“But now that you have disposed of that you will sup with us,” said Lady Horton, who was convinced that since Ruth had gone to the altar with him he was Ruth's lover in spite of the odd things she had heard. Appearances with Lady Horton counted for everything, and all that glittered was gold to her.
“I would,” he answered, “but that I am to sup at Mr. Newlington's with His Majesty. My visit must wait until to-morrow.”
“Let us hope,” said Trenchard, “that it waits no longer.” He was already instructed touching the night attack on Feversham's camp on Sedgemoor, and thought it likely Wilding would accompany them.
“You are going to Mr. Newlington's?” said Diana, and Trenchard thought she had turned singularly pale. Her hand was over her heart, her eyes wide. She seemed about to add something, but checked herself. She took her mother's arm. “We are detaining Mr. Wilding, mother,” said she, and her voice quivered as if her whole being were shaken by some gusty agitation. They spoke their farewells briefly, and moved on. A second later Diana was back at their side again.
“Where are you lodged, Mr. Wilding?” she inquired.
“With my friend Trenchard—at the sign of The Ship, by the Cross.”
She briefly acknowledged the information, rejoined her mother, and hurried away with her.
Trenchard stood staring after them a moment. “Odd!” said he; “did you mark that girl's discomposure?”
But Wilding's thoughts were elsewhere. “Come, Nick! If I am to render myself fit to sit at table with Monmouth, we'll need to hasten.”
They went their way, but not so fast as went Diana, urging with her her protesting and short-winded mother.