For some cause, which I could not at the moment divine, Arthur was
unusually grave and silent during our walk home. It could not be
connected with Eric Lindon, I thought, as he had for some days been
away in London: so that, having Lady Muriel almost 'all to himself'--
for I was only too glad to hear those two conversing, to have
any wish to intrude any remarks of my own--he ought, theoretically,
to have been specially radiant and contented with life. "Can he have
heard any bad news?" I said to myself. And, almost as if he had read
my thoughts, he spoke.
"He will be here by the last train," he said, in the tone of one who is
continuing a conversation rather than beginning one.
"Captain Lindon, do you mean?"
"Yes--Captain Lindon," said Arthur: "I said 'he,' because I fancied we
were talking about him. The Earl told me he comes tonight, though
to-morrow is the day when he will know about the Commission that he's
hoping for. I wonder he doesn't stay another day to hear the result,
if he's really so anxious about it as the Earl believes he is."
"He can have a telegram sent after him," I said: "but it's not very
soldier-like, running away from possible bad news!"
"He's a very good fellow," said Arthur: "but I confess it would be good
news for me, if he got his Commission, and his Marching Orders, all at
once! I wish him all happiness--with one exception. Good night!"
(We had reached home by this time.
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