Isabel grew quieter in a few minutes and lay still, following Anthony with her imagination along the lane that led to the London road, and then presently she heard her father calling, and went to the door to listen.
“Isabel,” he said, “come down. Hubert is in the hall.”
She called out that she would be down in a moment; and then going across to her own room she washed her face and came downstairs. There was a tall, pleasant-faced lad of about her own age standing near the open door that led into the garden; and he came forward nervously as she entered.
“I came back last night, Mistress Isabel,” he said, “and heard that Anthony was going this morning: but I am afraid I am too late.”
She told him that Anthony had just gone.
“Yes,” he said, “I came to say good-bye; but I came by the orchard, and so we missed one another.”
Isabel asked a word or two about his visit to the North, and they talked for a few minutes about a rumour that Hubert had heard of a rising on behalf of Mary: but Hubert was shy and constrained, and Isabel was still a little tremulous. At last he said he must be going, and then suddenly remembered a message from his mother.
“Ah!” he said, “I was forgetting. My mother wants you to come up this evening, if you have time. Father is away, and my aunt is unwell and is upstairs.”
Isabel promised she would come.
“Father is at Chichester,” went on Hubert, “before the Commission, but we do not expect him back till to-morrow.”