"Yes; I left them in London. Frank is expected."
"I think Frank might come down to see me!" said Mrs. St. John, haughtily.
"My dear, I am sure he will. But he cannot always get leave when he would."
There was a pause. Charlotte, cool, haughty, reserved, as she had ever been, even to her mother, turned to the window again, looking out for her little son. Mrs. Darling was burning to ask various particulars of things she wanted to know, but did not just now see her opportunity. She rose from her chair.
"I think I will go, Charlotte, and take off my travelling things. I am as dusty as I can be."
"Do so, mamma. Your old room. Prance will not be long."
Prance was entering the house even then: she had brought Georgy in the back way. There was a boisterous meeting; Mrs. St. John coming out to join in it. Georgy chattered, and shook his fair curls from his pink cheeks, and was altogether lovely. Mrs. Darling did not wonder at the faint cry of pain--that intense love, whose expression amounts to pain--with which his mother caught him to her heart.
"Where is Benja?" asked Mrs. Darling of Prance.
Oh, Master St. John would be coming in sometime, Prance supposed. Honour had begun with her insolence, as usual, so they parted company. And Mrs. Darling, as if she would ignore the words, made her way hastily towards the staircase, Prance following in attendance.
Mrs. Darling scarcely gave the woman time to close the chamber-door before she began to question her eagerly. Remember that Prance was, so far as Mrs. Darling was concerned, a confidential servant, and she imparted all she knew. Mrs. St. John was to remain at the Hall as Master St. John's guardian, with four thousand a-year.