Her ladyship had already wonderfully recovered her spirits.
They were of a mercurial nature, liable to go up and down at touch; and
Hamish had contrived to cheer her greatly.
"What does all this mean? Where's Roland?" began Mr. Galloway, showing
little more deference to her ladyship, in his flurry, than he might
have shown to Roland himself.
"Did you not know he was going?" she asked.
"I know nothing. Where is he gone?"
"He has started for Port Natal; that is, he has started for London, on
his way to it. He went by the eight o'clock train."
Mr. Galloway sat down in consternation. "My lady, allow me to inquire
what sort of behaviour you call this?"
"Whether it is good or bad, right or wrong, I can't help it," was the
reply of Lady Augusta. "I'm sure _I_ have enough to bear!" she added,
melting into tears. "Of course he ought to have informed you of his
intention, Mr. Galloway. I thought he did. He told me he had done so."
A reminiscence of Roland's communication crossed Mr. Galloway's mind;
of his words, "Don't say I did not give you notice, sir." He had paid
no heed to it at the time.
"He is just another of my headstrong boys," grumbled Lady Augusta.
"They are all specimens of wilfulness. I never knew that it was this
morning he intended to be off, until he was gone, and I had to run
after him to the station. Ask Hamish Channing."
"He must be mad!" exclaimed Mr. Galloway.
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