“This is a terrible blow, Lady Augusta,” he observed, as he sat down.
“What’s a blow?” returned Lady Augusta. “Will you take some coffee, William?”
“Have you not heard of it?” he replied, declining the coffee with a gesture. “I thought it probable that you would have received news from Roland.”
“A letter arrived from Roland last night,” she said, touching the letter in question. “What is the matter? Is there bad news in it? What! have you heard anything?”
Mr. Yorke had not the slightest doubt that the letter before him must contain the same confession which had been conveyed to Arthur and to Mr. Galloway. He thought it better that she should hear it from him, than read it unprepared. He bent towards her, and spoke in a low tone of compassion.
“I fear that the letter does contain bad news; very bad news, indeed. Ro—”
“Good heavens! what has happened to him?” she interrupted, falling into excitement, just as Roland himself might have done. “Is he ill? Has he got hurt? Is he killed?”
“Now, pray calm yourself, Lady Augusta. Roland is well in health, and has sailed for Port Natal, under what he considers favourable auspices. He—”
“Then why in the world do you come terrifying me out of my wits with your tales, William Yorke?” she broke forth. “I declare you are no better than a child!”
“Nay, Lady Augusta, you terrified yourself, jumping to conclusions. Though Roland is safe and sound, there is still some very disagreeable news to be told concerning him. He has been making a confession of bad behaviour.”