Free The Master of the Priory by Annie Haynes Page A

point of view,” she said with a hard laugh. “But I shall not act upon it. I shall stay here until I am driven out. That is all there is to be said between us. For the future we are strangers.”
    â€œOh, but—” Frank Carlyn protested weakly. “I shall want always to know where you are. And if you are in any difficulty you know I owe you—”
    Elizabeth’s slight figure stiffened. “Please do not go on. There are some things best left unsaid. Be assured that I, at any rate, am in no danger of forgetting what I owe to you.”
    She drew her shawl closely over head and shoulders and made a movement to pass him.
    â€œOne moment.” He stepped before her quickly and then for the first time she saw that he held a small packet.
    â€œThis is yours. I have kept it ever since—that day, hoping that sometime I might have the opportunity of restoring it to you.”
    Elizabeth took it from him rather gingerly. “What is it? I don’t know.” Then, as she opened it and saw the three miniatures inside her expression changed. “My father’s and mother’s portraits. Oh, how did you get them?”
    Neither of them heard a faint rustling among the trees behind the summer-house, no instinct warned them that they had an unseen auditor.
    â€œI brought them away that day,” Carlyn answered. “I knew that they might have led to your identification.”
    â€œI see.” Elizabeth’s tone was perceptibly altered. “Yes, I have wondered sometimes that they did not,” she added. “Well, Mr. Carlyn, I could forgive you a great deal for bringing me these.”
    She slipped them inside her frock and with a slight inclination of her head moved away. Frank Carlyn followed her.
    â€œBut when shall I see you again? How shall I know where you are and what you are doing?”
    A sarcastic smile played about Elizabeth’s mouth.
    â€œIs there any necessity that you should do either?” she questioned. “You seem to forget what lies between us, Mr. Carlyn. Best for you and best for me that we never hear one another’s name again.”
    She walked quickly away from him, carefully keeping in the shadows that skirted the house.
    Carlyn waited for a minute or two. He lighted a cigar and the end made a tiny, tapering light against the darkness of the trees. But presently he, too, went back to the house, walking openly across the lawn. When he had stepped inside the French window of the small drawing-room a third figure crept out from the bushes near the summer-house, a slight figure this and one that kept more carefully out of sight than even the governess had done.
    Meanwhile, as Elizabeth was crossing the hall, she heard her name called in Sir Oswald’s voice. He was just coming out of the library.
    â€œCould you spare me a few minutes, Miss Martin? Three letters have come for me by the last post. I should be much obliged if you would read them to me.”
    â€œCertainly, Sir Oswald.” The governess was breathing more heavily than usual, otherwise she betrayed no sign of the exciting interview through which she had just passed.
    She followed Sir Oswald into the study, and opened the letters. There was nothing in them of importance, but she made brief notes of the answers he wished sent. Then she rose.
    â€œIf that is all, Sir Oswald, I will write the replies in the schoolroom.”
    â€œThank you. And I suppose I must return to my guests, though a blind host is not sufficiently useful to be much missed. Why wouldn’t you dine with us to-night, Miss Martin?”
    The sudden question took the governess aback.
    â€œI—Lady Davenant was kind enough to ask me,” she stammered. “But I had a headache.”
    â€œNot bad enough to have prevented your dining, if you had wished, I fancy,” Sir Oswald said shrewdly. “Do you know that I have promised to read you a lesson on unsociability, Miss