He accompanied Edith to the station. It was merely an act of common courtesy, to which she could make no possible objection. On the way there was very little said on either side. She was silent from preoccupation, and he feared to tread on dangerous ground. But when they were near their parting, when Edith was comfortably seated in the train, and he stood by the open carriage door, he ventured in a covert manner to refer to what had passed.
“The house will be brighter in wintertime,” he said, “and we shall have more means of amusing you. You will come back at Christmas, Edith?”
She started, dropped his hand, and drew herself from him.
“No, I think not,” she said; “it is always a busy time with us at Christmas. There is much to be done in the church.”
This was their good-bye; for before he could say more the guard noisily closed the carriage doors, and whistled shrilly. Mechanically Walter took off his hat, and stood sadly watching the train as it moved away.
CHAPTER XVIII. CHURCH BELLS—AND A DISCORD.
Edith was glad that the next day was Sunday. She rose early, dressed hurriedly, and went for a walk in the fresh morning air. She felt instinctively that she had a battle to fight, and that all her resources must be brought into play to gain her the victory. If her influence over the man was to continue, she knew there was one way by which she could regain it. With such pale cheeks and lacklustre eyes as she had brought with her from London, where, she asked, would her chances be against Ellen Haldane’s fresh country charms? She must banish all painful thoughts for the present, and try to win back the roses which he had caused to fade.
She walked for above an hour; and when she returned home, she went straight into the garden to gather a little bouquet of flowers. Then she went up to her room to dress for church. When she came down to breakfast, she wore her prettiest costume, and the bunch of flowers was fastened at her throat.