The Vision of Desire Part 45

But the following morning, when he asked her if she would like to leave Silverquay, a look of intense relief overspread her face.

"Would it be possible?" she asked on a low, breathless; note of eagerness.

Then her face fell. "Oh, but we can't think of it! It's much too good a post for you to throw up."

Robin made no answer. But in his own mind he resolved that, if it were possible, he would find some other post--one which, while it would not take him entirely out of reach of the Priory, would yet spare Ann the necessity of ever again meeting Eliot Coventry, or of feeling that they were dependent for their livelihood on the man who, he was instinctively aware, had hurt her in some deep, inmost sanctuary of her womanhood--hurt her so unbearably that she could not bring herself to speak of it.

He rode across to Heronsmere as soon as breakfast was over, and it did not require a second glance at Eliot's haggard face to tell him that Ann was not alone in her intensity of suffering. He was appalled at the change which two days had worked in the man before him, and for an instant sheer pity almost quenched the burning intention of his errand.

"You wanted to see me, Lovell?"

As Eliot turned the grey mask of his face towards him, Robin mentally visioned Ann's own face as he had last seen it, and his heart hardened.

"Yes," he said, speaking rather jerkily. "I want to resign my post as your agent."

A momentary change of expression showed itself on Eliot's face, fleeting as the pa.s.sage of a shadow across a pool.

"To resign?" he repeated mechanically.

"As soon as you can find some one to take my place."

Coventry remained silent, his fingers trifling absently with a small silver calendar that stood on his desk, pus.h.i.+ng it backwards and forwards.

"That's rather a strange request," he said at last.

"I don't think so," answered Robin, quietly, looking at him very directly.

He returned the glance with grave eyes.

"I suppose I understand what you mean," he said slowly.

"I suppose you do," returned Robin bluntly. "But we needn't speak of that.

I came merely to ask you to accept my resignation."

Again Eliot made no immediate response. He was trying to realise it--to visualise the Cottage empty, or occupied by some one who was no more than an ordinary estate agent--just his man of business. To conceive Silverquay void of Ann's presence, know her no longer there, be ignorant of where she was in the big world ... whether well or ill.... He found that the bare idea wrought an exquisite agony within him. It was like probing a raw wound.

"No!" He spoke very suddenly, his voice so harsh that it seemed to grate on the quiet of the room. "No. You can't leave, Lovell. Our arrangement was six months' notice on either side. I claim that notice."

Robin drew a deep breath.

"I hoped you would consent to waive it," he said.

"I don't consent. I claim it"--decisively. "You can't leave under six months." Coventry rose from his chair as though to indicate that the interview was at an end, hesitated a moment, then added abruptly: "I'm going abroad. I must have some one in charge whom I can trust. I shall be leaving England to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXV

THE HALF-TRUTH

There are few truer sayings than the one which cautions us that evil is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart. When you are unlucky enough to get a combination of the two, the evil accomplished is liable to a.s.sume considerably increased proportions.

On the morning following Eliot's visit to the Cottage, want of thought, in addition to a very natural semi-maternal pride, led Maria Coombe into confiding jubilantly into the ear of Mrs. Thorowgood--laundress and purveyor of local gossip--the fact that her Miss Ann and "the Squire up to Heronsmere" were going to make a match of it. Mrs. Thorowgood, not to be outdone, responded to the effect that she had "suspicioned" all along that this was going to be the case, and that when she had heard in the village yesterday that Mr. Coventry had gone straight to the Cottage upon his return that afternoon to Silverquay--with Mr. Lovell away in Ferribridge, too, and all!--she felt sure of it. "So I'm not surprised at your news, Mrs. Coombe," she concluded triumphantly. "Not surprised at all."

Having thus successfully taken the wind out of Maria's sails, she proceeded on her way delivering the clean laundry at various houses in the district, and in the course of a few hours the news of Mr. Coventry's engagement to Miss Lovell was being glibly discussed in more than one servants' hall as an accomplished fact. By the afternoon, conveyed thither by the various butchers, bakers, and greengrocers who had acquired the news in the course of their morning rounds, the information had spread to the village.

Meanwhile, during the progress of Brett Forrester's visit to Heronsmere in search of the puppy his aunt so ardently desired, a prying servant had chanced to pause outside Eliot's study door, inspired by a fleeting inquisitiveness to learn with whom her master was closeted. A single sentence she overheard sufficed to convert that idle curiosity into a burning thirst for knowledge. So she remained at the key-hole listening post until it was satisfied, and later on, armed with a fine fat piece of gossip, the like of which did not often come her way, she sallied forth to spend her "afternoon out" in the village.

