As the afternoon wore on, therefore, and Vernon did not appear, she went the length of watching for him at one of the drawing-room windows which commanded the best view of the road; and when the tenant of the adjoining cottage returned home, she threw up the sash, and asked him if, in the course of the rambles round the parish which he was known to be in the habit of taking, he had that day met the vicar of St. Cuthbert’s. The colonist, being an observant man, noted the lady’s anxiety, and the unusual courtesy towards himself to which it gave rise.
“Your brother-in-law, madam,” said he, bluntly, “is standing at the bottom of the hill. He has been standing there some time, I believe.” Then the idea of a little experiment crossing his mind, Ned Mitchell made a pause to give the more effect to his next words. “He is with Miss Denison, of the farm down yonder.”
Mrs. Brander’s handsome eyes flashed; with what feeling, whether jealousy, or anger or disquietude, he could not be sure. She bestowed upon him a little polite smile of thanks for his information, and said it was an unpleasant evening. But it was evident that her interest in him was gone; and as he had nothing more at present to obtain from or to impart to her, the colonist gave the off-hand touch to his hat which was the most respectful form of salutation he ever bestowed, and retreated into his cottage. Mrs. Brander shut down the window with one vigorous pull, and in two minutes was sallying down the hill through the mud and the drizzle, her handsome dinner dress held at a height more convenient than graceful, her kid shoes encased in stout goloshes, an old macintosh of her husband’s buttoned round her with the sleeves left swinging and a huge carriage umbrella held over her head. She was a practical woman, and if one liked to wear handsome clothes, there was no reason why one should spoil them for the sake of a more picturesque appearance for ten minutes on a wet evening. As she passed the end of her neighbor’s garden, that gentleman, who was on the watch underneath his porch, addressed to her an admiring word.
“Well done, ma’am!” cried he. “As long as you parsons’ ladies do your husband’s district visiting in such weather as this, you’ll stave off disestablishment, I reckon.”
“Oh, yes,” she called out in answer, being in one of those anxious moods in which the proudest woman is afraid of giving offence to a fellow mortal; “you don’t know yet what weak woman is capable of.”
These were the words she was uttering when the faint sound of her voice startled Vernon and Olivia as they stood together at the foot of the hill.
When Miss Denison left him, Vernon had only a few steps to take before he met his sister-in-law, who greeted him with the kindly affectionate manner of a relation with whom one is on perfectly good terms. She gave her umbrella to him to hold, and passed the disengaged hand lightly through his arm. Instead of proceeding up the hill with her, however, he stood still, remaining as stiff as a wooden soldier.
“Aren’t you coming up to the house?” she asked, with innocent peremptoriness, shaking his arm persuasively.
“No, thank you,” said he coolly, but with a coolness utterly different from hers, as it arose from the chilling of a warm nature, not from the innate frigidity of a cold one.
“Oh, but you must! I was peeping out of the drawing-room window when the bear next door came back to his den and told me you were out here, talking to Miss Denison. So I rushed out hoping to catch you both, and drag you in to dinner; the pretty farmer’s daughter to amuse Meredith, and you to entertain me.”