LI E> RAR.Y OF THE UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS 8£3 v.) 7 '"\ ■ v Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/afterlongwaiting01nich AFTER LONG WAITING. VOL I. NEW NOVELS AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. A LEDDY IN HER AIN RIOHT. By Mrs. TOM KELLY, Author of 4 Time and Chance.' With Frontispiece. 1 vol. 6s. SIN FOR A SEASON. By VERE OLAVERINO, Author of 'Barcaldine,' &c 1 vol. 6s. WHERE TWO TIDES MEET. By HENRY F. BULLER, Author of 'Kingsmead,' ' A Bachelor's Family,' &c. 2 vols. THE ONE ALTERNATIVE. By REGINALD E. SALWEY, Author of 'The Finger of Scorn,' 'Ventured in Vain,' &c. 2 vols. VAL. A Story of the Tivy-Side. By JUDITH VANDELEUR. 2 vols. LONDON: HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED. AFTER LONG WAITING JESSIE L. NICHOLSON AUTHOR OF "TWIXT WILL AND WILL NOT. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1897. All rights reserved. 3 \J. 1 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAPTER PAGE I. HlLLCREST 1 II. In the Ravine 20 ILL Louis de Rohan 38 IV. At the ' Eagle and Child ' 63 V. Crossing the Stream 92 VI. The Tragets . 120 VII. The Queen of Hearts 141 VIII. The Colonel's Idea . 169 u IX. A Promise 193 X. Roger Warwick's Story . 211 XI. Satisfactory Evidence . 221 XII. A Confession . 232 1 XIII. The Ftrst Cloud 243 — XIV. Josslyn's Request . . 260 XV. A Dream's Fulfilment . 274 XVI. Birthday Gift- 287 AFTER LONG WAITING. CHAPTER I. HILLCREST. 'Lady Margaret hardly seems so well to- night, colonel.' The speaker was a robust little man, rather advanced in years, but with a brisk and spright- ly manner which wou for him a fair share of popularity amongst his numerous friends and acquaintances. His complexion had suffered from exposure to an Indian sun, and to the same cause he attributed the loss of his once luxuriant hair. In all respects he was a marked contrast to his companion. VOL. I. B 2 AFTER LONG WAITING. The colonel stood six feet high, and carried himself with that dignity and grace which char- acterises an English soldier of rank. His figure still appeared strong and muscular, though he had long been an invalid. His features were regular and handsome, but his face was marked by lines of pain and suffering, and it must be owned by something else, not so interesting as these — temper and discontent. He was standing in his favourite attitude on the hearthrug, not for warmth, for it was summer-time, and the fire-grate was filled with ornamental shavings ; his one arm rested on the chimney-piece, the other he had sacrificed for his country. He did not turn or take any notice of the remark addressed to him, so the little man repeated it. 'Lady Margaret hardly seems so well to- night, colonel.' ' She has been very low and depressed all day,' the colonel then answered. 'That's it. She is low and out of spirits. There is nothing really the matter, but I don't HILLCREST. 3 like that listless air she has. I found her sitting —so.' The little doctor dropped into the best chair in the room, inwardly congratulating himself on the neat way in which he had got possession of it, and folded his hands together in a languish- ing manner very out of keeping with his jovial face. 6 Just so.' For an instant the colonel's lips were parted with a smile, though it was hidden from his companion by the heavy moustache that com- pletely concealed his mouth ; then the habitual frown between his eyes deepened, and he broke out querulously, 'It's all these confounded anniversaries, 1 wish the 26th of August was struck out of the calendar.' 1 Why, in what way has that day offended above its fellows V ' It was then we lost our boy.' ' Your boy V queried the doctor. ' I didn't know you had any boy except Bernard.' 1 We had, though.' The colonel sighed. B 2 4 AFTER LONG WAITING. 'He was the oldest, and 1 called him after Louis.' The two men glanced involuntarily at a portrait hanging over the chimney-piece. It represented a young soldier with hair almost too intensely golden ^and eyes of the brightest blue. ' Poor Louis,' the doctor murmured. * Do you know, I was called in to attend a young French fellow to-day who reminded me of him more than anyone I ever met?' 'Indeed. In what way?' ' I can hardly say, now I come to speak of it. He was much darker than Louis — it must have been his manner.' ' Well, for goodness sake don't make any mention of him before Lady Margaret, or she will at once jump to the conclusion that he is our boy.' 4 How so ? What happened to your child ?' 1 1 can't say. He was kidnapped, I fancy.' ' Bless me ! I wonder how it was I never heard of it ?' HILLCREST. 5 'You would be in India at the time, and we rarely speak of him now.' ; How long is it since he was lost V 1 Sixteen years.' • And do you think Lady Margaret still has any hope of rinding him ! I am afraid after so long ' 6 So am I,' interrupted the colonel, impatiently, * but I don't think Margaret ever goes for a walk or a drive without observing the faces of all the tag-rag and bobtail that crowd the street corners to see if she cannot find some face which bears a resemblance to her son's. We can't even have a new footman, but she immediately sets herself to learn his whole pedigree in case he should be Louis come home in that guise. Only yesterday she worked her- self into a perfect fever because she heard a man crying " cat's meat " in a back street, and thought his voice was like mine ; however, he turned out to be nearly as old as myself and twice as ugly.' The doctor gave a little chuckle, and then felt ashamed of himself. 6 AFTER LONG WAITING. ' Poor thing,' he murmured, ' poor lady, how very sad.' 4 No one would believe,' continued the colonel, ' the number of orphanages, hospitals, and work- houses, ay, and prisons too, that I have taken her to visit, only to meet with fresh disap- pointment.' His voice had lost the bitter, sarcastic tone in which he had begun to speak, and which had become habitual to him of late years, and he was looking down at the ornamental shav- ings with eyes that were full of tears. In spite of all seeming coldness and harshness of man- ner he had been a fond father, and he loved his wife better than all the world beside. There was a silence which lasted for some minutes. Then the doctor spoke. 1 It's a change she wants, Shakerley. Travel, go abroad, take her to everything you think likely to rouse and interest her. It would do you both a world of good. You look as lugu- brious as if you had just had to sign your own death-warrant.' The colonel made no answer, and presently HILLCREST. 7 the doctor, who warred continually against silence, resumed, ' Why, Miss Daisy tells me she has never been to Paris. 'Tis quite a disgrace for a young lady to grow up now-a-days without having travelled on the Continent.' ' Daisy is all right. I don't want her spoilt with any foreign mannerisms.' ' Spoilt ! She won't spoil, and can't improve, so you need have no fear. Ah ! Here is your nephew. He will agree with me, 1 know. Come, Mr. Geoffrey, and help me to talk reason to your uncle.' The young man thus addressed had just entered, and was backing slowly against the door. When he heard it latch behind him, he came forward and shook hands with the doctor. 