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Updated: June 17, 2025
Derwent, in the library after dinner. And Irene shuddered with dread. Early next morning she accompanied her father to Mrs. Hannaford's. The Doctor went upstairs; Irene waited in the dining-room, where she was soon joined by Olga. The girl's face was news sufficient; her mother grew worse had passed a night of delirium. Two nurses were in the house, and the medical man called every few hours.
The head-keeper looked up sharply. "Know anything?" he asked laconically. Jim answered one question with another. "See Hannaford's wife in church last Sunday?" "Wasn't there had too much to employ me walking the coverts. I believe a man's duty comes before his church-going at this time o' year; but I suppose there's no use to argue with a lad when he's courting."
When there sounded a visitor's knock at the front door, she flushed and was overcome with nervousness; she stepped forward to meet her friend, but could not speak. Otway had taken her hand in both his own; he looked at her with grave kindliness. It was their first meeting since Mrs. Hannaford's death. "I hesitated about asking you to see me here," he said. "But I thought I hoped "
She had thought that tragic memories would haunt the house and echo through the rooms, though strangers who knew nothing of Hannaford's story might find it a pleasant place. But now she was not asking or expecting happiness for the present. She wanted a refuge, where she might think and wait quietly, out of gossip's way a place whence she could write Vanno: "When you come you will find me here."
She believed that no one who knew her face had seen her in the carriage, driving to Italy. She was more safely hidden than if she had come to the Château Lontana by train; and she had told Vanno and others that she disliked the idea of living in Hannaford's house.
Hannaford's door, just as she was about to come forth, there sounded a knock; the servant announced that a gentleman had called to see her Mr. Otway. Quivering, death-pale, she ran to the sitting-room. Irene had not yet reappeared. Piers Otway stood there alone. "You didn't get my telegram?" broke from her lips, in a hurried whisper. "Oh! I feared it would be too late, and all is too late."
"It is but little I'm engaging myself to do. And it's as much for Hannaford's sake as yours. Poor Hannaford! I didn't do half enough for him when he was alive. I feel as if I owed him something now." Mary did not speak, but she shivered and very gently drew her hand away from Vanno's.
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