by Guy Boothby
CHAPTER III
If I were given my choice of all the charming residences in the countyof Midlandshire, I fancy I should decide in favour of Detwich Hall. Tomy thinking it is, in every respect, an ideal residence. Whilesufficiently old to have a history (one of the Charleses spent some daysin hiding there), it has proved itself capable of being adapted tomodern ideas of comfort. The main portion was built, I believe, towardthe close of the reign of the Virgin Queen; a wing was added by theowner who occupied it in the time of the early Georges; while the fatherof the man who had bequeathed the property to Godfrey, was responsiblefor the stables, and a somewhat obscure wing on the southern front. Itwas admirably situated in the centre of a park of some three hundredacres, and was approached by a picturesque drive, about half a milelong, which ran for some distance along the banks of an ornamentallake. On this lake, by the way, some of the finest duck shooting in thecounty is to be obtained. In his boyhood Godfrey had spent many happydays there, little dreaming that some day it would become his ownproperty. Indeed, it is quite certain it would not have done so had hiscousin Wilfred not been killed in India in the performance of a piece ofdesperate heroism that will be remembered as long as a certain nativeregiment exists. As for Godfrey, the old man had always liked the boy,but had been bitterly disappointed when he had resolved to embark uponan artistic career instead of playing the part of a country gentleman,as so many of his ancestors had done before him. To have proved himselfa capable Master of Hounds would have been in the old bachelor's eyes agreater distinction than to have painted the finest picture that evergraced the walls of Burlington House. Yet in his heart he knew the powerof the young man, and honoured him for the dogged persistence with whichhe had fought the uphill fight of a painter's life.
"Well, well, I suppose he'll come out of it all right in the end," hewas wont to say to himself when he thought of the matter. "He'll benone the worse for having known a little poverty. I like the boy and helikes me, and, please God, he'll do his best by the dear old place whenhe comes into it. I should like to see him in it."
This, unfortunately, he was not able to do; but could he have heard theuniversal expression of approbation so lavishly bestowed upon the youngmaster of Detwich when he had been six months in possession he wouldhave felt that his generosity had been rewarded. Indeed, there could beno sort of doubt as to Godfrey's popularity. He was received by thecounty with open arms, and by his tenantry with a quiet appreciationthat showed they knew how to value the blood that ran in his veinswithout making a fuss about it. Owing to the short time that had elapsedsince his uncle's death it was necessarily impossible for him to seevery much society, but those who partook of his hospitality returnedhome not only delighted with their host, but also with the quality oftheir entertainment.
"An acquisition, a decided acquisition," said old Sir Vivian Devereux,the magnate of the district. "His idea of game preservation isexcellent, and he is prepared to support the hunt with the utmostliberality. All he wants to make him perfect is a wife."
On hearing this Lady Devereux looked at her lord and her lord looked ather. Between them they had a very shrewd idea that they knew where tolook for the future mistress of Detwich Hall. Mistress Margaret, theirdaughter, called by her friends Molly, who had that season made her bowbefore her Majesty, said nothing, but maybe that was because she did notthink there was anything to be said. She had her own ideas on thesubject. She had seen the young squire of Detwich, though he had notbeen aware of the fact, and, being an unaffected, straightforwardEnglish girl, without prudery or conceit of any sort, had come to theconclusion that she liked the look of him. Eligible young men werescarce in the neighbourhood, and if she dreamt dreams of her own whoshall blame her? Not I, for one.
Three months had passed since Godfrey had escorted Teresina and hermother to the Opera. The summons which had brought him home so hurriedlyhad, fortunately, proved to be a false alarm. Though his mother had beenseriously ill, there had not been so much danger as they had led him tosuppose. A month at Torquay had completely restored her to health, andnow she was back at Detwich once more, as hale and hearty an old lady asany to be found in the kingdom. Assisted by her youngest daughter,Kitty, she welcomed the wanderer home with every sign of delight.
Godfrey, unlike so many other people, had the good fortune to be aspopular in his own family circle as he was out of it, and he and hisyoungest sister had been on the best of terms from the days when theyhad gone bird's-nesting together, until the time when she had assistedhim in packing his first picture for the Academy. Since then, however,she had not seen so much of him.
"Kit's no end of a brick," he had been heard to say, "and the fellow whomarries her may consider himself lucky."
It was scarcely to be wondered at, therefore, if Miss Devereux andKitty, living as they did within two miles of each other, should soonhave become intimate. They were in the habit of seeing each otherseveral times a week, a fact which Godfrey, from a distance, had feltsomewhat inclined to resent.
"When I get home I shall find this girl continually in the house," hesaid to himself; and when he _did_ arrive and the many charmingqualities of her friend had been explained to him he did not feel anythe more disposed to be cordial.
"I can see what it will be," he said to his sister, "I shall not catch aglimpse of you now."
"Perhaps you won't want to when you meet Molly," was the arch rejoinder."You have no idea what a pretty girl she is. They say she created atremendous sensation when she was presented this year. Folks raved abouther."
