Mr.Pendril left the garden for the shrubbery path which led to Combe-Raven.

Mr.Clare returned to the cottage.
On reaching the passage, he looked through the open door of his little parlor and saw Frank sitting there in idle wretchedness, with his head resting wearily on his hand.
"I have had an answer from your employers in London," said Mr.Clare.
"In consideration of what has happened, they will allow the offer they made you to stand over for another month." Frank changed color, and rose nervously from his chair.
"Are my prospects altered ?" he asked.

"Are Mr.Vanstone's plans for me not to be carried out?
He told Magdalen his will had provided for her.
She repeate d his words to me; she said I ought to know all that his goodness and generosity had done for both of us.

How can his death make a change?
Has anything happened ?" "Wait till Mr.Pendril comes back from Combe-Raven," said his father.
"Question him--don't question me." The ready tears rose in Frank's eyes.
"You won't be hard on me ?" he pleaded, faintly.

"You won't expect me to go back to London without seeing Magdalen first ?" Mr.Clare looked thoughtfully at his son, and considered a little before he replied.
"You may dry your eyes," he said.