1 Reason and 1 seem to be at loggerheads to-night,' he said, laughing. ' I have just been banished from the drawing-room for talking nonsense.' He was a good-looking young fellow of five- and-twenty. with a handsome English face, a 8 AFTER LONG WAITING. straight, athletic figure, and a small head, well carried as if he were proud of it. He had a pleasant expression, and an abundance of rich brown hair, which spiteful people called red, and a very few poetic ones golden. * What do you want me to do?' he asked. ' I am trying to persuade my friend, Shak- erley to travel on the Continent to improve Miss Daisy's German and French pronunciation.' 'I thought I heard you say she could not be improved.' 6 Ah, yes ! so I did, and of course she can't, I mean to — er ' ' To spoil,' suggested Geoffrey. ' Oh, bother !' exclaimed the doctor, getting exasperated. ' I wish you had stayed in the drawing-room.' ' That's right, Geoff,' said the colonel, laugh- ing. ' Knock the whole scheme on the head, I dou't want to go abroad.' ' Then stay at home,' the doctor continued, 'but travel. There must be some un visited spot in one of the three kingdoms where you could go, or better still, some place well known HILLCREST. 9 in the happier days of yore. The fact is,' he added, becoming serious again and turning to the younger man, ' Lady Margaret must be in- terested, or she will make herself really ill.' 'Then where must we go, Geoff?' the colonel asked, resignedly. ' Somewhere not far off, lad.' 1 Hillcrest,' answered Geoffrey, unhesitatingly. 'Hillcrest!' his uncle exclaimed, with a start. * No, no, that would never do.' 'I should think not,' the doctor grumbled. ' Have you taken leave of your senses, sir ?' * Not altogether,' Geoffrey answered, smiling. 4 You asked me to name some well-known place where we could go for a complete change. It is fourteen years since we were at Hillcrest, and I fancy Aunt Margaret would like to go there again.' The doctor reflected for a few seconds, and then exclaimed, ' I believe you are right ! Yes, by George, you are right. It is the most sensible sug- gestion I have heard for many a long day.' Geoffrey laughed, and threw himself into his 10 AFTER LONG WAITING. uncle's easy-chair. He wanted to decide for him- self whether the suggestion was a good one or not. Whilst he thought about it, he sat with his hands clasped behind his head, his legs crossed one over the other, and one foot resting on the high brass fender. The colonel also considered the matter, but without indulging in a similar physical relaxation ; and the doctor amused him- self by comparing the young man's lounging attitude with the soldier's erect bearing — not much to the credit of the former. ' You haven't succeeded in making a soldier of your nephew, Shakerley,' he said, when the silence had lasted several minutes. * No, he says he is going into parliament.' ' Ah, well, 1 think he is right there. The master of Wriothesley Towers ought to legislate for his country.' ' I am not the master of Wriothesley Towers,' objected Geoffrey, with a smile. < No, but you soon will be. Sir Ralph has an attack of the gout.' ' I know. I have been there to-day. He is getting better again.' HILLCRE.ST. 11 ' You don't mean to tell me,' the doctor ex- claimed, with well-feigned consternation, ■ that the old fellow intends to go on living after this attack ! What a conscience he must have, to be sure ! He kept your father out of the title, and so he will you. Mark my words, you will go down to your grave plain Mr. Wriothesley.' The young man laughed. ' How we have wandered from the subject,' he said. 1 Ye?, indeed,' the doctor admitted. < What do you think of the proposal now, Shakerley V ' I will mention it to Lady Margaret.' ' Then you mean to go there V 6 If she wishes it.' 1 Well, I sincerely hope the change will do her good.' As he spoke, the doctor rose and pressed his friend's hand with genuine warmth. He was a kind-hearted little man, but very much afraid of anyone finding it out. i I must be going,' he added, hastily, ' for I promised to look in again on my French patient before bed-time.' 12 AFTER LONG WAITING. 1 What is the matter with him V asked the colonel. 'Mai de mer,' replied the doctor, with a grimace, and disappeared into the hall. Geoffrey followed him to the door of- his car- riage, wrapped the rug about his legs, and stood to watch him off. ' You must let me know the result of this experiment, Wriothesley,' he called out, as he was whisked away. ' Certainly,' Geoffrey replied, ' but you had better come to Hillcrest and judge for yourself.' ' Thanks, perhaps I may. Good-night.' Geoffrey lingered in the hall for a second or two. He was not sure whether his re-appear- ance in the library would be welcome. Doubt- less his uncle was brooding over the past. The thought of returning to Hillcrest would remind him of more than the loss of his son — perhaps of even sadder memories than that. Geoffrey felt real sympathy for him. He knew, perhaps better than anyone else, how much the man had suffered, and so decided to have another word with him, though he ex- HILLCREST. 13 pected to get small thanks for intruding on his grief. The colonel was sitting in an easy-chair, with his head bowed upon his hand. He looked up as the young man entered, and made an effort to shake off his dejection. ' One begins to feel that a bit of a fire would be pleasant in the evening,' he said, in the most natural voice he could command. ' It is quite cold enough for one to-night.' 6 There is one in the drawing-room/ < Is there ! Then I'll go to it.' But he did not move, and after a time said, ' I wonder how your aunt will take this proposal of yours about returning to Hillcrest V ' I don't know,' answered Geoffrey, striking a match and applying it to a candle he had brought into the room with him. ' I will tell her, if you like.' * I wish you would — No, I will do it myself, and " the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep." ' He said the quotation with a jocular air which sat uneasily upon him, and turned towards the door. * Are you coming V 14 AFTER LONG WAITING. '.No, I am going to bed. It's nearly eleven, and I feel sleepy after travelling.' The colonel watched him as he went upstairs. He was very proud of this handsome young nephew of his, who had lived with him ever since his parents died, and was almost like a son. Perhaps if he could have made Geoffrey his heir his regret for his own lost boy would not have been so lasting, but that was impossible. He had a second son — a shadow passed over his face as he thought of him. Nor was that all. Even if he decided to pass Bernard by — he could do so if he liked, for he had absolute power over the whole of his estate, and the boy would never be able to enjoy it — even then Hillcrest would be as nothing to Geoffrey. He had another uncle, a miserly, cantankerous old man, who had never as yet done anything for him, but who could not help some day dy- ing and leaving him a baronetcy and a very long rent-roll. The colonel had often envied Sir Ralph this privilege, but never more so than now when, after watching the young man up- HILLCREST. 15 .stairs, he turned to enter the drawing-room. ' Alone, Maggie V he said, endeavouring to speak cheerfully. 'Daisy and Bernard have only just left me.' 1 The fire makes the room look cheerful.' He advanced towards it and took up the poker. i Shall I put some coal on ? It's getting low.' 'Not for me,' Lady Margaret answered. 