Presently Augustina broke out—with another wringing of the hands.
"Don't put it on me, my dear Alan! I tell you—Laura has always done exactly what she liked since she was a baby."
Mr. Helbeck rose. His face and air already expressed a certain haughtiness; and at his sister's words there was a very definite tightening of the shoulders.
"I do not intend to have Hubert Mason hanging about the house," he said quietly, as he thrust his hands into his pockets.
"Of course not!—but she wouldn't expect it," cried Augustina in dismay. "It's the keeping her away from them, that's the difficulty. She thinks so much of her cousins, Alan. They're her father's only relations. I know she'll want to be with them half her time!"
"For love of them—or dislike of us? Oh! I dare say it will be all right," he added abruptly. "Father Bowles, shall I drive you half-way? The pony will be round directly."
CHAPTER IV
It was a Sunday morning—bright and windy. Miss Fountain was driving a shabby pony through the park of Bannisdale—driving with a haste and glee that sent the little cart spinning down the road.
Six hours—she calculated—till she need see Bannisdale again. Her cousins would ask her to dinner and to tea. Augustina and Mr. Helbeck might have all their Sunday antics to themselves. There were several priests coming to luncheon—and a function in the chapel that afternoon. Laura flicked the pony sharply as she thought of it. Seven miles between her and it? Joy!
Nevertheless, she did not get rid of the old house and its suggestions quite as easily as she wished. The park and the river had many windings. Again and again the grey gabled mass thrust itself upon her attention, recalling each time, against her will, the face of its owner.