The New Warden

by Mrs. David G. Ritchie

Lady Dashwood sat on in the drawing-room. Now that she was alone it was not necessary to keep up the show of reading a book. She put it down on a table close at hand and gave herself up to thought.

But what was the good of plans—until Jim came back? The first thing was to find out whether the engagement was a fact and not an invention of Belinda's. Then if it was a fact, whether Jim really wanted to marry Gwendolen? If he did want to, plans might be very difficult to make, and there was little time, with Belinda clamouring to come and play the mother-in-law. The vulture was already hovering with the scent of battle in its nostrils.

Then, on the other hand, supposing Jim didn't want to marry Gwen, but had only been run into it—somehow—before he had had time to see May Dashwood, then plans might be easier. But in any case there were almost overwhelming difficulties in the way of "doing anything." It was easy to say that she would never allow the marriage to take place, but how was she to prevent it?

"I must prevent it," she murmured to herself. "Must!"

What still amazed and confounded Lady Dashwood and made her helpless was: why her brother showed such obvious interest—more than mere interest—in May Dashwood, if he was in love with Gwendolen Scott and secretly pledged to her? Jim playing the ordinary flirt was unthinkable. It did look as if he had proposed in some impulsive moment, before May arrived, and then—— Why, that was why he had not announced his engagement! Was he playing a double game? No, it was unthinkable that he should not be absolutely straight. Gwendolen had somehow entangled him. The very thought of it made Lady Dashwood get up from her chair and move about restlessly. Then an idea struck her. Jim coveted Gwendolen for her youth and freshness and only admired May! Yes, only admired her, and regarding her as still mourning for her young husband, still inconsolable, he had treated her with frankness and had shown his admiration without the restraint that he would have used otherwise.

When would Jim return? How long would she have to wait?

She had told Robinson to take a tray of refreshments for the Warden into the library. Now that she was alone in the drawing-room she would have the tray brought in here. When Jim did come in, she would have to approach her subject gradually. She must be as wily as a serpent—wily, when her pulses were beating and her head was aching? It would be more easy and natural for her to begin talking here than to go into the library and force him into conversation after the day's work was done. Yet the matter must be thrashed out at once. She could not go about with Belinda's letter announcing the engagement and yet pretend that she knew nothing about it. Gwendolen probably knew that her mother had written; or if she didn't already know, would very likely know by the morning's post.

She rang the bell, and when Robinson appeared, she told him to bring the tray in, instead of taking it to the library.

"When the Warden comes in, tell him the tray is here," she said. Oh, how the last few minutes dragged! It was some distraction to have Robinson coming in and putting the tray down on the wrong table, and to be able to tell him the right table and the most suitable chair to accompany it. Then, when he had gone and all was ready, she chose a chair for herself. Not too near and not too far. She had Belinda's letter safe? Yes, it was here! She was ready, she was prepared. She was going to do something more difficult than anything she had experienced in her life, because so much depended on it, so much; and a great emotion is not easy to hide, it takes one's breath sometimes, it makes one's voice harsh, or indistinct, or worse still, it suddenly benumbs the brain, and thoughts go astray and tangle themselves, and all one's power of argument, all one's grip of the situation, goes.

And the minutes passed slowly and still more slowly. When at last she heard sounds on the stairs, the blood rushed to her cheeks and her hands became as cold as ice. That was a bad beginning! She went to the door and opened it. He had come in and had gone into the library. She called out to him to come into the drawing-room. She heard his voice answer "Coming!" She left the door open and went back to her chair, the chair she had chosen, and she stood by it, waiting, looking at the open door.