“For a week I will, since you ask it of me. I wonder why you wish it?”
She had few feminine evasions at her command, few subtleties. “To say truth, sir, you shake my resolution.”
There was an eager look, dispelling sleepiness. “Give me back my promise!”
She shook her head, and smiled a little. “I hold you to it.”
There was no more to be said. He bowed. “I obey you — now. Take a lesson from me.”
She felt herself weakening. Lord, she desired nothing better than to do his bidding. It would not be wise to let him see that. She said lightly: “Oh, if you marry me in the end, sir, I promise you a dutiful wife.” Her eyes fell before the look in his. “As for your fears for me, you need have none, Tony. I’m not like to come to any harm.”
She did not know how exactly Miss Letty, all unconsciously, had described her to the gentlemen of the law.
Nor did she suspect the hand of an enemy to be turned against her. She had forgotten Mr Rensley, newly arisen from his bed of sickness.
Mr Rensley, permitted to sit up in his room, heard the news of Markham’s death rather late in the day from his chatty surgeon. He was quite shocked, even a little put out. There had been a sudden coolness between himself and Markham, but this news was upsetting. He evinced a lively interest; the surgeon liked to talk; Mr Rensley soon had all the circumstances from him. He was particularly anxious to know how the Merriots came to chance along the road at such a late and opportune hour. To one who knew of enmity existing between Mr Merriot and Markham, the thing had a significance. When the surgeon had departed Rensley spent some time in earnest thought. Young Merriot had hung about the heiress quite noticeably; it was possible, nay, probable, that the original quarrel had sprung up out of some rivalry.
At the end of an hour’s cogitation Mr Rensley told his aghast servant to order a chair, for he intended to go out.