Three days passed; and Mrs. Lecount and her master—­each with their widely-different ends in view—­watched with equal anxiety for the first signs of returning life in the direction of North Shingles.  In that interval, no letter either from the uncle or the niece arrived for Noel Vanstone.  His sincere feeling of irritation under this neglectful treatment greatly assisted the effect of those feigned doubts on the subject of his absent friends which the captain had recommended him to express in the housekeeper’s presence.  He confessed his apprehensions of having been mistaken, not in Mr. Bygrave only, but even in his niece as well, with such a genuine air of annoyance that he actually contributed a new element of confusion to the existing perplexities of Mrs. Lecount.

On the morning of the fourth day Noel Vanstone met the postman in the garden; and, to his great relief, discovered among the letters delivered to him a note from Mr. Bygrave.

The date of the note was “Woodbridge,” and it contained a few lines only.  Mr. Bygrave mentioned that his niece was better, and that she sent her love as before.  He proposed returning to Aldborough on the next day, when he would have some new considerations of a strictly private nature to present to Mr. Noel Vanstone’s mind.  In the meantime he would beg Mr. Vanstone not to call at North Shingles until he received a special invitation to do so—­which invitation should certainly be given on the day when the family returned.  The motive of this apparently strange request should be explained to Mr. Vanstone’s perfect satisfaction when he was once more united to his friends.  Until that period arrived, the strictest caution was enjoined on him in all his communications with Mrs. Lecount; and the instant destruction of Mr. Bygrave’s letter, after due perusal of it, was (if the classical phrase might be pardoned) a sine qua non.

The fifth day came.  Noel Vanstone (after submitting himself to the sine qua non, and destroying the letter) waited anxiously for results; while Mrs. Lecount, on her side, watched patiently for events.  Toward three o’clock in the afternoon th e carriage appeared again at the gate of North Shingles.  Mr. Bygrave got out and tripped away briskly to the landlord’s cottage for the key.  He returned with the servant at his heels.  Miss Bygrave left the carriage; her giant relative followed her example; the house door was opened; the trunks were taken off; the carriage disappeared, and the Bygraves were at home again!

Four o’clock struck, five o’clock, six o’clock, and nothing happened.  In half an hour more, Mr. Bygrave—­spruce, speckless, and respectable as ever—­appeared on the Parade, sauntering composedly in the direction of Sea View.