Anna shook her head. "No, that I cannot do. My young lady left it for me to read, and though she said she would not be back till eight, she might run in any moment, for she is only over at Robey's, helping with the hospital. They are expecting some wounded to-morrow. They have waited long enough, poor ladies!"

The old woman was standing just under the electric light; there was an anxious, embarra.s.sed look on her face.

The man opposite to her hesitated a moment, then he said quickly, "Very well, show it me! It will not take a moment. I will tell you at once if it is of any use. Perhaps it will be."

She fumbled a moment in her inside pocket, and brought out Jervis Blake's letter.

He took up the sheets, and put them close to his prominent eyes. Quickly he glanced through the account of the German prisoners, and then he began to read more slowly. "Wait you here one moment," he said at last.

"I will go and tell my visitor that I am engaged for another minute or two. Then I will come back to you, and read the letter through properly, though the writer is but a silly fellow!"

Still holding the letter in his hand, he hurried away.

Anna was in no hurry. But even so, she began to grow a little fidgety when the moment of which he had spoken grew into something like five minutes. She felt sorry she had brought her dear child's letter.--_"Dummer Kerl"_ indeed! Mr. Jervis Blake was nothing of the sort--he was a very kind, sensible young fellow! She was glad when at last she heard Mr. Head's quick, active steps coming down the short pa.s.sage.

"Here!" he exclaimed, coming towards her. "Here is the letter, Frau Bauer! And though it is true that there is nothing in it of any value to me, yet I recognise your good intention. The next time there may be something excellent. I therefore give you a florin, with best thanks for having brought it. Instead of all that gossip concerning our poor prisoners, it would have been better if he had said what it was that he liked to eat as a relish to the bully beef on which, it seems, the British are universally fed."

Anna's point of view changed with lightning quickness. What a good thing she had brought the letter! Two shillings was two shillings, after all.

"Thanks many," she said gratefully, as he hurried her along the pa.s.sage and unlocked the back door. But, as so often happens, it was a case of more haste less speed--the door slammed-to before the visitor could slip out, and at the same moment that of the parlour opened, and Anna, to her great surprise, heard the words, uttered in German, "Look here, Hegner!

I really can't stay any longer. You forget that I've a long way to go."

She could not see the speaker, though she did her best to do so, as her host thrust her, with small ceremony, out of the now reopened door.

Anna felt consumed with curiosity. She crossed over the little street, and hid herself in the shadow of a pa.s.sage leading to a mews. There she waited, determined to see Alfred Head's mysterious visitor.

She had not time to feel cold before the door through which she had lately been pushed so quickly opened again, letting out a short, thin man, dressed in a comfortable motoring coat. She heard very plainly the good-nights exchanged in a low voice.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the prosperous-looking stranger began walking quickly along. Anna, at a safe distance, followed him. He turned down a side street, where, drawn up before a house inscribed "to let," stood a small, low motor-car. In it sat a Boy Scout. She knew he was a Boy Scout by his hat, for the lad's uniform was covered by a big cape.

She walked quietly on, and so pa.s.sed the car. As she went by, she heard Hegner's friend say in a kindly voice, and in excellent English, albeit there was a tw.a.n.g in it, "I hope you've not been cold, my boy. My business took a little longer than I thought it would." And the shrill, piping answer, "Oh no, sir! I have been quite all right, sir!" And then the motor gave a kind of snort, and off they went, at a sharp pace, towards the Southampton road.

Anna smiled to herself. Manfred Hegner was a very secretive person--she had always known that. But why tell her such a silly lie? Hegner was getting quite a big business man; he had many irons in the fire--some one had once observed to Anna that he would probably end by becoming a millionaire. It is always well to be in with such lucky folk.

As she opened the gate of the Trellis House, she saw that her mistress's sitting-room was lit up, and before she could put the key in the lock of the front door, it opened, and Rose exclaimed in an anxious tone, "Oh, Anna! Where have you been? Where is my letter? I looked all over the kitchen, but I couldn't find it."

Old Anna smilingly drew it out from the inside pocket of her jacket.

"There, there!" she said soothingly. "Here it is, dearest child. I thought it safer to take it along with me than to leave it in the house."

"Oh, thank you--yes, that was quite right!" the girl looked greatly relieved. "Mr. Robey said he would very much like to read it, so I came back for it. And Anna?"

"Yes, my gracious miss."

"I am going to stay there to supper after all. Mr. and Mrs. Robey, and even Sir Jacques, seem anxious that I should do so."

"And I have gone out and got you such a nice supper," said the old woman regretfully.

"I'll have it for lunch to-morrow!" Rose looked very happy and excited.

There was a bright colour in her cheeks. "Mr. Robey thinks that Mr.

Blake will soon be getting ninety hours' leave." Her heart was so full of joy she felt she must tell the delightful news.

"That is good--very good!" said Anna cordially. "And then, my darling little one, there will be a proper betrothal, will there not?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, I suppose there will," she said in German.

"And perhaps a war wedding," went on Anna, her face beaming. "There are many such just now in Witanbury. In my country they began the first day of the War."

"I know." Rose smiled. "One of the Kaiser's sons was married in that way. Don't you remember my bringing you an account of it, Anna?" She did not wait for an answer. "Well, I must hurry back now."

