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But wait a bit; her's rare an' wroth this mornin', and I ain't sure as it's safe to be anigh her. Miss Blythe's been here this mornin' Aunt Rachel, as the wench has allays called her, though her's no more than her mother's second cousin and it seems as th' old creetur found out about Ruth's letter, and went and took it from wheer it was and marched it off.
It was a cool night, so that I was justified in turning up my coat collar in such a way as to conceal partially my face. Inconspicuously I stepped into the Argonaut and up the stairs to Blythe's room. Sam met me at the door and nodded in the direction of No. 417. "He went out half an hour ago." "I'll bet he got a telephone message from little Nick Carter first," I grinned.
Then he took up the journal, surrounded the paragraph which related to the devotion of the Marquis of B. with heavy ink-marks, waited patiently until the lines dried, folded up the paper, put it in his pocket, and walked into the road. There he turned to the left, and went straight on to Miss Blythe's cottage.
I have made mine! independently and honestly in fact" and she smiled, a sad cold smile "it is an honour for you, my mother, to know me, your daughter!" Lady Blythe's face grew ghastly pale in the uncertain light of the half-veiled moon. She moved a step and caught the girl's arm with some violence. "What do you mean to do?" she asked, in an angry whisper, "I must know!
Both imagined, with the usual short-sightedness of the male sex, that the women had taken a sudden fantastic dislike to one another. "By jove, she's jealous!" thought the Duke, fully aware that Lady Blythe was occasionally "moved that way." "The girl seems frightened of her," was Lord Blythe's inward comment, knowing that his wife did not always create a sympathetic atmosphere.
He was altogether at a loss to understand in what way he could have excited Miss Blythe's anger, but it was unpleasant to know that there was an enemy in the camp which he had always thought entirely friendly. With the exception of Ruth herself he had been sure of the approval of everybody concerned.
Early in September word came that the Canadians had been shifted to the Somme front and anxiety grew tenser and deeper. For the first time Mrs. Blythe's spirit failed her a little, and as the days of suspense wore on the doctor began to look gravely at her, and veto this or that special effort in Red Cross work. "Oh, let me work let me work, Gilbert," she entreated feverishly.
"That is why I told you it would be a good thing for you if you accepted Lord Blythe's offer, in his great position he would be able to marry you well to some rich fellow with a title" he went on, easily. "Now I am not a marrying man. Domestic bliss would not suit me. I have sometimes thought it would hardly suit YOU!"
Blythe's room and announced it in a thrilling whisper from the foot of the bed. "I thought if you were not asleep you would be interested in knowing it. I believe it is for the best. Perhaps he will just fall to writing notes, too, Mrs. Dr. dear, but I hope for better things. I never was very partial to whiskers, but one cannot have everything."
There, in Blythe's Bunk, the only home he knew, they laid him gently down and at Doc's request those who were not needed went out. The victim lay quite unconscious, his face ghastly pale and with a look of being polished caused perhaps by the water which Doc Carson kept applying. The wet, matted hair, too, gave him a ghastly, unhuman look.
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