“I shall never marry and I shall never forget you,” he answered. “Good-bye, my love, good-bye!”
In another minute she had vanished into the storm and rain, out of his sight and out of his life, but not out of his heart.
He, too, turned and went his way into the wild and lonely night.
An hour afterwards Ida came down into the drawing-room dressed for dinner, looking rather pale but otherwise quite herself. Presently the Squire arrived. He had been at a magistrate’s meeting, and had only just got home.
“Why, Ida,” he said, “I could not find you anywhere. I met George as I was driving from Boisingham, and he told me that he saw you walking through the park.”
“Did he?” she answered indifferently. “Yes, I have been out. It was so stuffy indoors. Father,” she went on, with a change of tone, “I have something to tell you. I am engaged to be married.”
He looked at her curiously, and then said quietly—the Squire was always quiet in any matter of real emergency—“Indeed, my dear! That is a serious matter. However, speaking off-hand, I think that notwithstanding the disparity of age, Quaritch——”
“No, no,” she said, wincing visibly, “I am not engaged to Colonel Quaritch, I am engaged to Mr. Cossey.”
“Oh,” he said, “oh, indeed! I thought from what I saw, that—that——”
At this moment the servant announced dinner.