The Vision of Desire
curiosity to know if she could be of any help, she branched off at right
angles and turned her steps in its direction. As she approached she could
discern between the tree-trunks a car, slewed round half across the road,
and the figure of a woman standing beside it and bending over one of the
wheels. Her very attitude betokened a certain helplessness and
inexperience, and, seeing that she was alone, Ann quickened her pace.
"Can I help you at all?" she volunteered, as she reached the roadside.
The woman straightened herself.
"Oh, if you would!" she exclaimed, with obvious relief. "My tyre's burst,
and I'm ashamed to confess I haven't the faintest idea what to do."
Ann regarded her with interest. She was past her first girlhood, a woman of
about thirty, and unusually beautiful. Even more beautiful now, perhaps,
than she had been in earlier days, since, in taking the first freshness and
bloom of youth, the years had given in exchange an arresting quality which
is only born of suffering and experience--adding a deeper depth to her
eyes, a certain strength of endurance to the exquisitely moulded mouth.
Silky dark hair curved back beneath her close-fitting hat like a raven's
wing, sheathing her small, fine head. There was the same silky darkness,
too, of brow and lashes, and when she lifted her long-fringed lids they
revealed a pair of sad and very lovely eyes, the colour of a purple pansy.
"It was foolish of me to come out alone," she pursued, as Ann proceeded in
a business-like fashion to investigate the damage. "I've learned how to
drive, but I know nothing at all about repairs, or how to put on a new tyre
or stepney or anything."
"Well, the first thing to do is to pull the car out of the middle of the
road," returned Ann practically. "Then we'll have to jack her up."
A couple of labourers, passing at the moment, lent a hand in pulling the
car to one side, and when this was accomplished Ann made a raid on the tool
box.
"No, no," the owner of the car protested quickly. "I can't think of letting
you do anything more. Even if you put things right," she added, smiling, "I
shouldn't have the nerve to drive back. The car spun half round when the
tyre burst, and nearly frightened me to death."
"In any case, I'm afraid there's nothing that I can do," replied Ann,
emerging from her investigations. "You've come out without a jack on
board!"
The other, detecting the amused gleam in her eyes, laughed rather ruefully.
"I dare say I've come out without _anything_ I ought to have!" she
admitted. "My chauffeur was sent for hurriedly to the death-bed of his
wife's aunt or some one, and I just thought I'd come out for a spin this
afternoon and explore the neighbourhood. I never prepared for accidents! I
shall have to walk home, that's all."
"Have you far to go?"
"I live at the Priory. I've only recently arrived there--hence my thirst
for exploration"--smiling.
"Then you must be Mrs. Hilyard." Ann felt she had known it all the time.
"Yes"--pleasantly. "I'm Mrs. Hilyard. Are you one of my new neighbours?"
"A very new one," confessed Ann. "I believe I arrived the same day that you
did. I'm Ann Lovell."
Apparently the name Lovell conveyed nothing to Mrs. Hilyard. Probably she
possessed no equivalent of Maria, who was almost as full of current news as
the local daily paper.
"Well, I'm very grateful to you for coming to my help. My chauffeur gets
back this evening, and I'll send him down for the car. It will be all right
here till then."
She bowed very graciously, and was turning away when Ann impulsively
detained her.
"Don't walk back," she said. "Let me drive you home in my cart. Our cottage
is close by, and if you'd let us give you some tea first--"
"Now, that's what I call being really neighbourly!" declared Mrs. Hilyard.
"I'd love the cup of tea. But I can't put you to the trouble of driving me
back afterwards. There must be a limit to Good Samaritanism, you know!"
"It won't be the least trouble," Ann assured her. "Rather the reverse, in
fact. My cob wasn't out yesterday, and it'll do him good to go out to-day.
So, you see, you're providing an excellent reason for exercising
him"--laughingly.
Mrs. Hilyard threw her a mischievous smile.
"Pure casuistry!" she affirmed. "But it's convinced me. I'll love to have
tea with you, and afterwards you shall drive me home, and by the time I've
given you as much trouble as possible, I hope we shall be really friends!"
It was only a matter of five minutes' walk from where they were standing to
the Cottage, and Mrs. Hilyard exclaimed with delight at its pretty,
old-fashioned aspect.
"What a delicious place!" she commented, as Ann established her in an easy
chair. "I think I like it better than my Priory. You've some lovely bits of
pewter up there"--nodding towards the tall old chimney-piece, where the
tender moon-grey of ancient pewter mugs and dishes gleamed fitfully against
the panelled wall.
"I'm afraid it isn't ours," acknowledged Ann regretfully. "Though I love
every bit of it. My brother is agent for the Heronsmere estate, and we have
this cottage furnished. Oh, here he is," she added, as Robin entered the
room.
She introduced him to Mrs. Hilyard, who smilingly accounted for her
impromptu visit.
"I feel that I'm imposing on Miss Lovell's good-nature in the most
barefaced fashion," she said apologetically. "But I honestly couldn't
resist the suggestion of a cup of tea."
"I'm very glad you couldn't," replied Robin simply. And something in the
tone of his voice, taken in conjunction with the serious directness of his
regard, made of the short sentence more than a mere empty expression of
politeness.
"I met Brian Tempest and his sister just now," he went on, turning to Ann,
"and asked them to come in to tea, so I expect they'll be here directly."
