Was he thankful for it? Scarcely, while that pained heart of his, those coursing pulses, could beat on in this tumultuous manner at the bare sound of her name.
In the silence that ensued—for neither felt inclined to break it—they heard a voice in the hall below, inquiring whether Mr. Verner was within. Lionel recognised it as Tynn's.
"For all I know he is," answered old Catherine. "I saw him a few minutes agone in the court out there, a-talking to the doctor."
"Will you please ask if I can speak to him."
Lionel did not wait further, but descended to the hall. The butler, in his deep mourning, had taken his seat on the bench. He rose as Lionel approached.
"Well, Tynn, how are you? What is it?"
"My mistress has sent me to ask if you'd be so kind as come to Verner's Pride, sir?" said Tynn, standing with his hat in his hand. "She bade me say that she did not feel well enough, or she'd have written you a note with the request, but she wishes particularly to see you."
"Does she wish to see me to-day?"
"As soon as ever you could get there, sir, I fancy. I am sure she meant to-day."
"Very well, Tynn. I'll come over. How is your mistress?"