“Garth Trent!” she murmured. “Trent! . . .  And eyes with patches of blue in them! . . .  Heavens!  Can it possibly be? Can it be?”

There was a curious quality in her voice, a blending of incredulity and distaste, and yet something that savoured of satisfaction—­almost of triumph.

Across her mental vision flitted a memory of just such eyes—­gay, laughing, love-lit eyes, out of which the laughter had been suddenly dashed.

CHAPTER XXV

THE CUT DIRECT

It was a merry party which had gathered together in the shady heart of Haven Woods.  The Selwyns, Sara and Elisabeth, Miles Herrick and the Lavender Lady were all there, and, in addition, there was a large and light-hearted contingent from Greenacres, where Audrey was entertaining a houseful of friends.  Only Garth had not yet arrived.

Two young subalterns on leave and a couple of pretty American sisters, all of them staying at Greenacres, were making things hum, nobly seconded in their efforts by Miles Herrick, who had practically recovered from his sprained ankle and one of whose “good days” it chanced to be.

Every one seemed bubbling over with good-humour and high spirits, so that the dell re-echoed to the shouts of jolly laughter, while the birds, flitting nervously hither and thither, wondered what manner of creatures these were who had invaded their quiet sanctuary of the woods.  And presently, when the whole party gathered round the white cloth, spread with every dainty that the inspired mind of Audrey’s chef had been able to devise, and the popping corks began to punctuate the babble of chattering voices, they took wing and fled incontinently.  They had heard similar sharp, explosive sounds before, and had noted them as being generally the harbingers of sudden death.

“Where’s that wretched hermit of yours, Sara?” demanded Audrey gaily.  “I told him we should lunch at one, and it’s already a quarter-past.  Ah!”—­catching sight of a lean, supple figure advancing between the trees—­“Here he is at last!”

A shout greeted Garth’s approach, and the uproarious quartette composed of the two subalterns and the girls from New York City pounded joyously with their forks upon their plates, creating a perfect pandemonium of noise, Miles recklessly participating in the clamorous welcome, while the Lavender Lady fluttered her handkerchief, and Sara and Audrey both hurried forward to meet the late comer.  In the general excitement nobody chanced to observe the effect which Trent’s appearance had had upon one of the party.

Elisabeth had half-risen from the grassy bank on which she had been sitting, and her face was suddenly milk-white.  Even her lips had lost their soft rose-colour, and were parted as if an exclamation of some kind had been only checked from passing them by sheer force of will.

Out of her white face, her eyes, seeming so dark that they were almost violet, stared fixedly at Garth as he approached.  Their expression was as masked, as enigmatical as ever, yet back of it there gleamed an odd light, and it was as though some curious menace lay hidden in its quiet, slumbrous fire.