Part 49 (2/2)

Was ever a thrush so safe in a cherry net before!

The messenger came back with the information that Mrs. Petherwin had taken a walk to the Close, her companion alone remaining at the hotel.

There being nothing else left for the viscount to do, he put on his hat, and went out on foot in the same direction. He had not walked far when he saw Ethelberta moving slowly along the High Street before him.

Ethelberta was at this hour wandering without any fixed intention beyond that of consuming time. She was very wretched, and very indifferent: the former when thinking of her past, the latter when thinking of the days to come. While she walked thus unconscious of the streets, and their groups of other wayfarers, she saw Christopher emerge from a door not many paces in advance, and close it behind him: he stood for a moment on the step before descending into the road.

She could not, even had she wished it, easily check her progress without rendering the chance of his perceiving her still more certain. But she did not wish any such thing, and it made little difference, for he had already seen her in taking his survey round, and came down from the door to her side. It was impossible for anything formal to pa.s.s between them now.

'You are not at the concert, Mr. Julian?' she said. 'I am glad to have a better opportunity of speaking to you, and of asking for your sister.

Unfortunately there is not time for us to call upon her to-day.'

'Thank you, but it makes no difference,' said Julian, with somewhat sad reserve. 'I will tell her I have met you; she is away from home just at present.' And finding that Ethelberta did not rejoin immediately he observed, 'The chief organist, old Dr. Breeve, has taken my place at the concert, as it was arranged he should do after the opening part. I am now going to the Cathedral for the afternoon service. You are going there too?'

'I thought of looking at the interior for a moment.'

So they went on side by side, saying little; for it was a situation in which scarcely any appropriate thing could be spoken. Ethelberta was the less reluctant to walk in his company because of the provocation to skittishness that Lord Mountclere had given, a provocation which she still resented. But she was far from wis.h.i.+ng to increase his jealousy; and yet this was what she was doing, Lord Mountclere being a perturbed witness from behind of all that was pa.s.sing now.

They turned the corner of the short street of connection which led under an archway to the Cathedral Close, the old peer d.o.g.g.i.ng them still.

Christopher seemed to warm up a little, and repeated the invitation. 'You will come with your sister to see us before you leave?' he said. 'We have tea at six.'

'We shall have left Melchester before that time. I am now only waiting for the train.'

'You two have not come all the way from Knollsea alone?'

'Part of the way,' said Ethelberta evasively.

'And going back alone?'

'No. Only for the last five miles. At least that was the arrangement--I am not quite sure if it holds good.'

'You don't wish me to see you safely in the train?'

'It is not necessary: thank you very much. We are well used to getting about the world alone, and from Melchester to Knollsea is no serious journey, late or early. . . . Yet I think I ought, in honesty, to tell you that we are not entirely by ourselves in Melchester to-day.'

'I remember I saw your friend--relative--in the room at the Town-hall. It did not occur to my mind for the moment that he was any other than a stranger standing there.'

'He is not a relative,' she said, with perplexity. 'I hardly know, Christopher, how to explain to you my position here to-day, because of some difficulties that have arisen since we have been in the town, which may alter it entirely. On that account I will be less frank with you than I should like to be, considering how long we have known each other.

It would be wrong, however, if I were not to tell you that there has been a possibility of my marriage with him.'

'The elderly gentleman?'

'Yes. And I came here in his company, intending to return with him. But you shall know all soon. Picotee shall write to Faith.'

'I always think the Cathedral looks better from this point than from the point usually chosen by artists,' he said, with nervous quickness, directing her glance upwards to the silent structure, now misty and unrelieved by either high light or deep shade. 'We get the grouping of the chapels and choir-aisles more clearly shown--and the whole culminates to a more perfect pyramid from this spot--do you think so?'

'Yes. I do.'

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