As Durant went out of the inn, however, he was run against by some one coming in, in hot haste, and with every appearance of impatience and impetuosity.
“I want to speak to a Mr. Durant that is staying here,” she said to the waiter; then, stopping short with a start, turned her attention to himself. “I think you are Mr. Durant,” she said.
It was Nancy Bates in person. Though he had seen her but vaguely on the previous night, he recognised her now. Her hat looked as if it had been put on hurriedly, and a long lock of brown hair had dropped upon her shoulder. Durant could not but notice how long it was, and how soft and shining it looked—not golden or red, but shining, glossy brown. It caught his eye, even in the midst of the shock he experienced on hearing her ask for him. What did she want with him? He felt himself shrink in spirit, if not in outward appearance. Arthur he had been striving to save, his conscience was clear in that respect; but this young woman, what had his intention been so far as she was concerned? It was not to save her he had been trying, but to break her heart, if she happened to have one, and anyhow, heart or none, destroy her prospects, and steal away her supposed good fortune. Therefore, he could not help it, he shrank a little from Nancy; and there was a haste and hostile energy in her looks which added to this feeling. He answered, almost in a tone of deprecation,
“Yes, that is my name; and I think it is Miss Bates?”
“Anna Bates,” she said, with a little elevation of her head, as if the name she pronounced had been one of imposing importance. “I want to speak to you, please.”
Durant was entirely taken back. He looked at her with an air of helpless bewilderment. What was he to do? Ask her to go back to his sitting-room with him? ask her to go with him outside? He did not know what was etiquette in such regions. No young woman with whom he was acquainted had ever called upon him before, and the young man was utterly puzzled and discomfited, and did not know what to do.
“Surely,” he said, hesitating between the stair and the door, with a helpless look at the waiter, who might, he thought, have made some suggestion.
That it was wrong to come to Mr. Durant “on business,” and business so urgent, had never crossed Nancy’s mind before; but she saw that he thought so, and this discovery, instead of abashing her, fired her with new vehemence. The very wonder in his face was as a flag of aristocratic superiority to Nancy, and made her wild.
“You are surprised,” she said, with a look of scorn, “that I should come to you; but I am not one of your fine ladies that send for people to come to them; and there is no room in our house for private talks. You can speak to me in the street, I suppose.”
And with this she turned her back upon him and hurried out. Here she paused a moment, seeing, perhaps, for the first time, the difficulties of an indignant demand for explanations upon Underhayes Green, in the face of all the people who were coming out on their afternoon walks, and calls and business. None of these difficulties had ever troubled Nancy before. The inconvenient splendour of being a person whose proceedings were watched, had never attended her before. But now it all flashed upon her in a moment. Already it was known in the place that she was going to marry, or rather to be married by Mr. Curtis, and if she was seen at three o’clock in the afternoon walking about the Green in close conversation with another “gentleman,” what would everybody say? Very different had been Sarah Jane’s feelings, who only hoped everybody she knew might see her walking with the “gentleman.” Already the shadow of her new position had come over Nancy, and the sense that observation now would be degrading rather than flattering. She had not thought about it at all in the fervour of her feelings, when she rushed out impetuously to confront her adversary, but she perceived it through her adversary’s eyes. She turned half-round to him, and waving her hand towards the other side of the Green, where there was a little bit of shade with trees, went on before him, rapidly crossing the grass. Durant followed. He was nervous about what was going to happen to him; to take him thus under the damp trees, from which a shower of leaves fell at every puff of air, was very much like dragging him to some den where he could be devoured at leisure. Could Arthur be there? but on reflection he felt sure that Arthur, had he known, would have found some means of subduing this impetuosity, and preventing an encounter. It could not be for Arthur’s interest in any way. Before however they had got across the Green, Durant’s fright had subsided; he began to be interested; the situation was piquant, if no more; and that lock of brown hair was very pretty. He would have thought it untidy in Sarah Jane, but here somehow it looked well. He thought of the “sweet neglect” of Herrick’s description; the tempestuous petticoat occurred to him in spite of himself, and he began to be half pleased, half excited by this odd adventure. What would Arthur say if he saw him being thus carried off for a private interview? and the direct course which the impetuous young woman was taking, brought them immediately in front of Mr. Eagle’s gate. The little line of trees which looked like a Mall in the distance, lay under his garden walls, and it turned out to be of much less importance than he thought—a sweep of some old avenue, a hundred yards or so of path between two fine ranges of elms. It led nowhere, and was quite deserted. A better place for a mysterious interview could scarcely be.