"What are you thinking of?" said Mr. Dashwood.
The girl started from her reverie, and glanced sideways at her companion, one of those swallow-swift glances whose very momentariness is filled with meaning. Mr. Dashwood had spoken. In those five words he had let his secret escape. In the words themselves there was nothing, but in the tone of them there was much. They were five messengers, each bearing a message. Five volumes of prose could not have told her more. I doubt if they could have told her as much.
She glanced away again at the river.
"I don't know. Nothing. That's the charm of this place. I often come here and lean on the bridge and look at the water. It seems to mesmerise one and take away the necessity for thought. Don't you feel that when you look at it?"
"No," said Mr. Dashwood. "I wish to goodness it did."
She cast another swift side glance at him. The alteration in his tone made her wonder. His voice had become hard and almost irritable. He spoke as a man speaks who is vexed by some petty worry, and the words themselves were not over complimentary.
She could not in the least understand what was the matter with him. Ever since his return to Drumgool, while her mind had been engaged in the intricate problem of Mr. French's affairs, her subliminal mind had been engaged in the equally intricate problem presented by the conduct of Mr. French and Mr. Dashwood. There were times when, alone with her supposititious uncle, the original man in him seemed just about to speak the old language of original man to original woman. There were times when, alone with Mr. Dashwood, the same natural phenomenon seemed about to happen.
Yet something always intervened. French would seem to remember something, check himself, turn the conversation, and, with the bad grace of a bad actor playing a repugnant part, change from warmth to indifference. Dashwood, even a worse actor than French, would, as in the present instance, suddenly, and for no apparent reason, become almost rude.
Not in the least understanding the position of the two gentlemen one towards the other, and the fact that they looked upon each other as rivals in a game whose rules of honour had to be observed, she had passed from amusement to vague amazement when these sudden changes of temperature took place, and from amazement to irritation.
"Perhaps," said Miss Grimshaw, "you never feel the necessity."