Mr. Hall sat down, and placed her by his side. "And now, Anne," he said, "tell me what success you have had with Mrs. Vavasour? but do not make a long story of it, as I really must be away in another ten minutes."
"I had a hard matter to persuade her, Tom, but I managed it at last, and she is with Frances now. I feel so happy, because I am sure all will be right; poor Amy! how she did cry."
"She cried at last, then?"
"Heartily; and I know it will do her a world of good; she looked far happier when I left her than she has done for days."
"And now, Anne, I really must go and see after the pony, and settle the carpet bag, but I will come back once more, and say good-bye."
Ten minutes, twenty, slipped by, and Anne began to fear her husband had forgotten his promise; she wondered at his delay, and looked round to see if he had forgotten anything. His sermon, blotting book, small ink-bottle, all had gone. She turned to the chest of drawers and was ransacking them hurriedly, when she heard him come back.
"Why, Tom," she said, without turning round, "Here are all your handkerchiefs, every one of them! Don't talk of my carelessness after this," and she laughingly held them up as a trophy.
But her husband's face was white, so very white, that Anne's heart turned sick, and almost stopped beating.
With a faint cry she crept up to him, and with a timid, frightened look, gazed into his face.
"What is it?" she whispered, "are you ill? Oh! tell me! Tell me!"