Thus it came about that the two streams of gossip--one emanating in all innocence from Maria Coombe, the other having its origin in the conversation overheard between Eliot and Brett--met and mingled together and were ultimately poured into the ears of Miss Caroline, busily engaged in parochial visitation. An evil fatality appointed that the first person she subsequently encountered should be Mrs. Carberry, the M.F.H.'s wife, with whom, in a flutter of shocked excitement, she promptly shared the dreadful story she had heard. This, of course, carried then gossip into another stratum of society altogether.

"I can hardly believe it's true! I'm sur_prised_!" twittered Miss Caroline.

"Although, of course, Miss Lovell is certainly rather unconventional, I've always looked upon her as quite _nice_. But to spend a night--like that--at a hotel--" Words failed her, and she had to rely upon an unusual pinkness of her complexion to convey adequately to Mrs. Carberry the scandalised depth of her feelings.

"Perhaps I'm not so surprised as you are," returned the M.F.H.'s wife. "I never cared for the girl. After all, she was merely a companion-help."

"Companion-chauffeuse," corrected Miss Caroline diffidently.

"Companion-help," repeated Mrs. Carberry, unmoved. "And no one would have taken her up at all if Lady Susan hadn't made such a silly fuss of her.

It's absurd, when her brother's nothing more than Mr. Coventry's estate agent. I always think it's a great mistake to take people like that out of their position. One generally regrets it afterwards."

"Still, I believe the Lovells were quite a good family--West Country people--lost money, you know." Miss Caroline's conscience drove her into making this admission. Also, she wanted very much to know how Mrs. Carberry would meet it. Mrs. Carberry took it in her stride.

"That's just it. They've lost money--mixed with the wrong sort of people.

Losing money so often involves losing caste, too. If this story proves to be true, I shall be very glad indeed that I never allowed my daughter Muriel to make friends of these Lovells. We shall soon know," she added, a note of hungry antic.i.p.ation in her voice. "The part about the engagement is true, without doubt, since it came direct from the Oldstone Cottage cook.

Besides, one could see that this Lovell girl was angling to catch Mr.

Coventry. If the engagement is broken off, we may feel pretty sure, I think, that the rest of the story's true, too."

Privately, she hoped it would prove true, since a man is very often caught at the rebound, and, judiciously managed, it seemed quite possible that Coventry, shocked and disgusted at Ann Lovell's flightiness of character, might turn with relief and admiration to so modest and well-brought-up a girl as her own daughter. To see dear Muriel installed as mistress of Heronsmere had been her ambition from the first moment of its new owner's coming to live at Silverquay, and when Miss Caroline had volunteered the news of Ann's supposed engagement to him, it had come as a rude shock to her plans. But this had been so swiftly followed by the story of Ann's scandalous behaviour in Switzerland that she had speedily reacted from the shock, and was already briskly weaving fresh schemes to bring about the desirable consummation of a marriage between her daughter and Eliot Coventry. Decidedly, Mrs. Carberry was not likely to help stem the tide of gossip setting against Ann!

The day following, the news that Eliot had left England for an indefinite stay abroad flew like wildfire through the neighbourhood, and, in consequence, substance was immediately given to the stories already circulating. There could be no longer any further doubt as to what had happened--Coventry had asked Miss Lovell to marry him, and then, discovering how she had forfeited her reputation somewhere on the Continent, had broken off the engagement between them the very next day.

Silverquay fairly buzzed with the tale. Everybody jumped to the same conclusion and told each other so with varying degrees of censure and disapprobation. Miss Caroline, eager as a ferret, even paid a special visit to Oldstone Cottage, to obtain confirmation of the dreadful truth. Having previously a.s.sured herself that Robin and Ann were both out, she darted into the Cottage on the plea of delivering the monthly parish magazine and, naturally, lingered on the doorstep to chat a little with Maria.

"Surely there's no truth in this story I hear, Maria?" she opened fire after a few minutes devoted to generalities.

"What story may you be meaning, ma'am?" inquired Maria blandly. She had heard the tale, of course, from half a dozen different sources, and was inwardly fuming with loyal wrath and indignation--the more so in that she dared not mention the matter to her young mistress whose still, pale composure had seemed to fence her round with a barrier which it was beyond Maria's powers to surmount.

"Why--why--" Miss Caroline fluttered. "The story that she stayed the night at a hotel in the mountains with young Mr. Brabazon when she was on the Continent."

"And did you suppose 'twas true?" demanded Maria scornfully, her arms akimbo, her blue eyes gimleting Miss Caroline's face.

"I--I don't know what to think," began Miss Caroline feebly.

Maria looked her up and down--a look beneath which Miss Caroline wilted visibly.

"Well, 'tis certain sure no one would pa.s.s the night with you, miss, on any mountain top," she observed grimly. "And 'tis just as sure they wouldn't with Miss Ann--though there'd be a main diff'rence in the reason why!" And with a snort of defiance she had flounced back into the house, slamming the door in Miss Caroline's astonished face.