The sinister change in his face, as the narrative proceeded was observed by both the other persons present, as well as by his wife. She waited for a kind word of encouragement. He only said, coldly: "What have you done?"
Speaking coldly on her side, she answered: "I have sent the carriage to fetch Miss Westerfield."
There was a pause. Mrs. Presty whispered to Randal: "I knew she would come back again! The Evil Genius of the family--that's what I call Miss Westerfield. The name exactly fits her!"
The idea in Randal's mind was that the name exactly fitted Mrs.
Presty. He made no reply; his eyes rested in sympathy on his sister-in-law. She saw, and felt, his kindness at a time when kindness was doubly precious. Her ton es trembled a little as she spoke to her silent husband.
"Don't you approve of what I have done, Herbert?"
His nerves were shattered by grief and suspense; but he made an effort this time to speak gently. "How can I say that," he replied, "if the poor child's life depends on Miss Westerfield? I ask one favor--give me time to leave the house before she comes here."
Mrs. Linley looked at him in amazement.
Her mother touched her arm; Randal tried by a sign to warn her to be careful. Their calmer minds had seen what the wife's agitation had prevented her from discovering. In Linley's position, the return of the governess was a trial to his self-control which he had every reason to dread: his look, his voice, his manner proclaimed it to persons capable of quietly observing him. He had struggled against his guilty passion--at what sacrifice of his own feelings no one knew but himself--and here was the temptation, at the very time when he was honorably resisting it, brought back to him by his wife! Her motive did unquestionably excuse, perhaps even sanction, what she had done; but this was an estimate of her conduct which commended itself to others. From his point of view--motive or no motive--he saw the old struggle against himself in danger of being renewed; he felt the ground that he had gained slipping from under him already.
In spite of the well-meant efforts made by her relatives to prevent it, Mrs. Linley committed the very error which it was the most important that she should avoid. She justified herself, instead of leaving it to events to justify her. "Miss Westerfield comes here," she argued, "on an errand that is beyond reproach--an errand of mercy. Why should you leave the house?"
"In justice to you," Linley answered.
Mrs. Presty could restrain herself no longer. "Drop it Catherine!" she said in a whisper.
Catherine refused to drop it; Linley's short and sharp reply had irritated her. "After my experience," she persisted, "have I no reason to trust you?"
"It is part of your experience," he reminded her, "that I promised not to see Miss Westerfield again."
"Own it at once!" she broke out, provoked beyond endurance;
"though I may be willing to trust you--you are afraid to trust yourself."
Unlucky Mrs. Presty interfered again. "Don't listen to her, Herbert. Keep out of harm's way, and you keep right."
She patted him on the shoulder, as if she had been giving good advice to a boy. He expressed his sense of his mother-in-law's friendly offices in language which astonished her.
"Hold your tongue!"
"Do you hear that?" Mrs. Presty asked, appealing indignantly to her daughter.
Linley took his hat. "At what time do you expect Miss Westerfield to arrive?" he said to his wife.
She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Before the half-hour strikes. Don't be alarmed," she added, with an air of ironical sympathy; "you will have time to make your escape."
He advanced to the door, and looked at her.
"One thing I beg you will remember," he said. "Every half-hour while I am away (I am going to the farm) you are to send and let me know how Kitty is--and especially if Miss Westerfield justifies the experiment which the doctor has advised us to try."
Having given those instructions he went out.
The sofa was near Mrs. Linley. She sank on it, overpowered by the utter destruction of the hopes that she had founded on the separation of Herbert and the governess. Sydney Westerfield was still in possession of her husband's heart!
Her mother was surely the right person to say a word of comfort to her. Randal made the suggestion--with the worst possible result. Mrs. Presty had not forgotten that she had been told--at her age, in her position as the widow of a Cabinet Minister--to hold her tongue. "Your brother has insulted me," she said to Randal. He was weak enough to attempt to make an explanation. "I was speaking of my brother's wife," he said. "Your brother's wife has allowed me to be insulted." Having received that reply, Randal could only wonder. This woman went to church every Sunday, and kept a New Testament, bound in excellent taste, on her toilet-table! The occasion suggested reflection on the system which produces average Christians at the present time. Nothing more was said by Mrs. Presty; Mrs. Linley remained absorbed in her own bitter thoughts. In silence they waited for the return of the carriage, and the appearance of the governess.