"
The butler departed, and Marsham went hurriedly into the inner room,
closing the door behind him. Ferrier and Lady Lucy were left, looking at
each other in anxiety. But before they could put it into words, Marsham
reappeared, in evident agitation. He hurried to the bell and rang it.
Lady Lucy pointedly made no inquiry. But Ferrier spoke.
"No bad news, I hope?"
Marsham turned.
"She has been told?" he said, hoarsely, "Mrs. Colwood, her companion,
speaks of 'shock.' I must go down at once."
Lady Lucy said nothing. She, too, had grown white.
The butler appeared. Marsham asked for the Sunday trains, ordered some
packing, went down-stairs to speak to the Beechcote messenger,
and returned.
Ferrier retired into the farthest window, and Marsham approached his
mother.
"Good-bye, mother. I will write to you from Beechcote, where I shall
stay at the little inn in the village. Have you no kind word that I may
carry with me?"
Lady Lucy looked at him steadily.
"I shall write myself to Miss Mallory, Oliver."
His pallor gave place to a flush of indignation.
"Is it necessary to do anything so cruel, mother?"
"I shall not write cruelly.
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