'I was just going.' • It isn't late yet,' he objected. When she spoke of going, he felt he must hurry through his announcement, and he had not yet determined how to begin. He leaned his back against the chimney-piece and watched her as she worked. She was a beautiful woman, more than twenty years younger than her husband, and, though constant watching and frequent dis- appointment had left an expression of settled melancholy upon her features, she was still very youthful looking. Her hair had not changed from the bright golden colour it had been in the days of her girlhood, though her cheeks had 16 AFTER LONG WAITING. lost a little of their roundness and the bloom upon them had paled. She was engaged with some knitting, — not pretty work, but a coarse blue worsted stocking which looked as if it was intended to resist hard wear. ' Why have you taken to knitting with that nasty hard stuff?' the colonel asked. ' Wool is much nicer.' * Sister Mary says this wears better, and is more suitable. You know I would rather work for young men and boys now than for children. These are for someone Sister Mary knows. She is going to take me to see him to-morrow. He is just recovering from a long illness.' ' Oh ! I am afraid you will be getting some horrid sickness or other, if you will go visiting amongst all sorts of people who live in the back streets.' Lady Margaret took no notice of this remark. 'Did you hear that young man singing in the street about an hour ago V she asked, wishing to change the subject. HILLCREST. 17 'Xo, I was mercifully spared the infliction.' 4 Oh, but he had a really beautiful voice, and his whole appearance was altogether superior to the usual run of street singers.' ' And what song did he charm you with V asked the colonel, with a smile. ' I think it was a negro melody, about the old folks at home. You cannot imagine how it appealed to me.' The colonel whistled the air. * Yes, that was it exactly. I sent John out with some food for him, and an old coat of Geoffrey's.' ' Had Geoff an old coat ?' queried the colonel. 4 He is a cleverer man than I am if he had.' She looked up at him with a smile, and then sighed as she picked up her work which had fallen on the floor whilst she was speaking. There was silence for some minutes, during which time she knitted industriously, and the colonel was presently reminded of the proposal he had to make by seeing the stocking was completed, and that she was tying the needles together with a bit of the worsted. VOL. I. C 18 AFTER LONG WAITING. He cleared his throat once or twice, not knowing how to begin. Then she unwittingly helped him by remarking, 8 What a long time Dr. Lawton stayed with you.' 8 Yes,' he answered with alacrity, and slightly altered his position so as to see her face more clearly. 'He was advising me to take you somewhere for change of air ' 8 Stupid man !' exclaimed Lady Margaret. * He is always bothering about my health, and I am quite well. Yes, indeed I am, Rupert,' she repeated, seeing he looked unconvinced. 8 Well, he thinks a change would do us all good, and suggested going on the Continent ; but I did not want to leave England, so Geoffrey proposed Hillcrest.' Lady Margaret started and blushed like a school-girl. 8 Did he ? Dear boy ! he is always thinking of something that will give me pleasure. When can we go V She asked the question eagerly, then checked herself, and added, 8 But you will not like to go there, Rupert !' HILLCREST. 19 ' Yes, I have wished it for some time, but "have been afraid you would find the associa- tions connected with the place too overpowering.' ' Oh, Rupert !' She rose, and, going up to him, clasped her hands lightly on his arm. 'Well?' • To think we have both wanted to go there, and yet neither of us could speak.' c2 20 CHAPTER II. IN THE RAVINE. When Geoffrey entered the breakfast-room on the following morning, he found his cousin — the Miss Daisy mentioned by Dr. Lawton — there before him. She was a pretty girl of eighteen, very like what Lady Margaret had been at the same age. They were, indeed, often mistaken for mother and daughter ; but Daisy was the daughter of the colonel's half-brother Louis, and of Lady Margaret's twin-sister. Her father had been killed in an Indian skirmish shortly before her birth, and her mother had only lived to confide her baby to her sister's care. IX THE RAVINE. 21 * Bring her up as if she were your own child, Maggie,' she had said, ' and let her be named after you and me and Louis.' Lady Margaret had accepted the trust, and Daisy had been to her as a daughter. She had the child baptised Margaret Georgina Louise, as her mother desired, and fully intended to call her Georgina ; but Geoffrey had named her Daisy when she had just been able to toddle about after him on uncertain little feet, and that name was still the favourite. ' Do you know, I am afraid something has happened, Geoff?' she said, as the young man joined her. ■ Auntie is coming down to break- fast.' 'And you think nothing short of a great national calamity could bring about such an unusual event?' said the future statesman, as he bent to kiss her in a sensible, cousinly fashion. * I hope it isn't anything serious,' she said. * Nothing more serious than an aromatic odour arising from freshly-made coffee, I should think,' he answered, smiling. 22 AFTER LONG WAITING. 'I wish you would not be so very foolish,, and I believe you know what it is all the time. Do you V The young man maintained a tantalizing silence. ' Oh, Geoff, do tell me ; I want to know so much. Come and make him speak, Bernard ;' and Daisy turned appealingly to a boy of sixteen who had just entered the room. Bernard was the colonel's second son. He was dark-complexioned like his father, his fea- tures were good, and he was tall for his years. Indeed, at an early age he had given promise of becoming a handsome man, and his parents had watched his growth from infancy with con- centrated interest. They had been very happy in so watching him until a strange fear — dim and undefined at first, but gradually developing into certainty — crept in and marred their joy. They discovered that as their boy grew, day by day increasing in bodily strength and beauty, his mind never grew at all, but remained as the mind of a little child. His mother loved him dearly, perhaps all the IX THE RAVINE. 23 more clearly because of his darkened intellect ; but to his father he was a constant source of aggravation, reproach, and disappointment. The colonel, if left to himself, would have placed him in an asylnm for idiots ; but he had not the courage even to hint such a proposal to his wife : so for years they had lived beneath the same roof, avoiding each other as much as possible, and spending whole days, and even weeks, without exchanging a single word. Before the boy had time to answer Daisy's appeal, Lady Margaret herself entered the breakfast-room, and the sight of her at once dispelled the girl's fears. She rarely looked so well. Her face was animated, and a blush of pleasure rested on her cheeks. She went at once to Wri- othesley. ' I know it is all your doing, my dear boy, your uncle told me so last night.' ' You are pleased, then ! I am very glad.' ' Tell me, auntie dear,' Daisy pleaded. 1 We are to go to Hillcrest.' The girl clapped her bauds delightedly. 24 AFTER LONG WAITING. 