He stood aside, leaving his brother to utter the conventional farewells;
his lips were set, and his brows drawn together; but ever and anon, as
if against his will, his eyes shot anxious glances towards the window of
the room where Margot lay. Edith moved a few steps nearer, to give the
chance of a few quiet words, if it was in his heart to speak, but none
came. A moment later he had swung himself up beside his brother on the
high seat of the cart, and the wheels were beginning to move.
Edith went slowly back to her post, dreading to meet the gaze of those
dear brown eyes, which had lost their sparkle, and become so pathetic in
their dumb questioning. She had no reassuring message to give, and
could only affect a confidence which she was far from feeling.
"Well, dear, they are off, but it is not good-bye--only au revoir, as
you are sure to meet again in town before long. Mr Elgood asked
permission to call upon me in town. Nice little man! He has been so
wonderfully kind and considerate. I can't think why he should trouble
himself so much for a complete stranger. The tall one looked sorry to
go! He kept looking up at your window. He has a fine face--strong and
clever. He must be an interesting companion."
Margot did not answer; but five minutes later she asked to have the
curtain drawn, as the light hurt her eyes. They had a somewhat red and
inflamed appearance for the rest of the day; but when Mr Vane commented
on the fact, the dear, wise Edie assured him that it was a common
phenomenon after illness, and laid a supply of fresh handkerchiefs on
the bed--table in such a quiet and unobtrusive fashion, that they might
have grown there of their own accord.
"Some day," thought Margot dismally to herself, "some day I shall laugh
over this!" For the present, however, her sense of humour was strangely
blunted, and the handkerchiefs were needed for a very different purpose.