"Well?" said Mr. Carr.
"Not yet," answered Hartledon; "there was no opportunity."
"My suggestion was to make your opportunity."
"And so I will. I'll speak to her either to-night or to-morrow. She chose
to ride fast to-day; and Hillary joined us part of the way. Don't look as
if you doubted me, Carr: I shall be sure to speak."
"Will he?" thought Thomas Carr, as he took his departure by the evening
train, having promised to run down the following Saturday for a few
hours. "It is an even bet, I think. Poor Val!"
Poor Val indeed! Vacillating, attractive, handsome Val! shrinking,
sensitive Val! The nauseous medicine was never taken. And when the
Ashtons returned to the Rectory on the Friday night he had not spoken.
And the very day of their return a rumour reached his ear that Mrs.
Ashton's health was seriously if not fatally shattered, and she was
departing immediately for the South of France.
CHAPTER XVI.
BETWEEN THE TWO.
Not in the Rectory drawing-room, but in a pretty little sitting-room
attached to her bed-chamber, where the temperature was regulated, and no
draughts could penetrate, reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her invalid gown sat
loosely upon her shrunken form, her delicate, lace cap shaded a fading
face. Anne sat by her side in all her loveliness, ostensibly working; but
her fingers trembled, and her face looked flushed and pained.
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