"Bring her down to Stavering," he said, at last, bending a slow look on the young surgeon, "and I'll contrive for the mistress to see her. Who can tell what may come of it?" Then for the second time he said: "And I to have got it into my doited old head that the darling died ever so many years ago!"
He rose with a little difficulty, and possessed himself of his hat which he had taken off on entering the room. Then, laying a hand on Clem's shoulder, he said, impressively,
"Eh, but there's a great change come over the mistress! She had a sort of fit in the night about a week ago, and now the doctor comes to see her every day. But she's getting round again--oh, yes, she's getting round; and m'appen, by-and-bye, she'll be just the same as she allus was. And now, sir, do you listen to this: Don't say a word to a soul about Miss Hermia, or what brings her to Stavering. The Lord only knows what'll come of it all, but I'll try my best--I'll try my best."
In the course of the next day, Clement returned to Ashdown, where a great surprise awaited him. He reached Nairn Cottage soon after five o'clock, but found no Hermia there to greet him. Instead, a note was put into his hand by Aunt Charlotte.
"Dear Clement"--it ran.
"I have had to set off, all in a hurry, for London, where I purpose staying for the next few days with my friend, Mrs. Wingate, who was a schoolfellow of mine. I have what seem to me amply sufficient reasons for taking this step, but I do not feel at liberty to enter into any particulars until after my return, when I may have much to tell you, or, on the other hand, very little. Anyway, I hope you won't worry the least bit about me, because there is really no occasion to do so. I received your telegram this morning announcing your return, but, under the circumstances, have thought it better not to wait and see you. I will explain everything when we meet, which I hope will not be later than two or three days hence.
"Yours now and always,
"Hermia Rivers."
Clement, when he had read the note, stared at Aunt Charlotte with an air of stupefaction. "What does it mean?" he asked.
"I can tell you very little more than the note tells you," was the reply. "Yesterday was Hermia's afternoon for visiting among the poor widows and others whom she is in the habit of calling upon once a week, and oftener in cases of sickness or necessity. On reaching home last evening rather later than usual, she told us that Mrs. Varrel, a widow whom both of us have known for some years, was dead. She was very quiet during the rest of the evening, and seemed to be deep in thought. This morning, at breakfast, she announced her intention of starting for London by the eleven o'clock train. In answer to the questions John and I naturally put to her, she simply said that we must forgive her for not telling us anything at present, but that all should be explained the moment she returned. She assured us that nothing but a matter of extreme importance would have induced her to take such a step, but that we might be quite satisfied as to her safety under the roof of Mrs. Wingate. So you see, my dear Mr. Clement, that we shall just have to stifle our curiosity as best we can, till it pleases her ladyship to return and lift us off the tenterhooks of suspense."