With unwonted energy Coventry was astir seven next morning. Lucia gave
him his breakfast, and as he left the room to order the carriage, Miss
Muir came gliding downstairs, very pale and heavy-eyed (with a
sleepless, tearful night, he thought) and, putting a delicate little
letter into his hand, said hurriedly, "Please leave this at Lady
Sydney's, and if you see her, say 'I have remembered.'"
Her peculiar manner and peculiar message struck him. His eye
involuntarily glanced at the address of the letter and read young
Sydney's name. Then, conscious of his mistake, he thrust it into his
pocket with a hasty "Good morning," and left Miss Muir standing with
one hand pressed on her heart, the other half extended as if to recall
the letter.
All the way to London, Coventry found it impossible to forget the
almost tragical expression of the girl's face, and it haunted him
through the bustle of two busy days. Ned's affair was put in the way of
being speedily accomplished, Bella's commissions were executed, his
mother's pet delicacies provided for her, and a gift for Lucia, whom
the family had given him for his future mate, as he was too lazy to
choose for himself.
Jean Muir's letter he had not delivered, for Lady Sydney was in the
country and her townhouse closed. Curious to see how she would receive
his tidings, he went quietly in on his arrival at home. Everyone had
dispersed to dress for dinner except Miss Muir, who was in the garden,
the servant said.
"Very well, I have a message for her"; and, turning, the "young master,"
as they called him, went to seek her. In a remote corner he saw her
sitting alone, buried in thought. As his step roused her, a look of
surprise, followed by one of satisfaction, passed over her face, and,
rising, she beckoned to him with an almost eager gesture. Much amazed,
he went to her and offered the letter, saying kindly, "I regret that I
could not deliver it. Lady Sydney is in the country, and I did not like
to post it without your leave. Did I do right?"
"Quite right, thank you very much--it is better so." And with an air of
relief, she tore the letter to atoms, and scattered them to the wind.
More amazed than ever, the young man was about to leave her when she
said, with a mixture of entreaty and command, "Please stay a moment. I
want to speak to you."
He paused, eyeing her with visible surprise, for a sudden color dyed her
cheeks, and her lips trembled. Only for a moment, then she was quite
self-possessed again. Motioning him to the seat she had left, she
remained standing while she said, in a low, rapid tone full of pain and
of decision: "Mr. Coventry, as the head of the house I want to speak to you, rather
than to your mother, of a most unhappy affair which has occurred during
your absence. My month of probation ends today; your mother wishes me to
remain; I, too, wish it sincerely, for I am happy here, but I ought not.
Read this, and you will see why."