Annie Haynes Premium Collection – 8 Murder Mysteries in One Volume. Annie Haynes

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СКАЧАТЬ with just that touch of gold in the centre. See, Miss Hilda, this is a root that has never blossomed in this country before! My friend Brookes brought it from the interior of South America, and up till now we have been doubtful whether we had got the atmosphere right. But it seems to have answered; your coming has brought me luck, and you must promise me to wear this first flower to-night. You must let me cut it for you.”

      Gregory’s face darkened; quite evidently he grudged this sacrifice.

      “Mr. Gribdale has been looking to see it, sir, and maybe he will be over to-morrow.”

      “He must wait for the next,” Sir Arthur said recklessly as he opened his knife.

      Hilda laid her hand on his arm.

      “Please do not, Sir Arthur. It looks so lovely where it is, and I can come and see it every day. It will only last one night if it is cut.”

      Sir Arthur looked obstinate. He glanced again at the delicately poised blossom, looking just like some tropical butterfly springing from the gnarled brown root.

      “It will be just the thing to wear with your white gown, Miss Hilda,” and he cut it off deliberately and presented it to her.

      Gregory’s dark face frowned; evidently he would have openly resented this spoliation if he had dared. Hilda flushed painfully.

      “It does seem a shame, Sir Arthur,” she said.

      “It is honoured by your wearing it,” he remarked with a glance that made her eyes droop. “Now I must get something for Mavis and Dorothy.”

      He moved forward. Hilda turned to Gregory.

      “It is a lovely flower, and I am sure it must have given you a great deal of trouble to grow,” she said with a pretty, courteous smile. “I wish you could tell me—”

      Sir Arthur, busy among his cattleyas, did not catch the rest of the sentence. His thoughts were occupied with Hilda. How lovely she had looked in her confusion just now, her long light cloak throwing up her brilliant colouring as she bent over the white flower! When he turned round Gregory was standing close to the girl, drawing forward a scarlet orchid of Japan.

      “You must!”

      Sir Arthur looked up quickly. Gregory’s back was to him, but he could see that Hilda’s eyes were fixed on the man’s face, her red lips were parted. Surely it could not have been to her that Gregory was speaking in that low, brusque tone.

      As the young man hesitated her face broke into smiles.

      “I am afraid it would be impossible,” she said, “I do not think I should ever have patience. Gregory is giving me some instructions in orchid-growing, Sir Arthur. I am afraid he does not find me an apt pupil.”

      “I shall be very pleased to tell you anything that you want to know,” Sir Arthur remarked. “What were you explaining, Gregory?”

      “I was just telling the young lady that the Rhenanthera—”

      With a little cry Hilda interrupted him:

      “Oh, Sir Arthur, please do not make him go over it again—my poor brain gets quite bewildered with all those long names! For the future I shall be quite content to admire the flowers and leave the practical part to you clever people.”

      “That will do,” Sir Arthur said curtly to Gregory. “Mind the temperature does not get lowered at night. It has been cold in the evenings all last week.”

      Outside he turned to Hilda.

      “I could not hear very plainly, but was not that fellow speaking to you in an unwarrantably insolent tone?”

      Hilda opened her eyes to their fullest extent.

      “Oh, dear, no! Poor man, I think he was just a little disappointed about this,” laying her lips lightly to the blossom she was carrying. “I could not be surprised at that. After having watched it gradually coming into flower he must have felt sad when he saw it carried away. But what a nice, well-informed man he seems to be, Sir Arthur. I quite took a fancy to him.”

      “He is very well in his place,” said Arthur, only half convinced. “But if I caught him—if I caught the best man about the place speaking disrespectfully to you, he should go at once.”

      Chapter XI

       Table of Contents

      “It is perfect, it seems to me.” Mavis glanced critically from her brother’s painting to Hilda’s flushed face. “You have caught just the pale cream tint of the complexion and that lovely hair. Oh, Hilda! I do envy you! Are you not proud of it? But you look pale this morning. What is the matter, dear?”

      “I—it is only—” Hilda began, then her full underlip quivered, her eyes filled, and to the consternation of both brother and sister she burst into an agony of tears.

      Mavis put her arms round her.

      “What is the matter, Hilda? Has anybody vexed you? Tell me what is wrong with you.”

      Sir Arthur left his painting and came over to his sister, “I have over-tired her, that is what it must be; in my selfishness I have been thinking only of my picture. Haven’t you got smelling-salts or something to give her, Mavis? Shall I get her some wine?”

      Mavis, still bending over the weeping girl, shook her head decidedly. “I don’t think it is that. I think something is vexing her. Can’t you tell me what it is, dear?” stroking the girl’s ruffled golden hair.

      “Perhaps it would be better if you left us a while, Arthur; I dare say she will tell me all about it when we are alone.”

      Hilda sat and put out her hands.

      “No, no, it is only that I am stupid; I know I ought not to bother you with my troubles. Please go on with your painting, Sir Arthur. I will try to be more sensible in the future.”

      Mavis bent over her and kissed the hot cheeks.

      “Can’t you tell us about it, dear? I often think when one has talked over a trouble, it seems less.”

      “This is only—but I know you will say I ought to put it out of my mind, and I can’t do that. Besides, I am sure I am trouble enough to you all.”

      “How can you—” Sir Arthur began impetuously.

      Mavis hushed him with a look.

      “I thought you knew that I love you, Hilda,” she said reproachfully. “You should not talk of trouble, dear. We look upon you as one of ourselves. Mother said yesterday that this must be your home until your own was found.”

      “Ah, when will that be?” Hilda said. Her eyes, still wet, looked straight before her, her hands lay motionless in her lap, her lips were still quivering. “What sort of a home will it be when it is found?” she added bitterly. “Sir Arthur, Mavis, have you heard that a friend of Nurse Marston’s was in the village last week and she said she СКАЧАТЬ