Sir Samuel was not skilful with his pen; his letter was brief.
"I ran down as I said I should, and was awfully sorry to hear you were knocked over. I'll be down again soon, but I thought I would scribble you a word to say I shall keep my promise till I see you again."
Caroline's hand closed over the letter, and she lay back and let the nervous beat steady down in her heart and pulses.
The blind still flapped to and fro, but the golden streak had moved. A blackbird was piping in the clear air; she could hear the children's voices from the garden. The room had the same tranquil air as before, but the soft reposeful element had passed away; Caroline's eyes were closed, but she neither slept nor dreamed.
Remembrance was with her again, and with remembrance, heartache, yearning, and regret.
In June, when the gardens at Yelverton were glorious with roses (and Caroline's one task seemed to be hunting the children out of the strawberry-beds), Cuthbert Baynhurst and his wife returned to town.
They did not do this voluntarily; it was literally to see his mother die that Cuthbert was summoned back to England.
Rupert Haverford himself wrote the message that brought his half-brother home.
He himself was on the eve of sailing for the United States when his mother's condition became so serious.
He had promised Mrs. Brenton to spend one night at Yelverton before leaving for America, but of course all his arrangements were upset.
"It is impossible to describe to you the suffering my poor mother is enduring just now," he wrote. "She is amazingly brave, and her brain is as active as ever. It sounds cruel to say it, but I almost regret this, for she persists in fatiguing herself. Only yesterday she worked for three hours."
"She has been very ill for some time, how ill no one but she herself has known; but undoubtedly she has hastened matters to the present crisis by her unhappiness about Cuthbert's marriage. It was a great shock to her; she craves for him, and seems to torture herself with vain and unreasonable jealousy. I am most unhappy about her.... It is a bitter thing to feel that I have not the gift of ministering to her!"
All these letters passed into Caroline's hands.
Usually she read them out in the garden, and when she was alone.