Then there came a sudden disruption to all these plans, and a sudden renewal of her hopes to Mrs. Masters which for one half day nearly restored her to good humour.  Lady Ushant wrote to postpone the visit because she herself had been summoned to Bragton.  Her letter to Mary, though affectionate, was very short.  Her grand-nephew John, the head of the family, had expressed a desire to see her, and with that wish she was bound to comply.  Of course, she said, she would see Mary at Bragton; or if that were not possible, she herself would come into Dillsborough.  She did not know what might be the length of her visit, but when it was over she hoped that Mary would return with her to Cheltenham.  The old lady’s letter to Reginald was much longer; because in that she had to speak of the state of John Morton’s health,—­and of her surprise that she should be summoned to his bedside.  Of course she would go,—­though she could not look forward with satisfaction to a meeting with the Honble.  Mrs. Morton.  Then she could not refrain from alluding to the fact that if “anything were to happen” to John Morton, Reginald himself would be the Squire of Bragton.  Reginald when he received this at once went over to the attorney’s house, but he did not succeed in seeing Mary.  He learned, however, that they were all aware that the journey had been postponed.

To Mrs. Masters it seemed that all this had been a dispensation of Providence.  Lady Ushant’s letter had been received on the Thursday and Mrs. Masters at once found it expedient to communicate with Larry Twentyman.  She was not excellent herself at the writing of letters, and therefore she got Dolly to be the scribe.  Before the Thursday evening the following note was sent to Chowton Farm;

Dear Larry,

Pray come and go to the club with father on Saturday.  We haven’t seen you for so long!  Mother has got something to tell you.

                    Your affectionate friend,
                              Dolly.

When this was received the poor man was smoking his moody pipe in silence as he roamed about his own farmyard in the darkness of the night.  He had not as yet known any comfort and was still firm in his purpose of selling the farm.  He had been out hunting once or twice but fancied that people looked at him with peculiar eyes.  He could not ride, though he made one or two forlorn attempts to break his neck.  He did not care in the least whether they found or not; and when Captain Glomax was held to have disgraced himself thoroughly by wasting an hour in digging out and then killing a vixen, he had not a word to say about it.  But, as he read Dolly’s note, there came back something of life into his eyes.  He had forsworn the club, but would certainly go when thus invited.  He wrote a scrawl to Dolly, “I’ll come,” and, having sent it off by the messenger, tried to trust that there might yet be ground for hope.  Mrs. Masters would not have allowed Dolly to send such a message without good reason.