But by this time Lady Emma was on her feet, and she was not the sort of person to sit down again, once she had decided to go. So a little bustle of leave-taking ensued, the lady of the house excelling herself in cordiality, for in her heart she felt a little guilty. Her punishment followed quickly, for, without waiting for the fresh relay of sandwiches which his sister had ordered, Horace calmly accompanied the Morions across the hall and, seizing a cap as he passed, out into the grounds, with the evident intention of escorting them, if not the whole way home, at least to the door in the wall.
In the natural order of things he should have walked first with Lady Emma, but Betty was too quick for him.
“Let me go on with you, mamma,” she whispered, slipping her little hand inside her mother’s arm, and hurrying forward with her, so as to leave the other two in the rear.
Whether or no her tactics were at all appreciated by Lady Emma, the action was not repulsed; indeed there would have been explanation enough of it in the family legend of Betty’s chronic shyness.
Somewhat to Frances’ surprise Horace walked for a few moments in silence; gradually the consciousness of this became almost oppressive to her, and, anxious at any cost to break it, she turned towards him with a few quick words.
“You have come back sooner than you expected?” she said.
He gave a slight start.
“Yes, that is to say sooner than I have lately expected,” he answered. “Though when I left here I had no idea of being away so long. Things never turn out as one anticipates, and still more rarely as one hopes,” and again he grew silent, and this time Frances made no further effort at talking.
So they walked till within a few yards of the boundary of the grounds, Lady Emma and Betty coming to a halt when they reached the door in the wall, glancing towards the two in the rear, to show that they were waiting for them.
Then, at last, Horace spoke again, this time hurriedly and nervously and as if indifferent whether this was perceived or not.