nowadays, for his writings were so highly praised that Mr Bertrand affected jealousy, and declared that his own sun was eclipsed. There was a very warm friendship between the two men; both declared that they gained inspiration from the other, and Raymond dubbed them “The Mutual Admiration Society,” because Mr Bertrand was wont to declare that Rayner was an infinitely finer writer than himself, while Mr Rayner in his turn despaired of accomplishing anything fit to compare with the work of his friend.