Peter shook his head. "God knows," he said gruffly. For a moment there was silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell.
"You'll stay for tea?"
"Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love to Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me this morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?"
"Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised to be careful." Miss Craven paused, then: "What did we do without Gillian, Peter?" she said with an odd little laugh.
"'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!" he replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them for a moment.
"You're the best pal I ever had, Peter," she said unsteadily, "and you've given all your life to us Cravens."
The sudden gripping of his hands was painful, then he bent his head and unexpectedly put his lips to the fingers he held so closely.
"I'm always here--when you want me," he said huskily, and was gone.
Miss Craven stood still looking after him with a curious smile.
"Thank God for Peter," she said fervently, and went back to her station by the window. It was considerably darker than before, but for some distance the double avenue leading to the stables was visible. As she watched, playing absently with the blind-cord, her mind dwelt on the long connection between Peter Peters and her family. Thirty years--the best of his life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The woman he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven and, for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because he had known that inevitably a day would come when she would need assistance and support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his post. Her brief happiness had been hard to watch--the subsequent long years of her desertion a protracted torture. He had raged at his own helplessness. And ignorant of his love and the motive that kept him at Craven Towers she had come to lean on him and refer all to him. But for his care the Craven properties would have been ruined, and the Craven interests neglected beyond repair.
For some time before her sister-in-law's death Miss Craven had known, as only a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from his lips a half-confession of the love that he had guarded jealously for thirty years.