Gaunt, when he found the whole array on the table in the hall, asked the reason, and was told that Mrs. Gaunt seemed to have turned against them. Intent upon knowing the worst, he said: "Oh, you should have told her that I sent for them expressly."
"Just what I did tell her, sir," replied Grover at once.
He himself was startled by the pain this trifling fact caused him to feel. He went out of doors, and walked for hours, trying to escape from it. He found Hugh Caunter, and passed the rest of the day with him. The young agent, or bailiff, as the old-fashioned folk called him, was struck by the softening of his master's whole disposition. Anxiety and remorse did not make Gaunt irritable. He became quiet, with a hopeless kind of passive unhappiness which seemed to feel itself to be irremediable. Only now and then did he break out into sudden spasms of rage which, in the opinion of his household, were most excusable and infinitely preferable to his former continual surliness.
He was more approachable these days. Each morning he waited for the doctor and walked with him down the avenue, hearing the latest bulletin. When he came in, Grover usually contrived to be about, to pass on to him any details of interest.
"Better news from London this morning, sir. Yes, it has sent up Mrs. Gaunt's spirits something wonderful. Gave each of the little cats a new ribbon, she has. Yes, she has give them strange names, that she has. Cosmo and Damian, she calls 'em; and when I asked why such outlandish names, she laughs and says that they were doctors--great men, kind to the poor--and that she loves doctors, because they are going to make her little sister well. Fairly wrapped up in that little girl, she is, sir. I fear to think what the consequences would be if anything was to go wrong with the child. Has her photo there on the table beside her bed, with fresh flowers in front of it every day; and the boy, too--a handsome young gentleman, if you like! He will enjoy spending his holidays here, won't he, sir?"
Grover herself wondered how she dared to chatter in this way to him. The change must have been very marked. A month ago she had hardly opened her lips to him during her seven years' service in his house, except for the necessary conventional words she was obliged to speak. To-day, the silence in which he heard her had lacked any audible sign of encouragement. Yet it had encouraged. It had been the silence that eagerly awaits--that longs for more.