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Anne would never have kept her marriage a secret from Blanche; Anne would never have written such a formal farewell letter as she had written to Blanche if things were going as smoothly with her as she was trying to make them believe at Windygates. A man in authority was sorely needed at Windygates that afternoon and Sir Patrick was fain to acknowledge that he was the man.
"My dear child, there must be a dozen cottages, at least, within a circle of one mile from Windygates! Your inquiries would probably occupy you for the whole afternoon. I won't ask what Lady Lundie would think of your being away all that time by yourself. I will only remind you of two things.
"About you. I know where you went on the evening of my lawn-party at Windygates you went to Craig Fernie." "Good Heavens! how did you find out ?" "I know whom you went to meet Miss Silvester. I know what is said of you and of her you are man and wife." "Hush! don't speak so loud. Somebody may hear you!" "What does it matter if they do? I am the only person whom you have kept out of the secret.
Lady Lundie's steward was a methodical man. He had indorsed each letter received at Windygates with the date of its delivery. The letter addressed to Arnold had been delivered on Monday, the seventh of September on Arnold's wedding day. What did it mean? It was pure waste of time to inquire. Sir Patrick rose to lock the letter up in one of the drawers of the writing-table behind him.
Bishopriggs had been presented with a handsome gratuity; and Mrs. Inchbare had been informed that the rooms were taken for a week certain. In every quarter but one the march of events had now, to all appearance, fallen back into a quiet course. Arnold was on his way to his estate; Blanche was safe at Windygates; Anne's residence at the inn was assured for a week to come.
"If Geoffrey doesn't get me out of this,," he thought, "I shall have no choice but to leave Windygates to-morrow." As he replaced the book on the shelf, Lady Lundie entered the library from the garden. "What are you doing here?" she said to her step-daughter. "Improving my mind," replied Blanche. "Mr. Brinkworth and I have been reading Milton."
Sir Patrick was crossing the lawn, on his way to the library with a newspaper in his hand; and the guests at Windygates were accompanying him. Sir Patrick was smiling, and saying nothing. The guests were talking excitedly at the tops of their voices. There had apparently been a collision of some kind between the old school and the new.
"You leave Windygates, in this lovely weather?" "Most unwillingly! The truth is, Mrs. Delamayn, I am at my step-daughter's mercy. Her uncle has the authority, as her guardian and the use he makes of it is to give her her own way in every thing.
To be put into my coffin, and to be buried with me when I die." She turned the manuscript over, so as to get at the last page. The greater part of it was left blank. A few lines of writing, at the top, bore the date of the day of the week and month on which Lady Lundie had dismissed her from her situation at Windygates. The entry was expressed in these terms: "I have seen IT again to-day.
I said, 'Don't you remember me? She lifted her slate, and wrote, 'I remember you, in a dead swoon at Windygates House. I was quite unaware that she had been present when I fainted in the library. The discovery startled me or that dreadful, dead-cold look that she has in her eyes startled me I don't know which. I couldn't speak to her just at first.
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