The woman looked at her in surprise.
“I fear you are not quite well, ma'am,” she said quietly. “We did not need to search far: the gardener came up and told us that he had met Miss Tristram walking on the road not more than half-an-hour ago. He had been down to the larches and Miss Tristram was going in the direction of Unwin Church. It was as I suggested: she was taking a walk, having left the grounds by the lower gate. I am sure that she will be back again before lunch. Are you not well, Miss Mowbray?”
“I am quite well,” said Agnes. “I was only a little surprised that Miss Tristram could have left the grounds without my noticing her do so. I was in the drawing-room all the time.”
She went to her own room and stood at the window, wondering how it was that she had been so certain that Clare had resolved to die. Was it because she herself was ready to welcome death at that moment? She fell on her knees and prayed that she might have strength to live—she prayed that she might have strength to resist the temptation to end in a moment the terrible consciousness that in another week or two all the world would be ringing with the name which she bore—the consciousness that every finger would be pointed at her, while those who pointed at her would whisper the name of her brother. She prayed for strength to bear the appalling burden which had been laid upon her.
In that nervous condition which was hers she felt that she must do something: she could not rest patiently until the return of Clare. She felt that as she had told Claude the secret which had placed a gulf between him and Clare, it was right that she should tell him without delay that, although it was true that the girl was the daughter of Carton Stand-ish, yet Carton Standish was innocent of the crime for which he was suffering imprisonment.
She rang her bell, and gave orders for the brougham; and then, with nervous hands, she put on her fur coat and hat, and went down to the hall fire to wait for the sound of wheels. The butler, who was bringing some silver into the dining-room for the luncheon table, paused for a moment and asked her if she would wish the hour for lunch to be delayed. She told him that lunch was to be served when Miss Tristram should come in.
A sudden thought occurred to her. She would not keep Clare waiting for her good news should she come in before her own return from the Court.
She had thought of driving Claude back with her in the brougham after she had communicated her good news to him—it would be good news to him. What did he care how heavy was the blow that had fallen upon her so long as he was free to marry Clare?
She went into the study and wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper:
“Dearest,—God has been good to you. Something like a miracle has happened, and the barrier which Claude saw between you and him is removed. I am bringing him to you. Wait for our coming.