“Perhaps the rejected lover confided in him.”
“But why did not the rejected lover send the letter he received—and which he must have known he had no right to retain—to Miss Moran, or to the Englishman for whom it was intended? A man who could keep a letter like that, must have some envious sneaking devil in his body. A bad man, Mary, a bad man—the air must be unclean in any room he comes into.”
“Why Annie! How angry you are. Let us drop the subject. I really do want to tell you something about Willie Seabright.”
“What did Mr. Van Ariens say about the matter? What did he think? Why did he tell you?”
“We were talking of the Marquise. The story came up quite naturally. I think Mr. Van Ariens felt very sorry for Miss Moran. Of course he did. Will you listen to Captain Seabright’s letter? I had no idea it could affect me so much.”
“But you loved him once?”
“Very dearly.”
“Well then, Mary, I think no one has a double in love or friendship. If the loved one dies, or goes away, his place remains empty forever. We have lost feelings that he, and he only, could call up.”
At this point in the conversation Hyde entered, brown and wind-blown, the scent of the sedgy water and the flowery woods about him.
“Your servant, ladies,” he said gayly, “I have bream enough for a dozen families, Mary; and I have sent a string to the rectory.”