Was it possible, could Fate be so cruel as to decree, that she should
never be happy again, never lose the aching pain which racked her heart
at every thought of him! She put the fear from her with a feeling of
shame and helplessness. She _would_ forget the man who left her for
another woman, would not let thought of him cast a shadow over her life
and dominate it. No doubt by this time he had quite forgotten her, or,
if he remembered her, recalled the past with a feeling of annoyance
with which a man regards a passing flirtation, pleasant enough while it
lasted, but of which he did well to be a little ashamed.
She would not look in the direction of the trees under which he had
stood on the night of the day she had first seen him; and she went in
with a forced cheerfulness to tell Jessie, listening with wide-open
eyes, of some of the strange things which had happened to her. All the
time she was talking, she was beset by a longing to ask Jessie about
Brae Wood and the Ormes; but she crushed down the idea; and Jessie was
too intent upon hearing the story of her mistress's sojourn in London
to have any breath or inclination to tell any of the dale news. Of
course Ida did not speak of the disagreement at Laburnum Villa, but she
gave Jessie an account of the accident and her experiences of a
hospital ward; at all which Jessie uttered "Ohs" and "Ahs" with bated
breath and gaping month. It was late before Ida got to bed, and later
still before she fell asleep; for, somehow, now that she was back at
Herondale the memory of that happy past grew more vivid; in fact, the
whole place was haunted by the spectre of her lost love: and of all
spectres this is the most sad and heart-possessing.
She was out on Rupert as early as possible the next morning, and it was
difficult to say which was the more pleased at the reunion, he or his
mistress. And oh, what a delight it was to ride across the moor and
along the valley and by the stream; to see the cattle grazing and to
hear the sheep calling to one another in the old plaintive way! It was
almost difficult to believe that she had ever left Herondale that
Laburnum Villa was anything but a nightmare and the Herons a dismal
unreality.
Now, for some time, she avoided that part of the road where the opening
of the plantation gave a view of the Villa; but she was drawn towards
it at last, and she leant forward on her horse and looked across the
lake at the great, white place shining in the autumn sunlight. It
seemed very still and quiet, and there was no sign of life about the
place; the lake itself was deserted save by one of the steamers on
which were only a few passengers well wrapped-up against the now keen
air. The appearance of the white, long-stretching place struck her with
a sense of desertion, and desolation, and with a sigh she turned and
rode away.