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She explained to the publican that this was a great English knight travelling from the Monastery to the court of Scotland, after having paid his vows to Saint Mary, and that she had been directed to conduct him so far on the road; and that Ball, her palfrey, had fallen by the way, because he had been over-wrought with carrying home the last melder of meal to the portioner of Langhope; and that she had turned in Ball to graze in the Tasker's park, near Cripplecross, for he had stood as still as Lot's wife with very weariness; and that the knight had courteously insisted she should ride behind him, and that she had brought him to her kend friend's hostelry rather than to proud Peter Peddie's, who got his malt at the Mellerstane mills; and that he must get the best that the house afforded, and that he must get it ready in a moment of time, and that she was ready to help in the kitchen.
She tried to remember, to calculate, but her brain was too crowded with other thoughts.... She turned away from the instrument discouraged. Whenever she had time to think, she was overwhelmed by the weight of her solitude. Mr. Langhope was in Egypt, accessible only through a London banker Mrs. Ansell presumably wandering on the continent. Her cables might not reach them for days.
"And you'll write me if anything if Bessy should not be well?" "I will write you," she promised; and a few weeks after his return to Hanaford he had, in fact, received a short note from her. Its ostensible purpose was to reassure him as to Bessy's health, which had certainly grown stronger since Dr. Langhope and Mrs.
Langhope, though evidently unaware of his son-in-law's return till they greeted each other in the drawing-room, was too good a card-player to betray surprise, and Mrs. Ansell outdid herself in the delicate art of taking everything for granted; but these very dissimulations sharpened the perception of the other guests, whom long practice had rendered expert in interpreting such signs.
The third time he called, he found Mr. Langhope and Mr. Halford Gaines of the company. The President of the Westmore mills was a trim middle-sized man, whose high pink varnish of good living would have turned to purple could he have known Mr. Langhope's opinion of his jewelled shirt-front and the padded shoulders of his evening-coat.
He seemed surprised, disconcerted almost; and for the first time the shadow of what had happened fell visibly between them. "But ought you to leave Cicely before Mr. Langhope comes back?" he suggested. "He will be here in two days." "But he will expect to find you." "It is almost the first of April. We are to have Cicely with us for the summer.
"Ah that's good," Amherst rejoined. "I should have been sorry if Cicely had not been here." "Mr. Langhope is coming too," his mother continued. "I'm glad of that, John." "Yes," Amherst again assented. The morrow was to be a great day at Westmore.
"For don't you perceive, my poor distracted friend, that if Truscomb turns rusty, as he undoubtedly will, the inevitable result will be his manager's dismissal and that thereafter there will presumably be peace in Warsaw?" "Ah, you divinely wicked woman!" cried Mr. Langhope, snatching at an appreciative pressure of her hand as the lawyer reappeared in the doorway.
Justine felt a last tremor of compassion. He was abominable but he was pitiable too. "I will really help you I will see your wife and do what I can but I can give you no money today." "Why not?" "Because I have none. I am not as rich as you think." He smiled incredulously. "Give me a line to Mr. Langhope, then." "No." He sat down once more, leaning back with a weak assumption of ease. "Perhaps Mr.
Somewhere, of course, she must have a centre of her own, must be subject to influences of which he was wholly ignorant. And since her departure from Lynbrook he had known even less of her life. She had spent the previous winter with Mr. Langhope in New York, where Amherst had seen her only on his rare visits to Cicely; and Mr.
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