The Swing of the Pendulum

by Frances Mary Peard

On the whole, Anne had gathered enough to make her thoughtful. She kept on indifferent subjects the rest of the afternoon. As they drove back it was evident that rain was at hand, the sky had grown wild, the country had that ragged look which thinning leaves give in a high wind.

“If I dared prophesy on my neighbours’ clouds, I should say there would be no shooting to-morrow,” Anne said.

“A house full of bored men instead,” sighed Lady Fanny.

For their misfortunes Anne cared little. She had meant to find opportunity somewhere, and this promised freely.

That night she dressed for dinner with care, the white satin setting off her rich dark beauty, and if she had perplexities, no sign betrayed them. To see her lightly talking would have been to disbelieve that she could be keenly on the watch, eye and ear together heedful. She had to keep Lord Milborough pleased and yet doubtful, to ward off for another thirty-six hours what he was burning to say at once, to read Wareham’s mind—if possible, to bring him to her feet. Then and not till then would she decide. But meanwhile she could not, would not, cease to be charming.

There was no repetition of her movement of the evening before, and thought for Millie led Lady Fanny to plant Wareham at a safe distance from the dangerous Miss Dalrymple. Anne submitted. That night she had foreseen would offer no chance of the words she wanted.

She was not mistaken in the effect she produced on Wareham. Her beauty was of the kind which is set off by rich surroundings; she seldom looked at him, but when her dark smiling eyes rested upon him for a moment, he was conscious of the same dizzy thrill which had seized him that early morning at Haare; and the greediness with which his ears drank in every tone of her voice, made him a dull companion to a young lady in awe of a well-known author, and prepared to treasure words. Anne did not fail to note his silence, nor that she held his attention.

After dinner he came to her, encouraged by her look, but Lord Milborough was there as soon. Would she prefer the billiard-room? Anne shook her head.

“Listen to the rain, and keep billiards for to-morrow, when you will be wandering miserably about the house, wretched examples of the unemployed.”

Lord Milborough protested that there was no fear of his finding the house miserable. He would have given up shooting that afternoon, could he only have gone with her and Fanny to Risley.