Suddenly she was roused out of her wild reverie by hearing her own name called in sharp tones. She looked down from the high pathway alongside the hedge into the road, which at this point was some five feet below. There she saw the vicarage pony carriage, containing Mrs. Brander, who was driving, with Vernon sitting by her side. It was the lady who had called to Olivia. Having pulled up the ponies to the side of the road, she now beckoned to the girl in an impatient, imperious manner, to come down.
“Good-morning,” said Olivia, coldly, without attempting to leave the pathway. Her cheeks had grown in an instant deadly white on seeing who was the lady’s companion; but she did not glance at him.
“I can’t stop this morning, Mrs. Brander: I’m in a great hurry,” she said, in an unsteady voice, while her heart beat violently, and she felt that if the interview lasted a minute longer she should not be able to stand without support.
“But I have something important to say to you—very important. I really must beg you to give me a moment; and, if you like, I will drive you into Matherham myself.”
“No, thank you,” said Olivia, hastily.
“One minute, then, I beg, Miss Denison.”
The imperious lady’s voice had suddenly broken and become imploring. Olivia, with downcast eyes, and feet that tottered under her, found a convenient place for a descent into the road, and the next minute stood by the pony carriage, on the side where Mrs. Brander was sitting. She neither looked up nor spoke, but left the opening of the conversation to the vicar’s wife, whose hands, as she held the reins, shook with a nervousness altogether unusual with her. With strange diffidence, too, Mrs. Brander hesitated before she spoke.
“You are walking into Matherham?” she asked, at last.
“Yes, Mrs. Brander.”
“You are sure you won’t let me drive you in?”