Robin had not yet come back; he had ridden into Ferribridge
early in the afternoon, leaving word that he would probably be late in
returning. Once Maria had looked into the room to ask if she should light
the lamps, and the lovers had started guiltily apart, Ann replying with
hastily assumed indifference that they did not require them yet. Old Maria,
whose eyesight was still quite keen enough to distinguish love, even from
the further side of a room lit only by the lambent firelight, retired to
her own quarters, chuckling to herself. "So 'tez the squire as was courtin'
the chiel, after all. An' me thinkin' all along as how 'twas young Master
Tony! Aw, well, tez more suitin' like, for sure--him with his millions
and my Miss Ann." Maria's ideas as to the riches with which the owner of
Heronsmere was providentially endowed might be hazy, but at least she did
not err on the side of underestimating them.
Meanwhile, Eliot and Ann, placidly believing that Maria was none
the wiser for her brief entrance into the room--all newly-acknowledged
lovers being apparently blessed with an ostrich-like quality of
self-deception--continued talking together by the firelight.
"That first day I saw you," Eliot was saying.
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