'Yes, indeed, Miss Ross, and it is a crying shame for Joe to persecute me as he does. Sometimes I feel I must just run away and hide myself, his visits put me into such a nervous state. It is so bad for father, too. He is not as young as he used to be, and since mother's death there has been a great change in him. Last time Joe came he put himself out terribly, and was for taking the stick to him. I was all in a tremble--I was indeed, Miss Ross--for Joe had been drinking, and father's a powerful man, and there might have been mischief.'

'I think your husband must be made to understand that he is to leave you alone.'

'Oh, you don't know what men are, Miss Ross. They are over-fond of their own way. Joe does not find things comfortable without me, and then he is always so greedy for money. The ways of Providence are very dark and mysterious. When I married Joe I expected as much happiness as other women. He was so pleasant-spoken, had such a way with him, that even father and mother were deceived in him; he never took anything but his tankard of home-brewed ale at our place, and he was so trim and so well set up that all the girls were envying me. But the day I wore my gray silk dress to go with him to church was the most unfortunate day of my life. Mother would far better have laid me in my shroud,' finished Mrs.

Baxter, with a homely tragedy that was impressive enough in its way.

'Oh, you must not say that,' returned Audrey hastily. 'Life will not always be so hard, I hope;' and then she shook hands with the poor woman.

Audrey enjoyed her walk back. It was a delicious evening, and the birds were singing from every brake and hedgerow. Once or twice she heard the harsh call of the corncrake mingled with the flute-like notes of the thrush; a lark was carolling high up in the blue sky--by and by she heard him descend. Audrey walked swiftly down the long gra.s.s lanes, and, as she neared Rutherford she could see a dim man's figure in the distance. Of course it was Michael coming to meet her, attended by his faithful Booty. Audrey smiled and quickened her pace. She was quite used to these small attentions, this brotherly surveillance on Michael's part--she was never surprised to find him at some unexpected point waiting patiently for her.

'Am I late?' she asked hastily, as he rose from the stile and slipped his book in his pocket. 'I have had such a nice afternoon. They were so pleased to see me, and made so much of me;' then, with a quick change of tone, 'You have walked too far to meet me, Michael--you are looking paler than usual this evening!'

'Nonsense,' he returned good-humouredly; 'I am all right. Was Mrs.

Baxter as mournful as usual?' To which question Audrey returned a full explanatory answer.

Michael listened with his usual interest, but he made few comments.

Perhaps his mind was on other things, for when she had finished he said somewhat irrelevantly:

'You are right, Audrey--Mrs. Blake is certainly a very pretty woman.'

In a moment Vineyard Cottage, Mr. O'Brien, and the mournful Priscilla vanished from Audrey's mind.

'Oh, Michael! have you really seen her?' she asked breathlessly.

'Well, I am not sure,' was the somewhat provoking answer. 'You were not there to introduce us, you know, and of course I could not swear that it was Mrs. Blake.'

'Dear me, how slow you are, Michael!' for he was speaking in a drawling manner. 'Why can't you tell me all about it in a sensible way?'

'Because there is not much to tell,' he returned calmly. 'I was just pa.s.sing the Gray Cottage, when a lady in black came out of the gate. I was so close that I had to draw back to let her pa.s.s, and of course I just lifted my hat; and she bowed and gave me the sweetest smile--it haunts me now,' murmured Captain Burnett in a sort of audible aside.

'A lady in black coming out of the Gray Cottage?--of course it was Mrs.

Blake, you foolish fellow!'

'You think so?' rather sleepily. 'Well, perhaps you are right. I certainly heard a window open, and a girl's voice called out, "Mamma, will you come back a moment? You have forgotten your sunshade." And the lady in black said, "Oh, how stupid of me, Mollie!" and then she whisked through the gate again.'

'Did you stand still in the middle of the road to hear all this, Michael?'

'No, my dear. There was something wrong with the lock of the school-house gate. It is sometimes a little difficult--I must tell Sayers it wants oiling.' Michael's face was inimitable as he made this remark.

'And so you saw her come out again. Oh, you deep, good-for-nothing Michael!'

'I saw her come out again, and she had the sunshade. She walks well, Audrey, and she has a pretty, graceful figure--and as for her face----'

'Well!' impatiently.

'I think I will keep that to myself,' he replied with a wicked smile.

'Do you fancy we could coax Cousin Emmeline to call soon? I begin to feel anxious to enlarge my stock of acquaintance, and you must allow that a bewitching widow is rather alluring----' He paused.

'Michael,' giving his arm a little jerk, 'a joke is a joke; but, mind, I will not have you falling in love with Mrs. Blake. Dear me! what would Gage say?'

