The Magpies Nest by Isabel Paterson

Author:Isabel Paterson [Paterson, Isabel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

IF Mary had expected repose of mind after her embassy extraordinary to Edgerton, she was disappointed. She wanted Hope in plain sight, as a guarantee against any further outbreak of insanity, as she mildly termed it; and she did not even know where Hope was. She had nearly a week in which to exhaust her vocabulary of friendly abuse on nothing more tangible than a vague note from Hope posted at Banff and saying she needed a few days' rest and for Mary to notify the school of her intended absence.

During the week, between her anxious hours, the memory of that interview recurred to her. Edgerton had taken it as she might have known he would, had she paused beforehand to conjecture. His first look of alarm at sight of her, visible to her searching eye, despite his forced immobility of countenance; the expectancy that looked beyond her—for what, she did not have to guess—and the way he had squared his shoulders and hardened his face to the blow when she blurted out her errand; all this she could have foreseen. She might also have expected anger at her meddling, a disposition to brush her aside and take what had been in his grasp, or more weakly to plead his cause. He had done neither.

"Was she afraid of me after all?" he asked finally, with a touch of mingled shame and shyness.

"No," said Mary. "She wanted to come." He rose to his feet; Mary shook her head quickly. "Not now. You'll have to blame me; she won't come now. Think for yourself; was it fair?" She turned the other edge of the same argument on him.

"No," he muttered, "I knew it wasn't. And I wanted to help her." He did not say that he had justified himself with the belief that she was now no longer a child, nor perhaps even a maid. He did think that. The sense of futility he had felt before overcame him. "Oh, well—Miss Dark, will you be her friend? I—I guess I can't. And if there is anything I can do, let me know."

"I am her friend," said Mary, and knew it was time to go. "By the way, perhaps I'd better—resign?"

"Hell, no!" He turned on her. "Excuse me. But I guess I need you, too. Stay, if you don't mind. If you won't leave me anything else, you might at least stick around." He laughed.

"Thank you," said Mary, and went, to find that matters were not, after all, closed, and to wait in much disquiet for whatever else might chance.

But she was at work when Hope returned, and there had been no further message. Mrs. Hamilton was out, also. Hope let herself in. Only Bobby came running to welcome her with gurglings and unintelligible words of joy. She dropped her suit-case and caught him up in her arms, throwing back her veil and looking about as one returned after long wandering looks at half-forgotten places. Her face was subdued, and more than usually pale.

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