THE COLLECTED WORKS OF ETHEL LINA WHITE. Ethel Lina White
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eager to efface herself.
"No," commanded Miss Asprey, "please stay. I shall want you later."
She welcomed the Rector with her gracious smile, which, to Ignatius, appeared forced. Even the Rector thought there was an element of gloom about the dim ancient room, for the casement window was unusually small and looked onto a sunless lawn, where the brook—brown and turgid—flowed between stone copings.
He dutifully talked to Miss Asprey about the usual things, in order to pave the way to his friend's offer. While he did so, he was conscious of the soothing atmosphere which seemed to radiate from Miss Asprey. His worries were insensibly dulled and his brain ceased its restless spin.
Ignatius broke the peace with an abrupt question.
"Have you travelled much, Miss Asprey?"
She looked at him in faint surprise.
"In my youth," she replied.
"Have you, Miss Mack?"
In her turn, Miss Mack stared at him with round china-blue eyes.
"No," she replied.
"Would you like to?"
"Oh, yes."
"Good. Then you have your chance to do a good turn to some friends of mine. That is, if Miss Asprey sanctions the scheme."
Ignatius went on to embellish his lie with the natural gusto which accompanies such flights of fancy.
"These are the facts. These friends—four ladies—have planned a short holiday to Switzerland and—the Italian Lakes. Unfortunately, one of their number has been obliged to fall out, at the last moment, and three is an awkward number. So they have appealed to me to fill the gap."
"Are you going?" asked Miss Mack. "How nice."
"I'm afraid my sex debars me from the pleasure. But, as the reservations are made and paid for, my friends have asked me to find them a congenial fourth. Someone who is well-bred, even-tempered, discreet, appreciative, tranquil—in fact—the perfect companion. Naturally, my thoughts flew to Miss Mack."
Ignatius turned to Miss Asprey.
"Could you spare her for a fortnight?" he asked.
"Certainly," replied Miss Asprey, without a second's pause. Ignatius looked at Miss Mack, who was smiling uncertainly. "Then will you come?" he asked. "May I write to my friends and tell them I have been successful?"
The little woman's eyes were eager, but she hesitated as she glanced at Miss Asprey.
"I—I don't quite know," she said.
"Doesn't it appeal to you? There will be no pecuniary obligation and you will place my friends under a debt of gratitude. By the way, they believe in comfort. No climbing or walking. They will motor, by easy stages, and stay at the best hotels. The food will be excellent."
Miss Mack licked her pale pink lips with the tip of her tongue
"It sounds very tempting," she said. "You're sure there will be nothing to pay?"
"Not one penny."
"You're all very kind to me. I think I would like to come."
The Rector's heavy face beamed with pleasure, but he also seemed to find humour in the situation as he glanced at Ignatius.
"When do your friends leave England?" asked Miss Asprey. "We must lose no time in getting Miss Mack's things ready."
She appeared so genuinely pleased at the prospect of the holiday for her companion that Ignatius said 'Good-bye', not only to his fifty pounds, but to a similar amount; for he would be pledged to find someone to accompany Miss Mack.
"About a fortnight hence," he replied. "I've forgotten the exact date, but I'll look up their letter directly I get back to the Rectory."
"No, please don't trouble to do that," said Miss Mack. "I find I shall not be able to come, after all."
"Why not?" asked Miss Asprey peremptorily.
"I don't want to leave you, Miss Asprey."
The Rector felt almost stunned with the shock of her refusal, especially as Ignatius shot him a glance of triumph. Miss Asprey's composed expression gave no clue to her real feelings, as she began to expostulate with her companion, in the quiet authoritative tones which are used to influence a child.
"But, Miss Mack, this is an opportunity which must not be lost. I can do without you perfectly well. Indeed, it is my wish that you go."
"I'm sorry, Miss Asprey," murmured Miss Mack.
"Don't you want to travel?" asked Ignatius.
The eager glitter of the little woman's eyes answered his question.
"Yes," she replied, "indeed I do. But my place is with dear Miss Asprey. I'm happiest here, doing my duty. I know what is best for me. And no one can make me change my mind."
She got up from her desk and crossed to the door.
"Will you please excuse me, Miss Asprey?" she asked, as she went out of the room.
The Rector turned to Miss Asprey, who sat as still as a woman carved in stone.
"What marvelous loyalty you inspire," he said impulsively.
As Miss Asprey smiled faintly at the compliment, Ignatius spoke with a tinge of irony.
"In that case, Miss Asprey should have a corresponding influence on one of Miss Mack's pliant disposition. Can I rely on you, to talk her round?"
"I'm afraid I can promise to do nothing of the kind," was the cold reply. "Miss Mack is a free agent. I do not believe in coercion. You have heard she has my permission to go."
As Ignatius made no comment, but continued to hold her with his eye, her expression changed from saintliness to faint arrogance. When she spoke, she conveyed the impression of accepting a challenge.
"Sometimes a stranger will succeed, where a friend will fail. Suppose, Mr. Brown, you try the experiment of making a woman change her mind? I sincerely wish her to go...It might be wiser if you interviewed her alone. As I am her employer, she may be unconsciously influenced by my presence."
Nothing could have been fairer than her offer. Yet each one knew instinctively the issue. No power on earth could shift Miss Mack from her allegiance to her employer.
"You'll have a shot at it, won't you?" whispered the Rector, as the men walked down the drive.
"Yes, I'll play the game. But my cheque-book's saved." Ignatius chuckled gleefully as he slapped his pocket. "Have I made my point?"
"What point?" asked the Rector defensively.
"That a prisoner may cling to his cell after the door is open."
The Rector made no comment. He was once again a victim to depression, while Ignatius was in high spirits. He even forgot to grumble as they drove to the Towers.
"As my car is so obviously the attraction, and not myself," he remarked, "I suppose there will be a place laid for it at the luncheon-table."
When they reached the huge house, bristling with turrets and flashing with glass, he disliked its crowded luxury and restless atmosphere. The Martin girls were too hearty, and confused him with their constant chatter. He endured the long, heavy meal, by reminding himself that there was a time-limit to his discomfort.
When he was smoking a cigarette, after lunch, the moment of release was so near that he managed to be agreeable to Constance Martin, who had attached herself to him.
"Are you quite settled in?" he asked benevolently.
"Yes," replied Constance, "we're old inhabitants. I've even had one of the blinking anonymous letters, to make me feel at home."
"Where is it?" asked Ignatius quickly.
"Burned, of course. I don't keep