How long the colloquy might have continued it is hard to say: certainly Meta would not be the one to give in: but it was interrupted by Margery herself. A note had just been delivered at the house for Mrs. George Godolphin, and Margery, who probably was glad of an excuse for entering, brought it in. She never looked at all towards Mrs. Pain; she came straight up to her mistress, apparently ignoring Charlotte’s presence, but you should have seen the expression of her face. The coronet on the seal imparted a suspicion to Maria that it came from Lord Averil, and her heart sank within her. Could he be withdrawing his promise of clemency?
“Who brought this?” she asked in a subdued tone.
“A servant on horseback, ma’am.”
Charlotte had started up, catching at her feathers, for Pierce was at the dining-room door now, saying that the horses were alarmingly restive. “Good afternoon, Mrs. George Godolphin,” she called out unceremoniously, as she hastened away. “I’ll come and spend a quiet hour with you before I leave for town. Adieu, petite diablesse! I’d have you up to-morrow for a farewell visit, but that I’m afraid you might get nailed down with the furniture in some of the packing-cases.”
Away she went. Meta was hastening after her, but was caught up by Margery with an angry sob—as if she had been saving her from some imminent danger. Maria opened the letter with trembling fingers.
“My dear Mrs. Godolphin,
“It has occurred to me since I parted from you, that you may wish to have the subject of our conversation confirmed in writing. I hereby assure you that I shall take no legal proceedings whatever against your husband on account of my lost bonds, and you may tell him from me that he need not, on that score, remain away from Prior’s Ash.
“I hope you have reached home without too much fatigue.
“Believe me, ever sincerely yours,
“Averil.”
“How kind he is!” came involuntarily from Maria’s lips.