She would apologize for her fussiness, and say that the reason
why she was writing was that she did not want his mother to be made
anxious.
"My dear Laurie..."
She bit her pen gently, and looked out of the window to catch
inspiration for the particular frame of words with which she should
begin. And as she looked an old gentleman suddenly appeared beyond the
iron gate, shook it gently, glanced up in vain for a name on the stone
posts, and stood irresolute. It was an old trap, that of the front
gate; there was no bell, and it was necessary for visitors to come
straight in to the front door.
Then, so swiftly that she could not formulate it, an anxiety leapt at
her, and she laid her pen down, staring. Who was this?
She went quickly to the bell and rang it; standing there waiting, with
beating heart and face suddenly gone white....
"Susan," she said, "there is an old gentleman at the gate. Go out and
see who it is.... Stop: if it is anyone for me ... if--if he gives the
name of Mr. Cathcart, ask him to be so kind as to go round the turn to
the village and wait for me.... Susan, don't say anything to
Mrs. Baxter; it may just possibly be bad news."
From behind the curtain she watched the maid go down the path, saw a
few words pass between her and the stranger, and then the maid come
back.
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