He looked with kindly earnestness into her eyes for a moment as if wishing to give impression to the concluding words, and then left her to digest them: which Miss Thornycroft was by no means inclined to do pleasantly. She was picking up the notion that she would be required to give way to her brothers on all occasions; here was even Cyril issuing his orders now! Not ask Robert Hunter to stay over Saturday!--when her whole heart had been set upon his doing it!
Playing with her neck-chain, tossing it hither and thither, she at length saw Robert Hunter come strolling home from the village, his air listless, his steps slow; just like a man who is finding time heavy on his hands.
"And not one of them to be with him!" came her passionate thought. "It is a shame. Bears! Why! who's this?"
The exclamation--cutting short the complimentary epithet on her brothers, though it could not apply with any sort of justice to Cyril, who had been prevented by his father from following Robert Hunter--related to a Jutpoint fly and pair. Driving in at the gates, it directly faced Mary Anne Thornycroft; she bent her eyes to peer into it, and started with surprise.
"Good gracious! What can bring her here?"
For she recognised Lady Ellis; with a maid beside her. And yet, in that pale, haggard, worn woman, who seemed scarcely able to sit upright, there was not much trace of the imperious face of her who had made for so brief a period the Red Court her home. Illness--long-continued illness, its termination of necessity fatal--changes both the looks and the spirit.
The chaise had passed Robert Hunter at right angles: had my lady recognised him?
But a moment must be given to Cyril. On descending the stairs, he saw Richard striding out at the front door, and hastened after him.
"Where are you going, Richard?"
"Where am I going?" retorted Richard. "To Tomlett's, if you must know. Something must be done."