“Get the house in order, and go to bed for a week,” said Hilary brightly, flushing with pleasure at Miss Carr’s words of praise, and at the murmur of assent which they had evoked from her companions; but it appeared that other people were more energetically inclined than herself, for both Miss Briggs and Raymond seized the opportunity to air secret plans of their own.
“I wanted to speak to you about that, Mr Bertrand! My sister in Scarborough is most anxious that I should pay her a visit, and take Geraldine with me, and I think the sea air would do us both good.”
“And I should like to have some shooting with Ferrars in Scotland. He has asked me so often, and I could just fit it in this year.”
Mr Bertrand looked at his two daughters—at Hilary, bright and natty, but with shadows under her eyes which spoke of the fatigue she would not acknowledge; then, with an anxious tenderness at Norah, whose unusual quietness for the last few days he understood better than she suspected.
“Really,” he said, “if all the world is going off pleasuring, I don’t see any reason why we should be left behind! What do you say, girls—shall we go off for a tour on our own account? I think we deserve a holiday after our hard work and a run on the Continent would do us all good. Helen, what do you say? Will you come and take care of the girls? Rayner, I can’t tackle three ladies unassisted. You had better join us, and take care of me!”
“I should certainly not leave the girls to your tender mercies, you scatter-brained man,” said Miss Carr, smiling, as though well pleased at the suggestion. “You might forget all about them, as as you did on another memorable occasion, and the consequences would be disastrous. Yes!—if you take plenty of time, and don’t rush about from place to place, I should be glad of a change myself. This wedding—”
“It is too good of you to include me. Wouldn’t I like it!” cried Mr Rayner, with a smile which made him look quite young and boyish. “September is lovely in Switzerland. The rush of tourists is over, and the autumn tints are wonderful. But we ought to get off as soon as possible. You will have to give up your week in bed, Miss Hilary!”
“I may as well give up bed altogether, I think, for I shall not sleep a wink for thinking of it. Oh, father dear, you are good! I drink to you!” And Hilary held up her teacup, bowing and smiling, and looking so bright and pretty that it was a pleasure to see her.
Well, it was a happy hour, and the memory of it remained all the more vividly because of the contrast which it afforded to the dark days which followed. At twelve o’clock the same evening, Mr Bertrand took up his candle and went the usual tour of inspection through the house. He peered into the drawing-room, fragrant with plants and cut blossoms, into the dining-room, where the village carpenters were already putting up the horse-shoe table; into the pantry, where the more valuable presents were locked away in the great iron safe. All was quiet and secure. He returned to his study, and was just settling down for a quiet read, when the sound of footsteps smote on his ear. He opened the door, and started back at the sight of a white figure which came floating towards him, with flowing locks and outstretched hands.