Then she got what particulars she could out of Mrs. Leyburn. Catherine, it appeared, was at this moment at High Ghyll, was not to return till late and would be with the dying girl through the greater part of the following day, returning for an hour or two’s rest in the afternoon, and staying in the evening till the twilight, in which the ghost always made her appearances, should have passed into night. Mrs. Thornburgh listened to it all, her contriving mind working the while at railway speed on the facts presented to her. ‘How do you get her home tomorrow night?’ she asked, with sudden animation. ‘Oh, we send our man Richard at ten. He takes a lantern if it’s dark.’ Mrs. Thornburgh said no more. Her eyes and gestures were all alive again with energy and hope. She had given her shake to Mrs. Leyburn’s mind. Much good might it do! But, after all, she had the poorest opinion of the widow’s capacities as an ally. She and her companion said a few more excited, affectionate, and apologetic things to one another, and then she departed. Both mother and knitting were found by Agnes half an hour later in a state of considerable confusion. But Mrs. Leyburn kept her own counsel, having resolved for once, with a timid and yet delicious excitement, to act as the head of the family. Meanwhile Mrs. Thornburgh was laying plans on her own account. ‘Ten o’clock-moonlight,’ said that contriving person to herself going home--‘at least if the clouds hold up--that’ll do--couldn’t be better.’ To any person familiar with her character the signs of some unusual preoccupation were clear enough in Mrs. Leyburn during this Thursday evening. Catherine noticed them at once when she got back from High Ghyll about eight o’clock, and wondered first of all what was the matter; and then, with more emphasis, why the trouble was not immediately communicated to her. It had never entered into her head to take her mother into her confidence with regard to Elsmere. Since she could remember, it had been an axiom in the family to spare the delicate nervous mother all the anxieties and perplexities of life. It was at system in which the subject of it had always acquiesced with perfect contentment, and Catherine had no qualms about it. If there was good news, it was presented in its most sugared form to Mrs. Leyburn; but the moment any element of pain and difficulty cropped up in the common life, it was pounced upon and appropriated by Catherine, aided and abetted by the girls, and Mrs. Leyburn knew no more about it than an unweaned babe. So that Catherine was thinking at most of some misconduct of a Perth dyer with regard to her mother’s best gray poplin, when one of the greatest surprises of her life burst upon her.