I saw her coming up the avenue." "Go and bring her here." "Yes, sir." Mewks went, and in two minutes returned with the letter, and the message that Miss Marston hadn't time to direct it.
"You damned rascal! I told you to bring the messenger here." "She ran the whole way, sir, and not being very strong, was that tired, that, the moment she got in, the poor thing dropped in a dead faint.
They ain't got her to yet." His master gave him one look straight in the eyes, then opened the letter, and read it.
"Miss Marston will call here tomorrow morning," he said; "see that _she_ is shown up at once--here, to my sitting-room.

I hope I am explicit." When the man was gone, Mr.Redmain nodded his head three times, and grinned the skin tight as a drum-head over his cheek-bones.
"There isn't a damned soul of them to be trusted!" he said to himself, and sat silently thoughtful.
Perhaps he was thinking how often he had come short of the hope placed in him; times of reflection arrive to most men; and a threatened attack of the illness he believed must one day carry him off, might well have disposed him to think.
In the evening he was worse.
By midnight he was in agony, and Lady Margaret was up with him all night.

In the morning came a lull, and Lady Margaret went to bed.

His wife had not come near him.

But Sepia might have been seen, more than once or twice, hovering about his door.
Both she and Mewks thought, after such a night, he must have forgotten his appointment with Mary.
When he had had some chocolate, he fell into a doze.