“If he does return, it must be at the risk of consequences.”
“Thomas!—Thomas!” she gasped, the thought occurring to her with a sort of shock, “is he in hiding, do you think?”
“I think it likely that he is. He gave you no address, it seems: neither has he sent one to me.”
She drew back to the wall by the mantel-piece, and leaned against it. Every hour seemed to bring forth worse and worse. Thomas gazed with compassion on the haggardness that was seating itself on her sweet face. She was less able to cope with this misery than he. He laid his hand upon her shoulder, speaking in low tones.
“It is a fiery trial for both of us, Maria: one hard to encounter. God alone can help us to bear it. Be very sure that He will help!”
He went out, taking his way on foot to Ashlydyat. There was greater grief there, if possible, than at the Bank. The news touching the bonds, unhappily afloat in Prior’s Ash, had penetrated an hour ago to Ashlydyat.
Scarcely had he entered the presence of his sisters, when he was told that Lady Sarah Grame wanted him.
Thomas Godolphin proceeded to the room where she had been shown. She was not sitting, but pacing it to and fro; and she turned sharply round and met him as he entered, her face flushed with excitement.
“You were once to have been my son-in-law,” she said abruptly.
Thomas, astonished at the address, invited her to a seat, but made no immediate reply. She would not take the chair.