It seemed to her that he had the brooding watchfulness of a cat, crouching beneath a tree, and she was the bird, silent amongst the long grass, waiting her chance to escape.
And Harry, oblivious to all atmospheres, slumbered and sighed.
Dona knew that the men would be working on the planking of the ship.
She pictured them at low tide, with bare-feet, stripped to the waist, the sweat pouring off their backs, and La Mouette, with the wound in her hull exposed, heeling slightly, her planking grey with the mud.
He would be working with them, his forehead wrinkled, his lips compressed, with that look of concentration upon his face that she had grown to love and to respect, for the repairing of his ship would be a thing of life and of death, even as the landing at Fowey had been, and there would be no time now for idleness, for dreams.
Somehow, before tonight, she must go to the creek, and beg him to sail with the next tide, although La Mouette might still be taking in water, for the net was drawing in upon him, and to linger even one night longer must be fatal for him and for his crew. The ship had been seen drawing towards the coast, so Rockingham had told her, and now nearly twenty-four hours had come and gone, and much might have been achieved in that time by his enemies, much might have been foreseen and planned.
There would be watchers perhaps upon the headlands, and spies on the hills and in the woods, and tonight Rashleigh, Godolphin, and Eustick would themselves be seated at Navron, with God knows what purpose in their minds.
"You are thoughtful, Dona," said Rockingham, and she, looking across at him, saw that he had laid his book aside and was considering her, his head upon one side, his narrow eyes unsmiling.
"It must be the fever that has altered you so," he continued, "for in town you were never silent for five minutes at a time."
"I am getting old," she said lightly, chewing a stem of grass, "in a few weeks I shall be thirty."
"A curious fever," he said, ignoring her words, "that leaves the patient with gypsy coloring and eyes so large.
You did not see a physician, it seems?"
"I was my own physician."
"With the advice of the excellent William.
What an unusual accent he has, by the way.
Quite a foreign intonation."
"All Cornishmen speak likewise."
"But I understand he is not a Cornishman at all, at least so the groom informed me in the stable this morning."
"Perhaps he is from Devon then. I have never questioned William about his ancestry."
"And it seems that the house was entirely empty until you came? The unusual William took the responsibility of Navron upon his shoulders with no other servants to help him."
"I did not realise you engaged in stable gossip, Rockingham."
"Did you not, Dona?
But it is one of my favourite pastimes.
I always learn the latest scandals in town from the servants of my friends.
The chatter of back-stairs is invariably true, and so extremely entertaining."
"And what have you learnt from the back-stairs at Navron?"
"Sufficient, dear Dona, to pique the curiosity."
"Indeed?"
"Her ladyship, I understand, has a passion for long walks in the heat of the day.
She takes a joy, it seems, in wearing the oldest clothes, and returning, sometimes, splashed with mud and river water."
"Very true."
"Her ladyship's appetite is fitful, it appears.
Sometimes she will sleep until nearly midday, and then demand her breakfast.
Or she will taste nothing from noon until ten o'clock at night, and then, when her servants are abed, the faithful William brings her supper."
"True again."
"And then, after having been in the rudest of health, she unaccountably takes to her bed, and shuts her door upon her household, even upon her children, because it seems she suffers from a fever, although no physician is sent for, and once again the unusual William is the only person admitted within her door."
"And what more, Rockingham?"
"Oh, nothing more, dear Dona. Only that you seem to have recovered very quickly from your fever, and show not the slightest pleasure in seeing your husband or his closest friend."
There was a sigh, and a yawn, and a stretching of limbs, and Harry threw his handkerchief from his face and scratched his wig.
"God knows that last remark you made was true enough," he said, "but then Dona always was an iceberg, Rock, old fellow; I have not been married to her for close on six years without discovering that!
Damn these flies!
Hi, Duchess, catch a fly.
Stop 'em from plaguing your master, can't you?"
And sitting up he waved his handkerchief in the air, and the dogs woke up and jumped and yapped, and then the children appeared round the corner of the terrace for their half-hour's romp before bedtime.
It was just after six when a shower sent them indoors, and Harry, still yawning and grumbling about the heat, sat down with Rockingham to play piquet.
Three hours and a half yet until supper, and La Mouette still at anchor in the creek.
Dona stood by the window, tapping her fingers on the pane, and the summer shower fell heavy and fast.
The room was close, smelling already of the dogs, and the scent that Harry sprinkled on his clothes.
Now and again he burst into a laugh, gibing at Rockingham for some mistake or other in their game.
The hands of the clock crept faster than she wished, making up now for the slowness of the day, and she began to pace up and down the room, unable to control her growing premonition of defeat.