XVI

ANGELA AT HER WORST

But something had happened to Angela next day.  That was clear, from her manner.  What had changed her from a clinging, sweetly mid-Victorian girl into a reserved, coldly polite woman, Nick could not imagine.  Her cool “Good morning” gave the first sign of a fallen temperature.  His way of beginning the day was suited to the ending of yesterday:  hers denied all that made yesterday memorable.  Could it be that in recalling the scene in the Mission church, Mrs. May disapproved of something he had said, or some blundering act, and wished to “put him in his place”?  Or—­still more terrible—­was she unhappy about Falconer?  Nick was confused, miserable, and because he did not know how to take her, or consequently how to bear himself, he became self-conscious and awkward.

Angela did not refuse to go to Santa Ysabel and the mysterious warm lake, but she said that she would sit behind as her head ached a little, and she would feel the wind less than on the front seat.  Nick knew, somehow, that she did not wish to talk to him.  Yet there was nothing definite in her manner, of which he could take hold and say, “Have I offended you?”

“Perhaps it’s only that she’s tired, and didn’t sleep well,” Nick tried to persuade himself, because, in reason, he did not see what else it could be.  “As like as not, she’ll be different to-morrow.”

But there was to be no to-morrow.

The blow did not fall until he had brought her back to the hotel.  Then, before Nick could propose a new plan, she said quickly, in the presence of Falconer, who had strolled out to meet the Bright Angel, “Oh, Mr. Hilliard, I think you’ll be glad to hear you are going to be relieved of all this bother I’ve been making you.  I’m engaged to play chaperon for a few days.  If I will go to Monterey, Mademoiselle Dobieski will go, and of course that will be a great, great pleasure to Mr. Falconer.  You know, don’t you, that our plans were never made for a day ahead?  She and I will travel in the wonderful private car, and meet Mrs. Harland at the other end of the journey.  I know Mr. Falconer means to ask you too, so we shan’t be saying good-bye, or even au revoir, if you accept.  His idea is for you to let your chauffeur drive the Bright Angel, and meet you where you like.  But he’ll tell you all about that, of course.  We arranged this at breakfast, which Mademoiselle Dobieski had with me, in my sitting-room.”

With this, she walked away, leaving the men to settle the question between themselves.  Nick thought then that he understood.  She mentioned the promised invitation, rather than break away from him too abruptly, but certainly she could not wish him to accept.  If she had not wanted to escape from his society, she would not have fallen in with Falconer’s suggestion.  Perhaps she had even asked Falconer to help her out of a situation which, for some dreadful