"Tempest? That's the rector here, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Hilyard, as Ann
slipped out of the room to prepare Maria for the expected "company."
Robin nodded.
"You've not met him yet?"
"I've met no one. So far, I've done nothing but wrestle with packing-cases
and the distribution of furniture"--smiling.
"It sounds pretty ghastly," averred Robin. "I say"--impulsively. "Couldn't
I--couldn't we help you at all?"
Mrs. Hilyard laughed softly. Robin thought it was one of the most
delightful sounds he had ever heard, fluent and sweet as the pipe of a
blackbird.
"Apparently you and your sister go about doing kindnesses," she said, in a
quick, touched way. "The very first thing she said to me was 'Can I help?'
And now, almost your first utterance is another offer of help! Is every one
in the neighbourhood like that? Because, if so, I think I must have come to
an enchanted village--and"--firmly--"I shall decide to remain here for the
rest of my life!"
"Well"--Robin looked embarrassed--"shifting furniture about isn't exactly a
woman's job."
"I'm not actually shifting furniture myself--except a table or chair now
and again, when no one else moves quickly enough to please me! But if you
and Miss Lovell would come over one day soon and help me to decide about
the disposition of my _lares_ and _penates_, it would be the greatest help.
One does so want some one to talk things over with, you know," she added.
To Robin's ears there was a forlorn note in that frank little
acknowledgment, and he was conscious of a sudden, overpowering rush of
sympathy. She was lonely--he was sure of it. In spite of all her charm and
quick laughter, she was not a happy woman. Some shadow from the past lay in
her eyes, and when she laughed the sparkle in them was like the momentary
sunlit ripple which breaks the surface of a pool for a brief instant and
then is lost again in its shadowed stillness.
Ann's return to the room, synchronising with the arrival of the rector and
his sister, served to detach his thoughts from the subject of Mrs.
Hilyard's eyes, and when the necessary introductions had been performed,
and the new owner of the Priory was joining in the general conversation
with apparent light-heartedness, Robin was tempted to wonder whether he had
been correct in his surmise, after all.
But later on, during tea, the clouded expression reappeared on her face, as
though something had all at once turned her thoughts inward. It was when
Miss Caroline, thirsting for information as usual, suddenly pounced on her
with a question.
"I suppose you haven't met Mr. Coventry yet?" she demanded.
For an instant Mrs. Hilyard looked startled. Then she shook her head.
"Mr. Coventry? No. Is he an important person in the neighbourhood?"
"He's my chief," volunteered Robin. "Heronsmere Belongs to him."
"I'm afraid I don't even know where Heronsmere is," submitted Mrs. Hilyard
deprecatingly. "I'm quite ignorant about my neighbours, so far."
"Silverquay is part of the Heronsmere property," responded Miss Caroline.
"But the house itself is not far from the Priory. The Coventrys have lived
there for generations," she added proudly. "They're immensely wealthy."
With the last words an expression of something that looked like relief
flitted across Mrs. Hilyard's face.
"How interesting!" she said, infusing just the right amount of cordiality
into her voice. "And are there any children? I'm fond of kiddies."
"Children? Oh, no. Mr. Coventry isn't married. Nor was the last owner."
Miss Caroline warmed to her subject. "It's funny there should be two
bachelor owners in succession, isn't it? Rackham Coventry died unmarried,
and both his younger brothers were killed--one at sea and the other in a
railway accident. That's how it was the property came to Eliot Coventry,
who's only a cousin."
Mrs. Hilyard suddenly went very white. Fortunately, Miss Caroline's
attention happened to be concentrated at the moment upon stirring the sugar
into her second cup of tea, and by the time this was satisfactorily
accomplished, the pretty colour was stealing back into the cheeks that had
paled so swiftly.
"I'd really no idea there were any other houses at all near mine," murmured
Mrs. Hilyard, after the briefest of pauses. "I came across an advertisement
of the Priory, dashed down to see it one day, and fell in love with it on
the spot--partly because it seemed so far from everywhere."
"We value our privacy in Silverquay," said the rector, smiling. "Almost all
the large houses are tucked snugly away out of sight--hidden by trees or
rising ground."
"Did you come here to be quiet, then?" asked Miss Caroline, thrusting in
her oar the instant her brother had finished speaking.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Hilyard simply.
Miss Caroline fixed her with a gimlet eye.
"How very surprising!" she remarked. "You don't look in the least like the
sort of person who would choose to live in a quiet country village like
Silverquay."
"Don't I?" Mrs. Hilyard smiled. But she did not volunteer any explanation
of her choice.
Here Ann, recognising Miss Caroline's now familiar methods of
cross-examination, came to the rescue and diverted the conversation into a
less personal channel, and shortly afterwards the Tempests left in order to
pay some parochial visits in the village, Ann shepherding them as far as
the gateway.
Mrs. Hilyard exchanged a sympathetic smile with Robin. "The Miss Carolines
of the world are rather trying, aren't they?" she observed mirthfully. "I
think she has gone away fully convinced that there is something 'queer'
about me--that I'm not quite respectable, probably!"
"Ridiculous!" growled Robin in tones of wrath. "She has only to look at
you!"
"Thank you"--meekly. "I'm glad you think I look--respectable."
"You know I didn't mean that! I think you look--I think you look--" He
floundered and broke off abruptly.
"Yes?" There was the tiniest rising inflection in her voice, demanding an
answer.