"I see," said Jeff. He glanced towards Doris. "Shall we start back?" he said.
Hugh propped his gun against a tree, and stepped forward to mount her.
"So you still have Hector," he said.
"Jeff"s wedding present," she answered, still smiling.
Lightly she mounted, and for a single moment he felt her pa.s.sing touch upon his shoulder. Then Hector moved away, stepping proudly. Jeff was already in the saddle.
"Good-bye!" said Doris, looking back to him. "Don"t forget to come and see us!"
She was gone.
Hugh Chesyl turned with the sun-rays dazzling him, and groped for his gun.
He found it, shouldered it, and strode away down the woodland path. His face as he went was the face of a man suddenly awakened to the stress and the turmoil of life.
CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW LIFE
There was no doubt about it. Granny Grimshaw was not satisfied. Deeper furrows were beginning to appear in her already deeply furrowed face.
She shook her head very often with pursed lips when she was alone. And this despite the fact that she and the young mistress of the Mill House were always upon excellent terms. No difficulties ever arose between them. Doris showed not the smallest disposition to usurp the old housekeeper"s authority. Possibly Granny Grimshaw would have been better pleased if she had. She spent much of her time out-of-doors, and when in the house she was generally to be found in the little sitting-room that Jeff had fitted up for her.
She had her meals in the parlour with Jeff, and these were the sole occasions on which they were alone together. If Doris could have had her way, Granny Grimshaw would have been present at these also, but on this point the old woman showed herself determined, not to say obstinate. She maintained that her place was the kitchen, and that her presence was absolutely necessary there, a point of view which no argument of Doris"s could persuade her to relinquish.
So she and Jeff breakfasted, dined, and supped in solitude, and though Doris became gradually accustomed to these somewhat silent meals, she never enjoyed them. Of difficult moments there were actually very few.
They mutually avoided any but the most general subjects for conversation. But of intimacy between them there was none. Jeff had apparently drawn a very distinct boundary-line which he never permitted himself to cross. He never intruded upon her. He never encroached upon the friendship she shyly proffered. Once when she somewhat hesitatingly suggested that he should come to her sitting-room for a little after supper he refused, not churlishly, but very decidedly.
"I like to have my pipe and go to bed," he said.
"But you can bring your pipe, too," she said.
"No, thanks," said Jeff. "I always smoke in the kitchen or on the step."
She said no more, but went up to her room, and presently Jeff, moodily puffing at his briar in the porch, heard the notes of her piano overhead. She played softly for some little time, and Jeff"s pipe went out before it was finished--a most rare occurrence with him.
Only when the piano ceased did he awake to the fact, and then half-savagely he knocked out its half-consumed contents and turned inwards.
He found Granny Grimshaw standing in the pa.s.sage in a listening att.i.tude, and paused to bid her good-night.
"Be you going to bed, Master Jeff?" she said. "My dear, did you ever hear the like? She plays like an angel."
He smiled somewhat grimly, without replying.
The old woman came very close to him. "Master Jeff, why don"t you go and make love to her? Don"t you know she"s waiting for you?"
"Is she?" said Jeff, but he said it in the tone of one who does not require an answer, and with the words very abruptly he pa.s.sed her by.
Granny Grimshaw shook her head and sighed, "Ah, dear!" after his retreating form.
It was a few days after this that a letter came for Doris, one morning, bearing the Squire"s crest. Her husband handed it to her at the breakfast-table, and she received it with a flush. After a moment, seeing him occupied with a newspaper, she opened it.
"Dear Doris," it said. "You asked me to come and see you, but I have not done so as I was not sure if, after all, you meant me to take the invitation literally. We have been friends for so long that I feel constrained to speak openly. For myself, I only ask to go on being your friend, and to serve you in any way possible. But perhaps I can serve you best by keeping away from you. If so, then I will do even that.--Yours ever,
"Hugh."
Something within moved Doris to raise her eyes suddenly, and instantly she encountered Jeff"s fixed upon her. The flush in her cheeks deepened burningly. With an effort she spoke:
"Hugh Chesyl wants to know if he may come to see us."
"I thought you asked him," said Jeff.
A little quiver of resentment went through her; she could not have said wherefore. "He was not sure if I meant it," she said.
There was an instant"s silence; then Jeff did an extraordinary thing. He stretched out his hand across the table, keeping his eyes on hers.
"Let me have his letter to answer!" he said.
She made a sharp instinctive movement of withdrawal. "Oh, no!" she said.
"No!"
Jeff said nothing; but his face hardened somewhat, and his hand remained outstretched.
Doris"s grey eyes gleamed. "No, Jeff!" she repeated, more calmly, and with the words she slipped Hugh"s envelope into the bosom of her dress.
"I can"t give you my letters to answer indeed."
Jeff withdrew his hand, and began to eat his breakfast in utter silence.
Doris played with hers until the silence became intolerable, and then, very suddenly and very winningly, she leaned towards him.
"Dear Jeff, surely you are not vexed!" she said.
He looked at her again, and in spite of herself she felt her heart quicken.
"Are you, Jeff?" she said, and held out her hand to him.
For a moment he sat motionless, then abruptly he grasped the hand.
"May I say what I think?" he asked her bluntly.
"Of course," she said.
"Then I think from all points of view that you had better leave Chesyl alone," he said.
"What do you mean?" Quickly she asked the question; the colour flamed in her face once more. "Tell my why you think that!" she said.