She glanced at him, caught by something in his tone. "Dr. Tudor," she said, after a moment"s hesitation, "are you--altogether--satisfied about her?"
Tudor was looking at his horse"s ears; for some reason he was holding the animal in to a walk. "I am quite satisfied with regard to the fracture,"
he said. "She will soon be on her legs again."
His words were deliberately wary. Avery felt a little tremor of apprehension go through her.
"I"m afraid you don"t consider her very strong," she said uneasily.
He did not at once reply. She had a feeling that he was debating within himself as to the advisability of replying at all. And then quite suddenly he turned his head and spoke. "Mrs. Denys, you are accustomed to hearing other people"s burdens, so I may as well tell you the truth. I can"t say--because I don"t know--if there is anything radically wrong with that little girl; but she has no stamina whatever. If she had to contend with anything serious, things would go very badly with her. In any case--" he paused.
"Yes?" said Avery.
Tudor had become wary again. "Perhaps I have said enough," he said.
"I don"t know why you should hesitate to speak quite openly," she rejoined steadily. "As you say, I am a bearer of burdens. And I don"t think I am easily frightened."
"I am sure you are not," he said. "If I may be allowed to say so, I think you are essentially a woman to be relied on. If I did not think so, I certainly should not have spoken as I have done."
"Then will you tell me what it is that you fear for her?" Avery said.
He was looking straight at her through the gloom, but she could not see his eyes behind their gla.s.ses. "Well," he said somewhat brusquely at length, "to be quite honest, I fear--mind you, I only fear--some trouble, possibly merely some delicacy, of the lungs. Without a careful examination I cannot speak definitely. But I think there is little room for doubt that the tendency is there."
"I see," Avery said. She was silent a moment; then, "You have not considered it advisable to say this to her father?" she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Would it make any difference?"
Avery was silent.
He went on with gathering force. "I went to him once, Mrs. Denys,--once only--about his wife"s health. I told him in plain language that she needed every care, every consideration, that without these she would probably lose all her grip on life and become a confirmed invalid with shattered nerves. I was very explicit. I told him the straight, unvarnished truth. I didn"t like my job, but I felt it must be done. And he--good man--laughed in my face, begged me to croak no more, and a.s.sured me that he was fully capable of managing all his affairs, including his wife and family, in his own way. He was touring in Switzerland when the last child was born."
"Hound!" said Avery, in a low voice.
Tudor uttered a brief laugh, and abruptly quitted the subject. "That little girl needs very careful watching, Mrs. Denys. She should never be allowed to overtire herself, mentally or physically. And if she should develop any untoward symptom, for Heaven"s sake don"t hesitate to send for me! I shan"t blame you for being too careful."
"I understand," Avery said.
He flicked his horse"s ears, and the animal broke into a trot.
When Tudor spoke again, it was upon a totally different matter. His voice was slightly aggressive as he said: "That Evesham boy seems to be for ever turning up at the Vicarage now. He"s an ill-mannered cub. I wonder you encourage him."
"Do I encourage him?" Avery asked.
He made a movement of irritation. "He would scarcely be such a constant visitor if you didn"t."
Avery smiled faintly and not very humorously in the darkness. "It is Jeanie he comes to see," she observed.
"Oh, obviously." Tudor"s retort was so ironical as to be almost rude.
She received it in silence, and after a moment he made a half-grudging amendment.
"He never showed any interest in Jeanie before, you know. I don"t think she is the sole attraction."
"No?" said Avery.
Her response was perfectly courteous, but so vague that it sounded to Lennox Tudor as if she were thinking of something else. He clenched his hand hard upon the handle of his whip.
"People tolerate him for the sake of his position," he said bitterly.
"But to my mind he is insufferable. His father was a scapegrace, as everyone knows. His mother was a circus girl. And his grandmother--an Italian--was divorced by Sir Beverley before they had been married two years."
"Oh!" Avery emerged from her vagueness and turned towards him. "Lady Evesham was Italian, was she? That accounts for his appearance, doesn"t it? That air of the old Roman patrician about him; you must have noticed it?"
"He"s handsome enough," admitted Tudor.
"Oh, very handsome," said Avery. "I should say that for that type his face was almost faultless. I wondered where he got it from. Sir Beverley is patrician too, but in a different way." She stopped to bow to a tall, gaunt lady at the side of the road. "That is Miss Whalley. Didn"t you see her? I expect she has just come from the Vicarage. She was going to discuss the scheme for the Christmas decorations with the Vicar."
"She"s good at scheming," growled Tudor.
Avery became silent again. At the Vicarage gates however very suddenly and sweetly she spoke. "Dr. Tudor, forgive me,--but isn"t it rather a pity to let oneself get intolerant? It does spoil life so."
He looked at her. "There"s not much in my life that could spoil," he said gloomily.
She laughed a little, but not derisively. "But there"s always something, isn"t there? Have you no sense of humour?"
He pulled up at the Vicarage gates. "I have a sense of the ridiculous,"
he said bluntly. "And I detest it in the person of Miss Whalley."
"I believe you detest a good many people," Avery said, as she descended.
He laughed himself at that. "But I am capable of appreciating the few,"
he said. "Mind the step! And don"t trouble to wait for me! I"ve got to tie this animal up."
He stopped to do so, and Avery opened the gate and walked slowly up the path.
At the porch she paused to await him, and turned her face for a moment to the darkening sky. But the Star of Hope was veiled.
CHAPTER XII
A PAIR OF GLOVES
"Piers! Where the devil are you, Piers?"
There was loud exasperation in the query as Sir Beverley halted in the doorway of his grandson"s bedroom.
There was a moment"s pause; then Victor the valet came quickly forward.
"But, _Monsieur Pierre_, he bathe himself," he explained, with beady eyes running over the gaunt old figure in the entrance.