Mrs. Hopkins did not know but was disposed to think
that Mr. Reginald would come every day. Then Mrs. Morton went up to
her own room,--and while she prepared herself for her visit to the
sick room Lady Ushant retired. She had a cup of tea, refusing all
other refreshment, and then, walking erect as though she had been
forty instead of seventy-five, she entered her grandson's chamber
and took her old place at his bedside.
Nothing was then said about Arabella, nor, indeed, at any future
time was her name mentioned between them;--nor was anything then
said about the future fate of the estate. She did not dare to bring
up the subject at once, though, on the journey down from London,
she had determined that she would do so. But she was awed by his
appearance and by the increased appanages of his sick-bed. He
spoke, indeed, of the property, and expressed his anxiety that
Chowton Farm should be bought, if it came into market. He thought
that the old acres should be redeemed, if the opportunity arose,--
and if the money could be found. "Chowton Farm!" exclaimed the old
woman, who remembered well the agony which had attended the
alienation of that portion of the Morton lands.
"It may be that it will be sold."
"Lawrence Twentyman sell Chowton Farm! I thought he was well off."
Little as she had been at Bragton she knew all about Chowton
Farm,--except that its owner was so wounded by vain love as to be
like a hurt deer.
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