Rolt had been informed by the Rector. “Why did not he tell us, or why did not Aunt Anthony write?” Lucy had said. “Oh, my pet, what could she write? I don’t suppose it was pleasant,” Mrs. Rolt said, “however angry you, may be with your own, you don’t like to hear them blamed by others; and Mrs. Anthony has sense enough to know that.” “Then why did she mention it at all?” said Lucy. “Oh, my love, that would have been more than flesh and blood is equal to. To have had an adventure like that, and not to have mentioned it at all! She said Mrs. Arthur behaved _dreadfully_ to her, abused her, turned her out of her rooms. But we must take all that with a great many grains of salt, for you know your Aunt Anthony, my dear.” “Yes, I know Aunt Anthony; but how dreadful it is that Arthur’s wife--fancy, _Arthur’s wife_!--should give anyone occasion to say that she behaved badly. You will not tell mamma?” “No, indeed, I promise you; and I daresay, if we could know it all, the half isn’t true. You mustn’t worry about it, my darling,” said Mrs. Rolt, kissing Lucy as she went away. The girl shook her head. Why should they tell her such things if they meant her not to worry? and yet she was feverishly glad that she had been told, as people are in respect to every such family misery. She went in at the great gates, with her cheek still flushed by the agitation of the news. To hear that a friend, a member of the family, had actually met and spoken with Nancy, seemed to bring her nearer, to make her more real. And perhaps there was a personal advantage in this thrill of renewed agitation about Arthur, which replaced for the moment some of her own thoughts. For lo! it so occurred that all Lucy’s precautions had been futile. She had not walked half-a-dozen yards when she heard behind her the rattle of the dogcart swinging round the corner to the gate, that had been sent for Durant to the station; and before she had time to collect her thoughts, it drew up suddenly just behind her, and Durant himself sprung out of it, and in a moment was at her side. The dogcart went on with his portmanteau, and she felt herself exactly in the circumstances she had so elaborately avoided, bound, without chance of escape, to a long solitary walk through the still avenue, and a long confidential talk before he had seen anyone else, with her brother’s friend. “Yes, the train was late; there was some slight accident on the line, at which I have been fuming and fretting. But, as it happens, it has been a lucky detention,” said Durant. Lucy took no notice, not even so much as by a smile. “You said you were very busy.” “Yes, I am getting plenty of work to do; not very distinguished work as yet, but I hope better may come.” “Your leading counsel will fall ill some day, and it will be a very interesting, romantic case, and you will be inspired to make the most eloquent speech, and your fortune will be made.” “I see you know how such things happen,” he said with a laugh.