"Are you grieving, George?"
"How can I help it?" he passionately answered, feeling that he could open his heart to Mrs. Chattaway as he could to no one else in the wide world. "Is it a proper thing to put me to, dear Mrs. Chattaway?"
"I said it was not," she murmured. "I remarked to Diana that I wondered Maude should place you there."
"It was not my mother so much as Mr. Chattaway," he answered, forgetting possibly that it was Mr. Chattaway's wife to whom he spoke. "At times, do you know, I feel as though I would almost rather be—be——"
"Be what, dear?"
"Be dead, than remain there."
"Hush, George!" she cried, almost with a shudder. "Random figures of speech never do any good! I have learnt it. In the old days, when——"
She suddenly broke off and glided forward without further notice. As she passed she caught up the hand of Maude, who was then walking by the side of the boys. George looked round for the cause of desertion, and found it in Mr. Chattaway. That gentleman was coming along with a quick step, one of his younger children in his hand.
The Chattaways turned off towards Trevlyn Hold, and George walked on with Treve.
"Do you know how things are going on at home, Treve, between my mother and Chattaway?" asked George.