Time passed on, and gradually health and strength came back to Angela,till at last she was as powerful in mind, and--if that were possible--except that she was shorn of her lovely hair, more beautiful in bodythan she had been before her troubles overwhelmed her. Of Arthur shethought a great deal--indeed, she thought of little else; but it waswith a sort of hopelessness that precluded action. Nobody hadmentioned his name to her, as it was thought wiser not to do so,though Pigott and Mr. Fraser had, in as gentle terms as they couldcommand, told her of the details of the plot against her, and of theconsequences to the principal actors in it. Nor had she spoken of him.It seemed to her that she had lost him for good, that he could nevercome back to her after she had passed, that he must hate her too much.She supposed that, in acting as he did, he was aware of all thecircumstances of her marriage, and could find no excuses for her. Shedid not even know where he was, and, in her ignorance of the uses ofprivate detectives and advertisements, had no idea how to find out.And so she suffered in silence, and only saw him in her dreams.
She still stopped at the vicarage with Pigott; nor had there as yetbeen any talk of her returning to the Abbey House. Indeed, she had notseen her father since the day of her marriage. But, now that she hadrecovered, she felt that something must be done about it. Wonderingwhat it should be, she one afternoon walked to the churchyard, whereshe had not been since her illness, and, once there, made her waynaturally to her mother's grave. She was moving very quietly, and hadalmost reached the tree under which Hilda Caresfoot lay, when shebecame aware that there was already somebody kneeling by the grave,with his head rested against the marble cross.
It was her father. Her shadow falling upon him, he turned and saw her,and they stood looking at each other. She was shocked at the dreadfulalteration in his face. It was now that of an old man, nearly worn outwith suffering. He put his hand before his eyes, and said,
"Angela, how can I face you, least of all here?"
For a moment the memory of her bitter wrongs swelled in her heart, forshe now to a great extent understood what her father's part in theplot had been, and she regarded him in silence.
"Father," she said, presently, "I have been in the hands of God, andnot in yours, and though you have helped to ruin my life, and havevery nearly driven me into a madhouse, I can still say, let the pastbe the past. But why do you look so wretched? You should look happy;you have got the land--my price, you know," and she laughed a littlebitterly.
"Why do I look wretched? Because I am given over to a curse that youcannot understand, and I am not alone. Where are those who plottedagainst you? George dead, Bellamy gone, Lady Bellamy paralysed handand foot, and myself--although I did not plot, I only let them be--accursed. But, if you can forget the past, why do you not come back tomy house? Of course I cannot force you; you are free and rich, and cansuit yourself."
"I will come for a time if you wish--if I can bring Pigott with me."
"You may bring twenty Pigotts, for all I care--so long as you will payfor their board," he added, with a touch of his old miserliness. "Butwhat do you mean 'for a time'?"
"I do not think I shall stop here long; I think that I am going into asisterhood."
"Oh! well, you are your own mistress, and must do as you choose."
"Then I will come to-morrow," and they parted.
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