The Vision of Desire Part 23

"If she is a Mrs. Dene Hilyard, I know her already," he answered. "I used to meet her with her husband in London sometimes--and a pretty brute he was! I nearly ran away with her just to get her out of his clutches," he added lightly.

"Well, she's out of them now, poor soul, for keeps," said Lady Susan.

Later, as they walked home together across the fields, accompanied by the now jubilant Tribes of Israel, she returned to the subject.

"If you'll promise not to discredit me by running away with her, Brett, we'll go over to see your friend at the Priory. I should have to call, in any case, before long."

"You needn't be afraid. There's not the remotest danger of my wanting to run off with her."

"She's rather a beautiful person," warned Lady Susan laughingly. "You'll probably lose your heart to her within half an hour."

"I've only done such a thing once in my life," he replied coolly. "I'm not likely to do it again."

"When was that, Brett?" she asked with some curiosity. She had never heard of his having any serious love-affair.

"To-day," he replied unexpectedly.

Lady Susan paused and surveyed him with unfeigned astonishment.

"Ann?" she cried. "Do you mean you've fallen in love with my little Ann--already?"

"I mean rather more than that," he said deliberately. "I mean that I'm going to marry your little Ann."

His aunt regarded him with a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Ann Lovell is a young woman with a very decided mind of her own," she observed. "It's just conceivable she might refuse you."

Forrester returned her glance with eyes like blue steel.

"It wouldn't make a bit of difference if she did," he said laconically.

CHAPTER XIII

"FRIENDs.h.i.+P IMPLIES TRUST"

_"Can you put me up? Tony."_

Ann was sitting in the garden one morning, industriously occupied in sh.e.l.ling peas, when the foregoing terse wire was handed to her by the village telegraph boy. Tony's silence throughout the last few weeks had somewhat disturbed her. She had not received a single line from him since the day he had accompanied her to Victoria station and seen her safely on board the train for Silverquay, and now her brows drew together rather anxiously as she perused this unexpected message.

The telegram had been handed in at the local post office at Lorne, so it was obvious that Tony was at home, and the only reason she could surmise for his sudden request was that he had had a rather bigger quarrel than usual with his uncle.

She scribbled an affirmative reply on the prepaid form which had accompanied the wire and dispatched it by the telegraph boy, who was waiting placidly in the suns.h.i.+ne--and looked as though he were prepared to wait all day if necessary. Then, when she had slit the last fat pod in her basket and sh.e.l.led its contents, she picked up the bowl of s.h.i.+ny green peas and carried it into the kitchen where Maria was busy making bread.

"Can we do with a visitor, Maria?" she asked, flapping the flimsy pink telegram gaily in front of her. "Here's Mr. Tony Brabazon wiring to know if we can put him up."

"Master Tony?" Maria relapsed into the familiar appellation of the days when she had been not infrequently moved to cuff the said Master Tony's ears with gusto, on occasions when he took nursery tea at Lovell Court and failed to comport himself, in Maria's eyes, "as a little gentleman should."

"Why, yes, miss, us could do with Master Tony." Her face broadened into a beaming smile. "'Twould be like the old days to have him back, scrawling round my kitchen again and stealing the jam pasties. Do you mind his ways when Mr. Lovell he was travelling in furrin parts an' I was cooking for you and Master Robin? And there's not many can better my jam pasties when I put my mind to it, though I do say it."

"Well, you'll have him 'scrawling round your kitchen' before long, I expect," replied Ann.

Maria searched her face with kindly curiosity.

"You'm well pleased, miss, bain't you?"

Ann smiled.

"Very pleased."

Evidently the answer did not convey all that Maria had hoped for, after kneading her dough energetically for a few moments, she threw out negligently:

"I used to fancy at one time that you and Master Tony might be thinking of getting married some day. I suppose I was wrong."

"Quite out of it, Maria." Ann looked preternaturally serious. "And, anyway, I thought you hadn't a very high opinion of matrimony and didn't recommend it?"

"Well, I will say my 'usband wasn't one to make you think a lot of it,"

acknowledged Maria, still kneading with vigour. "But there! There's a power of difference in men, same as there is in yeast. Some starts working right away, and when you puts it down afore the fire your bread plums up beautiful. But I've known yeast what you couldn't get to work as it should--stale stuff, maybe--and then the bread lies 'eavy on your stomach.

It's like that with husbands. I dare say some of 'em be good enough, but there's some what isn't, and George Coombe, he was one of that sort. But I don't bear him no grudge. He was a bit plaguey to live with, but he died proper--with his face to the foe, as you may say, so I've no call to be ashamed of him."

"I'm sure you haven't," agreed Ann warmly, and, leaving Maria to her bread-making, she ran off to feed the poultry. Much to her delight, her first brood of fluffy youngsters had hatched out the previous day.

A few hours later Tony wired _"Arriving 3.30 train to-morrow."_ And now "to-morrow" had become to-day, and Ann, alone in the ralli-cart, was sending d.i.c.k Turpin smartly along the road to the station.

The station at Silverquay, as is so often the case at a seaside town, was more or less of a common meeting ground for the inhabitants, and it was quite an unusual thing not to run across some one one knew there, exchanging a library book or purchasing a paper at the bookstall. So that it was no surprise to Ann, as she made her way on to the platform, to see Eliot Coventry coming towards her, an unfolded newspaper under his arm.

Otherwise, the platform was deserted. The train was not yet signalled, and neither stationmaster nor porter had emerged into view. Without absolute discourtesy it was impossible for Eliot to avoid speaking to her, and Ann's heart quickened its beat a little as, after one swift, almost perturbed glance, he approached her. He looked rather tired, and there was a restless, thwarted expression in his eyes. So might look the eyes of a man who habitually denied himself the freedom to act as his inclinations demanded, and Ann was conscious of a sudden impulse of compa.s.sion that overcame the feeling of hurt pride which his recent att.i.tude towards her had inspired. She responded to his greeting with a small, friendly smile, leavened with just a spice of mischief.

"So you're not going to cut me altogether, then?"

"Cut you? Why should I?" he said quickly.

She shook her head.

"I don't know why. But you've been doing the next thing to it lately, haven't you?"

Then, as he stared moodily down, at her without answering, she continued with the quaint, courageous candour which was a part of her:

"Will you tell me quite honestly, Mr. Coventry--would you rather that Robin hadn't a sister living with him at the Cottage? Because, if so, I can easily go away again. I shouldn't have any difficulty in finding a job, and Maria Coombe is quite capable of looking after Robin!"

While she was speaking a startled look of dismay overspread his face.

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed in an aghast voice. "Have I been as rude as all that?"

"Not rude, exactly. Only when first I came you seemed quite pleased that I should be at the Cottage. But now--lately--" She broke off lamely. It was difficult to put the thing into words. There was nothing, actually, that he had done or left undone. It was a matter of atmosphere--an atmosphere of chilly indifference of which she was acutely conscious in his presence and which made her feel unwelcome.