Had it not been for
these recurring trials of set hours and duties she could never have
passed the last day and night without discovery of her condition of mind. That one terrible, hysterical outburst was perhaps the safety valve. Had
it been spread over the time occupied in conventional duties its force
even then might have betrayed her; but without the necessity of nerving
herself to conventional needs, she would have infallibly betrayed herself
by her negative condition. After lunch she went to her own boudoir where, when she had shut the
inner door, no one was allowed to disturb her without some special need
in the house or on the arrival of visitors. This 'sporting oak' was the
sign of 'not at home' which she had learned in her glimpse of college
life. Here in the solitude of safety, she began to go over the past,
resolutely and systematically. She had already been so often over the memory of the previous humiliating
and unhappy day that she need not revert to it at present. Since then
had she not quarrelled with Harold, whom she had all her life so trusted
that her quarrel with him seemed to shake the very foundations of her
existence? As yet she had not remembered perfectly all that had gone on
under the shadow of the beech grove. She dared not face it all at once,
even as yet. Time must elapse before she should dare to cry; to think of
her loss of Harold was to risk breaking down altogether. Already she
felt weak. The strain of the last forty-eight hours was too much for her
physical strength. She began to feel, as she lay back in her cushioned
chair, that a swoon is no worthy substitute for sleep. Indeed it had
seemed to make the need for sleep even more imperative. It was all too humiliating! She wanted to think over what had been; to
recall it as far as possible so as to fix it in her mind, whilst it was
still fresh. Later on, some action might have to be based on her
recollection. And yet . . . How could she think when she was so tired
. . . tired . . . Nature came to the poor girl's relief at last, and she fell into a heavy
sleep . . . It was like coming out of the grave to be dragged back to waking life out
of such a sleep, and so soon after it had begun. But the voice seemed to
reach to her inner consciousness in some compelling way. For a second
she could not understand; but as she rose from the cushions the maid's
message repeated, brought her wide awake and alert in an instant:

'Mr. Everard, young Mr. Everard, to see you, miss!' CHAPTER XVI--A PRIVATE CONVERSATION


The name braced Stephen at once. Here was danger, an enemy to be
encountered; all the fighting blood of generations leaped to the
occasion. The short spell of sleep had helped to restore her. There
remained still quite enough of mental and nervous excitement to make her
think quickly; the words were hardly out of the maid's mouth before her
resolution was taken. It would never do to let Leonard Everard see she
was diffident about meeting him; she would go down at once. But she
would take the precaution of having her aunt present; at any rate, till
she should have seen how the land lay. Her being just waked from sleep
would be an excuse for asking her aunt to see the visitor till she came
down. So she said to the maid:

'I have been asleep. I must have got tired walking in the wood in the
heat. Ask Auntie to kindly see Mr. Everard in the blue drawing-room till
I come down. I must tidy my hair; but I will be down in a few minutes.' 'Shall I send Marjorie to you, miss?' 'No! Don't mind; I can do what I want myself. Hurry down to Miss
Rowly!' How she regarded Leonard Everard now was shown in her instinctive
classing him amongst her enemies. When she entered the room she seemed all aglow. She wanted not only to
overcome but to punish; and all the woman in her had risen to the effort. Never in her life had Stephen Norman looked more radiantly beautiful,
more adorable, more desirable. Even Leonard Everard felt his pulses
quicken as he saw that glowing mass of beauty standing out against the
cold background of old French tapestry. All the physical side of him
leaped in answer to the call of her beauty; and even his cold heart and
his self-engrossed brain followed with slower gait. He had been sitting
opposite Miss Rowly in one of the windows, twirling his hat in nervous
suspense. He jumped up, and, as she came towards him, went forward
rapidly to greet her. No one could mistake the admiration in his eyes. Ever since he had made up his mind to marry her she had assumed a new
aspect in his thoughts. But now her presence swept away all false
imaginings; from the moment that her loveliness dawned upon him something
like love began to grow within his breast. Stephen saw the look and it
strengthened her. He had so grievously wounded her pride the previous
day that her victory on this was a compensation which set her more at her
old poise. Her greeting was all sweetness: she was charmed to see him. How was his
father, and what was the news? Miss Rowly looked on with smiling visage. She too had seen the look of admiration in his eyes, and it pleased her. Old ladies, especially when they are maiden ladies, always like to see
admiration in the eyes of young men when they are turned in the direction
of any girl dear to them. They talked for some time, keeping all the while, by Stephen's clever
generalship, to the small-talk of the neighbourhood and the minor events
of social importance. As the time wore on she could see that Leonard was
growing impatient, and evidently wanted to see her alone. She ignored,
however, all his little private signalling, and presently ordered tea to
be brought. This took some little time; when it had been brought and
served and drunk, Leonard was in a smothered fume of impatience. She was
glad to see that as yet her aunt had noticed nothing, and she still hoped
that she would be able to so prolong matters, that she would escape
without a private interview. She did not know the cause of Leonard's
impatience: that he must see her before the day passed. She too was an
egoist, in her own way; in the flush of belief of his subjugation she did
not think of attributing to him any other motive than his desire for
herself. As she had made up her mind on the final issue she did not want
to be troubled by a new 'scene.' But, after all, Leonard was a man; and man's ways are more direct than
woman's. Seeing that he could not achieve his object in any other way,
he said out suddenly, thinking, and rightly, that she would not wish to
force an issue in the presence of her aunt:

'By the way, Miss Norman,' he had always called her 'Miss Norman' in her
aunt's presence: 'I want to have two minutes with you before I go. On a
matter of business,' he added, noticing Miss Rowly's surprised look. The
old lady was old-fashioned even for her age; in her time no young man
would have asked to see a young lady alone on business.