The disagreeable duty of announcing Mrs. Prettyman’s death to the lady of the Manor now lay before Lavendar and his companion, and the thought of it weighed upon their spirits as they crossed the river. Carnaby also must be told. How would he take it? Robinette, still under the shock of the plum tree’s undoing, expected perhaps some further exhibition of youthful callousness, but Lavendar knew better.
In their concern and sorrow, the young couple had forgotten all minor matters such as meals, and luncheon had long been over when they reached the house. They could see Mrs. de Tracy’s figure in the drawing room as they passed the windows, occupying exactly her usual seat in her usual attitude. 310 It was her hour for reading and disapproving of the daily paper.
Robinette and Lavendar entered quietly, but nothing in the gravity of their faces struck Mrs. de Tracy as strange.
“I have a disturbing piece of news to give you,” Mark began, clearing his throat. “Mrs. Prettyman died last night in her cottage at Wittisham.”
The erect figure in the widow’s weeds remained motionless. Perhaps the old hand that lowered the newspaper trembled somewhat, so that its diamonds quivered a little more than usual.
“So Mrs. Prettyman is dead?” she said. Then, as the young people stood looking at her with an air of some expectancy, she added with a sour glance, “Do you expect me to be very much agitated by the news?”
“The death was unexpected,” began Lavendar lamely.
“She was seventy-five; my age!” said 311 Mrs. de Tracy with a wintry smile. “Is death at seventy-five so unexpected an event?”
Lavendar said nothing; he had nothing to say, and Robinette for the same reason was silent. She was gazing at her aunt, almost unconsciously, with a wondering look. “At any rate,” continued Mrs. de Tracy, addressing her niece, “your protégée has been fortunate in two ways, Robinette. She will neither be turned out of her cottage nor see the destruction of her plum tree. By the way––” with a perfectly natural change of tone, dismissing at once both Mrs. Prettyman and Death––“the plum tree is down, I suppose? You saw it?”
“Very much down!” answered Lavendar. “And certainly we saw it! Carnaby does nothing by halves!”