Next day he received a briefly-worded summons from Mrs. Warwick.

Crossing the park on the line to Diana’s house, he met Miss Paynham, who grieved to say that Mrs. Warwick could not give her a sitting; and in a still mournfuller tone, imagined he would find her at home, and alone by this time.  ‘I left no one but Mr. Dacier there,’ she observed.

‘Mrs. Warwick will be disengaged to-morrow, no doubt,’ he said consolingly.

Her head performed the negative.  ’They talk politics, and she becomes animated, loses her pose.  I will persevere, though I fear I have undertaken a task too much for me.’

‘I am deeply indebted to you for the attempt.’  Redworth bowed to her and set his face to the Abbey-towers, which wore a different aspect in the smoked grey light since his two minutes of colloquy.  He had previously noticed that meetings with Miss Paynham produced a similar effect on him, a not so very impressionable man.  And how was it done?  She told him nothing he did not know or guess.

Diana was alone.  Her manner, after the greeting, seemed feverish.  She had not to excuse herself for abruptness when he heard the nature of the subject.  Her counsellor and friend was informed, in feminine style, that she had, requested him to call, for the purpose of consulting him with regard to a matter she had decided upon; and it was, the sale of The Crossways.  She said that it would have gone to her heart once; she supposed she had lost her affection for the place, or had got the better of her superstitions.  She spoke lamely as well as bluntly.  The place was hers, she said; her own property.  Her husband could not interdict a sale.

Redworth addressed himself to her smothered antagonism.  ’Even if he had rights, as they are termed . . .  I think you might count on their not being pressed.’

‘I have been told of illness.’  She tapped her foot on the floor.

‘His present state of health is unequal to his ordinary duties.’

’Emma Dunstane is fully supplied with the latest intelligence, Mr. Redworth.  You know the source.’

‘I mention it simply . . .’

’Yes, yes.  What I have to protest is, that in this respect I am free.  The Law has me fast, but leaves me its legal view of my small property.  I have no authority over me.  I can do as I please, in this, without a collision, or the dread of one.  It is the married woman’s perpetual dread when she ventures a step.  Your Law originally presumed her a China-footed animal.  And more, I have a claim for maintenance.’

She crimsoned angrily.

Redworth showed a look of pleasure, hard to understand.  ’The application would be sufficient, I fancy,’ he said.

‘It should have been offered.’

‘Did you not decline it?’