"The bigger duffers they," was the uncompromising reply. "You have onefault, my dear girl. Ever since I have known you your swans haveinvariably turned out to be geese. I fancy I can realize what MissDevereux will be like."
"In that case pray describe her," was the saucy rejoinder, and MissKitty made a very pretty losing hazard (they were playing billiards atthe time), after which she failed to score and chalked her cue.
Now it seems scarcely fair to say so, but Godfrey, being taken at adisadvantage, fell back on what can be only considered by all honestpeople a mean device. In describing Miss Devereux he used the almostidentical terms used by Fensden when he had attempted to draw a pictureof his friend's future wife.
"You are quite at sea," said Miss Kitty, patting her dainty shoe withthe end of her cue as she spoke. "Some day, if you are not very careful,I will tell Miss Devereux what you have said about her. She would neverforgive you the large feet and thick boots."
"As you are strong be merciful," said Godfrey, potting the red into theright-hand pocket and going into the left himself. "I don't mindadmitting without prejudice that I am getting anxious to see thisparagon. When do you think she will next honour you with her society?"
"On Friday," Kitty replied. "We have taken up wood-carving together, andshe is coming to see some patterns I bought in town last week."
"In that case we will defer consideration of her merits anddemerits--for I suppose she has some--until then," Godfrey replied, andthen once more going into the pocket off the red he announced the gameas standing at one hundred to ninety-five.
On the following afternoon he had occasion to drive to the market town.It was a bright, clear day, with a promise of frost in the air, and ashis dog-cart rolled along the high road, drawn by a tandem team he hadpurchased the previous week, he felt as well satisfied with himself andhis position in the world as it was possible for a young man to be. Hisbusiness transacted in the town he turned his horses' heads homewardonce more. The handsome animals, knowing that they were on their way totheir stables, stepped out bravely, and many an approving glance wasthrown at the good-looking young squire of Detwich by folk upon theroad. He had completed upward of half his journey when he became awarethat a young lady, who had appeared from a by-road, was making her wayin the same direction as himself.
"Whoever she is she certainly sits her horse well," he said to himself,as he watched her swinging along at a slow canter on the soft side ofthe road. "I wonder who she can
be?"
As soon as the turf gave place to hard metal she pulled her hack up andproceeded at a walk. This very soon brought Godfrey alongside, and ashe passed he managed to steal a glance at a very pretty face and as neata figure as he ever remembered to have seen.
"I wonder who she can be?" he repeated. And as he continued his drive hemeditated on the subject.
On the Friday following he was unexpectedly called to town. Hissolicitors desired an interview with him respecting the purchase of afarm, and he had no option but to comply with their request. As luckwould have it, however, he was able to return by a somewhat earliertrain than he expected, and was just in time to hear from his butlerthat afternoon tea had been carried into the drawing-room.
"Are there any visitors?" he inquired.
"Miss Devereux, sir," said the man; "she came to lunch."
"I had forgotten that she was to be here to-day," he said to himself ashe crossed the hall in the direction of the drawing-room. "I wonder whatshe will be like?"
As every one who has visited Detwich is aware, the drawing-room is anexceedingly handsome room. It is long and lofty, if possible a little_too_ long for cosiness. This fault, if fault it be, is amply atonedfor, however, by a capitally constructed ingle-nook, in which it was thecustom for the ladies to take afternoon tea. Godfrey strolled across thefloor to this charming contrivance, little guessing what was in storefor him. A lady was sitting with her back to him holding a cup of tea inher hand.
"I don't think you have met Miss Devereux, Godfrey," said his sister.
"I have not yet had that pleasure," he replied. Then to himself headded: "Good gracious! It's the fair equestrienne." Then aloud: "I'veheard a good deal of you from Kitty, Miss Devereux."
"And I of you," she answered. "You seem to have been everywhere, and tohave seen everything. Doubtless you find this part of the world verydull."
"Not at all," he answered. "I am extremely fond of the country, andparticularly of that about here."
If the truth were told I fancy he had never thought much about it untilthat moment. For the future, however, under a certain magic influence,he was to view it with very different eyes.
"In spite of what some people say," he continued, "I consider Englishcountry scenery charming."
"And yet it must be very beautiful abroad. Kitty read me one or two ofyour letters, and from the description you gave of the various placesyou had visited, I gathered that you thought nothing could be sobeautiful on earth."
"No doubt they are very beautiful," he answered. "But for my part giveme the old-world peace of England. There is certainly nothing like thatto be found elsewhere. I would rather stand on the hill yonder and lookdown the valley in summer-time, than gaze upon the Rhine at Heidelberg,or Naples harbour at daybreak, or visit ancient Philae by moonlight."
What further heresies this young man would have pledged himself to inhis enthusiasm I can not say. Fortunately for him, however, the vicarand his wife were announced at that moment, and a distraction was thuscaused. Until that moment Miss Kitty had been regarding him withsteadfast eyes. Clever beyond all other men, as she considered herbrother, she had never seen him come out of his shell like this before.Hitherto he had been rather given to pooh-poohing the country, and hadonce been known even to assert that "London and Paris were the only twoplaces in which it was possible for a civilized man to live." What wasthe reason of this sudden change?
