At dinner that evening Madame de Chantelle's slendermonologue was thrown out over gulfs of silence. Owen wasstill in the same state of moody abstraction as when Darrowhad left him at the piano; and even Anna's face, to herfriend's vigilant eye, revealed not, perhaps, a personalpreoccupation, but a vague sense of impending disturbance.
She smiled, she bore a part in the talk, her eyes dwelt onDarrow's with their usual deep reliance; but beneath thesurface of her serenity his tense perceptions detected ahidden stir.
He was sufficiently self-possessed to tell himself that itwas doubtless due to causes with which he was not directlyconcerned. He knew the question of Owen's marriage was soonto be raised, and the abrupt alteration in the young man'smood made it seem probable that he was himself the centre ofthe atmospheric disturbance, For a moment it occurred toDarrow that Anna might have employed her afternoon inpreparing Madame de Chantelle for her grandson's impendingannouncement; but a glance at the elder lady's uncloudedbrow showed that he must seek elsewhere the clue to Owen'staciturnity and his step-mother's concern. Possibly Annahad found reason to change her own attitude in the matter,and had made the change known to Owen. But this, again, wasnegatived by the fact that, during the afternoon's shooting,young Leath had been in a mood of almost extravagantexpansiveness, and that, from the moment of his late returnto the house till just before dinner, there had been, toDarrow's certain knowledge, no possibility of a private talkbetween himself and his step-mother.
This obscured, if it narrowed, the field of conjecture; andDarrow's gropings threw him back on the conclusion that hewas probably reading too much significance into the moods ofa lad he hardly knew, and who had been described to him assubject to sudden changes of humour. As to Anna's fanciedperturbation, it might simply be due to the fact that shehad decided to plead Owen's cause the next day, and hadperhaps already had a glimpse of the difficulties awaitingher. But Darrow knew that he was too deep in his ownperplexities to judge the mental state of those about him.
It might be, after all, that the variations he felt in thecurrents of communication were caused by his own inwardtremor.
Such, at any rate, was the conclusion he had reached when,shortly after the two ladies left the drawing-room, he badeOwen good-night and went up to his room. Ever since therapid self-colloquy which had followed on his first sight ofSophy Viner, he had known there were other questions to befaced behind the one immediately confronting him. On thescore of that one, at least, his mind, if not easy, wasrelieved. He had done what was possible to reassure thegirl, and she had apparently recognized the sincerity of hisintention. He had patched up as decent a conclusion as hecould to an incident that should obviously have had nosequel; but he had known all along that with the securing ofMiss Viner's peace of mind only a part of his obligation wasdischarged, and that with that part his remaining duty wasin conflict. It had been his first business to convince thegirl that their secret was safe with him; but it was farfrom easy to square this with the equally urgent obligationof safe-guarding Anna's responsibility toward her child.
Darrow was not much afraid of accidental disclosures. Bothhe and Sophy Viner had too much at stake not to be on theirguard. The fear that beset him was of another kind, and hada profounder source. He wanted to do all he could for thegirl, but the fact of having had to urge Anna to confideEffie to her was peculiarly repugnant to him. His own ideasabout Sophy Viner were too mixed and indeterminate for himnot to feel the risk of such an experiment; yet he foundhimself in the intolerable position of appearing to press iton the woman he desired above all others to protect...
Till late in the night his thoughts revolved in a turmoil ofindecision. His pride was humbled by the discrepancybetween what Sophy Viner had been to him and what he hadthought of her. This discrepancy, which at the time hadseemed to simplify the incident, now turned out to be itsmost galling complication. The bare truth, indeed, was thathe had hardly thought of her at all, either at the time orsince, and that he was ashamed to base his judgement of heron his meagre memory of their adventure.
The essential cheapness of the whole affair--as far as hisshare in it was concerned--came home to him with humiliatingdistinctness. He would have liked to be able to feel that,at the time at least, he had staked something more on it,and had somehow, in the sequel, had a more palpable loss toshow. But the plain fact was that he hadn't spent a pennyon it; which was no doubt the reason of the prodigious scoreit had since been rolling up. At any rate, beat about thecase as he would, it was clear that he owed it to Anna--andincidentally to his own peace of mind--to find some way ofsecuring Sophy Viner's future without leaving her installedat Givre when he and his wife should depart for their newpost.
The night brought no aid to the solving of this problem; butit gave him, at any rate, the clear conviction that no timewas to be lost. His first step must be to obtain from MissViner the chance of another and calmer talk; and he resolvedto seek it at the earliest hour.
He had gathered that Effie's lessons were preceded by anearly scamper in the park, and conjecturing that hergoverness might be with her he betook himself the nextmorning to the terrace, whence he wandered on to the gardensand the walks beyond.
The atmosphere was still and pale. The muffled sunlightgleamed like gold tissue through grey gauze, and the beechalleys tapered away to a blue haze blent of sky and forest.
It was one of those elusive days when the familiar forms ofthings seem about to dissolve in a prismatic shimmer.
The stillness was presently broken by joyful barks, andDarrow, tracking the sound, overtook Effie flying down oneof the long alleys at the head of her pack. Beyond her hesaw Miss Viner seated near the stone-rimmed basin besidewhich he and Anna had paused on their first walk to theriver.
The girl, coming forward at his approach, returned hisgreeting almost gaily. His first glance showed him that shehad regained her composure, and the change in her appearancegave him the measure of her fears. For the first time hesaw in her again the sidelong grace that had charmed hiseyes in Paris; but he saw it now as in a painted picture.
"Shall we sit down a minute?" he asked, as Effie trottedoff.
The girl looked away from him. "I'm afraid there's not muchtime; we must be back at lessons at half-past nine.""But it's barely ten minutes past. Let's at least walk alittle way toward the river."She glanced down the long walk ahead of them and then backin the direction of the house. "If you like," she said in alow voice, with one of her quick fluctuations of colour; butinstead of taking the way he proposed she turned toward anarrow path which branched off obliquely through the trees.
Darrow was struck, and vaguely troubled, by the change inher look and tone. There was in them an undefinable appeal,whether for help or forbearance he could not tell. Then itoccurred to him that there might have been somethingmisleading in his so pointedly seeking her, and he felt amomentary constraint. To ease it he made an abrupt dash atthe truth.
"I came out to look for you because our talk of yesterdaywas so unsatisfactory. I want to hear more about you--aboutyour plans and prospects. I've been wondering ever sincewhy you've so completely given up the theatre."Her face instantly sharpened to distrust. "I had to live,"she said in an off-hand tone.
"I understand perfectly that you should like it here--for atime." His glance strayed down the gold-roofed windingsahead of them. "It's delightful: you couldn't be betterplaced. Only I wonder a little at your having so completelygiven up any idea of a different future."She waited for a moment before answering: "I suppose I'mless restless than I used to be.""It's certainly natural that you should be less restlesshere than at Mrs. Murrett's; yet somehow I don't seem to seeyou permanently given up to forming the young.""What--exactly--DO you seem to see me permanently givenup to? You know you warned me rather emphatically againstthe theatre." She threw off the statement withoutimpatience, as though they were discussing together the fateof a third person in whom both were benevolently interested.
Darrow considered his reply. "If I did, it was because youso emphatically refused to let me help you to a start."She stopped short and faced him "And you think I may let younow?"Darrow felt the blood in his cheek. He could not understandher attitude--if indeed she had consciously taken one, andher changes of tone did not merely reflect the involuntaryalternations of her mood. It humbl............