Mary turned from the window to depart. Other things were perplexing her as well as this unfortunate business. It struck her more and more how ill her uncle looked; ill, and full of care. Lines had begun to indent themselves on his once smooth brow.
"Are you well, Uncle James?" she stayed to say.
"Why do you ask?"
"You do not look well. There is something in your face now that--that----"
"That what, child?"
"That reminds me of papa. As he looked the last month or two of his life."
"Ay. I have had some worry lately, from more sources than one. And that tries a man's looks, Mary, worse than all."
He attended her downstairs. She said farewell to the red parlour, and commenced her walk back to the Nunnery.
Somewhat later, before the dusk of the November evening came on, Madame Guise attired herself to take home Marie. The little girl was showing symptoms of a delicate chest, and the Sisters had begged her mother to let her be in betimes. To please the child they went on through the back buildings, which were at some distance from the house, that she might see the ducks, and cocks and hens.
Quitting the fold-yard to cross the meadow, which would bring them round to the avenue, they came upon Mr. North. He sat on the stump of a tree, sketching a bit of the old barn.