The New Warden Part 34

"The Warden is dining in Hall," said Lady Dashwood.

So the Warden had made himself invisible again! When was he going to speak to her? When was she going to be really engaged?

Gwendolen held open the door for the two ladies and, as she did so, glanced round the room. Now that she knew that the Warden was out somehow the drawing-room looked rather dreary.

Her eyes rested on the portrait over the fireplace. There was that odious man looking so knowing! She was not sure whether she shouldn't have that portrait removed when she was Mrs. Middleton. It would serve him right. She turned out the lights with some satisfaction, it left him in the dark!

As she walked downstairs behind the two ladies, she thought that they too looked rather dreary. The hall looked dreary. Even the dining-room that she always admired looked dreary, and especially dreary looked old Robinson, and very shabby he looked, as he stood at the carving table.

And young Robinson's nose looked more turned-up, and more stumpy than she had noticed before. It was so dull without the Warden at the head of the table.

There was very little conversation at dinner. When the Warden was away, n.o.body seemed to want to talk. Lady Dashwood said she had a headache.

But Gwendolen gathered some information of importance. Mrs. Potten had turned up again, and had been told that the right money had gone to Mrs.

Harding.

Gwendolen stared a good deal at her plate, and felt considerable relief when Lady Dashwood added: "She knows now that she did not lose her note in Christ Church. She is always dropping things--poor Marian! But she very likely hadn't the note at all, and only thought she had the note,"

and so the matter _ended_.

Just as dinner was over Gwen gathered more information. The Warden was going away early to-morrow! That was dreary, only--she would go and buy the umbrella while he was away, and get used to having it before he saw it.

That the future Mrs. Middleton should not even have an umbrella to call her own was monstrous! She must keep up the dignity of her future position!

CHAPTER XIX

HONOUR

The drawing-room was empty except for the figure of Gwendolen Scott. Her slim length was in a great easy-chair, on the arms of which she was resting her hands, while she turned her head from side to side like a bird that antic.i.p.ates the approach of enemies.

Mrs. Dashwood and Lady Dashwood had gone upstairs, and, to her astonishment, when she prepared to follow them, Lady Dashwood had quietly made her wait behind for the Warden!

The command, for it seemed almost like a command, came with startling abruptness. So Lady Dashwood knew all about it! She must have talked it over with the Warden, and now she was arranging it as if the Warden couldn't act without her! But the annoyance that Gwen felt at this proof of Lady Dashwood's power was swallowed up in the sense of a great victory, the prize was won! She was going to be really engaged at last!

All the waiting and the bother was over!

She was ready for him, at least as ready as she could be. She was glad she had got on her white frock; on the whole, she preferred it to the others. Even Louise, who never said anything nice, said that it suited her.

When would he come? And when he did come, what would he do, what would he say?

Would he come in quietly and slowly as he had done last night, looking, oh, so strong, so capable of driving ghosts away, fears away? She would never be afraid of anything in his presence, except perhaps of himself!

Here he was!

He came in, shut the door behind him, and advanced towards her. She couldn't help watching him.

"You're quite alone," he said, and he came and stood by the hearth under the portrait and leaned his hand on the mantelshelf.

"Yes," said Gwen, blushing violently. "Lady Dashwood and Mrs. Dashwood have gone. Lady Dashwood said I was to stay up!"

"Thank you," said the Warden.

Gwen looked up at him wistfully.

"You wrote me a letter," he began, "and from it I gather that you have been thinking over what I said the other evening."

"Yes," said Gwen; "I've been so--bothered. Oh, that's the wrong word--I mean----"

"You have thought it over quietly and seriously?" said the Warden.

Gwen's eyes flickered. "Yes," she said; and then, as he seemed to expect her to say more, she added:

"I don't know whether you meant----" and here she stopped dead.

"Between us there must be absolute sincerity," he said.

Gwen felt a qualm. Did absolute sincerity mean that she would have to tell about the--the umbrella that she was going to get?

"Yes," she said, "I like sincerity; it's right, isn't it?"

He made no answer. She looked again at him wistfully.

"Suppose you tell me," he said gently, "what you yourself think of your mother's letter in which she speaks to you with affection and pride, and even regrets that she will lose you. Her letter conveys the idea that you _are_ loved and wanted." He put emphasis on the "are."

"It was a nice letter," said Gwen, thinking hard as she spoke. "But you see we haven't got any home now," she went on. "Mother stays about with people. It is hard lines, but she is so sporting."

"Yes," said the Warden, "and," he said, as if to a.s.sist her to complete the picture, "yet she wants you!" As he spoke his eyes narrowed and his breath was arrested for a moment.

"Oh no," said Gwen, eagerly. "She doesn't want to prevent--me--me marrying. You see she can't have me much, it's--it's difficult in other people's houses--at least it sometimes is--just now especially."

"Thank you," said the Warden, "I understand." He sighed and moved slightly from his former position. "You mean that she wants you very much, but that she can't afford to give you a home."

"Yes," said Gwen, with relief. The way was being made very clear to her.

She was telling "the truth" and he was helping her so kindly. "You see mother couldn't stand a small house and servant bothers. It's been such hard luck on her, that father left nothing like what she thought he had got. Mother has been so plucky, she really has."

"I see," said the Warden. "Then your mother's letter has your approval?"

Her approval! Yes, of course; it was simply topping of her mother to have written in the way she did.

"It was good of mother," she said. If it hadn't been for her mother she would not have known what to do.

The Warden moved his hand away from the mantelshelf and now stood with his back against it, away from the blaze of the fire.

"You have never mentioned, in my presence," he said, "what you think about the work that most girls of your age are doing for the war."

"Oh yes," said Gwen, eagerly; "mother is so keen about that. She does do such a lot herself, and she took me away from school a fortnight before time was up to go to a hospital for three months' training."

"And you are having a holiday and want to go on," suggested the Warden.