“It sounds pretty ghastly,” averred Robin. “I say”—impulsively. “Couldn’t I—couldn’t we help you at all?”
Mrs. Hilyard laughed softly. Robin thought it was one of the most delightful sounds he had ever heard, fluent and sweet as the pipe of a blackbird.
“Apparently you and your sister go about doing kindnesses,” she said, in a quick, touched way. “The very first thing she said to me was ‘Can I help?’ And now, almost your first utterance is another offer of help! Is every one in the neighbourhood like that? Because, if so, I think I must have come to an enchanted village—and”—firmly—“I shall decide to remain here for the rest of my life!”
“Well”—Robin looked embarrassed—“shifting furniture about isn’t exactly a woman’s job.”
“I’m not actually shifting furniture myself—except a table or chair now and again, when no one else moves quickly enough to please me! But if you and Miss Lovell would come over one day soon and help me to decide about the disposition of my lares and penates, it would be the greatest help. One does so want some one to talk things over with, you know,” she added.
To Robin’s ears there was a forlorn note in that frank little acknowledgment, and he was conscious of a sudden, overpowering rush of sympathy. She was lonely—he was sure of it. In spite of all her charm and quick laughter, she was not a happy woman. Some shadow from the past lay in her eyes, and when she laughed the sparkle in them was like the momentary sunlit ripple which breaks the surface of a pool for a brief instant and then is lost again in its shadowed stillness.
Ann’s return to the room, synchronising with the arrival of the rector and his sister, served to detach his thoughts from the subject of Mrs. Hilyard’s eyes, and when the necessary introductions had been performed, and the new owner of the Priory was joining in the general conversation with apparent light-heartedness, Robin was tempted to wonder whether he had been correct in his surmise, after all.
But later on, during tea, the clouded expression reappeared on her face, as though something had all at once turned her thoughts inward. It was when Miss Caroline, thirsting for information as usual, suddenly pounced on her with a question.
“I suppose you haven’t met Mr. Coventry yet?” she demanded.
For an instant Mrs. Hilyard looked startled. Then she shook her head.