1 How jolly,' Bernard said. * Let us have breakfast, it is going cold.' They sat down, but were too excited to eat. When the colonel entered, he was quite sur- prised at the unusual animation, but his experi- ence was enlarged before dinner-time. The whole family, himself excepted, spent the inter- vening hours in flitting about from one room to another, deciding what he or she would like packed up to be taken to Hillcrest. And as this day, so was the next, and the next, till the hall was filled with boxes, labelled and corded ready for the journey. It had been decided that Geoffrey should go first, and be there when the luggage arrived, so as to be able to superintend the unpacking, the hanging of pictures, the placing of ornaments, et cetera. 1 Arrange the things just as they were in the old days, Geoff,' Lady Margaret said. * I'll try,' he answered, smiling. He had re- ceived a hundred such instructions. 1 And do mind when you unpack the red leather trunk, Geoff,' Daisy said. ' Father's IN THE RAVINE. 25 portrait is in it, and I wouldn't have any harm come to it for the world.' I I'll mind,' Geoffrey answered, with another smile. 'And you will take the canaries and white mice with you in the carriage, won't you, Geoff V Bernard said. ' Oh, you must look after those things your- self. I can't be bothered.' ' Do you think I may V 6 1 suppose so. Why not ?' ■ 1 don't know. I would rather have them with me.' I I am not going to be seen at the station sur- rounded by a collection of bird-cages,' the colonel interrupted. ' I told you yesterday those things must be left behind.' ' But they will starve,' Bernard ventured to remark. ' Mrs. Hammer can look after them.' ■ I don't think she will.' ■ Well, they are not going, so let that suffice.' The colonel rustled his paper and began to read. 26 AFTER LONG WAITING. It was hopeless. Bernard's eyes were full of tears as he thought of his neglected favourites. His mother and Daisy looked sympathetic, but did not venture to remonstrate : they both knew it would be useless. * I'll take them,' Geoffrey said, good-naturedly. ' It doesn't matter ; you wouldn't like it, and they might chirp and squeak, you know.' 8 1 don't mind. Go and put them in the cab.' 4 You are utterly ruining that boy,' observed the colonel, irritably, as Bernard left the room. ' He hasn't the least self-control/ Geoffrey rose to go. ' You don't mind my humouring him this once ?' he asked, smiling. * Particularly as I shouldn't like to think of the poor things starving.' ' Do as you like, and be quick if you intend to catch the early train.' When Geoffrey had gone, there was nothing to do, and the time passed very slowly. As soon as luncheon was over, the two ladies went to dress for the journey, and were consequently IX THE RAVINE. 27 ready about an hour before the carriage came round. Whilst they were waiting, Dr. Lawton was announced. * I thought I would just look in and say good- bye,' he said, with his accustomed cheerfulness. < I wish you had a nicer day to travel on.' ■ Yes, it is very hot and fatiguing in spite of the rain,' answered Lady Margaret. ' Oh, very,' replied the doctor. ' By the way. Shakerley, I have just been round to see that young Frenchman I told you of. He is gone.' 'Indeed! dead?' asked the colonel, without lifting his eyes from the ' Bradshaw ' he was studying. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shocked at his friend's indifference. ' He has gone to Hillcrest, and I am afraid he will never reach there ; he wasn't fit to travel. I wish you would inquire after him. I have got quite attached to the lad, the likeness I told you of grows more remark- able every day.' 1 Indeed !' This time the colonel raised his eyes and fixed them on the doctor to warn him he was on forbidden ground. 28 AFTER LONG WAITING. * Of whom does he remind you V asked Lady- Margaret. The warning had been sufficient, but, after the manner of warnings, it had come too late. The doctor blushed crimson, and fidgeted uneasily. ' Of Socrates,' he said, with a futile attempt to make the answer sound funny. Lady Margaret looked surprised, but not amused, and at that moment the carriage was announced. ' Of whom was Dr. Lawton speaking?' she asked of the colonel, when they were seated in it. £ I have not the remotest idea,' he answered, not quite truthfully, perhaps, though in reality his recollection of the doctors patient was vague enough. They reached Hillcrest between six and seven o'clock. Geoffrey was at the door to receive them. He had done all that had been desired of him, and seeing he had but just completed his eleventh year when he had last seen the place, IX THE RAVINE. 29 he showed that he possessed a wonderful memory. The pictures he had brought were hung in their old places, and Lady Margaret's china looked as if it had never left the cabinet. They dined at a round table drawn up to one of the windows, so that as they refreshed themselves they could look over the beautiful garden. Although they had been absent so long, the place had in no way been neglected ; both house and grounds were in perfect order, the lawn was smooth and green, the trees were in full leaf; and now the rain had ceased falling, the sun shone forth in all his glory, and the birds sang their sweetest welcome. Colonel Shakerley had been very anxious in making this return to the old home. He dreaded the effect the change might have upon his wife — she was so delicate and fragile, so easily disturbed and agitated ; but as he watched her now he was relieved to see that her face was serene and calm. Xay, she looked even happy as she complimented Geoffrey on his morning's work. 30 AFTER LONG WAITING. As soon as dinner was over, the colonel went to his study, where, already, one of his tenants was waiting to see him about some repairs that were needed at the farm he was holding. The young people went off together on a tour of inspection, and Lady Margaret was left alone. For a while she sat by the open window, then she found a shawl, and went out. There was one spot in the garden that she had greatly longed to see during all the years of absence. It was the place where she had last seen her boy. She crossed the lawn, passed through an orchard where the fruit was ripening, and came to a flight of steps leading down to a deep ravine. The banks on either side were gay with flowers, a stream was flowing at the bottom, and the air was fresh and perfumed. She had had a rustic seat placed here more than twenty years ago, and she sought it now. The wood was damp, and green, and worm- eaten. It was quite unfit to sit upon. She leaned against it, however, and looked across the water ; on the opposite bank there was a IN THE RAVINE. 