When Mr. Donne
turned round, and recollected letters which must be written, and
which would compel him to stay at home, Mr. Bradshaw instantly
gave up the walk, and remained at hand, ready to furnish him with
any writing-materials which could be wanted, and which were not
laid out in the half-furnished house. Nobody knew where Mr.
Hickson was all this time. He had sauntered out after Mr. Donne,
when the latter set off for church, and he had never returned.
Mr. Donne kept wondering if he could have met Ruth--if, in fact,
she had gone out with her pupils, now that the afternoon had
cleared up. This uneasy wonder, and a few mental imprecations on
his host's polite attention, together with the letter-writing
pretence, passed away the afternoon--the longest afternoon he had
ever spent; and of weariness he had had his share. Lunch was
lingering in the dining-room, left there for the truant Mr.
Hickson; but of the children or Ruth there was no sign. He
ventured on a distant inquiry as to their whereabouts.
"They dine early; they are gone to church again. Mrs. Denbigh was
a member of the Establishment once; and, though she attends
chapel at home, she seems glad to have an opportunity of going to
church."
Mr. Donne was on the point of asking some further questions about
"Mrs. Denbigh," when Mr. Hickson came in, loud-spoken, cheerful,
hungry, and as ready to talk about his ramble, and the way in
which he had lost and found himself, as he was about everything
else.
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