Free Orphan Bride by Sara Seale Page B

realized with a faint sense of shock that she was changing.
    He did not speak much as they slowly walked the rest of the distance to the house, and Jennet was very quiet.
    “Tired?” he asked her once as she stumbled over a root. “You’ve had a long day by all accounts, though I must own you didn’t look tired when you came running down the track. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so well.”
    “No,” said Jennet, “I’m not tired.”
    'But she was. When she had started to run she had felt filled with strength and a mounting desire to run and run, but reaction had taken her with startling suddenness at her meeting with Julian, and she was deadly tired.
    At supper she scarcely spoke a word, and when later Julian spoke to her rather sharply about some quite trivial matter, she burst into tears and ran from the room.
    “Good lord!” said Julian, as the door shut loudly. “ What have I done now?” He saw Homer looking at him and said with a wry grimace: “You needn’t say it, Homer, I’ve snubbed before and never made her cry.”
    “Perhaps,” said Homer with irritating complacence, “it was a case of the last straw.”
    Emily looked up from her knitting.
    “Nonsense, Homer!” she said briskly. “You mustn’t take to o much notice, Julian. The spring is a trying time for young girls, and Jennet is growing up, you know.”
    “ So I’ve noticed,” he remarked dryly.
    “She’s probably been overdoing things with these long expeditions on the moor ,” Emily went on. “I’ll speak to her tomorrow. In the meantime, if I were you, I should stop away for a week end or so. ”
    “Perhaps I will,” Julian said slowly. It had hurt him out of all proportion to watch that instant quenching of delight when she had met him on the moor.
    The rest of the week-end passed without incident. Julian was more gentle than Jennet had ever remembered him, and she ashamed of her outburst, tried gallantly to make amends.
    When she said good night to him on Sunday evening, he remarked:
    “I won’t be coming down for a couple of weeks. ”
    “Won’t you?” she said, wondering if she ought to be disappointed.
    “ No. I’m giving you all a rest. I worry you, don’t I, Jennet?”
    “Me? Oh, no.” She sounded distressed. “I—I shall be very sorry not to see you.”
    He smiled.
    “You’re very polite. You mustn’t mind my sharpness . I know I’m pretty ill-tempered at times, but I’m quite fond of you, you know.”
    “Are you?” She looked surprised.
    “Go to bed ! ” He laughed,, and pinched her cheek. “And try not to dream of all the beastly things I’ve ever said to you!”
    He wrote to Emily saying that he would be down for the first weekend in April, and J ennet, who, despite the discomfort of spirit he often caused her, had missed his more frequent visits, was glad. She would ask him if she might bring Frankie and the children to Pennycross for tea.
    Julian arrived soon after four o’clock. He did not look pleased as he came into the hall and flung his coat and hat on to a chair. His dark face was set in forbidding lines, and as he limped into the living room, Emily, at least, realized he was taut with temper.
    “How are you, Julian?” she said, and he answered briefly:
    “Quite well, thanks.”
    “Good evening, Cousin Julian,” Jennet said.
    His eyes ran over her deliberately, and his mouth tightened.
    “I don’t think it is a very good evening, Jennet,” he replied. “Kindly tell me where you picked up this young man.”
    Emily looked startled, and Jennet felt herself go white.
    “Jennet doesn’t know any young men, dear,” Emily said, before she could answer.
    He made an impatient movement with his stick.
    “She may have lied to you, Aunt Emily,” he said hardly, “but I’m not going to have her lying to me. I repeat, Jennet, kindly tell me where you picked up this young man.”
    She stood, twisting her hands together, and answered in a small voice:
    “On the