Aldyth grew white. She could say nothing under the grasp of disappointment. Fate was hard upon her. If she had not seen Mrs. Bland at the window and gone into her house, she would have arrived in time to greet John Glynne. And it seemed to Aldyth at that moment that it would have been worth a great deal just to have said good-bye to him.
If Miss Lorraine noted the quick change of Aldyth's expression, she did not appear to do so. She chatted on with her usual volubility. There are times when it is convenient to have a companion with a faculty of small talk. Such a one is satisfied with the least modicum in the way of response.
"I can see that Mr. Glynne feels leaving Woodham," said Miss Lorraine. "He said he could hardly expect to meet with such kind friends anywhere else. Indeed, I do not think he likes leaving England at all; but it is for the sake of his mother he has accepted the appointment. It will make things easier for her, he says; and she has not been at all strong lately. I am sure I do not know how she will bear parting with him; but there is another brother, you know, who will be at home to take care of her."
"Yes," said Aldyth, faintly, as her aunt looked towards her.
"Mr. Glynne is very fond of his mother," continued Miss Lorraine. "If I were not already convinced of it, I should have known he was a good man, by the way in which he spoke of his mother this afternoon."
"When does he leave?" asked Aldyth, as her aunt paused to take breath.
"Leave Woodham? To-morrow morning, and he sails at the end of the week. But, Aldyth, if you are to walk home before it gets dark, we must have tea at once."
And Miss Lorraine summoned the little housemaid by a vigorous pull of the bell.
In half an hour, Aldyth was on her way home. She was one to enjoy a long, brisk walk; but now her sweet calm face had a weary look, and her step was less elastic than usual. She had started forth a few hours earlier with no definite hope in her heart, but she was bearing back with her an unmistakable weight of disappointment and pain. She did not attempt to analyse her feelings; she did not own to herself that mighty Love had laid his spell upon her—Love at which she had laughed—which had seemed to her more than half a folly, as she had seen it influencing the life of another. She only knew that a shadow had fallen on her heart, that some scarce-defined hope had died, and that life had lost the brightness it wore for her a little while ago.
She had passed out of the road, and was pursuing her way through a deep grassy meadow by the side of a stream, with round bushy pollards growing on its banks. Behind her lay the little town, its red roofs, old church tower, and the broad stretch of water, dotted with sails, forming a fair picture in the clear evening light. No sound broke the stillness save the scarce perceptible ripple of the stream, and the occasional hoarse croaking of a frog. The peace, the solitude was welcome to Aldyth.