would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his
angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of
his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour
prevailed also to the point of the note being finished without any
message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage.

His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady
Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and
by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began
to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the
invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of
death.

"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You
are not really wanted here, and you look worn out."

"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me."

"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good."

Maurice laughed impatiently.

"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought
to go out."

"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and
Canada?"

Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered.