Quietly enough they walked, side by side, through the park. Who, watching them, could have suspected the agitation just lived through, the momentous change that had taken place in their lives? Sir Francis went on his way to the railway-station, for he had to go back to London. Adela returned to the Rectory.
And that night, in the solitude of her chamber, its window open to the stars of the summer sky, she spent hours on her knees in prayer and thanksgiving.
On the following morning Mr. Cleveland took Adela to Chenevix House. Sir Francis had been there to prepare the way for her. It was great news for the earl and countess; but it had not much diminished my lady's tartness. She had been too angry with Adela to come round at once.
"Do you know where you are going this evening, Adela?" Grace asked her in a whisper, a happy light in her eyes.
"No. Where?"
"Francis Netherleigh has some mission that is taking him to Paris—my belief is, he has improvised it. He starts tonight, and he will take you with him—if you are very good."
"How kind he is!" murmured Adela.
"Have a care how you behave in future, Adela," said her father, in solemn admonition that evening, as Sir Francis stood ready to take her out to his carriage, which waited to convey them to the station.
"I will, papa: Heaven helping me. Good-bye, dear mamma."
"Oh, good-bye, and a pleasant journey to you! It's more than you deserve," retorted my lady.