This master-stroke virtually ended the battle. Henry said nothing, but the signs of giving way were manifest in him, so manifest that Mrs. Little became quite impatient for the doctor's arrival to crown all.
He drove up to the door at last, and Henry ran out and brought him in. He looked pale, and sat down exhausted.
Mrs. Little restrained her impatience, and said, "We are selfish creatures to send you on our business before you are half well."
"I am well enough in health," said he, "but I am quite upset."
"What is the matter? Surely you have not failed? Guy does not refuse his forgiveness?"
"No, it is not that. Perhaps, if I had been in time--but the fact is, Guy Raby has left England."
"Who can tell? All I know is that he has sold his horses, discharged his servants all but one, and gone abroad without a word. I was the friend of his youth--his college chum; be must be bitterly wounded to go away like that, and not even let me know."
Mrs. Little lifted up her hands. "What have we done? what have we done? Wounded! no wonder. Oh, my poor, wronged, insulted brother!"
damp freshness in the air of the passage, and a sort of
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but he had not been as idle as he appeared to have been.
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