Part 22 (1/2)

It was not Bessy. A servant entered the room with a telegraphic despatch. ”The man is waiting, sir,” he said, holding out the paper for signature to his master.

Thomas G.o.dolphin affixed his signature, and took up the despatch. It came from Scotland. Janet laid her hand upon it ere it was open: her face looked ghastly pale. ”A moment of preparation!” she said. ”Thomas, it may have brought us tidings that we have no longer a father.”

”Nay, Janet, do not antic.i.p.ate evil,” he answered, though his memory flew unaccountably to that ugly Shadow, and to what he had deemed would be Janet's conclusions respecting it. ”It may not be ill news at all.”

He glanced his eye rapidly and privately over it, while Cecil came and stood near him with a stifled sob. Then he held it out to Janet, reading it aloud at the same time.

”'Lady G.o.dolphin to Thomas G.o.dolphin, Esquire.

”'Come at once to Broomhead. Sir George wishes it. Take the first train.'”

”He is not dead, at any rate, Janet,” said Thomas quietly. ”Thank Heaven.”

Janet, her extreme fears relieved, took refuge in displeasure. ”What does Lady G.o.dolphin mean, by sending so vague a message as that?” she uttered. ”Is Sir George worse? Is he ill? Is he in danger? Or has the summons no reference at all to his state of health?”

Thomas had taken it into his hand again, and was studying the words: as we are all apt to do in uncertainty. He could make no more out of them.

”Lady G.o.dolphin should have been more explicit,” he resumed.

”Lady G.o.dolphin has no _right_ thus to play upon our fears, our suspense,” said Janet. ”Thomas, I have a great mind to start this very night for Scotland.”

”As you please, of course, Janet. It is a long and fatiguing journey for a winter's night.”

”And I object to being a guest at Broomhead, unless driven to it, you might add,” rejoined Janet. ”But our father may be dying.”

”I should think not, Janet. Lady G.o.dolphin would certainly have said so.

Margery, too, would have taken care that those tidings should be sent to us.”

The suggestion rea.s.sured Miss G.o.dolphin. She had not thought of it.

Margery, devoted to the interests of Sir George and his children (somewhat in contravention to the interests of my lady), would undoubtedly have apprised them were Sir George in danger. ”What shall you do?” inquired Janet of her brother.

”I shall do as the despatch desires me--take the first train. That will be at midnight,” he added, as he prepared to pay a visit to Lady Sarah's.

Grame House, as you may remember, was situated at the opposite end of the town to Ashlydyat, past All Souls' Church. As Thomas G.o.dolphin walked briskly along, he saw Mr. Hastings leaning over the Rectory gate, the dark trees shading him from the light of the moon.

”You are going this way late,” said the Rector.

”It is late for a visit to Lady Sarah's. But I wish particularly to see them.”

”I have now come from thence,” returned Mr. Hastings.

”Sarah Anne grows weaker, I hear.”

”Ay. I have been praying over her.”

Thomas G.o.dolphin felt shocked. ”Is she so near death as that?” he asked, in a hushed tone.

”So near death as that!” repeated the clergyman in an accent of reproof.

”I did not expect to hear a like remark from Mr. G.o.dolphin. My good friend, is it only when death is near that we are to pray?”