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From Evie came a sharply-drawn breath. "Goodbye," she said to Margaret, and kissed her.
And again and again fell the word, like the ebb of a dying sea.
"Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Dolly."
"So long, father."
"Good-bye, my boy; always take care of yourself."
"Good-bye, Mrs. Wilc.o.x."
"Good-bye."
Margaret saw their visitors to the gate. Then she returned to her husband and laid her head in his hands. He was pitiably tired. But Dolly's remark had interested her. At last she said: "Could you tell me, Henry, what was that about Mrs. Wilc.o.x having left me Howards End?"
Tranquilly he replied: "Yes, she did. But that is a very old story.
When she was ill and you were so kind to her she wanted to make you some return, and, not being herself at the time, scribbled 'Howards End' on a piece of paper. I went into it thoroughly, and, as it was clearly fanciful, I set it aside, little knowing what my Margaret would be to me in the future."
Margaret was silent. Something shook her life in its inmost recesses, and she s.h.i.+vered.
"I didn't do wrong, did I?" he asked, bending down.
"You didn't, darling. Nothing has been done wrong."
From the garden came laughter. "Here they are at last!" exclaimed Henry, disengaging himself with a smile. Helen rushed into the gloom, holding Tom by one hand and carrying her baby on the other. There were shouts of infectious joy.
"The field's cut!" Helen cried excitedly--"the big meadow! We've seen to the very end, and it'll be such a crop of hay as never!"
WEYBRIDGE, 1908-1910.