31 belt of fir-trees, and beyond them an extensive common. Lady Margaret lingered in the ravine. She had a fancy that here, where she had lost her boy, she would some day find him again. She was picturing to herself their happy meeting, when a slight sound made her start and listen. There was a rustling amongst the fallen leaves, a crackling of the broken branches, then a shadow fell across the water. Could this be the hour of meeting"? Could her boy really be close at hand ! At the instant nothing seemed impossible. She trembled so that she had to clutch the old seat for support, and called, 4 Louis,' softly first, then louder, ' Louis.' There was no answer. The wind mur- mured through the firs, and the stream rippled over the smooth, hard pebbles ; all else was still. i He doesn't know I am his mother,' said Lady Margaret, speaking half aloud. ' Poor boy, how should he ? Perhaps he is not even called Louis now.' 32 AFTER LONG WAITING. She did not need support from the rustic bench. She stood erect and firm whilst she decided what to do, and then, with a step so light that the flowers scarcely bent beneath her tread, she ran down the bank. The little bridge that once had spanned the water was now a hopeless wreck, and the only means of crossing were some slippery, moss-grown stones. But love lent her wings, and her feet hardly touched them as she sprang from one to another and gained the opposite side. An instant more and she was standing beneath the firs, listening intently. There was a slight movement under one of the trees. ' Is anyone here V she called, as with out- stretched hands she hastened to the spot from whence the sound proceeded. * Yes, I am here.' The words were fiercely spoken, and her wrists were rudely clutched and tightly held. She was confronted by no handsome, dark-hair- ed lad such as her fancy had half led her to expect. An old man stood before her, ugly and deformed, with a strange expression of passion IX THE RATINE. 33 or of madness shining in his eyes and sounding in his voice. * Release my hands at once/ gasped Lady Margaret, half dead with fright, < or I will call for help.' The laugh that greeted these words was so wild and savage that she shivered, and could scarcely keep from falling to the ground. ' What do you want?' she asked. ' Money? Here, take it.' She wrenched one hand free from his grasp, and drawing out her purse gave it to him, unopened. 'Money!' he echoed. 'No, the time for me to receive his cursed gold has passed.' He flung the purse, as far as he could, in the direction of the house, and asked, ' Do you know who I am V 4 No, indeed ; I never saw you before.' i Didn't you ? My name is Roger War- wick.' If possible Lady Margaret grew even paler than before, but her voice was steadier when she spoke. 4 Then you ought to sympathise with me VOL. T. D 34 AFTER LONG WAITING. you who know what it is to lose a little child/ * Sympathise !' he yelled, ' sympathise with the wife of the man who made my son a maniac ! Oh, that's fine ; but I have my revenge. Have you never seen your pretty boy since you lost him here sixteen years ago V He waited for her to speak, but her only answer was a wild cry for help, and he went on again, 'I know you have not. You never will and, if you are a wise woman, hope you never will. If you found him now, he would bring shame and disgrace on you and yours ; he would prov r e a curse and not a blessing.' ' How dare you speak so to me V she asked with impotent rage. ' My nephew is somewhere in the garden, if he finds you here ' Warwick laughed contemptuously. 1 I care for neither man nor devil now,' he an- swered fiercely. ' Every hope or fear I ever had died when my boy died. I live for revenge alone. How is Master Bernard ?' with a horrid grin. * Oh, you need not answer, I have seen him. He is not so mad as I could have EN THE RAVINE. 35 wished. I would have had him raging, raving, screaming ' He stopped short. Lady Margaret had fallen to the ground with another cry for help. This time she was heard. There was a sound of hurrying footsteps, and a young man dashed through the trees towards them. ' You despicable old villain,' he exclaimed, in •a deep, strong voice; and next moment Lady Margaret was raised by a powerful arm and saw her persecutor lying prostrate several yards away. She looked up at her deliverer. There was protection in his very presence. She had never seen so tall a man. Young he was, and hand- some too : a gentleman evidently in spite of the careless dress and the gun, which in such a spot had at first suggested the idea that he might be a poacher. 'You will let me see you home?' he asked, and lifted a tiny cap that was almost lost amongst his dark, wavy hair. ' Thank you, if you will. I feel so fright- ened.' d2 36 AFTER LONG WAITING. * Lean on me — heavier — yes, that is better. Where do you live V < At the Hall.' ' Not very far away,' he answered, smiling. 'How your hand trembles. I should like to have it out with that old villain ; but I fear I should make short work with him.' 1 Yes, indeed. Please don't do anything to him. I don't think he is responsible for what he does/ He had led her down to the edge of the water. 'How shall you get across?' ' I came over those stones. I suppose I must get back the same way.' 6 Take care, they are slippery. Ah ! I thought what you would do.' He splashed down into the stream so that he might once more offer her the support of his arm, and led her up the steps into the garden, where Geoffrey met them. He had heard her call, and was coming to seek her. ' My dear aunt,' he gasped, as the young man resigned her to his care in an almost fainting IN THE RAVINE. 37 condition, and, without a word of explanation, once more lifted his inadequate cap and disappeared. 'Oh, Geoffrey/ Lady Margaret murmured, -'who is he V ' That is what I was going to ask you. Where did you meet him, and what has he done to frighten you ? You are not hurt V he asked, in sudden fear. ' He was carrying a gun.' ' Oh, no,' Lady Margaret gave a hysterical laugh. i He did not frighten me, it was Roger Warwick. You remember old Warwick?" 'Yes,' said Wriothesley, with a bewildered air. ; And the man who brought you here. Who is he ?' 8 1 don't know. But, Geoff, I should be the happiest woman in the world if he were Louis.' 38 CHAPTER III. LOUIS DE ROHAN. About ten miles from Hillcrest there is a small inn, known as the ' Eagle and Child.' The house is old, and somewhat dilapidated ; but it still preserves an air of respectability, and the climbing roses, which reach up to the windows of the second storey, make it picturesque. All traces of ' Eagle and Child ' have long been obliterated from the weather-beaten sign, and the only information to be gained from a time-worn board nailed over the door is that the house is kept by Titus Welbeck — who, as everybody in the country knows, was laid to rest in the green churchyard five long years LOUIS DE ROHAX. 3? ago. But, as everybody knows it, there is no need to alter the inscription, and his place is supplied by his widow, a strong-minded, active woman who always has her dress skirt tucked up and her arms bare, except sometimes on a Sunday afternoon. One evening, late in the summer, Mrs. Wel- beck was standing at the door of the •' Eagle and Child,' looking down the road with much apparent interest. Her son, Joe, who assisted her in the work of the inn, and had charge of the stables, stood at her right hand, also look- ing down the road, though no one would have thought it from the position of his head. The object which engaged their attention was a carriage advancing rapidly towards the inn, and ' raisin' a fine k dust,' as Joe remarked, with evident admiration. ' Why, it's only a fly from the station after all,' said Mrs. Welbeck, in a disappointed tone, as the vehicle drew nearer. ' They are stopping, though,' Joe answered : and, as he added this saving clause, the driver pulled up opposite the inn, the window of the 40 AFTER LONG WAITING. carriage was let hastily down, and a young man leaned out. ' How far is it to Hillcrest V he inquired. 