"He was very foolish to go to India at all," said Mr. Linchmore. "I dare say he would have had plenty of opportunities of winning laurels elsewhere; but he always was so impetuous,—here to-day and gone to-morrow."
Then the conversation turned upon other subjects, and still Robert came not. Just as they rose from the table Frances came in.
"Have you seen Mr. Vavasour?" asked Amy.
"No. Has he not been in to luncheon? I thought I was late."
Amy passed on up to her room again, and for a short time sat quietly by the fire, as she had done before; then, as the hours crept on, she rose and went to the window.
The sun sank slowly, twilight came on, and the shadows of evening grew darker still; Amy could scarcely see the long avenue now, or the tall dark trees overshadowing it; and still she was alone. Then the door opened; but it was not her husband—it was Hannah, who stood looking at her with grave face.
"If you please, Ma'am, I don't think Master Bertie is well. There is nothing to be frightened about; but he has been hot and feverish ever since he came home from his walk."