A TELEGRAM
Georgina Beauclerc's revelation was a complete overthrow to Mr. St. John's more tolerant feelings of the morning. He fully believed it. He believed that the face leaning over the girl's bed must have been Mrs. Carleton's, that she had glided away when Georgina awoke; and that Prance, who must have suddenly discovered her absence from the room, had then come in search of her. Why did Prance sleep in her chamber? That seemed rather an odd thing to Mr. St. John. And--assuming that it was Mrs. Carleton--what motive could have taken her to Georgina's room?--have caused her to hang over her when asleep? Had she done it in restlessness?--become weary, and so have risen and prowled about the corridor and the rooms to while away the hours? Mr. St. John strove to think so: perhaps, rather, to deceive his own heart into thinking so. As to her having any intention of injuring Georgina, his mind shrank from entertaining the idea. He could not bear even to glance at it: apart from the horror of the thing, it partook too much of the sensational and romantic.
And how, indeed, could he think it? Look at her now. Sitting there so calm, so gentle, by Georgina's side, handing the cup of tea to Isaac she had just poured out, speaking with a sunny smile.
"I won't transgress this time, Sir Isaac, and give you too much sugar. Indeed, I forgot before. I must have thought I was sweetening for Mr. St. John."
"Ay, no doubt," replied Sir Isaac. "He can take any amount of sugar. Do you remember when you were a little fellow, Fred, I would half melt the lumps in my tea, and you would eat them for me?"
Frederick laughed. "I remember you indulged me in many things a great deal more than I deserved."
"I have had a letter from Alnwick this morning," observed Sir Isaac, turning to Mrs. Carleton. "Drake remonstrates against the Hall being left empty any longer. He says if I would only go to it for a week, it would be an earnest that it will sometime be occupied again. What should you all say to a week's visit there--provided Mrs. St. John shall think herself well enough to undertake the journey?"
No one replied. Mrs. Carleton gave one startled glance upwards, and then busied herself with her tea-making.
"The alterations in the conservatory are finished," continued Isaac: "a very nice thing they have made of it, Drake says. You remember that awkward-looking corner by the stove, Mrs. Carleton? That also has been remedied."
Mrs. Carleton looked up now, her face quietly impassive. "Sir Isaac, I would rather not hear anything about Alnwick. I try to put my past happiness from me as much as possible, and do not care to be reminded of it."