Miss Haldane watched her. Had there been any truth in Millicent’s words? Had she seen more of this man than Miss Haldane had supposed? [Pg 214]Clandestine meetings, secret letters, fluttered rapidly before Miss Haldane’s mind. Then she looked at Anne again. It was impossible. Whatever had happened, it was certain that it was nothing of which Anne need really be ashamed.
And Anne, silent at the window, had bitterness in her heart; she felt her pride, as she had said, humbled, dragged in the dust. This man to whom she had written had amused himself at her expense. As one person he had received her intimate letters, as another he had been the recipient of gracious favours on which he had doubtless put a totally wrong construction. Posing as two men, yet in reality one, he could compare the favours she had accorded both. The rose, the green sock—her face burnt at the thought of them. The one man, Robin Adair, smiling at her gracious letters, and smiling still more at her gracious treatment of the vagabond Piper.
It was monstrous, preposterous! How he must have laughed in his sleeve when she told him of her inclination to confound the two men. Anger and indignation were in Anne’s heart at the thought, yet deeper still was an odd little ache, [Pg 215]and the fact that it existed, and she was conscious of it, curiously enough increased her indignation against Peter.
The door opened softly, and the footman entered with a letter on a tray. He crossed to the window where Anne was standing. As she saw the letter lying there, a hot flush mounted in her face. She took it, holding it irresolutely in her hand. When the door had closed again, she broke the seal.
There was a long silence. At last Miss Haldane looked round. Anne’s face was quivering.
“What is it?” asked Miss Haldane, her voice full of perplexed anxiety.
“Only,” said Anne, with a half sob, “that I have torn the little young wings from a skylark.”
CHAPTER XXII