That very afternoon he started in pursuance of this design, to pay a
visit to the Castle. The Squire was out, but Miss de la Molle was at
home. He was ushered into the drawing-room, where Ida was working, for
it was a wet and windy afternoon.
She rose to greet him coldly enough, and he sat down, and then came a
pause which she did not seem inclined to break.
At last he spoke. "Did the Squire get my letter, Miss de la Molle?" he
asked.
"Yes," she answered, rather icily. "Colonel Quaritch sent it up."
"I am very sorry," he added confusedly, "that I should have put myself
in such a false position. I hope that you will give me credit for
having believed my accusation when I made it."
"Such accusations should not be lightly made, Mr. Cossey," was her
answer, and, as though to turn the subject, she rose and rang the bell
for tea.
It came, and the bustle connected with it prevented any further
conversation for a while. At length, however, it subsided, and once
more Edward found himself alone with Ida. He looked at her and felt
afraid. The woman was of a different clay to himself, and he knew it--
he loved her, but he did not understand her in the least. However, if
the thing was to be done at all it must be done now, so, with a
desperate effort, he brought himself to the point.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266