‘Is any one at home, Edward?’ he said to the footman who answered the bell.
‘Yes, sir, Master and Miss Amy are in the study.’
‘Thank you;’ and he passed on with a beating heart.
‘Well, noble captain, what news?’ ‘Ah, I am so glad you are come, Herbert, I want you so much,’ were the greetings of the father and daughter, in their hearty, unformal, and affectionate manner. ‘Mamma tried to persuade me to go out with her to pay a visit to the Somervilles,’ continued Amy, ‘but I would not, for I felt somehow or other that you would come, and, as I said, I want you. You have been such a truant of late, that I was really beginning to be half angry with you. So ponder well on the escape you have made of my wrath by this opportune appearance.’
Herbert said something about his duties, only half intelligible to himself.
‘Yes,’ continued the light-hearted girl, ‘those duties are horrid things; ever since you have been a soldier, we have seen nothing of you at all, and I am very much disposed to be very angry with your colonel and all your regiment for not giving you perpetual leave of absence. I declare I have no companion now, for you know the boys are both at college. He is very naughty not to come oftener—is he not, papa?’
‘Perhaps Herbert is right, my love, in not humouring so giddy a girl as yourself. But here he is now, so make the most of him, for there may be another week or fortnight of duty which he has come to tell you of.’
How near he had guessed the truth—unconsciously—only so far short of its sad reality!
Herbert winced. ‘I am sure if I had but known that I was wanted, I would have come,’ he said hesitatingly; ‘but the truth is, I have been occupied both at home and at the barracks for the last few days by some business which I could not leave.’
‘Well, your being here proves that to be all over, and so you are not to think of going away to-day,’ said Amy. ‘I want you to help me with a drawing I am doing for Lady Somerville; and as she is a great connoisseur, it must be as good as our united heads and fingers can make it; and before we sit down to that, I wish you to run down to the river with me, and sketch a group of rocks, hazel-bushes, and reeds, which I want for the foreground of my picture. Now, no excuses, Herbert, though you look as if you were going to begin some—I will not hear them. Wait here with papa, till I put on my bonnet and get my sketch-book.
‘Now, don’t let him go, I pray you, papa,’ she continued, looking back from the door she had just opened, ‘for I shall not be five minutes away.’
‘You hear your doom, Herbert,’ said Mr. Hayward gaily; ‘so come, sit down, tell me all about your regiment, and how this exchange of yours prospers. A dashing young fellow like you ought to be in the cavalry, and I hope to hear of your soon exchanging the scarlet for the blue.’
‘That is all off, I am sorry to say, sir,’ replied Herbert.
‘Off! what do you mean? Surely your father told me that he had lodged the money for the exchange, and that the matter had only to pass through the forms of the War Office.’
‘So he had; but an event has happened which has put an end to all our hopes upon the subject.’
‘What, is the man dead?’
‘No, sir, he is well enough, but—’ and Herbert hesitated.
‘But what, Herbert? If there is anything that I can do—you know there can be no ceremony between us.’
‘No, no, sir, I well know that; and—’
‘Why what is the matter with the boy?’ cried Mr. Hayward, observing that Herbert seemed to be struggling with some strong emotion; ‘has anything happened?’
‘You may as well know it at once,’ replied Herbert, mastering his feelings. ‘I am come on purpose to tell it to you, lest you should hear it in some out-of-the-way manner. My regiment is ordered abroad, and I am to go, of course.’
‘Well, I am glad to hear it,’ said Mr. Hayward; ‘you will have a pleasant continental frolic, and see something of the world;—and sorry too, since we shall lose you for a time.’
‘But our destination is not the continent, but India,’ said Herbert sadly.
‘Good God! you don’t mean that,’ exclaimed Mr. Hayward, rising. ‘Pardon me, my dear boy, that I should have spoken lightly on a subject which is so distressing. India! that indeed is a sad word: can nothing be done to prevent this? cannot you exchange? cannot—’
‘I would not if I were able, dear sir,’ said Herbert. ‘I feel this to be my duty; I could not in any honour leave the regiment at such a time, without a suspicion of the basest motives being attached to my character.’
‘Tut, tut, Herbert! the thing is done every day, so let not that distress or prevent you.’
Herbert shook his head.
‘I say it is, I could tell you a dozen instances.’
‘Perhaps you might, where the only enemy was the climate; but our possessions in the East are menaced, and the service will be active. I learned this when the news came to the regiment; and as none of the officers have attempted an exchange, except one or two whose characters are not high, I feel that I cannot.’
‘And you are right, Herbert,’ said Mr. Hayward, after a pause, ‘you are right. God help your parents! your poor mother—this will be a sad blow to her!’ and he paused, as a tear glistened in his eyes.
‘It was at first, certainly, sir; but they are already more composed, and are beginning to bear to talk of it.’
‘And how soon are you to go? The Government will give you some time, surely, for preparation.’
‘Very little, I am sorry to say. We march for Dover on Monday, and sail, we hear, in ten days or a fortnight.’
‘Monday! Bless me, and to-day is Thursday; this is the worse news of all. Poor Amy, what will she say?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Herbert, ‘I want your advice, whether to mention it to her myself or not. I cannot refuse to accompany her now; indeed, you saw she would take no denial. I will do exactly as you please.’
‘Why, it is an unpleasant matter to any of us to think or speak of, and I really do not know what to say. But as you are the person concerned, and can give her every information yourself,’ continued Mr. Hayward, after a pause, ‘perhaps you had better talk it over with her. Break it as gently as you can, however, for it would be useless to deny to you that she will be very sorry to hear it.’
‘Come, Herbert!’ cried Amy, opening the door; ‘I have been longer away than I thought. Come, here are books and paper, and my stool for you to carry; so make haste.’
‘You will be discreet with her, Herbert,’ said Mr. Hayward gently, giving his hand.
Herbert could only press it in acknowledgment. In a moment afterwards they were gone.
Mr. Hayward turned to the window involuntarily, to watch them as they descended the gentle slope of the lawn. There was a vague thought in his mind that they had better not have gone; but as he could find no reason for the idea, he dismissed it. He was a benevolent, simple-hearted man; he had had neither the necessity nor the inclination to study character, and could not at once estimate the effect such a communication as his daughter was about to receive would have upon her; nor did it at once strike him that the long and intimate association she had held with Herbert could have produced any tenderer feeling than she had ever expressed or appeared to entertain. Her mother, had she been there, might have judged differently;