The vicar was a tall man with a pompous air, who looked forward some dayto being a bishop, and had already assumed the appearance and manners ofone. His wife, on the other hand, was small, and of a somewhat peevishdisposition. It was currently reported that the husband and wife spentthe greater portion of their time in squabbling, while it was certainthat they contradicted each other in public with an openness andfrequency that at times was apt to be a little embarrassing.
"Possibly I may have been wrong," said the vicar, when he had seatedhimself and had taken a cup of tea from his hostess's hands, "but did Inot hear you extolling the beauties of a country life as I entered theroom, Mr. Henderson?"
He put the question as if it were one of world-wide importance, which,answered carelessly, might involve great international complications.Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued: "For my part, whileadmitting that a country life is possessed of many charms, with whichthe Metropolis can not compare, I must go on to say that there is abreadth, if I may so express it, in London life that is quite lackingoutside."
His wife saw her opportunity, and, as was her habit, was quick to takeadvantage of it.
"You have never had any experience of London life, William, so how canyou possibly tell?" she said, sharply.
"My dear, I venture to say that it is a generally admitted fact," herhusband replied.
"Generally admitted facts are as often as not rubbish," retorted thelady with some asperity. "What I say is, let a man do his duty whereverhe is, and make the best of what he's got, without grumbling."
There was an unmistakable innuendo in this speech, and for a moment anawkward silence ensued.
"I hear you have built a new conservatory, Mr. Henderson?" said MissDevereux, as if to change the subject.
"It is just completed," said Godfrey. "Would you care to see it?"
A general desire to inspect this new wonder having been expressed,Godfrey led the way from the room, contriving, when all had passed out,to take up his position beside their youngest visitor.
"Will you take pity upon a stranger in the land?" he said, "and give mesome information?"
"What can I tell you?" she asked.
He glanced at the vicar and his wife, who were some little distance infront.
"Do they always squabble like this?" he inquired.
"Yes, invariably," she replied. "We are used to it, but strangers areapt to find it embarrassing. I really believe the habit of squabblinghas grown upon them until they have become so accustomed to it that theydo not notice it. By the way, Mr. Henderson, there is one question ofvital importance I must decide with you. Are you going to hunt?"
As a matter of fact Godfrey had made up his mind to do so occasionally,but now, remembering that Miss Devereux possessed the reputation of asecond Diana, he spoke as if it were the hunting that had mainly inducedhim to live in Midlandshire. He registered a vow that he would purchasea stud immediately, and that he would look upon missing a run as a sinthat could only be expurgated by religiously attending the next.
By this time they had reached the new conservatory, which adjoined thestudio Godfrey had built for himself. It was a handsome building, andgave a distinction to that side of the house which it certainly hadlacked before.
"Admirable, admirable," said the vicar, complacently. "It reminds me ofthe palm-house at Kew."
"It is twenty years since you were at Kew, William; how can you possiblyremember what the palm-house is like?" retorted his wife.
"My dear, I have always been noted for the excellence of my memory," thevicar replied. "I assure you I have the most vivid recollection of thehouse in question."
"You mislaid your spectacles this morning, and if I hadn't seen you putthem in your pocket you would never have thought of looking for themthere," said his wife, to whom this fact appeared to be relative to thematter at issue.
From the conservatory to the studio was a natural transition, and thelatest work upon the easel was duly inspected and admired.
"I remember your picture in the Academy last year, Mr. Henderson," saidMiss Devereux. "I can assure you that it brought the tears into myeyes."
"It is very kind of you to say so," he said, feeling that no complimentthat had ever been paid him was so much worth having.
Then a luminous idea occurred to him.
"I wonder if, some day, you would let me paint you a little picture?" heasked, almost timidly.
"I really could not think of such a thing," his companion replied. "Yourtime is too valuable to be wasted in that way."
"I shall paint one, nevertheless," he re
plied. "In return, perhaps, youwill instruct me in the ways of the Midlandshire hunt?"
"I shall be delighted," she answered. "You must make Kitty come too."
Godfrey promised to do so, but for once in his life he was ungallantenough to think that he could dispense with his sister's society.Presently Miss Devereux's cart was announced and Kitty and Godfreyaccompanied her to the front door. She kissed Kitty and then held outher hand to Godfrey.
"Good-bye, Mr. Henderson," she said. "Remember that the hounds meet atSpinkley Grove on Thursday, at eleven o'clock, when you will bepermitted an opportunity of making the acquaintance of the Master andthe Hunt."
"I shall be there without fail," he answered, as he helped her into thecart and arranged her rug for her. She thereupon nodded to the groom,who left the ponies' heads and jumped on to the step behind as the cartpassed him, with an adroitness that was the outcome of long practice. Amoment later the vehicle had turned the corner of the drive and was lostto view.
"Well?" said Kitty as they turned to go in.
"Well," Godfrey replied.
"You like her?"
"Very much indeed," he answered, and as they passed down the halltogether he made an important decision to himself. "Provided she willhave me," he said, "I think I have found my wife."
