Next morning, however, to enhance the value of the prize, she kept her daughter beside her, and remained in her own room on the plea of looking after certain matters connected with feminine adornment. Towton, on his part, had to attend to his correspondence; so Vernon was left to his own devices. He thought that he could not occupy his time better than by taking a walk to the Bolly Dam in the hope of stumbling on Hokar. For this purpose he strolled leisurely along the moorland path, enjoying the bright sunshine and the keen freshness of the morning air. It was a perfect day, and had Lucy been prattling by his side it would have been more perfect still. But his beloved was absent, so Vernon could only feed his hungry heart by recalling details of the delicious conversation which had taken place between them on the previous day.
He duly arrived at the dam, but could see no sign of the Hindoo. It was still early, however, so Vernon sat down on the massive stonework of the wall to wait for his possible arrival. While in this position he became aware to his astonishment that he could hear sounds extremely plainly from the mile-distant village. The clacking of the mills, the subdued murmur of the torrent tumbling under the arched bridge, the lowing of cattle, and even--but more faintly--the shrill cries of children at play; all these struck on his ear with amazing clearness, considering the distance. Certainly, a gentle wind was blowing from the village, but even that did not wholly explain the phenomenon, since the various noises were so markedly distinct. Finally, Vernon concluded, and no doubt was correct in his conjecture, that the narrow gorge acted as a kind of telephone, which, with the aid of the steady wind blowing up its length, conducted the sounds accurately. The discovery amused the young man, and he sat where he was for a considerable time trying to distinguish between the several noises. Later in the day he decided to get Lucy to sit on the dam and then from the bottom of the gorge a mile away to call out and see if she could understand what he was saying. The experiment would be both scientific and interesting.
For quite an hour Vernon waited, but no Hokar put in an appearance. He then spent another hour in walking slowly round the reservoir, and finally, without having seen a single person, he returned to luncheon. At the meal Colonel Towton mentioned that he had written a note to Miss Hest stating that the visit would be paid at three o'clock. "And I have given orders for a room to be got ready for Ida next to yours, Lady Corsoon," said the Colonel.
"I doubt if Ida will come," sighed his guest. "She is singularly obstinate in having her own way. What she can see in that woman is a puzzle to me."
"Miss Hest is very clever," remarked Lucy, "but there is something about her that I do not like."
"For instance?" queried Vernon bending forward.
"I can hardly say," said the girl thoughtfully. "She is clever and agreeable and quite well-bred. Yet she seems to be--be--dangerous."
"I think that word applies more to Maunders than to Miss Hest," observed Towton, "although I am bound to say that Miss Hest does not satisfy me in many ways. She is too masterful. Dangerous, no. I should not describe her as dangerous, Miss Corsoon."
"I should, and I do, Colonel. I may be wrong, but the first time I met Miss Hest at 'Rangoon' she gave me that impression."
"One should never go against impressions," said Vernon gravely; "They are the instincts of the soul."