Sylvester started, as Amethyst, with a hurried step, and glancing nervously about her, came into the conservatory at the further end, and after pausing as if in search of some one, passed out of sight behind a trellis covered with heliotrope and scarlet geraniums.
“She has gone into the house,” said Mrs Leigh; “let us join her.”
She rose and followed Amethyst’s footsteps round the geranium-covered trellis, behind which an open window led into a small ante-room, also adorned with flowers, and, at first sight, empty. In a moment, the white figure came again into view followed by Major Fowler. He took her by the hand, drew her close up to him, bending his face over hers, and kissed her under her hat. She clung to him for a second, then pulled herself away, and covered her face with her hands. Both moved out of sight in separate directions, and the whole thing was over in half a minute. Mrs Leigh had stopped, with a clutch at Sylvester’s arm. Now she walked hurriedly forward into the ante-room, and Sylvester, with an instinct of checking a scene then and there, dashed past her, with a loud and incoherent remark on the creepers. The ante-room was empty. Only strangers were in the drawing-room beyond. Mrs Leigh sank down into a chair, speechless and overpowered. Sylvester was pale, he neither liked to leave her, nor to speak to her, and he suffered so much that he almost forgot her.
“Sylvester,” she said at length, faintly, “I have been miserable—miserable! But such as this I never thought of.”
“No,” said Sylvester, stupidly, “no—of course not.”
“I have been warned,” said Mrs Leigh. “I have hated the connection. I would be thankful to break off the match. But a child of eighteen!—What can I do for the best?”
“Don’t say a word—don’t tell Lucian now. Speak to Miss Haredale yourself alone, first. She is, as you say, a child. Major Fowler’s position in the family, his engagement,—an unsuitable joke—”
“Sylvester,” said Mrs Leigh, “That was a parting with a meaning, and you know it. But of course nothing can be done to-day, and here I will save her. I will not make a scandal, but that girl shall never be my Lucian’s wife.”
There was relief as well as dismay in Mrs Leigh’s voice, and she stood up, and walked out again through the conservatory on to the terrace in front of the house. Lucian came hurrying across the lawn, looking perplexed and angry.
“What has become of Amethyst?” he said. “I missed her all in a moment. Has she been with you? Lady Haredale and the little girls are on the lawn.”