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Nest went to Laurisdale Castle with a certain thankfulness that Fate had provided her with something in the nature of occupation. She ought to have been anxious and uneasy about her father, but she recognised that she had no feeling of the kind. She had never cherished the slightest affection for him, and, on his part, he had shown her none, as far back as she could remember. It had always been a source of bitter disappointment to John Sairson that a boy had never been given to him. Ah! and as he lay between life and death, nobody shed a tear for him, and Nest could not help thinking that her father was himself to blame.
The weight of the trouble seemed to lie on the shoulders of everybody; even Cecil Lugard--whom she met on the road--was moody and thoughtful.