Norah had the railway time-table in her hand. They had been discussing
the chances of Mr. Vanstone's catching the return train and getting back
in good time. That topic had led them, next, to his business errand at
Grailsea--an errand of kindness, as usual; undertaken for the benefit
of the miller, who had been his old farm-servant, and who was now hard
pressed by serious pecuniary difficulties. From this they had glided
insensibly into a subject often repeated among them, and never exhausted
by repetition--the praise of Mr. Vanstone himself. Each one of the three
had some experience of her own to relate of his simple, generous nature.
The conversation seemed to be almost painfully interesting to his
wife. She was too near the time of her trial now not to feel nervously
sensitive to the one subject which always held the foremost place in her
heart. Her eyes overflowed as Magdalen joined the little group under the
portico; her frail hand trembled as it signed to her youngest daughter
to take the vacant chair by her side. "We were talking of your father,"
she said, softly. "Oh, my love, if your married life is only as happy--"
Her voice failed her; she put her handkerchief hurriedly over her face
and rested her head on Magdalen's shoulder.
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