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Updated: June 28, 2025
As he raised his hat, a dim and wholly inadequate idea occurred to him of the excitement into which these good ladies would soon be thrown, a foreshadowing of the wonder, the consternation, the questionings, the bubbling emotions which were soon to stir the quiet backwaters of the villas of Blentmouth. For himself, what was he going to do? He could not tell.
"Mr Iver," said Neeld, in his precise prim tones, "I must make a confession to you. When you were up for this club I my vote was not in your favor." During a minute's silence Iver looked at him with amusement and almost with affection. "I'm glad you've told me that." "Well, I'm glad I have too." Neeld's laugh was nervous. "Because it shows that you're thinking of coming to Blentmouth."
Fillingford is but twelve miles inland from Blentmouth, and there are three hours between eight and eleven. He was making for Fairholme. While yet half a mile off he overtook Miss Swinkerton, heading in the same direction, ostentatiously laden with savings-bank books.
Presently there came to them through the stillness of the night the sound of wheels, not on the Blentmouth side, but up the valley, on the Mingham and Fillingford road. The sound ceased without the appearance of any vehicle, but it had reminded Neeld of the progress of time. "It must be getting late," he said, rising. "I'll go and see if they think of starting home.
False facts and fictitious reasons flowed from his lips. There was pathos in the valor with which he maintained his position; he was hard pressed, but he did not fall. There was a joy too in the fight. For he alone of all Blentmouth knew the great secret, and guessed that what was happening had to do with the secret.
As for such an idea well, Miss S. happened to know that there had never been anything in it; Janie Iver herself had told her so, she said. The question between Janie and Miss S., which this assertion raises, may be passed by without discussion. He had met Gainsborough essaying a furtive entry into Blentmouth and heading toward the curiosity-shop with a good excuse this time.
Her father had gone to London on business showing, to Mr Neeld's relief, no disposition to take the Journal with him to read on the way Neeld was absurdly nervous about the Journal now. Her mother was engrossed in a notable scheme which Miss Swinkerton had started for the benefit of the poor of Blentmouth.
"You must tell him that in ordinary circumstances I should propose to call on him and to come wherever he was, but well, he'll understand that I don't want to go to Blentmouth just now." The implied apology relieved what Duplay had begun to feel an intolerable arrogance, but it was a concession of form only, and did not touch the substance. The substance was and remained an ultimatum.
She might pity him as an uncle he was perplexed and surly, because somehow he never happened to meet Miss Iver now but she could not confide in him. The gossips of Blentmouth were beneath her lordly notice. She was bubbling over with undiscussed impressions. And now even Mr Neeld had gone off on a visit to town!
She nearly dropped the cup and saucer when she realized that the Great Man was there at six in the morning! "I'm on my way to London," said Harry. "Going to take the train at Fillingford instead of Blentmouth, because I wanted to drop in on you. I've something to say." "I expect I've heard. It's very kind of you to come, but I saw Janie Iver in Blentmouth yesterday."
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