She laid her hand on the girl’s. “When his grandmother sees how happy Owen is she’ll be quite happy herself. If it’s only that, don’t be distressed. Just trust to Owen—and the future.”
Sophy Viner, with an almost imperceptible recoil of her whole slight person, had drawn her hand from under the palm enclosing it.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about—the future.”
“Of course! We’ve all so many plans to make—and to fit into each other’s. Please let’s begin with yours.”
The girl paused a moment, her hands clasped on the arms of her chair, her lids dropped under Anna’s gaze; then she said: “I should like to make no plans at all…just yet…”
“No plans?”
“No—I should like to go away…my friends the Farlows would let me go to them…” Her voice grew firmer and she lifted her eyes to add: “I should like to leave today, if you don’t mind.”
Anna listened with a rising wonder.
“You want to leave Givre at once?” She gave the idea a moment’s swift consideration. “You prefer to be with your friends till your marriage? I understand that—but surely you needn’t rush off today? There are so many details to discuss; and before long, you know, I shall be going away too.”
“Yes, I know.” The girl was evidently trying to steady her voice. “But I should like to wait a few days—to have a little more time to myself.”
Anna continued to consider her kindly. It was evident that she did not care to say why she wished to leave Givre so suddenly, but her disturbed face and shaken voice betrayed a more pressing motive than the natural desire to spend the weeks before her marriage under her old friends’ roof. Since she had made no response to the allusion to Madame de Chantelle, Anna could but conjecture that she had had a passing disagreement with Owen; and if this were so, random interference might do more harm than good.
“My dear child, if you really want to go at once I sha’n’t, of course, urge you to stay. I suppose you have spoken to Owen?”
“No. Not yet…”
Anna threw an astonished glance at her. “You mean to say you haven’t told him?”
“I wanted to tell you first. I thought I ought to, on account of Effie.” Her look cleared as she put forth this reason.
“Oh, Effie!—” Anna’s smile brushed away the scruple. “Owen has a right to ask that you should consider him before you think of his sister…Of course you shall do just as you wish,” she went on, after another thoughtful interval.
“Oh, thank you,” Sophy Viner murmured and rose to her feet.
Anna rose also, vaguely seeking for some word that should break down the girl’s resistance. “You’ll tell Owen at once?” she finally asked.
Miss Viner, instead of replying, stood before her in manifest uncertainty, and as she did so there was a light tap on the door, and Owen Leath walked into the room.
Anna’s first glance told her that his face was unclouded. He met her greeting with his happiest smile and turned to lift Sophy’s hand to his lips. The perception that he was utterly unconscious of any cause for Miss Viner’s agitation came to his step-mother with a sharp thrill of surprise.
“Darrow’s looking for you,” he said to her. “He asked me to remind you that you’d promised to go for a walk with him.”
Anna glanced at the clock. “I’ll go down presently.” She waited and looked again at Sophy Viner, whose troubled eyes seemed to commit their message to her. “You’d better tell Owen, my dear.”
Owen’s look also turned on the girl. “Tell me what? Why, what’s happened?”
Anna summoned a laugh to ease the vague tension of the moment. “Don’t look so startled! Nothing, except that Sophy proposes to desert us for a while for the Farlows.”
Owen’s brow cleared. “I was afraid she’d run off before long.” He glanced at Anna. “Do please keep her here as long as you can!”
Sophy intervened: “Mrs. Leath’s already given me leave to go.”
“Already? To go when?”
“Today,” said Sophy in a low tone, her eyes on Anna’s.
“Today? Why on earth should you go today?” Owen dropped back a step or two, flushing and paling under his bewildered frown. His eyes seemed to search the girl more closely. “Something’s happened.” He too looked at his step-mother. “I suppose she must have told you what it is?”
Anna was struck by the suddenness and vehemence of his appeal. It was as though some smouldering apprehension had lain close under the surface of his security.
“She’s told me nothing except that she wishes to be with her friends. It’s quite natural that she should want to go to them.”
Owen visibly controlled himself. “Of course—quite natural.” He spoke to Sophy. “But why didn’t you tell me so? Why did you come first to my step-mother?”
Anna intervened with her calm smile. “That seems to me quite natural, too. Sophy was considerate enough to tell me first because of Effie.”
He weighed it. “Very well, then: that’s quite natural, as you say. And of course she must do exactly as she pleases.” He still kept his eyes on the girl. “Tomorrow,” he abruptly announced, “I shall go up to Paris to see you.”
“Oh, no—no!” she protested.
Owen turned back to Anna. “NOW do you say that nothing’s happened?”
Under the influence of his agitation Anna felt a vague tightening of the heart. She seemed to herself like some one in a dark room about whom unseen presences are groping.
“If it’s anything that Sophy wishes to tell you, no doubt she’ll do so. I’m going down now, and I’ll leave you here to talk it over by yourselves.”
As she moved to the door the girl caught up with her. “But there’s nothing to telclass="underline" why should there be? I’ve explained that I simply want to be quiet.” Her look seemed to detain Mrs. Leath.
Owen broke in: “Is that why I mayn’t go up tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow!”
“Then when may I?”
“Later…in a little while…a few days…”
“In how many days?” “Owen!” his step-mother interposed; but he seemed no longer aware of her. “If you go away today, the day that our engagement’s made known, it’s only fair,” he persisted, “that you should tell me when I am to see you.”
Sophy’s eyes wavered between the two and dropped down wearily. “It’s you who are not fair—when I’ve said I wanted to be quiet.”
“But why should my coming disturb you? I’m not asking now to come tomorrow. I only ask you not to leave without telling me when I’m to see you.”
“Owen, I don’t understand you!” his step-mother exclaimed.
“You don’t understand my asking for some explanation, some assurance, when I’m left in this way, without a word, without a sign? All I ask her to tell me is when she’ll see me.”
Anna turned back to Sophy Viner, who stood straight and tremulous between the two.
“After all, my dear, he’s not unreasonable!”
“I’ll write—I’ll write,” the girl repeated.
“WHAT will you write?” he pressed her vehemently.
“Owen,” Anna exclaimed, “you are unreasonable!”
He turned from Sophy to his step-mother. “I only want her to say what she means: that she’s going to write to break off our engagement. Isn’t that what you’re going away for?”
Anna felt the contagion of his excitement. She looked at Sophy, who stood motionless, her lips set, her whole face drawn to a silent fixity of resistance.
“You ought to speak, my dear—you ought to answer him.”
“I only ask him to wait–-“
“Yes,” Owen, broke in, “and you won’t say how long!”
Both instinctively addressed themselves to Anna, who stood, nearly as shaken as themselves, between the double shock of their struggle. She looked again from Sophy’s inscrutable eyes to Owen’s stormy features; then she said: “What can I do, when there’s clearly something between you that I don’t know about?”