And at this Michael laughed, and Audrey laughed too--though just for the moment she did feel a wee bit uncomfortable, for even the notion of Michael falling in love with any woman was not quite pleasant.

'Really, Michael, we must walk faster,' she said, recovering herself, 'or I shall not have time to dress for dinner.' And then they both quickened their footsteps, and no more nonsense was talked about the fascinating Mrs. Blake.

CHAPTER XI

'A GIRL AFTER MY OWN HEART'

'Be to their virtues very kind, Be to their faults a little blind, And put a padlock on the mind.'

ANON.

'I will go to the Gray Cottage this afternoon,' was Audrey's first thought the next morning when she woke; but she kept this intention to herself when Geraldine came in, after breakfast, to beg for some favourite recipes of her mother's that she had lost or mislaid. 'And if you have nothing better to do,' she said, turning to Audrey, who was filling the flower-vases, 'I shall be very glad of your company this afternoon, as Percival is going up to London.'

'Shall you be alone, Gage? I mean, are you expecting any special visitor?'

'Well, old Mrs. Drayton is driving over to luncheon with that deaf niece of hers; but they will go away early--they always do. Come up later, Audrey, and bring your work; and perhaps Michael will fetch you--it is so long since we have seen him. I will not ask you both to stay to dinner, as Percival is always a little tired after a journey to London, and a _tete-a-tete_ dinner will suit him better; but we could have a long afternoon--you know you refused me yesterday because of the O'Briens.'

'I will come up to tea, Gage,' interrupted Audrey somewhat hastily; 'I would rather avoid Miss Drayton, and Miss Montague is simply terrible.

You may expect me about half-past four, and I will give Michael your message.'

And Audrey carried off her vase to avoid any more necessary questioning.

Gage seemed always wanting her now; was it all sisterly affection, Audrey wondered, or a clever device to counteract the Blake influence?

'By the bye, mother,' observed Mrs. Harcourt carelessly, as she gathered up sundry papers, 'I suppose you will soon be leaving your card on Mrs.

Blake? Percival thought I had better call with you, and if you are disengaged next Tuesday or Wednesday----'

'Why, that is a week hence, my love!'

'Yes, mother dear, I know; but I have so many engagements just now that I am obliged to make my plans beforehand. Besides, we could not very well call before--you know what a muddle they were in.'

'Yes, I remember; and Audrey helped them so nicely to get straight. Very well, we will say Tuesday; and I really am very much obliged to Percival for his suggestion, for after all this talk, and the things Edith Bryce told you yesterday, I shall be quite nervous in calling alone.' But here a significant look from her daughter checked her, and she changed the subject rather awkwardly.

'So dear Edith has been talking again,' thought Audrey, as she stepped out on the terrace with her empty basket; 'I almost wish I had been at Hillside yesterday, and heard things with my own ears.' And then she stopped to cut off a dark crimson rose that grew under the schoolroom window, and as she did so she became aware that Mr. Blake had put down his book and was watching her. She gave him a smile and a nod, and walked to the other end of the garden.

'I always forget the schoolroom window,' she said to herself, with a slight blush, as she recalled that fixed look; 'Mr. Ollier generally sat with his back to the window and took no notice--he was as blind as a bat, too--but Mr. Blake is very observant.'

Mrs. Ross had arranged to drive into Dulverton after luncheon with her husband. When Audrey had seen them off, and had exchanged a parting joke with her father, she started off for the Gray Cottage. Things had arranged themselves admirably: she had two hours before Geraldine would expect her. Michael had consented to fetch her--Kester was coming to him early in the afternoon, and he had also promised to take a cla.s.s for Dr.

Ross; he would put in an appearance about half-past five. And Audrey professed herself satisfied with this arrangement.

Audrey met Kester on her way to the Cottage. The poor boy was dragging himself along rather painfully on his crutches; the heat tried him, he said, but he seemed bright and cheerful. Audrey looked pitifully at his shabby jacket and old boots; she noticed, too, the frayed edges of his wristbands. 'Is it poverty or bad management?' she thought; and then she asked Kester how he liked his new tutor. The boy flushed up in a moment.

'Awfully--I like him awfully, Miss Ross, and so does Cyril. You have no idea of the trouble he takes with me; I know nothing of mathematics, but I mean to learn. Why,' went on Kester, with an important air, 'I am so busy now, working up for Cyril and Captain Burnett, that I can hardly find time for Mollie's sums and Latin.'

Evidently Kester did not wish to be pitied for his additional labours.