"Then she does not always come directly after breakfast?"
Mrs. Ramsay said—"Oh no,"—not seeing whither the question tended.
"Ah,—she gets a little walk first. And Mr. Maurice?"
"He generally comes in about eleven or twelve."
"I see. Yes, I see. And you are quite sure you cannot make any use of me. I should have been charmed."
Mrs. Brutt withdrew, sweetly smiling; her mind busy.
"Now I wonder where they are," she said to herself, as she sauntered away; for by this time she was in a state of highly-strung alertness with regard to the lovers, besides being eaten up with curiosity.
From a worldly-wise point of view, if they wished to secure secrecy, Maurice and Doris would have been wise to take the widow into their confidence. Had they done so, she would have fussed and protested, but the being told would have gratified her sense of importance, and she would have arrayed her forces on their side.
To be made acquainted with the affair before even the Rector and the Squire, would have meant a degree of distinction, which she would thoroughly have appreciated. Despite her love of talk, she could keep a secret entrusted to her care; and she loved to be confided in.
But the mere fact of anything being hidden from herself aroused another side of her nature, calling into play a spirit of self-assertive inquisitiveness. The secret and all who were concerned in it became at once in her eyes "fair game;" and she could know no rest till, by hook or by crook, she had discovered that which was hidden. Towards this end she would strain every nerve; nor would she be scrupulous in her methods. Not to be told what another might know, amounted to a personal grievance.