By this time the carriage was at the door, and Mr. Vanstone
was unwilling to wait any longer. He and Norah drove away together; and
Mrs. Vanstone and Miss Garth sat at home over their work.
In half an hour more, Magdalen composedly walked into the room. She was
pale and depressed. She received Miss Garth's remonstrances with a weary
inattention; explained carelessly that she had been wandering in the
wood; took up some books, and put them down again; sighed impatiently,
and went away upstairs to her own room.
"I think Magdalen is feeling the reaction, after yesterday," said
Mrs. Vanstone, quietly. "It is just as we thought. Now the theatrical
amusements are all over, she is fretting for more."
Here was an opportunity of letting in the light of truth on Mrs.
Vanstone's mind, which was too favorable to be missed. Miss Garth
questioned her conscience, saw her chance, and took it on the spot.
"You forget," she rejoined, "that a certain neighbor of ours is going
away to-morrow. Shall I tell you the truth? Magdalen is fretting over
the departure of Francis Clare."
Mrs. Vanstone looked up from her work with a gentle, smiling surprise.
"Surely not?" she said.
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