“But suppose that all these friends were to go away—suppose you were left alone—would you care for Hurstley then?”
Margery’s face paled.
“I never thought of that,” she murmured. “Oh, I could not stay then; it would be terrible!”
Stuart opened his lips as if to speak, then closed them firmly again, and for a while there was silence between them as they walked. At last the young squire spoke. They had reached a clump of trees, a cooler, shadier spot, and here he stopped.
“Let us unpack that gigantic basket here, Margery,” he said, lightly. “This is the very nook for a picnic.”
Margery tossed off her bonnet, and the young man, stretched at full length on the soft grass, feasted his eyes on her radiant beauty, feeling that with every look his determination to see less of this girl was slipping from him, and that for him happiness was found only when in her presence.
CHAPTER VII.
Vane Charteris found the day pass very slowly, with no one but her aunt to amuse her. She sat listlessly beside Mrs. Crosbie during the long drive, feeling bored and wearied, and yawned through the afternoon in her room, finding no pleasure in her mother’s society and less in her own. The thought that had come to her suddenly in the morning grew stronger as the hours passed. As Stuart Crosbie’s wife, she would taste once more the sweetness of her lost power.
She was leaning by her open window, thinking this, heedless of the beauty of the picture that stretched before her, when her eyes fell on a man’s figure strolling leisurely on the lawn—a strange, odd-looking man, who seemed not quite at home in his surroundings. Miss Charteris, roused from her languor, watched him intently, and at once determined that the intruder was a tramp—perhaps one of a gang of thieves. She rose quickly, and made her way from her room, picking up her sun-shade as she went. Her aunt was out at a garden party, which she had vainly tried to induce Miss Charteris to attend, her mother was enjoying a siesta, and her uncle was absorbed in his books. There was no one about, and the castle seemed quite deserted as Vane walked across the hall to the back grounds. The man was standing as she had seen him last, his hands in his pockets, his hat pulled low over his brows. She went toward him at once.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Do you know you are trespassing?”