“She is so taken up about her outfit,” said Sarah Jane. “You would think nobody had ever got such a thing before. But poor Matilda was always old-maidish in her ways. Lord, Arthur! what’s the matter? Have you found out anything? What a turn you did give me, to be sure!” cried Sarah Jane.
It was something which gave Arthur “a turn” too, as far as that effect can be produced upon a male subject. It was simply the postmark “Oakenden” on the envelope of the letter. He had not seen it before, nor looked for it, being too anxious for the information inside. It startled him beyond measure now. “Oakenden!” he repeated to himself as in a dream. Something more than chance, some design which he could not fathom, some vague trembling of meaning not yet comprehensible, but tending towards light, seemed to flicker through the word. It was the post-town of home. He knew it as well as he knew the village at his father’s park gates. What had taken her there of all places in the world?
“Thank you,” he said, speaking, he felt, out of a mist of vague wonder and dawning hope that seemed to envelope him in an atmosphere of his own. “Thank you; I think this will be of some use. I know the place. Good-bye. I must go directly and see if they are there.”
“Stop a moment,” said Sarah Jane. “Stop and have some dinner with us. Raisins would like to see you, and—where is the place, Arthur? I should like to know too, for one never knows what may happen, and they are two lone women with nobody to look after them. It is so different when there is a man.”
“I will let you know when I have found them,” said Arthur. “Good-bye, I cannot wait longer now.”
“But, Arthur, do stop and have some dinner! Look here,” said Sarah Jane, getting between him and the door, “do you mean to take her back? Is that what you mean?”
“Take her back?” he said, with a half groan. “Was it I who sent her away?”
“For look here,” said Sarah Jane, “I don’t say you haven’t a right to be angry. Raisins would not stand the half, no, nor a tenth part from me what you stood from Nancy. But she’s not the same now. She’s that proud she’ll never let you see it if she can help it; but she’s very changed. She can’t live with her own folks now. Her and me are not such friends as we were because of that; but I suppose it will please you. She’s taken to study and so forth, and she don’t find her own folks good enough company. She’ll be all for us, I shouldn’t wonder, the moment she sees you; but don’t you believe her, Arthur. It was all she could do to keep one of us as long as poor mother lived. She’s as changed as possible. She’s a lady, that’s what she is nowadays,” said Sarah Jane.
Arthur only partially heard this long speech; he had no patience with it. He watched the door, and seized his opportunity, when Sarah Jane had ended her peroration, to hasten away, waving his hand to her.
“Well, I’m sure!” she said, as he darted down the stairs; and Mr. Raisins made many jokes at dinner upon the folly of the man who left a slice of “that beef” to run after a rebellious wife.