She had passed the lane, when she recollected Alice Lorraine and paused. She had agreed to meet her at the lane as near five as possible, and strolling back she seated herself on the stone wall to consider. On other occasions she had either just made the hour or had been late, and she felt a certain hesitation about hanging around the place for a matter of twenty minutes. She said to herself sadly that it was just as if she suspected Alice of meeting someone there, though she knew—she hoped with all her heart she knew—that Alice wouldn’t do such a thing. But O, what was her secret? What was she doing, haunting the lane and the cottage almost daily?
As she was pondering sadly, she heard a step, and looked up to see Mr. Langley. Her heart sank. She supposed he would reproach her for leaving Mrs. Langley so rudely. But apparently he knew nothing about it.
“O Anna, I wanted to speak to you and tried to get home before you should leave,” he said. “Do you mind coming back to my study for a few minutes?”
“What now?” the girl said to herself. But he was all kindness as he led her back through the gate, helped her off with her jacket and established her in the most comfortable chair in his study.
“I want to speak to you in regard to Miss Lorraine. You know her well, I think, Anna?” he began at once.
“Why yes, Mr. Langley,” she faltered.
“And you like her? You—believe in her?”
“Of course.”
“I am glad to hear that. I like the girl so far as I know her and I believe in her. But things look a bit odd and I want to talk a little with you. People in the village are talking about Miss Lorraine. Someone said to me that at least two persons have seen her walking at dusk with a strange man.”
“O Mr. Langley, I don’t believe that. There must be some mistake!” cried Anna.