“Or dead,” put in Charlotte Pain, who was leaning listlessly against the window frame devoured with ennui.
“Shall you be afraid to go back to Prior’s Ash?” he asked of Maria Hastings.
“Not at all,” replied Maria. “I should not mind if I were going to-day, as far as the fever is concerned.”
“That is well,” he said. “Because I have orders to convey you back with me.”
Charlotte Pain lifted her head with a start. The news aroused her. Maria, on the contrary, thought he was speaking in jest.
“No, indeed I am not,” said Thomas Godolphin. “Mr. Hastings made a request to me, madam, that I should take charge of his daughter when I returned,” continued he to Lady Godolphin. “He wants her at home, he says.”
“Mr. Hastings is very polite!” ironically replied my lady. “Maria will go back when I choose to spare her.”
“I hope you will allow her to return with me—unless you shall soon be returning yourself,” said Thomas Godolphin.
“It is not I that shall be returning to Prior’s Ash yet,” said my lady. “The sickly old place must give proof of renewed health first. You will not see either me or Sir George there on this side Christmas.”
“Then I think, Lady Godolphin, you must offer no objection to my taking charge of Maria,” said Thomas courteously, but firmly, leaving the discussion of Sir George’s return to another opportunity. “I passed my word to Mr. Hastings.”