In Meditation she had entered into Vastness.

The sound of the organ in the Cathedral recalled her.  It was four o’clock.  The afternoon service was just beginning.  She sat still and listened.  It was growing dark now, but she had no wish to move.  Probably in half an hour Robin and Dion would come back from the shooting.  From to-day she would think of Robin in a different way.  He would be even dearer to her, even more sacred, her little teacher.  What did it matter where she lived if her little teacher was with her.  The sting had gone out of her unselfishness; she was glad she had been able to be unselfish, to put Dion before herself.

The organ ceased.  They were praying now in the Cathedral.  Presently she heard them singing the psalms faintly.  The voices of the boys came to her with a sort of vague sweetness through the gathering darkness and the mist.  They died away; the Magnificat followed, then silence, then the Nunc Dimittis, then another silence, presently the anthem.  Finally she heard the organ alone in a Fugue of Bach.

The quarter to five chimed in the tower.  Dion and Robin were a little late.

She got up, and carried the rug into the house.

“Annie!” she called.

Annie came.

“When Mr. Leith and Robin come back,—­they’ll be here directly,—­will you ask them to give me a call?  I shall be in the garden.”

“Very well, ma’am.”

Again Rosamund paced up and down the paths.  Now she was very conscious of herself and of her surroundings.  The long night of early winter was falling upon Welsley.  Five o’clock struck, a quarter-past five, then the half-hour.  She stood still on the path, beginning to wonder.  How late they were!  Robin would surely be very tired.  It would be too much for him.  Directly he had had his tea he must be put to bed.  Or perhaps it would be best to put him to bed at once.  He would be disappointed, but they could easily have tea in the night nursery.  She smiled, conjuring up a picture of Robin under the bedclothes being fed pieces of cake.  He would enjoy that.  And she would hold his cup for him while he drank, so that the bed might be safe.  Meals in bed are often dangerous to the bed.  How delightful were all the little absurd things she did for Robin!

When the chimes told her that it was a quarter to six she began to feel puzzled, and just the least little bit anxious.  It had been quite dark for a little while now.  Job Crickendon’s farm was only about four miles from Welsley.  Harrington’s horse might not be an exceptionally fast-goer, but surely he could cover six miles in an hour.  Dion and Robin could get back in forty minutes at the most.  They must have stayed on at Job Crickendon’s till past five o’clock.  Could they have had tea there?  No, she was sure they would not have done that, when they knew she was waiting for them, was looking forward eagerly to tea in the nursery.