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His curt refusal to all such propositions increased the impression that he knew he had a very good thing and meant to keep it all for himself. But he did not have very long to wait for the turn of the tide. Within a few weeks he received a letter from Welsley, alarming only because its intention was so obviously to allay alarm.
He felt that she had not honestly and fully faced the prospect of returning to live in London. Her plan he saw it plainly; the partridge shooting was part of it was to make Welsley so delightful to him that he would not want to give up the home at Little Cloisters. What was to be done?
She got up from the divan and went out upon the terrace, leaving him alone in the pavilion, which seemed suddenly colder when she had left it. He did not follow her. A breath from a human furnace had scorched him had scorched the nerve, and the nerve quivered. "You have been brought up in a different school." Welsley and Stamboul Rosamund and Mrs. Clarke.
When the chimes told her that it was a quarter to six she began to feel puzzled, and just the least little bit anxious. It had been quite dark for a little while now. Job Crickendon's farm was only about four miles from Welsley. Harrington's horse might not be an exceptionally fast-goer, but surely he could cover six miles in an hour. Dion and Robin could get back in forty minutes at the most.
As Rosamund looked down upon the rows of friendly and familiar faces from the platform, as she heard the prolonged applause which greeted her before she sang, and the cries of "Encore!" which saluted her when she finished, she felt that she had given her heart irrevocably to Welsley, and the thought came to her, "How can I leave it?" This was cozy, and London could never be cozy.
Aunt Beatrice was installed in Little Market Street for a couple of nights as Robin's protector, and Rosamund went down to Welsley, and spent two days with the Canon. She had never been alone with him before, except now and then for a few minutes, but he was such a sincere and plain-spoken man that she had always felt she genuinely knew him.
"It's the very place for Rosamund," said Beatrice, after a pause, during which she drank in Welsley. "She seems to know and love every stick and stone in it." "And almost every man, woman and child," said the Canon.
They could hear the chimes where they sat encompassed by a silence which was not like ordinary silences, but which to Rosamund seemed impregnated with the peace of long meditations and of communings with the unseen. "This rests me," she said to her host. "Don't you love your time here?" "I'm fond of Welsley, but I don't think I should like to pass all my year in it.
She found herself looking at "my Welsley" with the anxiously loving eyes of one who gathers in dear details before it is too late for such garnering; she sat in the garden and listened to the beloved sounds from the Cathedral with strained attention, like one who sets memory at its mysterious task. The Dean's widow had yielded to the suggestion of inevitable dampness in old houses, but !
He might get away from London on Fridays and stay at Welsley every week till Monday morning, but that would mean living alone in Little Market Street for four days in the week. If he seemed willing to do that, would Rosamund consent to it? Another test! He remembered his test before the war. Mrs. Clarke's allusion to Welsley had left a rather strong impression upon him.
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