‘Is Mr. Bradley at home? I wish to speak to him.’
The woman looked confused and uncomfortable.
‘He be in, miss, but I think he be gone to bed wi’ a headache. He said he were not to be disturbed, unless it were a sick call.’
Utterly amazed and deeply troubled, Alma turned from the door.
‘Tell him that I asked for him,’ she said coldly.
‘I will, miss,’ was the reply; and the door was closed.
With a heavy heart, Alma walked away Had she yielded to her first impulse, she would have returned and insisted on an interview; but she was too ashamed. Knowing as she did the closeness of the relationship between them, knowing that the man was her accepted lover, she was utterly at a loss to account for his extraordinary conduct. Could anything have turned his heart against her, or have aroused his displeasure? He had always been so different; so eager to meet her gaze and to seek her company. Now, it was clear, he was completely changed, and had carefully avoided her; nay, she had no doubt whatever, from the housekeeper’s manner, that he had instructed her to deny him.
She walked on, half pained, half indignant. The night was dark, the road desolate.
All at once she heard footsteps behind her, as of one rapidly running. Presently someone came up breathless, and she heard a voice calling her name.
‘Is it you, Alma?’ called the voice, which she recognised at once as that of Bradley.