“And will remain so!” she continued warmly. “For the rest, I am inclined to think that this is a trap of some sort! If so, you may be sure that Mr. Stewart will know how to resent it, and any impertinence offered to me. You”—she turned suddenly upon Mrs. Gilson—“you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
Mrs. Gilson nodded oracularly.
“I am ashamed of somebody,” she said.
The girl thought that she was gaining the advantage.
“Then at once,” she said, “let Mr. Stewart know that I am waiting for him. Do you hear, madam?” she stamped the floor with her foot, and looked the pretty fury to the life. “And see that this person leaves the room. Good-morning, sir. You will hear from Mr. Stewart what I think of your intrusion.”
Bishop opened his mouth to reply. But he caught Mrs. Gilson’s eye; and by a look, such a look as appalled even the Bow Street runner’s stout heart, she indicated the door. After a second of hesitation he passed out meekly.
When he was gone, “Very good, miss,” the landlady said in the tone of one who restrained her temper with difficulty—“very good. But if you’re to be ready you’d best eat your breakfast—if, that is, it is good enough for you!” she added. And with a very grim face she swept from the room and left Henrietta in possession of the field.
The girl sprang to the window and looked up and down the road. She had the same view of the mild autumn morning, of the grey lake and distant range of hills which had calmed her thoughts an hour earlier. But the beauty of the scene availed nothing now. She was flushed with vexation—impatient, resentful. Where was he? He was not in sight. Then where could he be? And why did he leave her? Did he think that he need no longer press his suit, that the need for pettis soins and attentions was over? Oh, but she would show him! And in a moment all the feelings of the petted, spoiled girl were up in arms.
“They are horrid!” she cried, angry tears in her eyes. “It’s an outrage—a perfect outrage! And he is no better. How dare he leave me, this morning of all mornings?”
On which there might have stolen into her mind—so monstrous did his neglect seem—a doubt, a suspicion; the doubt and the suspicion which she repelled a few minutes earlier. But, as she turned, her eyes fell on the breakfast-table; and vexation was not proof against a healthy appetite.