Jack sheered off, with a look of puzzled shamefacedness. He disappeared into the house. Nothing passed between Miss Trix and myself. A moment later Newhaven came out.
“Why, Miss Queenborough,” said he, in apparent surprise, “Ives is going with Mrs. Wentworth in the canoe!”
In an instant I saw what she had done. In rash presumption she had told Newhaven that she was going with the curate—and now the curate had refused to take her—and Ives had met him in search of Mrs. Wentworth. What could she do? Well, she rose—or fell—to the occasion. In the coldest of voices she said, “I thought you’d gone for your walk.”
“I was just starting,” he answered apologetically, “when I met Ives. But, as you weren’t going with him—-” He paused, an inquiring look in his eyes. He was evidently asking himself why she had not gone with the curate.
“I’d rather be left alone, if you don’t mind,” said she. And then, flushing red again, she added. “I changed my mind and refused to go with Mr. Ives. So he went off to get Mrs. Wentworth instead.”
I started. Newhaven looked at her for an instant, and then turned on his heel. She turned to me, quick as lightning and with her face all aflame, “If you tell, I’ll never speak to you again,” she whispered.
After this there was silence for some minutes.
“Well?” she said, without looking at me.
“I have no remark to offer, Miss Queenborough,” I returned.
“I suppose that was a lie, wasn’t it?” she asked, defiantly.