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The manner in which the young man received the angry words of his grandfather, was a little different from what had been anticipated. Mr. Lofton expected some explanation by which he could understand more clearly what was in the young man's thoughts. When, therefore, Mark abruptly turned from him with such strange language on his tongue, Mr.
A week after Mark Clifford left Fairview, word came that he had enlisted in the United States' service and gone to sea as a common sailor; accompanying this intelligence was an indignant avowal of his father that he would have nothing more to do with him. To old Mr. Lofton this was a serious blow. In Mark he had hoped to see realized some of his ambitious desires.
Lofton saw Jenny, and the more he was with her, the more did she remind him of his own lost child his Jenny, the mother of Mark now in heaven. The incident of meeting with young Clifford had helped to develop Jenny's character, and give it a stronger type than otherwise would have been the case. Thus, she became to Mr.
It became clearly evident to Canon Nicholls that the rector and one or two of the older priests who had wind of the matter could not see why there should be any fuss about it. Young Molyneux was under no cloud; why should he behave as if it were a disgrace to be chaplain to poor old Lord Lofton? Was he crying out because London would be in such a bad way without him?
Together, in a few minutes afterwards, they approached the house and entered. "Where is Mr. Lofton?" asked Jenny of a servant who met them in the great hall. "He's been very ill," replied the servant. "Ill!" Jenny became pale. "Yes, very ill. But he is better now." "Where is he?" "In his own chamber." For a moment Jenny hesitated whether to go up alone, or in company with Mark.
"Is he sitting up?" she asked of the servant. "He's been sitting up a good deal to-day, but is lying down now." "He's much better?" "Oh, yes!" "Come," said Jenny, turning to Mark, and moving towards the stairway. Mark followed passively. On entering the chamber of Mr. Lofton, they found him sleeping. Both silently approached, and looked upon his venerable face, composed in deep slumber.
Towards mid-day he awoke; but the anxiety that came with thought brought back many of the unfavorable symptoms, and he was worse again towards evening. On the third day he was again better, but so weak as to be unable to sit up. How greatly did old Mr. Lofton miss the gentle girl, who had become almost as dear to him as a child, during this brief illness, brought on by her strange absence.
"What did he say then?" "He spoke of you, and said you were a good man, and that we no doubt found you a good landlord. I had mentioned that you owned our cottage." Mr. Lofton appeared affected at this. "What then?" he continued. "He told me who he was, and then asked me my name.
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