6 Ten miles.' * Good road ?' < MiddlinV The stranger drew back from the window, but, by means of placing his eyes in a position which happily his mother was unable to imitate, Joe kept him still in sight. He had turned to a companion whom he supported in his arms, and was repeating the conversation, with a slight variation. * Ten miles on a bad road, with tired horses — you had better give it up for to-night, sir.' The reply was given in so low a tone it could not be heard by the outsiders, but the young man leaned out again. « Can you let us have a bed here for the night ? Well-aired and comfortable, you know.' He spoke imperiously. ' Yes, sir,' Mrs. Welbeck answered, not con- sidering it incumbent on her to mention that her only spare bed had not been slept in since LOUIS DE ROHAN. 41 the late Titus had been laid upon it in his last long sleep. ' Then let the room be got ready at once. My master has been taken ill on the road.' Mrs. Welbeck had made a movement in the direction of the house, but her woman's curiosity would not allow her to go quite out of sight until she had seen the other occupant of the carriage — the master of the young man whom a minute or two ago she thought might be a duke. He was in the road now, and she was disappointed. He was not very tall, and hardly a man yet. Certainly he looked ill, and, though the day had been unusually warm and the even- ing was close and sultry, he wore a long cloak with fur on it and a scarf of crimson silk about his neck. He had turned to look at the jaded horses. 'You should not have brought them so far/ he said to the driver. 'They're right enough,' the man answered, angrily. ' I'd have got you to Hillcrest wi J no bother at all.' The young man shook his head, and smiled. 42 AFTER LONG WAITING. 4 You must let them rest awhile before you return.' As he spoke, he placed a coin in the man's hand, which quickly restored him to amiability. Then the servant, who had shown signs of im- patience during the conversation, approached his master, and persuaded him to enter the house and lie down on the sofa. 8 See that my picture is brought in safely, James,' he said. ' I will rest here before I go upstairs.' All this time Mrs. Welbeck lingered in the kitchen. He looked so ill that a doubt about the advisability of putting him in the spare bed had arisen in her mind, and would not be dis- missed. But it would never do to lose a lodger, and one who would evidently be able to pay well — from his dress, and the jewels he wore, she argued he must be rich. She had not quite made up her mind when James entered, carrying a wooden case which he carefully deposited on the table. ' Is the room ready V he asked. ' Not quite,' Mrs. Welbeck answered. * I'm LOUIS DE ROHAX. 43 thinking I'll just carry the bedding out of my own room into his, and then there will be no fear of damp. It's the best bed, too : the feathers are all of them ' 'Never mind the feathers,' the young man interrupted. 'Be quick, and do as you say.' His imperative tone annoyed Mrs. Welbeck, who, when she did a kind action, liked to have it duly appreciated ; but a glance in the direc- tion of the invalid, who was rapidly winning her affections, decided her, and she set to work in good earnest. The stairs were very steep and narrow, and before they reached the room James had almost to carry his master, whose exceeding paleness greatly alarmed Mrs. Welbeck. She flitted in and out of the room in a very disturbing, but kind and motherly manner, now with a drop of whisky in a teacup, and then with a drink of camomile tea. When these simple remedies proved of no avail, she suggested that Joe should fetch a doctor, ' or a parson might do more good/ she added, under her breath. She 44 AFTER LONG WAITING. was beginning to fear the young fellow might never leave her house alive. This suggestion, at all events, did some good. The invalid roused himself, and spoke with energy. 'I will see no one; remember that, Jim. I shall be all right again in the morning.' ' I'll remember,' Jim answered, shortly. Then Mrs: Welbeck was dismissed from the room, the door was closed, and they two were left alone. The good woman was highly in- censed. The dismissal was given as politely as possible, but still, to put it in plain English, she had been turned out of the room, and the door had been shut upon her. From thenceforth she regarded James as an enemy, and, when she got downstairs amongst the company assembled in the parlour, her indignation broke out against him. ' To think he should have had the cheek to turn me out,' she exclaimed. * Me, a sensible woman, who has had experience in nursing — downright impertinence, I call it.' i They'll want you back again soon enough, LOUIS DE ROHAN. 45 never fear,' murmured the company, in soothing tones. 'And don't they hope they may get me, that's all.' She sat down with her knitting, and did not improve her temper by whisking out the wrong needle and letting down a row of stitches. Her anger was short-lived, however, and, by the time the stocking was reduced to order, she would have been quite willing to enter the sick-room again had anyone desired her to do so. But the door was kept shut, and ex- cept for a soft footstep occasionally, or a word spoken in a whisper, there was not a sound. When James appeared on the following morn- ing, Mrs. Welbeck could not resist the tempta- tion of questioning him. He told her the invalid was no better, that he had passed a bad night, and could not stand without assistance. Then she so far forgave the insult she had re- ceived that she had her plumpest chicken killed, and cooked it herself for the sick boy's dinner. 46 AFTER LONG WAITING. ' Don't you think you had best send for his mother?' she asked later in the day. ' He has no mother.' 'His father, then?' 4 Nor father,' James replied. ' They are both dead.' ' Well, his sister or brother, then ? He must have someone belonging to him.' 4 No one that I ever heard of.' James then proceeded to give her a short account of his master's life, so far as he knew it. He was a Frenchman, Louis de Rohan b} r name ; a count, very rich, and only twenty- two. After hearing this, Mrs. Welbeck became de- voted to him. She spent most of her time in preparing little delicacies which she thought would tempt his appetite, and when the plates and dishes were sent down empty she was delighted. The idea that James might have eaten the things did not occur to her. Several days passed away, and on each day James gave a better account of his patient. He began to leave him now for a short time LOUIS DE ROHAX. ^7 in the afternoon, and took a walk, generally in the direction of the town, where he made many strange purchases, It was on one of these occasions that i Welbeck determined to make an effort to gain admittance. She watched James off, and then went to a mahogany chest of drawers, which stood in her kitchen, and took from thence a roll of print, with a pattern of considerable magnitude stamped upon .:. The roll contained a pair of new curtains and bed-hangings for the best room. She bad not quite finished making them, bnt it would be possible to put them up. So she mounted the stairs, tapped at the door, and on being told to 'Come in,* opene 1 ; but paused before entering. The young count was lying on a sofa, facing the door. The last fen had wrough: wonderful change in his appearance. On the night of his arrival, his face had been v. white and pale, now his complexion was brilliant as the pomegranate blossom. It may be his colour was slightly heightened by the 48 AFTER LONG WAITING. exertion he had just made to open the window, and there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes, for he felt he had been one too many for James, who had insisted on