Dinner was announced; they went in.At the round table in a dining-room, all black oak, with many candles, and terrible portraits of departed ancestors, Anna sat between the magistrate and Gordy.Mark was opposite, between a quaint-looking old lady and a young girl who had not been introduced, a girl in white, with very fair hair and very white skin, blue eyes, and lips a little parted; a daughter evidently of the faded Mrs.Doone.A girl like a silvery moth, like a forget-me-not! Anna found it hard to take her eyes away from this girl's face; not that she admired her exactly; pretty she was--yes; but weak, with those parted lips and soft chin, and almost wistful look, as if her deep-blue half-eager eyes were in spite of her.But she was young--so young! That was why not to watch her seemed impossible."Sylvia Doone?" Indeed!
Yes.A soft name, a pretty name--and very like her! Every time her eyes could travel away from her duty to Squire Trusham, and to Gordy (on both of whom she was clearly making an impression), she gazed at this girl, sitting there by the boy, and whenever those two young things smiled and spoke together she felt her heart contract and hurt her.Was THIS why that something had gone out of his eyes? Ah, she was foolish! If every girl or woman the boy knew was to cause such a feeling in her, what would life be like?
And her will hardened against her fears.She was looking brilliant herself; and she saw that the girl in her turn could not help gazing at her eagerly, wistfully, a little bewildered--hatefully young.And the boy? Slowly, surely, as a magnet draws, Anna could feel that she was drawing him, could see him stealing chances to look at her.Once she surprised him full.What troubled eyes! It was not the old adoring face; yet she knew from its expression that she could make him want her--make him jealous--easily fire him with her kisses, if she would.
And the dinner wore to an end.Then came the moment when the girl and she must meet under the eyes of the mother, and that sharp, quaint-looking old governess.It would be a hard moment, that!
And it came--a hard moment and a long one, for Gordy sat full span over his wine.But Anna had not served her time beneath the gaze of upper Oxford for nothing; she managed to be charming, full of interest and questions in her still rather foreign accent.Miss Doone--soon she became Sylvia--must show her all the treasures and antiquities.Was it too dark to go out just to look at the old house by night? Oh, no.Not a bit.There were goloshes in the hall.And they went, the girl leading, and talking of Anna knew not what, so absorbed was she in thinking how for a moment, just a moment, she could contrive to be with the boy alone.
It was not remarkable, this old house, but it was his home--might some day perhaps be his.And houses at night were strangely alive with their window eyes.
"That is my room," the girl said, "where the jessamine is--you can just see it.Mark's is above--look, under where the eave hangs out, away to the left.The other night--""Yes; the other night?"
"Oh, I don't--! Listen.That's an owl.We have heaps of owls.
Mark likes them.I don't, much."
Always Mark!
"He's awfully keen, you see, about all beasts and birds--he models them.Shall I show you his workshop?--it's an old greenhouse.
Here, you can see in."
There through the glass Anna indeed could just see the boy's quaint creations huddling in the dark on a bare floor, a grotesque company of small monsters.She murmured:
"Yes, I see them, but I won't really look unless he brings me himself.""Oh, he's sure to.They interest him more than anything in the world."For all her cautious resolutions Anna could not for the life of her help saying:
"What, more than you?"
The girl gave her a wistful stare before she answered:
"Oh! I don't count much."
Anna laughed, and took her arm.How soft and young it felt! Apang went through her heart, half jealous, half remorseful.
"Do you know," she said, "that you are very sweet?"The girl did not answer.
"Are you his cousin?"
"No.Gordy is only Mark's uncle by marriage; my mother is Gordy's sister--so I'm nothing."Nothing!
"I see--just what you English call 'a connection.'"They were silent, seeming to examine the night; then the girl said:
"I wanted to see you awfully.You're not like what I thought.""Oh! And what DID you think?"
"I thought you would have dark eyes, and Venetian red hair, and not be quite so tall.Of course, I haven't any imagination."They were at the door again when the girl said that, and the hall light was falling on her; her slip of a white figure showed clear.
Young--how young she looked! Everything she said--so young!
And Anna murmured: "And you are--more than I thought, too."Just then the men came out from the dining-room; her husband with the look on his face that denoted he had been well listened to;Squire Trusham laughing as a man does who has no sense of humour;Gordy having a curly, slightly asphyxiated air; and the boy his pale, brooding look, as though he had lost touch with his surroundings.He wavered towards her, seemed to lose himself, went and sat down by the old governess.Was it because he did not dare to come up to her, or only because he saw the old lady sitting alone? It might well be that.
And the evening, so different from what she had dreamed of, closed in.Squire Trusham was gone in his high dog-cart, with his famous mare whose exploits had entertained her all through dinner.Her candle had been given her; she had said good-night to all but Mark.
What should she do when she had his hand in hers? She would be alone with him in that grasp, whose strength no one could see.And she did not know whether to clasp it passionately, or to let it go coolly back to its owner; whether to claim him or to wait.But she was unable to help pressing it feverishly.At once in his face she saw again that troubled look; and her heart smote her.She let it go, and that she might not see him say good-night to the girl, turned and mounted to her room.
Fully dressed, she flung herself on the bed, and there lay, her handkerchief across her mouth, gnawing at its edges.
