“She is no better; but I must attempt, in some way, to get the news conveyed to Gervase. Her eyes turn constantly to the door. They are still quite living, though not so strong. She must see him, if it is possible. She must see him, if there is any way—her only child.”
“But not, from all I hear, a child that does her much credit,” he said.
“What does that matter? He is all she has,” she added hastily. “Don’t let me detain you, Colonel Piercey. I must not be gone long; and I must try if anything can be done.”
“You mean that I am detaining you,” he said, turning with her. “And I have something to tell you, if I may walk with you. I have been talking to old Hewitt, of the Seven Thorns. He says he has no address to communicate with his daughter; but there is a newly-married couple coming to occupy his rooms, and that she is returning with them next week.”
“A newly-married couple!” cried Margaret, aghast. “Can it be they? Can it be Patty? Is it possible?”
“I thought it might be so, if it was he and she whom I saw.”
“Oh, his mother! his mother! And this was what she was most afraid of. Why, why did she let him go.”
“Yes, why did she let him go, if she were so much afraid to this, as you think? But, perhaps you are alarming yourself unnecessarily? Lady Piercey must have known tolerably well at his age what her son was likely to do?”
“Yes, I am perhaps alarming myself unnecessarily. The chances are she will not live to see it. It is only she who would feel it much. Poor Aunt Piercey! Why should one wish her to live to hear this?” Margaret paused a little, wringing her hands, uncertain whether to turn back or to proceed. At last she said to herself, “Anyhow, she wants him—she wants him. If it is possible, she must see her boy;” and went on again quickly, scarcely noticing the dark figure at her side. But he did not choose to be overlooked.
“I should like,” he said, “to have a few things explained. You say nobody would mind this marriage—if it is a marriage—except Lady Piercey?”