closing it before he went out, because the wind was blowing in that direction. There was a wind certainly, and his hair was all blown across his brow — fine black hair it was, not bright nor silky, but very soft and luxuriant. Mrs. Welbeck was used to, and admired, a very robust order of beauty, but all her pre- conceived notions were forgotten, and she found herself fascinated by the dark brown eyes, whose first mission in life was to attract atten- tion to their owner. De Rohan's face was not perfect, a more critical observer than Mrs. Welbeck would have found it wanting in strength and determination, but the features were good, and the expression of happy joy ousness, which no amount of trouble or ill-health was ever able to damp out, made amends for what was wanting. He had a pas- sion for colour, and his couch was resplendent with gorgeous silks and eastern embroidery. LOUIS DE ROHAN. ' 49 1 Come in, Mrs. Welbeck,' he said, on seeing her. ' I want to thank you for all your good- ness to me.' Mrs. Welbeck came, and dropped a cour- tesy as she took the hand he held out to her. * Indeed, it's little I have been able to do for you, sir, — though there is nothing I would not have been willing to do, but for that man of yours.' Having said this much, the good wo- man had sudden qualms of conscience lest she might be the means of James losing a good situation, and she hastened to add, ' Not that I have anything to complain of, he's respectful enough.' She need not have been afraid. De Kohan knew when he was well off too thoroughly to give ear to anything that might be said as to James's short-comings. ■ Jim is very good,' was his only comment, ' but he spoils me awfully. You cannot think what a temper 1 have when I am ill.' ' I couldn't imagine your having a temper at all, sir,' Mrs. Welbeck said. VOL. I. E 50 ' AFTER LONG WAITING. 'Oh, but I have — Jim knows. What have you got there V ' Only some window-curtains and hangings for the bed. I thought you might like to have them up.' 'Certainly I should.' He looked across at the gaunt, curtainless four-poster as he spoke. It had been a source of annoyance to him ever since he had been able to take an interest in his surroundings. ' You'll be very glad to get out again, I reckon,' she said, unrolling the bundle. 'Indeed I shall. I am going to Hillcrest. Do you know the place at all ? It isn't far from here, I think.' ' Know the place !' she exclaimed, pausing in her work, and speaking with her mouth full of pins. ' I should think I do, when my own sister married a man from there, and I went and kept house for him and looked after the child for two years after she died, poor thing/ ' Are there any good family residences about there?' He asked the question with consider- able interest. LOUIS DE ROHAN. 51 < There is the Hall.' • Who lives there V 'No one has done for fourteen years or more, but I have heard the young captain has come back again, — colonel he'll be now, and none so young either, I reckon.' ; How is it he has been away so long V - Why, they say he never could abide the place after the loss of his little boy, and his wife made herself ill with fretting about the child where everything reminded her of him. This curtain wants hemming across the bottom,' she concluded. ' If you don't mind me doing it here, it will do basted, and won't take more than a minute or two.' 'Do it here by all means,' the young man said. 'And what is basting V 1 Just taking good big stitches.' Mrs. Welbeck seated herself on the floor, pro- duced a reel of cotton and a lump of beeswax from her pocket, and began to search the front of her dress for a needle. ' Let me see, — what was I telling you about?' A 2 ^r* 52 AFTER LONG WAITING. ' About the colonel's little boy. He died, I think you said.' ' Nay, he didn't die, worse luck. He was took.' * Took V repeated the count, with a puzzled air. 4 Yes, by gipsies. A man with bushy black whiskers, and a woman in a red cloak, had been seen hanging about for some two or three days, and everyone said they were after no good. It's thought they took him for the value of all his fine clothes.' ' And has nothing been heard of him since ? I suppose there would be a great search made after him V ' Search ! bless you, yes ! The whole country was up, the police were informed, the military was called out, and whole newspapers were filled with descriptions of him. But they never heard anything, leastways not to my know- ledge.' ' Have they any other children ? The colonel and his wife, I mean.' ' Yes, one, another boy ; but I've heard say he LOUIS DE ROHAN. 53 isn't quite all there.' Mrs. Welbeck tapped her forehead with her large brass thimble to explain her meaning, and, after a pause, added, ' It's like a judgment on him.' ' A judgment on whom and for what V asked De Rohan icily. ' On the colonel for what he did to my sister's child, though I don't blame him as much as some do.' • Don't be so enigmatical.' ' So what did you say, sir ?' ' Never mind, tell me what the colonel did to your nephew.' Mrs. Welbeck was delighted. She dearly loved to tell a tale. She threaded her needle afresh, and waxed the cotten slowly whilst arranging the plan of her story. Then began : * The colonel's mother died when he was very young ' 1 Now I am in for it,' thought De Rohan, but not without a feeling of thankfulness that she did not say grandmother. He settled himself to listen, and showed as much interest as he could assume. 54 AFTER LONG WAITING. ' — and after her death her husband had a white marble monument erected over her grave. It was the figure of an angel, and was con- sidered very beautiful. He put a stained glass window in the church to her memory, and built three alms-houses to be lived in by old women ; then he married again. His second wife was a handsome lady with a large fortune, and things went on pretty well till she had a son of her own. Then she grew awfully jealous of her step-son, and was always for having him snubbed and set aside, and for bringing her own boy to the front. The poor lad got precious little comfort at home, and spent most of his time by his mother's grave ; till I think he came to have a real affection for the carved angel, which was supposed to be like her. Even after he grew up and entered the army, he always went to have a look at it first thing whenever he came to Hillcrest. Well, it was all along of that monument the trouble came. This was how it happened : * One day our Lewis — that's my nephew, you know — was playing about the church-yard. He LOUIS DE ROHAN. 55 had one of those catapults that lads throw stones with, and was flinging at some birds, when one of the stones hit the angel in the face, and marked it. The colonel saw it done. He was awfully angry about it, and locked the child up in the old church tower. It stands by itself, the tower does, a good way from the church, and is a good deal older. There are strange stories told about its being haunted, and the like, and folks won't pass it at night for fear of seeing something. 