Never was a man more quickly and completely recalled from altruism to his own affairs. Aldous dropped his companion's arm, straightened himself with a thrill of the whole being, and saw Marcella some distance ahead of them in the Mellor drive, which they had just entered. She was stooping over something on the ground, and was not apparently aware of their approach. A ray of cold sun came out at the moment, touched the bending figure and the grass at her feet—grass starred with primroses, which she was gathering.
"I didn't know you were going to call," said Frank, bewildered. "Isn't it too soon?"
And he looked at his companion in astonishment.
"I came to speak to Miss Boyce and her mother on business," said Aldous, with all his habitual reserve. "I thought you wouldn't mind the walk back by yourself."
"Business?" the boy echoed involuntarily.
Aldous hesitated, then said quietly:
"Mr. Boyce appointed me executor under his will."
Frank lifted his eyebrows, and allowed himself at least an inward "By
Jove!"
By this time Marcella had caught sight of them, and was advancing. She was in deep mourning, but her hands were full of primroses, which shone against the black; and the sun, penetrating the thin green of some larches to her left, danced in her eyes and on a face full of sensitive and beautiful expression.
They had not met since they stood together beside Hallin's grave. This fact was in both their minds. Aldous felt it, as it were, in the touch of her hand. What he could not know was, that she was thinking quite as much of his letter to her mother and its phrases.