He could then ask her why she was going, and perhaps force her to confess that she loved him.
But even as he thought his conscience rebuked him for his treachery to Daisy.
He fortified himself with good resolutions, and resolved not to leave his seat until the congregation had dispersed.
Thus he would not be tempted by the sight of Anne.
The benediction was given, the choir retired with a last musical "Amen," and the worshippers departed.
But Giles remained in his seat, kneeling and with his face hidden.
He was praying for a strength he sorely needed to enable him to forget Anne and to remain faithful to the woman whom his father had selected to be his wife.
Not until the music of the organ ceased and the verger came to extinguish the altar candles did Giles venture to go.
But by this time he thought Anne would surely be well on her homeward way.
He would return to his own place as fast as his motor could take him, and thus would avoid temptation.
At the present moment he could not trust to his emotions.
Outside the expected storm had come on, and snow was falling thickly from a black sky.
The light at the lych-gate twinkled feebly, and Giles groped his way down the almost obliterated pathway quite alone, for every one else had departed.
He reached the gate quite expecting to find his motor, but to his surprise it was not there.
Not a soul was in sight, and the snow was falling like meal.
Giles fancied that his servant had dropped asleep in the inn or had forgotten the appointed hour.
In his heart he could not blame the man, for the weather was arctic in its severity.
However, he determined to wend his way to the inn and reprove him for his negligence.
Stepping out of the gate he began to walk against the driving snow with bent head, when he ran into the arms of a man who was running hard.
In the light of the lamp over the gate he recognized him as Trim, his servant.
"Beg pardon, sir, I could not get here any sooner.
The car——" The man stopped and stared round in amazement. "Why, sir, where's the machine?" he asked, with astonishment.
"In your charge, I suppose," replied Ware angrily. "Why were you not here at the time I appointed?"
"I was, begging your pardon, sir," said Trim hotly; "but the lady told me you had gone to see Miss Kent back to The Elms and that you wanted to see me.
I left the car here in charge of the lady and ran all the way to The Elms; but they tell me there that Miss Daisy hasn't arrived and that nothing has been seen of you, sir."
Ware listened to this explanation with surprise.
"I sent no such message," he said; "and this lady, who was she?"
"Why, Miss Denham, sir.
She said she would look after the car till I came back, and knowing as she was a friend of yours, sir, I thought it was all right." Trim stared all round him. "She's taken the car away, I see, sir."
The matter puzzled Giles.
He could not understand why Anne should have behaved in such a manner, and still less could he understand why the car should have disappeared.
He knew well that she could drive a motor, for he had taught her himself; but that she should thus take possession of his property and get rid of his man in so sly a way perplexed and annoyed him.
He and Trim stood amidst the falling snow, staring at one another, almost too surprised to speak.
Suddenly they heard a loud cry of fear, and a moment afterward an urchin—one of the choir lads—came tearing down the path as though pursued by a legion of fiends.
Giles caught him by the collar as he ran panting and white-faced past him.
"What's the matter?" he asked harshly. "Why did you cry out like that?
Where are you going?"
"To mother.
Oh, let me go!" wailed the lad. "I see her lying on the grave.
I'm frightened.
Mother! mother!"
"Saw who lying on the grave?"
"I don't know.
A lady.
Her face is down in the snow, and she is bleeding.
I dropped the lantern mother gave me and scudded, sir.
Do let me go!
I never did it!"
"Did what?" Giles in his nervous agitation shook the boy.
"Killed her!