Rain persistent, violent, drowned all thought of shooting. Colonel
Martyn, it is true, with unconquerable energy, professed himself ready
to make the attempt, but no one seconding him, he found consolation in a
gymnasium which Lord Milborough had set up for the use of the household.
Lord Milborough himself was moody. Anne perceived that her decision
had been already made known to him, and that it did not please. This
did not trouble her. It was Wareham who was on her mind that day--a day
of days, did he but know it! a day with an aspect of finality about it,
which made the chiming hours sound like a knell. Once, early,
opportunity fluttered round her. They lingered in the hall, Mary
Tempest, the girl whose organ of veneration for authors and beauties was
largely developed, by Anne's side, when Wareham, seeing her thus safely
guarded, approached.
"I will not class you with the unemployed," said Anne, smiling, "but I
pity you, for, as you took care to tell me, you came here with one
object, and that fails you. Charity obliges me to assure you that in
the library you will find, I believe, a fine collection of books,
and,"--looking round--"absolute quiet. I can speak securely as to the
quiet."
"Thank you. But the picture-gallery? The pictures, I know, are
famous."
Anne's brain was spinning questions. Here was the opening she desired.
Should she accept it? Two or three hours later there would have been no
hesitation, but the morning, the cold-blooded hours of the morning, when
caution walks by man, repelled her. She objected that the light would
be bad, besides, three or four of them had promised to go over the
stables with Lord Milborough.
"That offers you no inducement?"
He owned that she was right.
"Let me hear how you have amused yourself at luncheon," she said, as she
went away.
Mary Tempest's head was almost turned by Miss Dalrymple that day. She
was invited to accompany her wherever she went, stables, conservatory,
billiard-room. Lord Milborough fretted, once murmured "Cruel!" but Anne
made no sign of having heard, and as the hours passed, his spirits rose.
Hope had been delicately conveyed to him by the engaged couple; this
day of delay was, no doubt, a whim of Anne's; humour it, and please her.
It was proof of Anne's power that a young earl, with sixty thousand a
year, was forced to contemplate the possibilities of a refusal, and
dared not risk it.
At luncheon it was acknowledged that the wind had fallen, and that the
rain was not so heavy. Lord Milborough proposed to drive Colonel Martyn
to a neighbouring place in a dog-cart. Would any one else come?
"I don't mind," said Wareham.
Anne's fingers closed on her palm.
"If you are prepared for an hours wait?"
"Oh, I'm not." He laughed. "I avoid courting patience, the most
annoying of virtues."
"I agree!" cried Lord Milborough. "Let us each throw a stone at her."
He looked at Anne significantly. She sat smiling.
"No stones, please."
Colonel Martyn turned a gloomy face towards them.
"Of all places for patience, commend me to Norway, where they wheel you
in a perambulator by the side of a salmon river," he said. "No
newspapers, and your dinner at one o'clock off stewed whip-cord."
His wife put in that it had made another man of him. She thought it
charming, except for the people you met, shuddering at remembrance of
the professor. Lord Milborough considered it a fair yachting country.
Anne pronounced in favour of the inland scenery and carriole driving.
"Colonel Martyn's perambulators."
As they left the dining-room she contrived to be near Wareham, and to
say, in a low voice, "You do not drive with Lord Milborough, will you
condescend to a walk in the park? In this weather we cannot go far, but
Miss Tempest and I pant for fresh air, and start at three."
The name of Miss Tempest set him at ease. He hesitated to trust himself
to walk alone with her, his lips yet sealed; but with another, a third,
what was there to fear? He showed his pleasure.
"Be in the conservatory at three, then," said Anne; "we will join you
there. And bring no companion, for it is insupportable to have a troop
at one's heels." She nodded and passed on. To Mary Tempest she said,
"Come to my room at three," and sent her away radiant by adding, "There
is something I want you to do for me."
Punctual to the moment Mary appeared. Anne kissed her.
"I know I can trust you not to talk," she said, smiling at her.
She was answered by a look of devotion. "The truth is, there is
something I want to say to Mr Wareham."
"And you would rather I did not come?"
"No, no, not quite that. If you would start with us, and after a little
time remember something which has to be done?"
"Oh, yes! I really ought to write to Horace."
"And your mother will not mind your coming home by yourself?"
"Mind? No, no!"
"Then I leave it to you."
"Oh, you may! Only--"
"What?"
"How am I to know when you wish me to take myself off?"
"I'll say--what shall I say?--I'll ask what Mrs Tempest is doing with
herself this afternoon."
"That will do perfectly, and I can easily bring in my letter."
Anne saw that she had provided her young adorer with a problem which
would occupy her thoughts throughout her part of the walk. To have
something to do for Miss Dalrymple, and to do it intelligently! On the
stairs they met Mrs Martyn.
"Going out in this weather! Well, perhaps you are right, perhaps I'll
come myself."
"I am not in the humour for waiting," Anne said. "It is now or never."
"But I should not be long."
"Too long. Come, Mary."
Mrs Martyn was left reflecting, and suspecting a purpose. From no
window, unfortunately, could she command the four sides of the house.
She flew to her own, and stood glued to the pane. Nothing met her
sight, but the dreariness of grey rain corroborated her suspicions,
since she was sure that to walk through it with only Mary Tempest as a
companion would have no attractions for Anne. Looking at last brought
its reward. Three small figures emerged on a path; two she knew, the
other she recognised by the ulster to be Wareham, and promptly admired
her own powers of intuition.
"I knew it, of course I knew it, if only by Anne's manner!" she cried,
and meditated upon the nature of woman as exemplified by Anne. With
everything she could wish for in the world at her feet, she perceived
that she wanted more, and would not be content unless Wareham walked
behind to grace her triumph. More than this her friend would have
laughed at, but so far she decided upon with easy security. Wareham
offered a greater puzzle. She had been certain, petulantly certain, of
his liking for Anne, and had drawn a rather spiteful amusement from the
awkwardness of his position as Hugh's friend. Had he changed? She had
kept him well under a microscope since he had been at Thorpe, and minute
observations had on the whole confirmed her first opinion. Yet he had
not to all appearances advanced one jot in his wooing. Why? Why not,
now that his road was open? And if resolved against it, why was he
here? Why, above all, was he walking in the park with Anne? As for
Mary, Mrs Martyn tossed her to the winds. "The girl will be sent home,
of course," and when half-an-hour later she beheld her whisk across the
hall she again appreciated her own acuteness.
Wareham, blind man, permitted himself blissful thrills of delight. The
fact that Anne had asked him to accompany them counted for much. He had
the charm of her society, the defence of a third person. A few days now
would end his ordeal, and happy the augury of this kindness! Strangely,
perhaps, Lord Milborough's evident admiration troubled him little. Fear
did not easily touch him, except the lately born fear that he might be
caught by dishonour, and the time for this was almost passed. It did
not require vanity to perceive that Anne encouraged him; and his mind,
once possessed with the idea, went straightforwardly to the end to which
happy paths lead.