‘Well,’ said Maxwell, somewhat hotly; ‘I don’t like doing anything in the dark, and you may tell Beresford, if you like, Miss Cherry, all that I have to say, that I shall oppose it. I shall certainly oppose it. Never should I have said a word, had he let things alone; but in this case, it will become my duty.’
‘What will become your duty?’ said Miss Cherry, aghast.
He looked at her wondering face, and his own countenance changed. ‘It is not anything to bother you about,’ he said. ‘It is—a nothing—a matter between your brother and me.’
‘What is it?’ she said, growing anxious.
He had turned with her, and walked by her side in his vehemence. Now that she had taken fright, he stopped short.
‘It is only that I have a patient to see,’ he said; ‘and I am glad to be able to make your mind quite easy about Miss Beresford. She is twice as strong as either you or I.’
And before she could say another word he had knocked at a door they were passing, and left her, taking off his hat in the most ordinary way. What did he mean? or was it nothing—some trifling quarrel he had got into with James? Miss Cherry walked the rest of the way home, alone indeed and undisturbed, but with a strange commotion in her mind. Was there something serious behind these vague threatenings, or was he only depressed and cross, like herself, from the troublesome influence of spring, and of this east-windy day?
Meanwhile, Roger sat down in front of Cara’s fire, which was too warm, and made him uncomfortable—for he had been walking quickly, and he had no cold. He thought she looked pale, as she reclined in the big chair, with that fleecy white shawl round her, and he told her so frankly.
‘It is living in town that has done it,’ he said. ‘When you come back to the country you will soon be all right.’
‘It is only a cold,’ said Cara. ‘I don’t know now when we shall go to the country. Aunt Cherry leaves us to-morrow.’