"That is because of the regatta at Longbridge," Melville explained. "If I had known about it we might have gone there to-day and I could have seen Sir Geoffrey to-morrow; but, personally, I've enjoyed what we have done immensely."
As a matter of fact, he had heard of the Longbridge regatta with considerable relief, for it removed most of the probability of his being seen with Mrs. Sinclair by either Ralph or Gwendolen. Sir Geoffrey, too, was still fond of boating, and might quite possibly have seen them, which would have been nothing short of a disaster. As it was, both Ralph and Gwendolen would certainly be present at the regatta, perhaps competing in some of the events, and Sir Geoffrey, if he were upon the water at all, would be there as well. Nothing was happening to shake Melville's faith in his star.
The intense atmospheric oppression was beginning to tell upon Mrs. Sinclair, who relapsed into complete silence. Varying emotions were conflicting in her mind as she drew near the Manor House, of which she might have been the mistress, but which she dared not enter now. After the lapse of so many years she felt some remorse at the thought of how she had spoiled Sir Geoffrey's life, and she would have liked to be able to convey some message to him telling him she was sorry. But fear stood between her and confession, as it so often stands, and sealed her lips until it was too late.
Presently Melville drew the boat into the bank.
"There is the Manor House garden, behind those trees," he said, pointing to a row of splendid elms some hundred, yards ahead. "If you don't mind, I'll leave you here under this great willow. I'll fasten the boat so that it can't drift away, and you won't get wet, even if it does come on to rain."
He tied the boat up, bow and stern, with the painter and rudder-lines, and gave her the boathook to grapple to the twisted roots of the willow if she felt uneasy. She thanked him with a smile.
"Don't be longer than you can help, will you?"
"Not a minute longer," he replied, and turned to leave her. As he stepped ashore he felt for the first time that day a pang of anxiety at the risk he was running in bringing her so close to the husband whom they had both wronged so much. He hesitated, and looked at her searchingly.
"You will wait for me here, Lavender, won't you? You won't——"
"I will wait here all right," she answered, and Melville forced his way through the bushes that screened the meadows from the stream, and was lost to view.