She went away, closing the door very softly behind her. The Colonel heard her singing as she ran upstairs. He then sank heavily into his accustomed armchair. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and gazed straight before him with a deep frown between his brows. In truth, he was more troubled than he had ever been before.
After a long time, during which he had been thinking deeply, he went to his desk and wrote a short note to Susie.
“Dear Susie,—
“I may not be in to lunch. Don’t wait for me.
“Your loving,—
“Father.”
He then put on his greatcoat, that shabby coat which had grown green with age, took up his hat and gold-headed stick, and marched out into the little street of Langdale. The Colonel had never looked fiercer, nor yet more dignified than he did now. His moustaches had taken quite a formidable military curl. His white hair was white as snow, but his black brows, and the gleam in his eyes under them, made him look quite a remarkable and imposing figure. One or two people spoke to him, but he did not answer. They wondered afterwards what was the matter with Colonel Arbuthnot. He was certainly very upright. He was an amazing figure for a man of his age—so the women said who watched him from their cottage doors. He was bent on something, just as bent as he had been when he was young and was fighting the battles of his country.
He went straight to Mrs Fortescue’s house. He rang the bell, and when Bridget answered his summons, he said—
“You needn’t tell me that your mistress is at home, because I see her in her dining-room window. I want to say something to her.” Then Bridget made way for him, and he went into Mrs Fortescue’s presence uninvited.