Part 41 (2/2)
She turned away, without waiting for a reply, and Dane reseated himself in silence. To say that he was surprised, but feebly expresses his sentiments; he was stunned, he could hardly persuade himself that he had heard aright. He looked eagerly at Mrs Mallison, seeking a clue from her, and beheld a kindred surprise, mingled with an unmistakable complacence. Obviously the mother approved of her daughter's reserve, and felt a natural satisfaction in his rebuff, but before the silence had continued long enough to become awkward, she remembered her duties as hostess, and vouchsafed an explanation:
”Mary arrived just before tea... They have not seen each other for a year.--So much has happened...”
”Of course. Just so... I quite understand,” Dane said vaguely. Then, after a moment's pause, ”Teresa looks thin!” he added anxiously. ”This has been a great shock to her.”
”M-yes!” Mrs Mallison said. Just the one word, yet Dane found himself flus.h.i.+ng guiltily, and realising that he was _meant_ to realise that no shock, however great, could alter a girl's physique, as Teresa had altered since he had seen her last. He dropped the subject, and tried another.
”I came as quickly as I could after getting the news. I hoped I might be in time to help. What arrangements,... can I help you to make arrangements?”
”Thank you very much, but everything is settled. Mr Hunter is looking after everything. I expect him this evening to talk over details. The day after to-morrow, at twelve o'clock. Will it be possible for you to stay?”
Again Dane was conscious of shock, followed by a pang of something curiously like irritation. Hunter? How did Hunter come to be on such intimate terms? Then he remembered that Hunter was a doctor, and felt a rising of spirits. Of course! Quite natural! Hunter had been in attendance.
”Of course I shall stay. I hope I may be of some use to you later, on.
I'm glad you had someone on the spot. Hunter is the young doctor, isn't he? Extraordinarily kind, these doctor fellows on occasions like these!”
”M-yes,” said Mrs Mallison once more, and there rose before Dane's eyes a picture of Teresa, in a white dress, dispensing garden tea, with a tall young figure a.s.siduously waiting upon her. Once more he realised that that ”M-yes!” was meant to imply that more than mere professional interest was at stake.
The sound of a bell jingled through the quiet house, and Dane rose from his chair. Of old he had been as a son in this house, treated with affection and familiarity, but at this moment he felt an intruder, whose presence was merely an inconvenience, taking up time which should have been bestowed elsewhere. He held out his hand, and said:
”At what hour to-morrow will it be most convenient for me to call to see Teresa?”
”I will ask her,” Mrs Mallison said, and left the room, to return with astonis.h.i.+ng quickness. Evidently there had been no hesitation about the reply; evidently also the maternal judgment approved.
”Teresa says she will be glad if you will excuse her to-morrow. There is so much to do. She would rather leave her own affairs until after the funeral. Perhaps you will come in to tea on Thursday.”
”Thank you. I will come in after tea. About five o'clock. I am staying at the hotel. Please let me know if there is anything I can do.”
He kept his voice resolutely controlled, but his anger showed in sparkling eye, and a rising of colour over cheek and brow. Mrs Mallison regarded these signs with a natural satisfaction. It was not in feminine human nature to resist one parting thrust.
”One day,” she said suavely, ”cannot matter, when you have waited so long!”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
THE SECOND BEST.
Dane awoke next morning to face a long and difficult day. Idle hours are proverbially dedicated to temptation, and despite many resolutions his thoughts drifted continually towards Ca.s.sandra, continually emphasised her nearness, and dallied with the possibility of a meeting.
He swore that such a meeting should not be his own doing, but what if chance brought it about?
For some moments he permitted himself to envisage possibilities, then sternly called himself to order. Teresa in sorrow demanded an undivided loyalty; her tenderness during the past year riveted her claims. He determined to telephone to the Squire, apologise for his own inability to call at the Court, and try to arrange a meeting in town, but half an hour later as he stood on the step of the hotel, he saw the familiar dog-cart driving towards him, and heard himself hailed in loud, well-known tones.
”Halloa, Peignton! Heard you were here. Drove round to say how d'you do.” The Squire gave the reins to the groom. ”I'll come inside and have a smoke... Poor old fellow went off in a hurry, eh? S'pose you are staying over the funeral?”
”Yes. Till Friday morning. I'm glad you called. I was going to ring you up, and explain that I should have no time to pay calls...”
”No. No. Of course not. Son of the house; you'll have the whole show on your hands. And Teresa, eh? Bit of lost time to make up, what?
Thought you were never going to turn up again... You know your own business best, of course...”
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