“You are sure they are mine?” said Mary, interrogating her face with anxious eyes.
“Oh, Mary, dear! yes, I am sure enough. They were put into a cupboard, I remember. There is a train about eleven, but perhaps to-morrow you may think differently. It will be a great disappointment for the boys.”
Mary looked at her fixedly as if trying to understand. Then she said, “Tell Martin, Agnes, to pack them up. I want to look into them, perhaps there is something in them that will show— But not here, not here!”
“It shall be just as you please,” said Agnes, kissing Lady Frogmore’s pale face. Martin whispered that she would not go to bed, that she did not like her lady’s looks, that she would call Agnes at once in case of any need, thus securing for poor Agnes a wakeful and miserable night, as it is the habit of careful attendants to do. But it turned out that there was no occasion for this zeal. Mary slept, or at least was very quiet all the night. But she had not changed her mind in the morning. “Don’t ask me to stay,” she cried “I can’t, I can’t stay.” It was the morning of the ball, and the household at the Park was so much absorbed by that great event that so small a matter as the departure of a guest did not tell much. Agnes found Duke out of doors, closely attended, like his shadow, by Mar, just setting out upon some long expedition to cheat the hours until it should be time for lunch. “The day before a ball is always such a long day,” he said with simplicity. “We are going off to pass the time.” “And I am going off,” said Agnes, “though not to pass the time. I am glad I have found you two to say good-bye.”
“You are going away!” they both cried in consternation.
“I knew,” cried Agnes, with a certain relief in expressing her feeling, “I knew it would be too much for her bringing her here. Oh, yes, it’s true I was anxious to come. I wanted her to come, but I always felt it was a risk. Dear boys, I’m going to take you into my confidence. You’re such friends! Thank God, you’re such friends! Well, then, I can tell you, I think she is beginning to awake.”
“Aunt Mary?” said Duke, with a tone of awe. Mar said nothing, but his pale face crimsoned over, and he never took his eyes from his aunt’s face.
“I think she’s been in a kind of sleep all this time. Yesterday had a great effect upon her. She told me after, she had dreamed that there had been a great dinner and toasts, and one was to her old Frogmore. It has disturbed her mind, and she is going away.”
“Oh,” cried Duke, “that’s not nice of Aunt Mary. My ball! I’ll go and beg her to stay.”
Mar said nothing, but kept his eyes on Agnes’ face, watching her looks.