“It is some old man in Durham,” he said, “and I am to see to his estates. My father will not want me here when he comes back, and, and it is to be soon. He has had the offer for me; and has written to tell me. There is no choice.”
She had turned instinctively towards the house, and the high roofs and chimneys were before them, dark against the luminous sky.
“No, no,” said Hubert, laying his hand on her arm; and at the touch she thrilled so much that she knew she must not stay, and went forward resolutely up the steps of the terrace.
“Ah! let me speak,” he said; “I have not troubled you much, Mistress Isabel.”
She hesitated again a moment.
“In my father’s room,” he went on, “and I will bring the letter.”
She nodded and passed into the hall without speaking, and turned to Sir Nicholas’ study; while Hubert’s steps dashed up the stairs to his mother’s room. Isabel went in and stood on the hearth in the firelight that glowed and wavered round the room on the tapestry and the prie-dieu and the table where Hubert had been sitting and the tall shuttered windows, leaning her head against the mantelpiece, doubtful and miserable.
“Listen,” said Hubert, bursting into the room a moment later with the sheet open in his hand.
“‘Tell Hubert that Lord Arncliffe needs a gentleman to take charge of his estates; he is too old now himself, and has none to help him. I have had the offer for Hubert, and have accepted it; he must go as soon as I have returned. I am sorry to lose the lad, but since James——’” and Hubert broke off. “I must not read that,” he said.
Isabel still stood, stretching her hands out to the fire, turned a little away from him.