A Chance Encounter

Hetherington paused and looked expectantly at Elizabeth, but she did not say anything or raise her eyes.

"I discovered the truth," he said.

"That my father took the money," she said very quietly, "that the two of them conspired against us, my father for money, your uncle for family pride."

"You know, then?" he said.

"Yes."

"And that is why you called me?"

She did not answer.

"Did you know," he asked, getting restlessly to his feet, "that my uncle intercepted your first few letters to me and that your father intercepted mine to you? Afterward, they had an agreement to stop our letters at their source. Most of your letters never left this house and most of mine did not leave London."

Elizabeth had her hands over her face.

Hetherington went down on his knees in front of her. "Did you know," he asked, "that I came here, that I ranted and raved to your father, begging and demanding to see you, threatening him even? He gave in in the end and went to find you, but he came back to repeat what he had said all along, that you would not see me." He covered her hands gently with his own, cupping her face.

It was her dream again. It was the dream, except that usually it was John there on the carpet before her, touching her hands and her face.

"No," she moaned. "No." And she began to rock herself protectively.

"Hush, love," he said. "Don't grieve so. Everything will be fine now, I promise you."

"No," she wailed, her eyes tightly closed.

He rose to his feet and brought her to hers, one hand grasping each arm. He took her hands and removed them firmly from in front of her face.

"Open your eyes, Elizabeth," he said.

"No," she moaned.

He pulled her roughly into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder with one hand.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, "this is Robert, your husband, love. I am the man who eloped with you and married you in Gram's chapel, the man who wandered cliffs and beaches with you and made love to you to the sound of gulls and the smell of the sea. This is the man who loves you, darling, who has loved you for six long and lonely years. Open your eyes and look at me, love."

He was rocking her in his arms, kissing gently her forehead, her closed eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. And it was there finally that he felt a stirring of response. He continued to kiss her, undemandingly, until, opening his own eyes, he found her looking up at him.

"It is all over now, love," he said, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "We do not have to part ever again. I can take you home with me."

She pushed away from him. "No, it is too late, Robert," she said tonelessly. "There has been too much of pain for you and me. I ca

"Elizabeth-" he began.

She interrupted, talking quickly. "I am glad that we discovered the truth. We do not need to hate each other anymore. We can think kindly of each other and be friends if we ever meet again. But I think it best if we live separate lives. I have a new life to start tomorrow and I have a great deal to do before morning." Her voice had gained brightness and confidence.

"What are you saying?" he asked incredulously.

"I mean that I must go now," she replied. "I am sure John will be in his office if you wish to take your leave of him. Good-bye, Robert. And I thank you very much for coming." She smiled brightly and extended her hand.

Hetherington ignored the hand. "I wonder if I shall understand you even at the end of a lifetime," he mused, folding his arms across his chest. "Are you a coward, love?"

The smile still stretched her face. "I must go, Robert," she said.

"I wish you to tell me something first," he said, head to one side, regarding her closely. "Do you love me?"

"Love?" she said scornfully. "I have never found love to be a desirable emotion, my lord. It is a fable told to the romantics, I believe."

He bowed over her hand, which was still extended, and kissed it formally. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "That is all I wished to know." And before she could take her leave, he brushed past her and left the room.

Really, the whole situation had ended most satisfactorily, Elizabeth told herself several minutes later as she cheerfully packed her bags ready for the next day's journey. The years had been painful because of her terrible disillusionment over Robert's behavior. Now that she knew that he had been in no way to blame, and now that he knew that she had been i

But she could not revive her feelings for him, of course. She had finally killed those five days before when she had realized her extreme stupidity in opening her heart to rejection and pain yet again. She had learned her lesson well this time. But she was very pleased that he had come. It was good to know that that unkind letter from his secretary had not been dictated by Robert himself.

Yes, Elizabeth concluded with a smile as she folded the skirt of her best gray silk very carefully into the portmanteau, it was all over now, and a very satisfactory ending it was, too. She had been a little surprised when Robert had left so quietly. She had expected more trouble with him. But that was good, too. It showed that he understood the good sense of her decision.

Elizabeth repeated all these thoughts to Louise, who came into her room and sat quietly on the bed to watch her pack, and at the di

Elizabeth was pleased to avoid the emotional confrontations she had expected. Both John and Louise conversed on general topics during the evening. Neither tried to dissuade her from accepting her new employment; neither even mentioned the necessity of taking a ladies' maid on the journey with her. They had finally accepted her adult right to make her own decisions and to order her own life.

Louise cried a few tears as she kissed her sister-in-law good-bye the next morning on the stone steps outside the house. John hugged her rather too hard and too long. But Elizabeth felt a sense of relief as she set her face for the village, seated beside her brother's groom in the gig. It had been surprisingly easy to begin a new life.

When she asked at the i

She found herself in an interior of opulent luxury. Well-cushioned seats of gold velvet were complemented by a paler-gold rug and brocade wall and ceiling coverings. Brown velvet curtains were looped back from the windows, but could give total privacy and darkness to the travelers whenever the master wished, Elizabeth judged. When she sat down rather uncertainly on one of the seats, she sank into warm softness and felt the coach sway slightly. It was very well sprung.

Mr. Chatsworth was a very wealthy man, then. The long journey to his home would be a reasonably comfortable one, despite the deplorable condition of most British roads. But Elizabeth began to feel uneasy. It had been fine yesterday to imagine that she would be quite safe traveling alone with a strange man. She was wearing her plainest wool dress and pelisse, her most no-nonsense bo