"I see you do not. And now I am going to ask you something else. Did you ever hear that Emily Trevlyn, when she was dying, left a request that I should be guardian to her children?"
"Never. Have you been dreaming these things, Diana? Why should you ask about them now?"
"I leave dreams to you," was Miss Diana's reply. "My health is too sound to admit of sleeping dreams; my mind too practical to indulge in waking ones. Never mind why I asked: it was only as a personal matter of my own. By the way, I have had a line from your husband, written from Barmester. A little business has taken him out, and he may not be home until to-morrow. We are not to sit up for him."
"Has he gone to Nettleby hop-fair?" hastily rejoined Mrs. Chattaway.
"Perhaps so," said Miss Diana, carelessly. "At any rate, say nothing about his absence to any one. The children are unruly if they know he is away. I suppose he will be home to-morrow."
But Mr. Chattaway was not home on the morrow. Miss Diana was burning with impatience for his return; that explanation was being waited for, and she was one who brooked not delay: but she was obliged to submit to it now. Day after day passed on, and Mr. Chattaway was still absent from Trevlyn Hold.
CHAPTER XXVII
A WALK BY STARLIGHT
A harvest-home used to be a great fête in farmhouses; chiefly so, as you are aware, for its servants and labourers. It is so in some houses still. A rustic, homely gathering; with plenty of good fare in a plain way, and where the masters and mistresses and their guests enjoy themselves as freely as their dependants.