Where Heather was waiting for him with the old glad look of welcome in her face, with the soft pleading tone in her voice, with the half timid touch laid on his shoulder, “so pleased to see him home again,” she said; “so thankful to be able to tell him Lally was better—much better, and she herself quite rested. Had he been well, and had he settled his business satisfactorily?” He was seated before the fire by this time with his top-coat off, and his feet stretched out towards the warmth.
He was at home, and the little bustle of arrival over. The inevitable moment had come at last—the moment when, if he ever were to tell his wife of the impending change, the communication must be made.
And yet, looking round, it did seem hard to break up that pleasant home, to leave the familiar places, and strive to set up the household gods of Berrie Down on a strange shrine—in strange niches.
The shadows which had pursued him up the Lane must have entered at the open door and sat down beside the Squire, for there was something, not merely of dread, but also of regret, in his heart, when turning, he said to Heather,—
“I have news for you.”
“Good news,” she said; “anything about Bessie?”
“No, nothing to do with any one but ourselves. As for whether my news be good or bad, I cannot tell, for that will depend somewhat on how you take it. What should you say if I told you I had added a thousand a year to our income?”
“I should say it was almost too good to be true,” she answered.
“But it is true,” he said, “only there is one drawback—we must leave Berrie Down.”
“Leave Berrie Down!” she repeated.