"I always did trust you," she murmured.
He took a long, fervent kiss from her lips, and then led her to the open lawn and across to the house.
"Ought you to come in, Percival?"
"Certainly. One word, Anne; because I may be speaking to the Rector—I don't mean to-night. You will make no objection to coming soon to Hartledon?"
"I can't come, you know, as long as Lady Kirton is its mistress," she said, half seriously, half jestingly.
He laughed at the notion. Lady Kirton must be going soon of her own accord; if not, he should have to pluck up courage and give her a hint, was his answer. At any rate, she'd surely take herself off before Christmas. The old dowager at Hartledon after he had Anne there! Not if he knew it, he added, as he went on with her into the presence of Dr. and Mrs. Ashton. The Rector started from his seat, at once telling him that he ought not to have come in. Which Val did not see at all, and decidedly refused to go out again.
Meanwhile the countess-dowager and Maude were wondering what had become of him. They supposed he was still sitting in the dining-room. The old dowager fidgeted about, her fingers ominously near the bell. She was burning to send to him, but hardly knew how he might take the message: it might be that he would object to leading strings, and her attempt to put them on would ruin all. But the time went on; grew late; and she was dying for her tea, which she had chosen should wait also. Maude sat before the fire in a large chair; her eyes, her hands, her whole air supremely listless.
"Don't you want tea, Maude?" suddenly cried her mother, who had cast innumerable glances at her from time to time.
"I have wanted it for hours—as it seems to me."
"It's a horrid custom for young men, this sitting long after dinner. If he gets into it—But you must see to that, and stop it, if ever you reign at Hartledon. I dare say he's smoking."