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"A written confession and she brought it to you?" "Galloped all the way from Tonbridge, by Gad!" nodded Sir Richard. "It seems," pursued Mr. Grainger, "that the ah man, John Strickland, by name, lodged with a certain preacher, to whom, in Lady Vibart's presence, he confessed his crime, and willingly wrote out a deposition to that effect.
Musing thus, I was aroused by the hoof strokes of a horse and, glancing up, beheld a plump man on plump steed ambling towards me down the lane. Waiting until he was sufficiently near, I stepped into the road and saluted him. "Good-day, sir!" said I. "Pray pardon my detaining you, but this neighbourhood is strange to me. Will you therefore have the kindness to direct me to Tonbridge?"
By this time Lady Tonbridge had carried her visitor into the garden, and they were walking up and down among the late September flowers. Beyond the garden lay green fields and hedgerows; beyond the fields rose the line of wooded hill, and, embedded in trees, the grey and gabled front of Monk Lawrence.
Thus ended the First Act of Delia's life. When three weeks later, after a marriage at which no one was present except the persons to be married, Lady Tonbridge, and Dr. France, Winnington took his wife far from these scenes to lands of summer and of rest, he carried with him a Delia ineffaceably marked by this tragedy of her youth.
Meanwhile through Delia's sleeping mind there swept scenes and images of fear. She grew restless, and as Lady Tonbridge slipped again into her chair by the fire, the girl woke suddenly with a long quivering sigh, a sound of pain, which provoked a quick movement of alarm in Winnington. But she very soon recovered her usual manner; and Winnington said good-night.
"Jove's thunder!" scoffed Lady Tonbridge. "Well my dear old friend! you and I shan't agree you know that. Now what can I do for Delia?" "Nothing," said France gloomily. "Unless some one goes up to watch over her." "Her guardian will go," said Madeleine quietly, after a pause. They eyed each other. "You're sure?" said France. "Quite sure though I've not said a word to him nor he to me."
Lady Tonbridge was dropped at her own door by Delia, on her way to the station. Nora was there to welcome her, but not all their joy in recovering each other, could repair Madeleine's cheerfulness. She stood, looking after the retreating car with such a face that Nora exclaimed "Mother, what is the matter!" "I'm watching the tumbril out of sight," said Lady Tonbridge incoherently.
Winnington had been called away to Wanchester by urgent County business; against his will, for there had been some bad rioting the day before at Latchford, and he would rather have gone to help his brother magistrates. But there was no help for it. Lady Tonbridge was at the little Georgian house, shutting it up for six months.
By tacit consent Winnington and Lady Tonbridge devoted themselves to her. It seemed as though in both minds there had arisen the same thought of her as orphaned and motherless, the same pity, the same resentment that anything so lovely should be unhappy as she clearly was; and not only, so both were convinced, on account of her poor maid.
Winnington handed her the grey Persian kitten reposing on a distant chair, and Lady Tonbridge, who always found the process conducive to clear thinking, stroked and combed the creature's beautiful fur, while the man talked, with entire freedom now that they were tete-a-tete. She was his good friend indeed, and she had also been the good friend of Sir Robert Blanchflower.
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