“Amethyst,” said Mrs Leigh, “there is no use in concealment. You shall tell me your own story; but I must ask you to explain your—interview with Major Fowler. Tell me the truth, my dear, I have come first to ask yourself. It is no hearsay, I saw your parting with him.”
“I dare say you did—what then?” said Amethyst. “So did Mr Riddell. There is nothing—what should there be to explain?”
“Yes, Amethyst, I know Mr Riddell saw you. But oh, my dear, what if my poor Lucian had seen you then?”
“What then?” said Amethyst. She was angry; but she was still more frightened and conscious of her secret. She fancied that Mrs Leigh had seen her give Major Fowler the packet.
“What then? Oh, Amethyst, tell the truth at least.”
“You had better ask my mother. There she is!” said Amethyst.
Her manner was haughty, but it was as a sort of refuge from fear. She was still so young, and so accustomed to give an account of her conduct, that it did not occur to her to resent the inquiries. How she could elude them was her first thought!
“My dear Mrs Leigh,” said Lady Haredale, all smiles and pleasant greeting, “you are an early visitor. This lovely weather makes an early bird even of a Londoner like me. And here is a telegram from my lord, to say he is coming home unexpectedly to-day. I don’t think I’ve a dinner fit for him! Lucian is not particular just at present, our scrambling meals suit him.”
“Lady Haredale,” said Mrs Leigh, unable to be otherwise than formal, “I have come on most painful business. I had hoped to hear the truth from Amethyst, but perhaps, as she suggests, it is right for me to speak to you.”
She had been sitting in one of the deep recesses of the hedge, and now resumed her seat, as Lady Haredale placed herself beside her, while Amethyst stood, erect and silent, fronting them both.