_Night._
MR. CARRUTHERS came to call this afternoon. He was the last person I
expected to see when I went into the drawing-room after luncheon, to
wait for Lady Ver. I had my outdoor things on, and a big black hat,
which is rather becoming, I am glad to say.
“You here!” he exclaimed, as we shook hands.
“Yes, why not?” I said.
He looked very self-contained, and reserved, I thought, as if he had
not the least intention of letting himself go to display any interest.
It instantly aroused in me an intention to change all that.
“Lady Verningham kindly asked me to spend a few days with her when we
left Tryland,” I said, demurely.
“Oh! you are staying here! Well, I was over at Tryland the day before
yesterday--an elaborate invitation from Lady Katherine to ‘dine and
sleep quietly,’ which I only accepted as I thought I should see you.”
“How good of you,” I said, sweetly. “And did they not tell you I had
gone with Lady Verningham?”
“Nothing of the kind. They merely announced that you had departed for
London, so I supposed it was your original design of Claridge’s, and I
intended going round there some time to find you.”
Again I said it was so good of him, and I looked down.
He did not speak for a second or two, and I remained perfectly still.
“What are your plans?” he asked abruptly.
“I have no plans----”
“But you must have--that is ridiculous--you must have made some
decision as to where you are going to live!”
“No, I assure you,” I said, calmly, “when I leave here on Saturday, I
shall just get into a cab, and think of some place for it to take me
to, I suppose, as we turn down Park Lane.”
He moved uneasily, and I glanced at him up from under my hat. I don’t
know why he does not attract me now as much as he did at first. There
is something so cold and cynical about his face.
“Listen, Evangeline,” he said at last. “Something must be settled for
you--I cannot allow you to drift about like this. I am more or less
your guardian--you know--you must feel that.”
“I don’t a bit,” I said.
“You impossible little--witch!” he came closer.
“Yes, Lady Verningham says I am a witch, and a snake, and all sorts of
bad attractive things, and I want to go somewhere where I shall be able
to show these qualities! England is dull--what do you think of Paris?”
Oh! it did amuse me, launching forth these remarks. They would never
come into my head for any one else!
He walked across the room and back. His face was disturbed.
“You shall not go to Paris--alone. How can you even suggest such a
thing,” he said.