“I would love to,” said Mary slowly. “But you know as well as I do that my duty lies here. My father is old, I dare not leave him, and, in spite of his little faults of temper, he has been a dear, kind parent.”
“I understand perfectly,” was Isobel’s answer. “But, you see, nothing now ties me to England. All the world meant to me only two people, my father and Guy. Now, only Guy is left. I would love to be near him, even if he did not know.” Mary pondered a little. “I wonder if that nice cousin of yours could help in the matter?”
Isobel caught at the suggestion at once. “Yes, he is very clever. I will go up and see him to-morrow.”
“No need for that, dear. I will send him a wire at once, asking him to come down to-morrow to see you.”
“But he is always so frightfully busy,” cried Isobel.
“Bah!” said the more practical Lady Mary. “I know he is going to do wonderful things in the future, but he has plenty of time. When I send him that wire, he will come.”
Lady Mary sent off the telegram. It was quite a little excitement in her usually placid life. Farquhar came down as quickly as he could. He had handed over his briefs to a friend.
Lord Saxham greeted him kindly, being apprised by his daughter of his arrival. The poor old Earl was very subdued by now; he was quite prepared to make any amount of new acquaintances. His daughter had affairs well in hand.
Lady Mary plunged into matters at once.
“Isobel doesn’t want to go back to Eastbourne—that is quite natural. She is eager to go to Spain, to be near Guy. Of course nothing binds her to this country now.”