Robert Kimberly

When at last she managed casually to mentionher momentous resolve, MacBirney showedthat he had lost none of his alertness on thesubject. He made use first of surprise to expresshis annoyance. "To church?" Then he gavevent to a contemptuous exclamation uttered witha semblance of good-natured indifference. "Ithought you had got that notion pretty well outof your head, Alice."

"You have got it pretty well out for me, Walter.Sometimes it comes back. It came this morning-aftera wakeful night. I haven't been for along time."

"What church do you want to go to?"

His disingenuousness did not stir her. "To myown, of course. There is a little church in thevillage, you know."

"Oh, that frame affair, yes. Awfully cheaplooking, isn't it? And it threatens rain again.Don't mind getting wet?"

"Oh, no, I'll take the victoria."

"You can't; Peters is going to drive me over toThe Towers."

"Then give me one of the cars."

"I understand they are both out of order."

"Oh, Walter! Can't you have Peters driveyou to The Towers after he takes me to Sunbury?"

"I have an engagement with Robert Kimberlyat eleven o'clock."

"Could you change it a little, do you think,Walter?"

"An engagement with Robert Kimberly!"

"Or be just a little late for it?"

MacBirney used his opportunity to advantage."Keep him waiting! Alice, when you get an ideainto your head about going to church you loseyour common-sense."

She turned to the window to look at the sky."I can't walk," she said hopelessly. Herhusband made no comment. As her eyes turnedtoward the distant Towers she remembered thatRobert Kimberly the evening before had asked-andso insistently that it had been one of thecauses of her wakefulness-for permission tobring over in the morning some grapes from hishot-houses. He had wanted to come at eleveno'clock and she had assured him she should notbe at home-this because, during some uneasymoments when they were close together in thecar, she had resolved that the next morning sheshould seek if only for an hour an influence longneglected but quite removed from his. It wasclear to her as she now stood at the window, thatKimberly had sought every chance to be at herpersonal service at eleven o'clock, even thoughher husband professed an engagement with him.

"Couldn't Peters," she asked, turning again toMacBirney, "drive me down half an hour earlier-beforeyou go? I can wait at the church till hecomes back after me?"

MacBirney was reading the stock-market reportsin the morning paper. "All right," he saidcurtly.

She was contained this time. There had beenoccasions when scenes such as this had broughthot tears, but five years of steady battering hadfairly subdued Alice.

At high mass, an hour later, villagers saw afine lady-a Second Lake lady, they shrewdlyfancied from the carriage that broughther-kneeling among them in a pew close to the altar, and quite oblivious of those about her, kneeling, too, at times when they stood or sat; kneelingoften with her face-which they thought pretty-hiddenin her hands as if it somehow had offended; kneeling from the credo until the stragglers in thevestibule and about the church door began to slipaway from the last gospel. There was an unusualstir about the church because it was a confirmationSunday and an archbishop, a white-hairedman who had once been in charge of the littleSunbury parish himself, was present.

Alice followed the last of the congregation outof the door and into the village sunshine. Shelooked up and down the country road for herhorses but none were in sight. Below the churchwhere the farmers' rigs stood, a big motor-carwatched by village boys was waiting. They knewthat the car, with its black and olive trimmings, was from The Towers because they were familiarwith the livery of the villa grooms.

Their curiosity was rewarded when they saw thefine lady come out of the church. The instantshe appeared a great gentleman stepped from theblack tonneau and, lifting his hat very high, hastened across the muddy road to greether-certainly she made a picture as she stood on thechurch steps in her tan pongee gown with herbrown hair curling under a rose-wreathed Leghorn hat.

Her heart gave a frightened jump when she sawwho was coming. But when the gentleman spoke, his voice was so quiet that even those loiteringnear could not hear his words. There was somediscussion between the two. His slight gesturesas they talked, seemed to indicate something ofexplanation and something of defence. Then asuggestion of urgency appeared in his manner.The fine lady resisted.

