“You may disguise a face, but you cannot disguise a voice,” returned Phillis, bluntly. “I do not want to see Mr. Dancy to know he is a gentleman and a true man.” And this speech, that piqued Archie, though he did not know why, made him all the more bent on calling on Mrs. Williams’s lodger.
But Mr. Drummond’s curiosity was destined to be baffled. Mrs. Williams turned very red when she heard the vicar’s inquiries.
“You never told me you had let your rooms,” he said, reproachfully; “and yet you know I always make a practice of calling on your lodgers.”
“’Deed and it is very kind and thoughtful of you, too,” returned the good woman, dropping an old-fashioned courtesy; “and me that prizes my clergyman’s visits and thinks no end of them! But Mr. Dancy he says to me, ‘Now, my good Mrs. Williams, I have come here for quiet,—for absolute quiet; and I do not want to see or hear of any one. Tell no tales about me, and leave me in peace; and then we shall get on together.’ And it was more than I ventured to give you the hint, hearing him speak so positive; for he is a bit masterful, and no mistake.”
“Well, never mind; a clergyman never intrudes, and I will thank you to take Mr. Dancy my card,” returned Archie, impatiently; but his look of assurance soon faded when Mrs. Williams returned with her lodger’s compliments, and he was very much obliged to Mr. Drummond for his civility, but he did not wish to receive visitors.
Phillis was a little contrary all the remainder of the day: she was not exactly cross,—all the Challoners were sweet-tempered,—but nothing quite suited her. Mrs. Challoner had proposed going that evening into the town with her youngest daughter to execute some commissions.
Just before they started Phillis observed rather shortly that she should call at the White House to make inquiries after Mrs. Cheyne, and that she would came back to the Friary to fetch Nan for a country walk. “If I do not appear in half an hour, you must come in search of me,” finished Phillis, with a naughty curl of her lip, to which Nan with admirable tact returned no answer, but all the same she fully intended to carry out the injunction; for Nan had imbibed her mother’s simple old-fashioned notions, and a lurking dislike of Mrs. Williams’s lodger had already entered her mind.
As Phillis did not enjoy her errand, she put on the best face she could, and hurried down the Braidwood Road as though her feet were winged like a female Mercury; and Mr. Dancy, who happened to be looking over the wire blind in the little parlor, much admired the girl’s free swift gait as she sped down the avenue. Evans, the young footman, admitted her, and conducted her at once to the drawing-room; and great was Phillis’s surprise and discomposure when she saw Mrs. Cheyne 215 sitting alone reading by one of the windows, with her greyhounds grouped around her.
She started slightly at the announcement of Phillis’s name, and, as she came forward to greet her, a dark flush crossed her face for a moment; then her features settled into their usual impassive calm, only there was marked coldness in her voice.
“Good-evening. Miss Challoner: you have chosen a fine evening for your visit. Let me beg of you never again to venture to the White House in such a storm.”