Anna the Adventuress

"Your friend,

"DAVID COURTLAW."

"P.S.--I do not congratulate you on your success. I was certain

of it. I am glad or sorry according as it has brought you

happiness."

Anna's eyes were a little dim as she poured out her coffee, and the

laugh she attempted was not altogether a success.

"This is all very well," she said, "but two out of the three are rank

deserters--and if the papers tell the truth the third is as bad. I

believe I am doomed to be an old maid."

She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the

letters still in her hand. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards,

and at the top a small pine plantation. She climbed slowly towards it,

keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding

her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Arrived in the plantation

she sat down with her back against a tree trunk.

Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour.

Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields,

and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden

gorse. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six

months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. And

she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. A new restlessness

seemed to have stolen in upon her. She started at the falling of a

leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. Her heart was

beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was

conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was

scarcely responsible for. She struggled against it quite uselessly.

She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. The period

of repression was over. It is foolish, she murmured to herself,

foolish. He will not come. He cannot.

And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. She sprang to her

feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. So he found

her when he came round the corner of the spinney.

"Anna," he cried eagerly.

She held out her arms to him and smiled.

* * * * * "And where," he asked, "are my rivals?"

"Deserters," she answered, laughing. "It is you alone, Nigel, who have

saved me from being an old maid. Here are their letters."

He took them from her and read them. When he came to a certain

sentence in Brendon's letter he stopped short and looked up at her.