From under her pongee parasol she lookedlongingly up the road and down for her horses, but for a while no horses came. At last a carriagelooking like her own did come down the lakeroad and she hoped for a moment. Then as thecarriage drove rapidly past her face fell.

The great gentleman indicated his annoyanceat the insolent mud that spattered from thecarriage wheel by a look, but he kept quite near tothe fine lady and his eyes fell very kindly on herpink cheeks. Her carriage did not come evenafter they had gone to his car and seated themselvesin the tonneau to await it. He was too clever tohurry her. He allowed her to wait until she sawher case was quite hopeless, then she told him hemight drive her home.

"I came," he explained, answering an annoyednote in a second question that she asked, "becauseI understood you were going to church-"

"But I did not say I was."

"I must have dreamed it."

Brice, sitting at the wheel in front of them, smiled-but only within his heart-when thiscame to his ears; because it was Brice who hadbeen asked during the morning where Mrs. MacBirneywas and Brice who had reported. Hewas senior to Peters, senior to all the Second Lakecoachmen and chauffeurs, and usually found outwhatever he wanted to find out.

"At any rate," Kimberly laughed good-naturedly,"I have been waiting here half an hour for you."

Brice knew that this was true to the minute, forin that half-hour there had been many glances attwo good watches and a hamper of hot-housegrapes. Brice himself, since a certain missedtrain, involving language that lingered yet inhis ears, carried a good watch.

But to-day not even amiable profanity, whichBrice recalled as normal during extended waits, had accompanied the unusual detention. Nomessenger had been despatched to sound the youngvillage priest with a view of expediting the massand the fine lady had been in nowise interruptedduring her lengthened devotions. Kimberly, inthis instance, had truthfully been a model ofpatience.

"These are the grapes," Brice heard behindhim, as he let the machine out a bit and fanciedthe top of the hamper being raised. "Aren't theyexceptional? I found the vines in Algeria. Thereare lilies on this side."

An expression of involuntary admiration camefrom the tonneau. "Assumption lilies! For yoursister?"

"No, for you. They are to celebrate the feast."

"The feast? Why, of course!" Then came acategorical question, animated but delivered withkeenness: "How did you know that to-day is thefeast of the Assumption?"

A bland evasion followed. "I supposed thatevery one knew the fifteenth of August is the feastof the Assumption. Taste this grape."

"I am very sure you didn't know."

"But I did. Taste the grape."

"Who told you?"

"Whence have you the faculties of the Inquisition?Why do you rack me with questions?"

"I begin to suspect, Mr. Kimberly, that youbelong on the rack."

"No doubt. At least I have spent most of mylife there."

"Come, please! Who told you?"

"Francis, of course; now will you taste this grape?"

CHAPTER XIV

When MacBirney reached home with thevictoria Alice had not yet taken off her hat, and a maid was bringing vases for the lilies. Hehad been driving toward Sea Ridge and taken thewrong road and was sorry for his delay in gettingto the church. Alice accepted his excuses ingood part. He tried to explain hismisunderstanding about the engagement with Kimberly.She relieved his endeavors by making everythingeasy, telling him finally how Kimberly had broughther home and had left the grapes and lilies. Whenthe two sat down at luncheon, MacBirney noticedAlice's preoccupation; she admitted she had aslight headache. She was glad, however, to havehim ask her to go for a long motor drive in theafternoon, thinking the air would do her good, and they spent three hours together.

When they got home it was dusk. The dinnerserved on the porch was satisfying and the daywhich had opened with so little of promise seemedto do better at the close. Indeed, Alice all dayhad sought quiet because she had something tosay which she was resolved to say this day. Afterdinner she remained with her husband in themoonlight. He was talking, over his cigar, of anidea for adding a strip of woodland to the lowerend of their new estate, when she interrupted him.

"Should you be greatly shocked, Walter, if Isaid I wish we could go away from here?" Shewas leaning toward him on the arm of her chairwhen she spoke and her hands were clasped.

His astonishment was genuine. "What do you mean?"