"
"Is she not come back yet?"
"No, sir, not yet. She'll be in a minute, though. I saw her
coming up the avenue."
"Go and bring her here."
"Yes, sir."
Mewks went, and in two minutes returned with the letter, and the
message that Miss Marston hadn't time to direct it.
"You damned rascal! I told you to bring the messenger here."
"She ran the whole way, sir, and not being very strong, was that
tired, that, the moment she got in, the poor thing dropped in a
dead faint. They ain't got her to yet."
His master gave him one look straight in the eyes, then opened
the letter, and read it.
"Miss Marston will call here tomorrow morning," he said; "see
that _she_ is shown up at once--here, to my sitting-room. I
hope I am explicit."
When the man was gone, Mr. Redmain nodded his head three times,
and grinned the skin tight as a drum-head over his cheek-bones.
"There isn't a damned soul of them to be trusted!" he said to
himself, and sat silently thoughtful.
Perhaps he was thinking how often he had come short of the hope
placed in him; times of reflection arrive to most men; and a
threatened attack of the illness he believed must one day carry
him off, might well have disposed him to think.
In the evening he was worse.
By midnight he was in agony, and Lady Margaret was up with him
all night. In the morning came a lull, and Lady Margaret went to
bed.
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