"Good night!"
He made no reply. The handle ceased to rattle. He heard retreating footsteps, the opening and closing of Lady Hilda's door.
XXII
John was awakened the next morning by the sound of rain against his window. He got out of bed and looked upon a scene of desolation. The clouds hung low, and rain was coming down in level sheets. The lawns and gardens which yesterday had had the air of waiting for the spring were to-day a sudden wilderness.
There was a knock at the door, and the butler brought in his tea.
"Lady Hilda sends her compliments, sir," he announced, "and as the morning is so unfavorable she will not rise until eleven o'clock. Breakfast will be ready down-stairs at half past nine, or can be served in your room."
"Thank you, I'll come down," John replied.
He bathed and shaved himself, he even packed his own clothes. Then he left the room, descending the stairs softly, and glancing furtively at the door of Lady Hilda's room with an air almost of a guilty schoolboy. He breakfasted alone and spent the morning in the billiard room until Lady Hilda appeared.
"I am a terrible hostess, am I not?" she said apologetically, as she opened the door; "but what is there to be done? The weather is too hopeless, isn't it?"