into which he had fallen in the kitchen-garden. The dumb woman
with the stony face vanished as if in a mist. He felt nothing now but
a comfortable buzzing in his head, a genial warmth all over him, and an
unlimited capacity for carrying any responsibility that could rest on
mortal shoulders. Geoffrey was himself again.

He went round toward the library, to write his letter to Anne--and so
have done with that, to begin with. The company had collected in the
library waiting for the luncheon-bell. All were idly talking; and some
would be certain, if he showed himself, to fasten on _him._ He turned
back again, without showing himself. The only way of writing in peace
and quietness would be to wait until they were all at luncheon, and then
return to the library. The same opportunity would serve also for finding
a messenger to take the letter, without exciting attention, and for
going away afterward, unseen, on a long walk by himself. An absence of
two or three hours would cast the necessary dust in Arnold's eyes;
for it would be certainly interpreted by him as meaning absence at an
interview with Anne.

He strolled idly through the grounds, farther and farther away from the
house.

The talk in the library--aimless and empty enough, for the most
part--was talk to the purpose, in one corner of the room, in which Sir
Patrick and Blanche were sitting together.

"Uncle! I have been watching you for the last minute or two."

"At my age, Blanche? that is paying me a very pretty compliment."

"Do you know what I have seen?"

"You have seen an old gentleman in want of his lunch."

"I have seen an old gentleman with something on his mind. What is it?"

"Suppressed gout, my dear."

"That won't do! I am not to be put off in that way. Uncle! I want to
know--"

"Stop there, Blanche! A young lady who says she 'wants to know,'
expresses very dangerous sentiments. Eve 'wanted to know'--and see what
it led to. Faust 'wanted to know'--and got into bad company, as the
necessary result."

"You are feeling anxious about something," persisted Blanche. "And,
what is more, Sir Patrick, you behaved in a most unaccountable manner a
little while since."

"When?"

"When you went and hid yourself with Mr. Delamayn in that snug corner
there. I saw you lead the way in, while I was at work on Lady Lundie's
odious dinner-invitations."

"Oh! you call that being at work, do you? I wonder whether there was
ever a woman yet who could give