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Filmore doesn't care a snap whether you come or not," persisted Judith with flaming cheeks. She was making a fight for her old-time sunny Miss Pat against this careless devotee of Rosamond Merton's, but she had not counted on the days of intimate companionship with the alluring Rosamond which had been Miss Pat's in the past fortnight of illness and convalescence. Patricia was silent.
"The gentleman might have stayed to see what were the consequences of his own act," muttered Maltravers, as he examined the wound in the temple, whence the blood flowed copiously. "He said he was in a great hurry, your honour," said the village official, overhearing Maltravers. "I think it was one of the grand folks up at the parsonage; for I know it was Mr. Merton's bay horse, he is a hot 'un!"
One of these, a masterful-looking man of middle age he would surely be a wealthy club-man accustomed to command tables regarded the filled row around the dancing space with frank irritation, and paused significantly at Merton's side.
He wrung Merton's hand, and Merton crept up to his bedroom. He took a bath, turned in, and was wrapped in all the blessedness of sleep. Before five o'clock the house was astir. Bude, in the yacht, steamed down the coast, touching at Lochinver, and wherever there seemed a faint hope of finding intelligence. But he learned nothing.
Nobody, however, knew but himself, that, when that was done, he meant to join the brother and sister on part of their Canadian journey, and that he hoped thereby to become better acquainted with Elizabeth Merton than was possible for a man at least of his sensitiveness under the eyes of an inquisitive neighbourhood. For this step Lady Merton's consent was of course necessary.
But do you know, Fan, that in spite of our poverty and my great and constant anxiety about Merton's health, I feel some happiness in my heart now. If I possessed a morbid mind or conscience I should probably call myself heartless for being able to feel happiness at such a time happiness and pride at my success.
From the bedroom the two men went to the sitting room, which they hoped would hold greater possibilities, for a desk stood in one corner near a window. A framed photograph of Merton's wife and son, standing on top of the desk, of course had no significance. They then began a search of the drawers and the interior of the desk.
We shall need a few more aluminum bolts, though, and if you don't mind you might jump on your motor-cycle and run to Mansburg for them. Merton's machine shop ought to have some." Mansburg was the nearest large city to Shopton, and Merton was a machinist who frequently did work for Mr. Swift. "All right," agreed Tom. "I'll start now. How many will you need?" "Oh, a couple of dozen."
As he was leaving the room he looked back at Sybil Merton's photograph, and swore that, come what may, he would never let her know what he was doing for her sake, but would keep the secret of his self-sacrifice hidden always in his heart.
He had seemed to believe that Merton's aunt should have died nearer to Simsbury, or at least have chosen a dull Monday. But Merton had held with dignity to the point; a dying aunt wasn't to be hustled about as to either time or place.
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