The old woman went off into her kitchen, and so through the scullery into her cosy bedroom.

The walls of that quaint, low-roofed apartment were gay with oleographs, several being scenes from _Faust_, and one, which Anna had had given to her nearly forty years ago, showed the immortal Charlotte, still cutting bread and b.u.t.ter.

On the dressing-table, one at each end, were a pair of white china busts of Bismarck and von Moltke. Anna had brought these back from Berlin three years before. Of late she had sometimes wondered whether it would be well to put them away in one of the three large, roomy cupboards built into the wall behind her bed. One of these cupboards already contained several securely packed parcels which, as had been particularly impressed on Anna, must on no account be disturbed, but there was plenty of room in the two others. Still, no one ever came into her oddly situated bedroom, and so she left her heroes where they were.

After taking off her things, she extracted the two-shilling piece out of the pocket where it had lain loosely, and added it to the growing store of silver in the old-fashioned tin box where she kept her money. Then she put on her ap.r.o.n and hurried out, with the cheese and the b.u.t.ter in her hands, to the beautifully arranged, exquisitely clean meat safe, which had been cleverly fixed to one of the windows of the scullery soon after her arrival at the Trellis House.

The next morning Mrs. Otway came home, and within an hour of her arrival the mother and daughter had told one another their respective secrets.

The revelation came about as such things have a way of coming about when two people, while caring deeply for one another, are yet for the moment out of touch with each other's deepest feelings. It came about, that is to say, by a chance word uttered in entire ignorance of the real state of the case.

Rose, on hearing of her mother's expedition to Arlington Street, had shown surprise, even a little vexation: "You've gone and tired yourself out for nothing--a letter would have done quite as well!"

And, as her mother made no answer, the girl, seeing as if for the first time how sad, how worn, that same dear mother's face now looked, came close up to her and whispered, "I think, mother--forgive me if I'm wrong--that you care for Major Guthrie as I care for Jervis Blake."

CHAPTER XXII

The days that followed Mrs. Otway's journey to London, the easy earning by good old Anna of a florin for Alfred Head's brief sight of Jervis Blake's letter, and the exchange of confidences between the mother and daughter, were comparatively happy, peaceful days at the Trellis House.

Her visit to 20, Arlington Street, had greatly soothed and comforted Mrs. Otway. She felt sure somehow that those kind, capable people, and especially the unknown woman who had been so very good and--and so very understanding, would soon send her the tidings for which she longed. For the first time, too, since she had received Major Guthrie's letter she forgot herself, and in a measure even the man she loved, in thought for another. Rose's confession had moved her greatly, stirred all that was maternal in her heart. But she was far more surprised than she would have cared to admit, for she had always thought that Rose, if she married at all, would marry a man considerably older than herself. With a smile and a sigh, she told herself that the child must be in love with love!

Jervis and the girl were both still so very young--though Rose was in a sense much the older of the two, or so the mother thought. She was secretly glad that there could be no talk of marriage till the end of the War. Even then they would probably have to wait two or three years.

True, General Blake was a wealthy man, but Jervis was entirely dependent on his father, and his father might not like him to marry yet.

The fact that Rose had told her mother of her engagement had had another happy effect. It had restored, in a measure, the good relations between Mrs. Otway and her faithful old servant, Anna Bauer. Anna kept to herself the fact that she had guessed the great news long before it had become known to the mother, and so she and her mistress rejoiced together in the beloved child's happiness.

And Rose was happy too--far happier than she had yet been since the beginning of the War. Twice in recent letters to her Jervis had written, "I wish you would allow me to tell my people--you know what!" and now she was very, very glad to release him from secrecy. She was too modest to suppose that General and Lady Blake would be pleased with the news of their only son's engagement. But she felt it their due that they should know how matters stood betwixt her and Jervis. If they did not wish him to marry soon, she and Jervis, so she a.s.sured herself, would be quite content to wait.

Towards the end of that peaceful week there came quite an affectionate telegram from Lady Blake, explaining that the great news had been sent to her and to her husband by their son. The telegram was followed by a long loving letter from the mother, inviting Rose to stay with them.

Mrs. Otway would not acknowledge even to herself how relieved she felt.

She had been afraid that General Blake would regard his son's engagement as absurd, and she was surprised, knowing him slightly and not much liking what little she knew of him, at the kindness and warmth with which he wrote to her.

"Under ordinary circ.u.mstances I should not have approved of my son's making so early a marriage, but everything is now changed. And though I suppose it would not be reasonable to expect such a thing, I should be, for my part, quite content were they to be married during the leave to which I understand he will shortly be ent.i.tled."

But on reading these words, Mrs. Otway had shaken her head very decidedly. What an odd, _very_ odd, man General Blake must be! She felt sure that neither Jervis nor Rose would think of doing such a thing. It was, however, quite natural that Jervis's parents should wish to have Rose on a visit; and of course Rose must go soon, and try to make good friends with them both--not an over-easy matter, for they were very different and, as Mrs. Otway knew, not on really happy terms the one with the other.

There was some little discussion as to who in Witanbury should be told of Rose's engagement. It seemed hopeless to keep the affair a secret.