"Not the least in life! I was on the point of enlisting," he explained, colouring in his turn, "at Reading, in Tatton's foot, when a man he had sent in search of me, found me and gave me a note."
"From Sir Hervey?"
"Of course," Tom answered, "telling me I could stay at the Hall until things blew over. And--and not to make a fool of myself," he added ingenuously. "'Twas like him and I knew it was best to come, but when I was nearly there--that was last night, you know--I thought I would wait until morning and hear who were in the house before I showed myself. That is why Mistress Betty found me where she did."
Sophia could not hide her feelings on learning what Sir Hervey had done for Tom and for her; what he had done silently, without boasting, without telling her. Tom saw her tremble, saw that for some reason she was on the verge of tears, and he wondered.
"Why," he said, "what is the matter, Sophy? What is it now?"
"It's nothing, nothing," she answered hurriedly.
"I know what it is!" he replied. "You've been up all night, and had nothing to eat. You will be all right when you have had a meal. The old parson said he'd give us bacon and eggs. It should be ready by this time."
Sophia laughed hysterically. "I fear it doesn't lie with him," she said. "His wife would not let me into the house. She's afraid of the smallpox."
"Pooh!" Tom said contemptuously. "When she knows who we are she'll sing another tune."
"She won't believe," Sophia answered.