Mr. Rhodes with his travelling bag was packed off to Copsley, to enjoy a change of scene after his run of the gauntlet.  He was very heartily welcomed by Lady Dunstane, both for her Tony’s sake and his own modest worship of that luminary, which could permit of being transparent; but chiefly she welcomed him as the living proof of Tony’s disengagement from anxiety, since he was her one spot of trouble, and could easily be comforted by reading with her, and wandering through the Spring woods along the heights.  He had a happy time, midway in air between his accomplished hostess and his protecting Goddess.  His bruises were soon healed.  Each day was radiant to him, whether it rained or shone; and by his looks and what he said of himself Lady Dunstane understood that he was in the highest temper of the human creature tuned to thrilling accord with nature.  It was her generous Tony’s work.  She blessed it, and liked the youth the better.

During the stay of Mr. Arthur Rhodes at Copsley, Sir Lukin came on a visit to his wife.  He mentioned reports in the scandal-papers:  one, that Mr. P. D. would shortly lead to the altar the lovely heiress Miss A., Percy Dacier and Constance Asper:—­another, that a reconciliation was to be expected between the beautiful authoress Mrs. W. and her husband.  ‘Perhaps it’s the best thing she can do,’ Sir Lukin added.

Lady Dunstane pronounced a woman’s unforgiving:  ‘Never.’  The revolt of her own sensations assured her of Tony’s unconquerable repugnance.  In conversation subsequently with Arthur Rhodes, she heard that he knew the son of Mr. Warwick’s attorney, a Mr. Fern; and he had gathered from him some information of Mr. Warwick’s condition of health.  It had been alarming; young Fern said it was confirmed heart-disease.  His father frequently saw Mr. Warwick, and said he was fretting himself to death.

It seemed just a possibility that Tony’s natural compassionateness had wrought on her to immolate herself and nurse to his end the man who had wrecked her life.  Lady Dunstane waited for the news.  At last she wrote, touching the report incidentally.  There was no reply.  The silence ensuing after such a question responded forcibly.

CHAPTER XXII

BETWEEN DIANA AND DACIER:  THE WIND EAST OVER BLEAK LAND

On the third day of the Easter recess Percy Dacier landed from the Havre steamer at Caen and drove straightway for the sandy coast, past fields of colza to brine-blown meadows of coarse grass, and then to the low dunes and long stretching sands of the ebb in semicircle:  a desolate place at that season; with a dwarf fishing-village by the shore; an East wind driving landward in streamers every object that had a scrap to fly.  He made head to the inn, where the first person he encountered in the passage was Diana’s maid Danvers, who relaxed from the dramatic exaggeration of her surprise at the sight of a real English gentleman in these woebegone regions, to inform him that her mistress might be found walking somewhere along the sea-shore, and had her dog to protect her.  They were to stay here a whole week, Danvers added, for a conveyance of her private sentiments.  Second thoughts however whispered to her shrewdness that his arrival could only be by appointment.  She had been anticipating something of the sort for some time.