4 Well, as I said, he shut the child up there to frighten him a bit. He was going to dine with some friends, and he left the key in the lock, thinking he would let him out on his way back. He stayed late, however, and either the wine he drank, or the gay companions he met, put the whole thing out of his head. He returned home without ever giving a thought to the lad. * Meanwhile his father got anxious about him. It was turning into a fearful night, black as a bog, and the wind blowing in great gusts enough to drive the breath out of a body. I 5Q AFTER LONG WAITING. was not living at Hillcrest then, but I'd come on a visit, and stayed to look for the child. * We set out about eight o'clock with lanterns. First we made inquiries in the village ; no one had seen him, but a lot of folks joined in the search, and we wandered about till it was just beginning to come light without discovering anything of him. Then we decided to go home, and see if he had found his way back during the night. The nearest way lay through the church- yard, and we were just opening the gate, when we heard a most frightful scream from the old tower. All the people with us, men, women, and children alike, fled shrieking in every direc- tion, and saying it was the ghost. But I was none feared. I grasped the lantern in one hand and my umbrella in the other, and called to the father to come on. He was a bit scared, I think, but he came readily enough when he saw me so bold. We found the door locked, but the key was on the outside. I turned it and opened the door. As I did so, the scream was repeated, only louder than before, and something ran to- wards us. LOUIS DE ROHAN. 57 ' Then, I don't mind owning, I did quake in my shoes ; the lantern slipped from my fingers, and I fell all of a heap on the floor. 1 When I came round a bit, and ventured to look up, the father was sitting on the wet grass holding the twisting, struggling child in his arms, and trying to soothe him as a mother might her baby, but without any effect — the lad was raving mad.' Mrs. Welbeck's elocutional powers had in- creased with every sentence she uttered, but now she was forced to pause and wipe away a few tears, drawn forth by the remembrance of the scene she had just described. De Rohan breathed a sympathetic sigh, but did not speak. He felt rather at a loss what to say, and was glad when Mrs. Welbeck got the better of her feelings, and began to thread her needle again. ' My sight isn't as good as it once was,' she said, snipping the end off the cotton after one or two ineffectual attempts to put it through the eye. * Mine is excellent,' he said, holding out his 58 AFTER LONG WAITING. hand. ' Did the poor little fellow ever get right again V < Never,' Mrs. Welbeck replied, dejectedly. ' At least, not altogether right, though every- thing was done for him that could be done. The colonel was in a great way when he heard of it. He sent for no end of clever doctors to see him, and when one of them suggested his father should travel with him, and see if change and variety of scenery would do anything towards driving the impression of that night from his mind, he paid all expenses.' 1 And it did no good V 1 Not much ; he died abroad. His father came back alone, and lives in the old home. I do think he's gone a bit queer, for he hardly ever speaks to anyone, and never goes any- where.' « It's a melancholy story,' the young man said, with another sigh. Then he dismissed it from his mind, for he did not like melancholy things, and he had no idea how nearly this tale con- cerned himself. Mrs. Welbeck had finished her work, and had LOUIS DE ROHAX. 59 no excuse for remaining longer. But there was the wooden case, which James had been so careful about on the night of the arrival, in the count's room, and she was loth to go with- out learning what it contained. She lingered, therefore, surveying her work, and picking up the parings of print that lay on the floor. Then she had a furious hunt for the needle, which had been carefully restored to its former place on the front of her dress, and lastly, she rolled the cotton under the chair on which the case stood, and made a great business about picking it up. 'My word, but this box is heavy, sir/ she said, shoving the chair into its place again. ' I suppose it's full of books — you read a deal, I reckon.' The young man looked amused. He had been wondering what it was she wanted, and now he was not unwilling to satisfy her curiosity. 1 1 have read a good deal,' he admitted ; ' but that does not contain books. It is the portrait of a lady; you may look at it, if you like.' •60 AFTER LONG WAITING. He took a small key from his pocket as he spoke, and handed it to her. Mrs. Welbeck opened the box, then gave vent to her admira- tion in a rapturous, expressive ' Oh !' and knelt on the floor to bring herself on a level with the painting. 4 Did you ever see anyone like her ?' De Kohan asked. ' Never,' Mrs. Welbeck answered, emphatic- ally. ' Is she a real woman V 'I hope so,' he said, and a curious smile passed over his face. ' She seems to be almost too pretty,' Mrs. Welbeck opined, and after a further examin- ation of the painting she inquired if it were finished. ' Not yet,' he answered. ' I hope it soon will be, though.' 'Is the artist living, then?' she asked, in a tone of surprise. * I thought a picture was never worth anything till the painter was dead.' De Rohan laughed. 4 Thanks to your care and good nursing he is living.' LOUIS DE ROHAN. 61 'You!' Mrs. Welbeck exclaimed. ' Oh, it can't be you.' 'Why not V ' I don't know. Did you really do it V ' Yes, really/ Mrs. Welbeck seemed to consider an artist was a fit subject for inspection, and gazed at him accordingly, much as she would have done at an elephant in the Zoological Gardens. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. 1 Why, sir,' she exclaimed, ' if you could paint a picture like this, you could, maybe, paint a sign-board. All the colour is faded out of ours, and when the house has been done up in the spring, it will look worse than ever.' The young man felt rather taken aback. He had flattered himself that her admiration of his work was at least disinterested. He answered readily, however, that he should be pleased to do it, or anything else that lay in his power to oblige her. He set to work on the following day, and was glad of the occupation, for eight days passed and nothing occurred to break the -62 AFTER LONG WAITING. monotony of his existence at the ' Eagle and Child.' On the ninth day, however, a new interest was awakened, and all weariness and depression was forgotten. 63 CHAPTER IV. AT THE ; EAGLE AND CHILD.' ' I WISH you would ride over to the High Forest, Geoff, and see what Sanderson is doing about those improvements,' the colonel said one morn- ing, when he and his family were seated at luncheon, about three weeks after their arrival at Hillcrest. Geoffrey promised to do so. ' I am going np to town this afternoon,' the colonel continued, 'and shall not have time.' 'Not to stay?' Lady Margaret asked. ' Oh, no ; a couple of days at the most. Why, <)4 AFTER LONG WAITING. what's the matter?' for she had turned pale and looked anxious. * Nothing,' with rather a feeble attempt at a laugh ;' only Geoff is going away to-morrow, and this place is so lonely.' The colonel looked surprised. ' You used not to be afraid,' he said. A slightly awkward silence ensued. Then Geoffrey came to the rescue. 1 1 will write and put off my visit to Wriothesley,' he said ; ' so, if my presence inspires any confidence, I shall be here.' 1 Oh, yes ; if you are here it will be all right,' Nothing more was said on the subject until the two gentlemen were alone — Bernard always left the table with his mother and Daisy. Then the colonel said, ' 1 wonder why your aunt objects to our going away together V