“His peril?”
“From you.”
Lord Averil bit his lip. “Cecil, above all others—unless it were yourself—might have known that he was safe.”
A silence ensued. Lord Averil resumed: “There is one upon whom I fear these troubles are telling all too greatly, Thomas. And that is your brother’s wife.”
“May God comfort her!” was the involuntary answer that broke from the lips of Thomas Godolphin.
“Had I been ever so harshly inclined, I think the sight of her to-day would have disarmed me. No, no: had I never owned friendship for you; had I never loved Cecil, there is certainly enough evil, cruel, unavoidable evil, which must fall with this calamity, without my adding to it.”
“When I brought word home this afternoon that you were well disposed towards George—that he had nothing to fear from you, Cecil burst into tears.”
A glow arose to Lord Averil’s face. He looked out on the setting sun in silence. “Has your brother been sent for?” he presently asked.
“Maria and I have both written for him now. I should think he will come. What is it, Bexley?”
“A message from Mrs. Pain, sir, about some of the fixtures at Lady Godolphin’s Folly. Mrs. Pain wants to know if you have a list of them. She forgets which belong to the house, and which don’t.”