Anne waited on the lower floor of the cottage while Geoffrey closed and locked the gate.  She had no wish to appear to avoid him, after the answer that he had sent to his mother’s message.  He returned slowly half-way across the front garden, looked toward the passage in which she was standing, passed before the door, and disappeared round the corner of the cottage on his way to the back garden.  The inference was not to be mistaken.  It was Geoffrey who was avoiding her. Had he lied to Sir Patrick?  When the next day came would he find reasons of his own for refusing to take her to Holchester House?

She went up stairs.  At the same moment Hester Dethridge opened her bedroom door to come out.  Observing Anne, she closed it again and remained invisible in her room.  Once more the inference was not to be mistaken.  Hester Dethridge, also, had her reasons for avoiding Anne.

What did it mean?  What object could there be in common between Hester and Geoffrey?

There was no fathoming the meaning of it.  Anne’s thoughts reverted to the communication which had been secretly made to her by Blanche.  It was not in womanhood to be insensible to such devotion as Sir Patrick’s conduct implied.  Terrible as her position had become in its ever-growing uncertainty, in its never-ending suspense, the oppression of it yielded for the moment to the glow of pride and gratitude which warmed her heart, as she thought of the sacrifices that had been made, of the perils that were still to be encountered, solely for her sake.  To shorten the period of suspense seemed to be a duty which she owed to Sir Patrick, as well as to herself.  Why, in her situation, wait for what the next day might bring forth?  If the opportunity offered, she determined to put the signal in the window that night.

Toward evening she heard once more the noises which appeared to indicate that repairs of some sort were going on in the house.  This time the sounds were fainter; and they came, as she fancied, not from the spare room, as before, but from Geoffrey’s room, next to it.

The dinner was later than usual that day.  Hester Dethridge did not appear with the tray till dusk.  Anne spoke to her, and received a mute sign in answer.  Determined to see the woman’s face plainly, she put a question which required a written answer on the slate; and, telling Hester to wait, went to the mantle-piece to light her candle.  When she turned round with the lighted candle in her hand, Hester was gone.

Night came.  She rang her bell to have the tray taken away.  The fall of a strange footstep startled her outside her door.  She called out, “Who’s there?” The voice of the lad whom Geoffrey employed to go on errands for him answered her.

“What do you want here?” she asked, through the door.

“Mr. Delamayn sent me up, ma’am.  He wishes to speak to you directly.”

Anne found Geoffrey in the dining-room.  His object in wishing to speak to her was, on the surface of it, trivial enough.  He wanted to know how she would prefer going to Holchester House on the next day—­by the railway, or in a carriage.  “If you prefer driving,” he said, “the boy has come here for orders, and he can tell them to send a carriage from the livery-stables, as he goes home.”