She managed, when at Loseby, to follow Major Fowler’s lead with a skill and self-possession that surprised herself; and which made him smile, and think to himself that none of Lady Haredale’s daughters found a little plotting unnatural.
But, when she found herself alone with him in the turfed walk, she froze up into shy dignity.
“My mother desired me to say that you had shown her so much kindness, that she ventures to trouble you once more,” she said; so translating Lady Haredale’s message—“Tell dear old Tony that he is always my resource, and I know he’ll never fail me.”
Major Fowler looked at her curiously. He did not quite see why she was put forward for what Lady Haredale must have known would be a painful interview, unless her mother thought that her fresh beauty would make him waver in his purpose, and soften what he meant to say. He did not know how far she comprehended the errand on which she had been sent. But the easiest course was to take it for granted that she understood it all as well as Una would have done, and had been chosen as a messenger because her secrecy could be better depended upon.
“You see, my dear young lady,” said Major Fowler, twirling his moustaches, as he walked close beside her, “bachelor pleasures must come to an end. I am no end grateful to Lady Haredale for all she did for a poor lonely fellow, giving one the run of the house, and treating one like a—cousin. Any little service I could render, was quite part of the plan, as you may say. But now—it wouldn’t be possible.”
“My mother understood that you consented to—to manage about the jewels,” said Amethyst, abruptly.
“Your precious namesakes? Oh yes, I’ll manage that little piece of business. But I am afraid the other request in her letter is—well—a slight anachronism—if you understand?”
His tone jarred intensely on Amethyst, she could not tell whether it was purposely offensive or only jesting. But she felt that he meant to make her understand—something.
“I did not know that my mother had asked you to do anything else,” she said.
“No?—That she asked me once more to act as her banker? Under present circumstances I must regret to be unable to do so. Of course it’s been an honour and a pleasure; but you will, I am sure, convince her ladyship, that I must resign the situation, its pleasures and emoluments, and—its responsibilities.”