"I can't talk about him to-day, Sir George; I can't talk about anything—my head is so bad. I wish you would go now," she said, but so very gently it was impossible that he could be hurt, "and come and see me to-morrow; my mother is not well and I am worried. To-morrow I shall have thought out plans and will gladly talk them over with you. I want some one's help and advice."
"I think you do," he answered, "and I'll come to-morrow, my dear."
Margaret sat and thought again when she was alone; she had thought and thought since Mrs. Lakeman had gone that morning till her head was dazed, but it was no good; the whole thing was a cul-de-sac. Then an inspiration seized her. "I'll write to Hannah," she said, "and beg her to let me go home and see my mother for a little while, at any rate. She'll get the letter in the morning, and I'll ask her to telegraph if I may go." She sat down at once and told Hannah, with all the vehemence in her heart, that she had never cared for Mr. Garratt; that perhaps she had even cared for somebody else; that she had given up her engagement at Mr. Farley's theatre; that she was miserable about her mother, and wanted to come and see her; would Hannah telegraph in the morning if she might come at once, even for a few hours. She felt better when she had written it, and determined to go out and post it herself. She was just starting when Dawson Farley appeared. His heart had smote him for his share in the morning's transactions.
"I thought I would come round and tell you how sorry I am at your resignation," he said.
"And it was so unnecessary, after all, for my sudden engagement to Mr. Carringford is broken off."
"I know."
"How do you know?" she asked, astonished.
"Mrs. Lakeman came to see me and told me."
"Oh yes, Mrs. Lakeman," she answered, bitterly. "Is Lena really dangerously ill?" She wondered at her own question, but some other self had asked it—a self that doubted everything.
Mr. Farley, too, was taken by surprise. "I suppose so," he said, with a little smile. "Mrs. Lakeman's facts are sometimes a little elusive; but she can hardly have invented that one. Carringford has always been by way of—I mean he has always been considered Lena Lakeman's property." Quite suddenly Margaret lost her self-control for a moment, and shudderingly put her hands over her face.