At length tired of waiting for his notice, the rather that the night was wearing onward, she arose from her seat, folding up her work as she did so, and laid her hand lightly on her cousin’s shoulder—
“And are you really going to leave us to-morrow, Durzil?” she said, softly.
“For a few days only,” he answered, raising his head, and meeting her earnest eye with a cold, sad smile. “I am going to ride down to-morrow afternoon as far as Hexwerthy, where I will sleep, and so get into Plymouth betimes the following day.”
“And when shall you come back to us?”
“I shall not stay an hour longer than I can avoid, Theresa; and I think that in three days I may be able to arrange all that I have to do; if so, you may look for me within the week—at furthest, I shall be here in ten days.”
“And how long may we count on keeping you here, then? It will be long, I fear, before we shall meet again.”
“The ship cannot be fit for sea within three weeks, Theresa, or it may be a month; and I shall stay here, be sure, until the last moment. But as all mortal matters are uncertain to a proverb, and as none of us can say when, or if ever, we shall meet again, and as I have much to say to you before I go to sea this time, will you not walk in the garden with me for an hour before breakfast to-morrow?”
“Surely I will. How can you doubt it, Durzil?”
“I do not doubt it. And then I can give you my opinion about the young nightingales, which we forgot, after all, this morning. I dare say they will turn out to be hedge sparrows.”
“I will be there soon after the sun is up, Durzil, and that I may be so, good-night, all,” and with the word, kissing her father’s brow, and giving her hand affectionately to Durzil, she courtesied to the old cavalier, and left the room without so much as looking toward Jasper, who was, however, already fast asleep, and unconscious of all sublunary matters.