“I wish you would not talk such nonsense, Erle. Fay has the sense to know that my health requires complete change, and I shall not be the man I was without it. I ought to have had three months last time, only her illness recalled me. But now I can leave her more happily.”
“And you expect to do the trip in eleven weeks with Fitzclarence as the leader of the expedition. Fitzclarence, so renowned for his punctuality—so celebrated for never altering a given route at a minute’s notice.”
Erle was going too far, and Sir Hugh answered him with decided impatience.
“I did not know Fitzclarence was a friend of yours, Erle; but I never listen to the idle gossip one picks up at one’s club. I am perfectly satisfied with his arrangements, and so are the other men—we have two other fellows going with us. Fay, my dear, I should like you to write at once to your aunt, and ask her if she can have you and the boy. The cottage is rather small; do you think you could do without Janet, and only take nurse?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Fay, in the same constrained voice; but Erle saw that she had become very pale. But just then Ellerton entered and told his master that some one was waiting to speak to him on business; so the subject was dropped.
Erle looked rather wistfully at Fay when they were left alone together. “I am afraid you will be very lonely when Hugh goes away,” he said, kindly. “Why need you go to Daintree; you will be dreadfully dull there with only your aunt. I do not see why you should not come to Belgrave house first, while Mrs. Montague is there. She is a very pleasant woman, Fay; and you could do just as you like, and you would see Evelyn, and I am sure you two would soon be great friends. Do come, Fay; and you can go to Daintree afterward.”
Fay shook her head with a faint, dissenting smile; but she was touched by his kind thought for her.
“No, Erle,” she said, decidedly, “it would not do at all. Hugh would not like it. He wishes me to go to Aunt Griselda.”
“What does it matter to him where you go, so long as he is enjoying himself,” burst from Erle’s impatient lips; her meekness really provoked him. But he regretted the rash speech as soon as it was uttered, especially when a soft little hand touched his.
“Hush! Erle,” she said, gently, “you should not speak like that; not to me at least. Do you not know that I have no greater pleasure in the world than to obey my husband’s wishes. No,” she continued, and her eyes grew misty, “I have no other happiness but that—no other happiness but that.”