At this moment Tom was heard to enter the house. That it could be no one but Tom was certain, by the noise and commotion that arose; the others were quieter, except Annabel, and she was a girl. Tom came in, tongue, hands, and feet all going together.
“What luck, is it not, Mr. Yorke? I am so glad it has been given to you!”
Mr. Channing looked up in surprise. “Tom, you will never learn manners! What has been given?”
“Has he not told you?” exclaimed Tom, ignoring the reproof to his manners. “He is appointed to Hazeldon Chapel. Where’s Constance? I’ll be bound he has told her!”
Saucy Tom! They received his news in silence, looking to Mr. Yorke for explanation. He rose from his chair, and his cheek slightly flushed as he confirmed the tidings.
“Does Constance know it?” inquired Mrs. Channing, speaking in the moment’s impulse.
“Yes,” was Mr. Yorke’s short answer. And then he said something, not very coherently, about having an engagement, and took his leave, wishing Mr. Channing every benefit from his journey.
“But, we do not go until the day after to-morrow,” objected Mr. Channing. “We shall see you before that.”
Another unsatisfactory sentence from Mr. Yorke, that he “was not sure.” In shaking hands with Mrs. Channing he bent down with a whisper: “I think Constance has something to say to you.”
Mrs. Channing found her in her room, in a sad state of distress. “Child! what is this?” she uttered.