Helen looked at him gratefully, but shook her head. It was a common trick of hers, and always when she was praised.
At last the preparations were made—the farewell was said. Violante was in the carriage by Lady Lansmere's side. Slowly moved on the stately equipage with its four horses and trim postillions, heraldic badges on their shoulders, in the style rarely seen in the neighborhood of the metropolis, and now fast vanishing even amidst distant counties.
Riccabocca, Jemima, and Jackeymo continued to gaze after it from the gate.
"She is gone," said Jackeymo, brushing his eyes with his coat sleeve. "But it is a load off one's mind."
"And another load on one's heart," murmured Riccabocca. "Don't cry, Jemima; it may be bad for you, and bad for him that is to come. It is astonishing how the humors of the mother may affect the unborn. I should not like to have a son who has a more than usual propensity to tears."
The poor philosopher tried to smile, but it was a bad attempt. He went slowly in and shut himself up with his books. But he could not read. His whole mind was unsettled. And though, like all parents, he had been anxious to rid himself of a beloved daughter for life, now that she was gone, but for a while, a string seemed broken in the Music of Home.
CHAPTER VII.
The evening of the same day, as Egerton, who was to entertain a large party at dinner, was changing his dress, Harley walked into his room.
Egerton dismissed his valet by a sign, and continued his toilet.
"Excuse me, my dear Harley, I have only ten minutes to give you. I expect one of the royal dukes, and punctuality is the stern virtue of men of business, and the graceful courtesy of princes."