“Be so good as to give my card to Mr. Delamayn.  Say that I bring him a message from Holchester House, and that I can only deliver it at a personal interview.”

Hester Dethridge returned to the cottage.  Another, and a longer interval elapsed.  At the end of the time, Geoffrey himself appeared in the front garden, with the key in his hand.  Anne’s heart throbbed fast as she saw him unlock the gate, and asked herself what was to follow.

To her unutterable astonishment, Geoffrey admitted Sir Patrick without the slightest hesitation—­and, more still, he invited Blanche to leave the carriage and come in!

“Let by-gones be by-gones,” Anne heard him say to Sir Patrick.  “I only want to do the right thing.  If it’s the right thing for visitors to come here, so soon after my father’s death, come, and welcome.  My own notion was, when you proposed it before, that it was wrong.  I am not much versed in these things.  I leave it to you.”

“A visitor who brings you messages from your mother and your brother,” Sir Patrick answered gravely, “is a person whom it is your duty to admit, Mr. Delamayn, under any circumstances.”

“And he ought to be none the less welcome,” added Blanche, “when he is accompanied by your wife’s oldest and dearest friend.”

Geoffrey looked, in stolid submission, from one to the other.

“I am not much versed in these things,” he repeated.  “I have said already, I leave it to you.”

They were by this time close under Anne’s window.  She showed herself.  Sir Patrick took off his hat.  Blanche kissed her hand with a cry of joy, and attempted to enter the cottage.  Geoffrey stopped her—­and called to his wife to come down.

“No! no!” said Blanche.  “Let me go up to her in her room.”

She attempted for the second time to gain the stairs.  For the second time Geoffrey stopped her.  “Don’t trouble yourself,” he said; “she is coming down.”

Anne joined them in the front garden.  Blanche flew into her arms and devoured her with kisses.  Sir Patrick took her hand in silence.  For the first time in Anne’s experience of him, the bright, resolute, self-reliant old man was, for the moment, at a loss what to say, at a loss what to do.  His eyes, resting on her in mute sympathy and interest, said plainly, “In your husband’s presence I must not trust myself to speak.”

Geoffrey broke the silence.

“Will you go into the drawing-room?” he asked, looking with steady attention at his wife and Blanche.

Geoffrey’s voice appeared to rouse Sir Patrick.  He raised his head—­he looked like himself again.

“Why go indoors this lovely weather?” he said.  “Suppose we take a turn in the garden?”

Blanche pressed Anne’s hand significantly.  The proposal was evidently made for a purpose.  They turned the corner of the cottage and gained the large garden at the back—­the two ladies walking together, arm in arm; Sir Patrick and Geoffrey following them.  Little by little, Blanche quickened her pace.  “I have got my instructions,” she whispered to Anne.  “Let’s get out of his hearing.”