"Ah, it's Jack!" exclaimed my grandfather. "Marian
was showing me the way to the gate and our light went
out."
"Miss Devereux," I murmured. I have, I hope, an
icy tone for persons who have incurred my displeasure,
and I employed it then and there, with, no doubt, its
fullest value.
She and my grandfather were groping in the dark for
the lost lantern, and I, putting out my hand, touched
her fingers.
"I beg your pardon," she murmured frostily.
Then I found and grasped the lantern.
"One moment," I said, "and I'll see what's the trouble."
I thought my grandfather took it, but the flame of
my wax match showed her fingers, clasping the wires of
the lantern. The cloak slipped away, showing her arm's
soft curve, the blue and white of her bodice, the purple
blur of violets; and for a second I saw her face, with a
smile quivering about her lips. My grandfather was
beating impatiently with his stick, urging us to leave the
lantern and go on.
"Let it alone," he said. "I'll go down through the
chapel; there's a lantern in there somewhere."
"I'm awfully sorry," she remarked; "but I recently
lost my best lantern!"
To be sure she had! I was angry that she should so
brazenly recall the night I found her looking for Pickering's
notes in the passage at the Door of Bewilderment!
She had lifted the lantern now, and I was striving to
touch the wax taper to the wick, with imminent danger
to my bare fingers.
"They don't really light well when the oil's out," she
observed, with an exasperating air of wisdom.
I took it from her hand and shook it close to my ear.
"Yes; of course, it's empty," I muttered disdainfully.
"Oh, Mr. Glenarm!" she cried, turning away toward
my grandfather.
I heard his stick beating the rough path several yards
away. He was hastening toward Glenarm House.
"I think Mr. Glenarm has gone home."
"Oh, that is too bad!" she exclaimed.
"Thank you! He's probably at the chapel by this
time. If you will permit me-"
"Not at all!"
A man well advanced in the sixties should not tax his
arteries too severely. I was quite sure that my grandfather
ran up the chapel steps; I could hear his stick
beating hurriedly on the stone.
"If you wish to go farther"-I began.
I was indignant at my grandfather's conduct; he had
deliberately run off, leaving me alone with a young
woman whom I particularly wished to avoid.
"Thank you; I shall go back now. I was merely walking
to the gate with Mr. Glenarm. It is so fine to have
him back again, so unbelievable!"
It was just such a polite murmur as one might employ
in speaking to an old foe at a friend's table.