Conscious that his position toward his friend was altered already in relation to Miss Gwilt, the first sight of Allan filled his mind with a sudden distrust of the governess's influence over him, which was almost a distrust of himself. He knew that he had set forth from the moors on his return to Thorpe Ambrose with the resolution of acknowledging the passion that had mastered him, and of insisting, if necessary, on a second and a longer absence in the interests of the sacrifice which he was bent on ****** to the happiness of his friend. What had become of that resolution now? The discovery of Miss Gwilt's altered position, and the declaration that she had voluntarily made of her indifference to Allan, had scattered it to the winds. The first words with which he would have met his friend, if nothing had happened to him on the homeward way, were words already dismissed from his lips. He drew back as he felt it, and struggled, with an instinctive loyalty toward Allan, to free himself at the last moment from the influence of Miss Gwilt.
Having disposed of his useless nosegay, Allan passed on into the garden, and the instant he entered it recognized Midwinter with a loud cry of surprise and delight.
"Am I awake or dreaming?" he exclaimed, seizing his friend excitably by both hands." You dear old Midwinter, have you sprung up out of the ground, or have you dropped from the clouds?"It was not till Midwinter had explained the mystery of his unexpec ted appearance in every particular that Allan could be prevailed on to say a word about himself. When he did speak, he shook his head ruefully, and subdued the hearty loudness of his voice, with a preliminary look round to see if the servants were within hearing.
"I've learned to be cautious since you went away and left me,"said Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't the least notion what things have happened, and what an awful scrape I'm in at this very moment!""You are mistaken, Allan. I have heard more of what has happened than you suppose.""What! the dreadful mess I'm in with Miss Gwilt? the row with the major? the infernal scandal-mongering in the neighborhood? You don't mean to say--?""Yes," interposed Midwinter, quietly; "I have heard of it all.""Good heavens! how? Did you stop at Thorpe Ambrose on your way back? Have you been in the coffee-room at the hotel? Have you met Pedgift? Have you dropped into the Reading Rooms, and seen what they call the ******* of the press in the town newspaper?"Midwinter paused before he answered, and looked up at the sky.
The clouds had been gathering unnoticed over their heads, and the first rain-drops were beginning to fall.
"Come in here," said Allan. "We'll go up to breakfast this way. "He led Midwinter through the open French window into his own sitting-room. The wind blew toward that side of the house, and the rain followed them in. Midwinter, who was last, turned and closed the window.
Allan was too eager for the answer which the weather had interrupted to wait for it till they reached the breakfast-room.
He stopped close at the window, and added two more to his string of questions.
"How can you possibly have heard about me and Miss Gwilt?" he asked. "Who told you?""Miss Gwilt herself," replied Midwinter, gravely.
Allan's manner changed the moment the governess's name passed his friend's lips.
"I wish you had heard my story first," he said. "Where did you meet with Miss Gwilt?"There was a momentary pause. They both stood still at the window, absorbed in the interest of the moment. They both forgot that their contemplated place of shelter from the rain had been the breakfast-room upstairs.
"Before I answer your question," said Midwinter, a little constrainedly, "I want to ask you something, Allan, on my side.
Is it really true that you are in some way concerned in Miss Gwilt's leaving Major Milroy's service?"There was another pause. The disturbance which had begun to appear in Allan's manner palpably increased.
"It's rather a long story," he began. "I have been taken in, Midwinter. I've been imposed on by a person, who--I can't help saying it--who cheated me into promising what I oughtn't to have promised, and doing what I had better not have done. It isn't breaking my promise to tell you. I can trust in your discretion, can't I? You will never say a word, will you?""Stop!" said Midwinter. "Don't trust me with any secrets which are not your own. If you have given a promise, don't trifle with it, even in speaking to such an intimate friend as I am." He laid his hand gently and kindly on Allan's shoulder. "I can't help seeing that I have made you a little uncomfortable," he went on.
"I can't help seeing that my question is not so easy a one to answer as I had hoped and supposed. Shall we wait a little? Shall we go upstairs and breakfast first?"Allan was far too earnestly bent on presenting his conduct to his friend in the right aspect to heed Midwinter's suggestion. He spoke eagerly on the instant, without moving from the window.
"My dear fellow, it's a perfectly easy question to answer.
Only"--he hesitated--"only it requires what I'm a bad hand at: it requires an explanation.""Do you mean," asked Midwinter, more seriously, but not less gently than before, "that you must first justify yourself, and then answer my question?""That's it!" said Allan, with an air of relief. "You're hit the right nail on the head, just as usual."Midwinter's face darkened for the first time. "I am sorry to hear it," he said, his voice sinking low, and his eyes dropping to the ground as he spoke.
The rain was beginning to fall thickly. It swept across the garden, straight on the closed windows, and pattered heavily against the glass.
"Sorry!" repeated Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't heard the particulars yet. Wait till I explain the thing first.""You are a bad hand at explanations," said Midwinter, repeating Allan's own words. "Don't place yourself at a disadvantage. Don't explain it."Allan looked at him, in silent perplexity and surprise.