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He knew that whatever she had meant to say when she drew that long breath, she had not said it: she had broken down and uttered something quite different from what had been on her mind—on her lips.
Already she was half way to the terrace steps, and she had run up them and was within the room before he moved.
She was greeting some one in the room. How loud her laugh was!
And yet he had thought half an hour before that he had never heard so low a laugh as hers!—the laughter of a brook among mossy stones.
But a spate had taken place.
He went down once more to the end of the garden alone thinking his thoughts.
And when, five minutes later, he went slowly up the terrace steps he found that Josephine had gone away.
“She said good-bye to you before she left the garden, did she not?” cried Amber, while he glanced round the room.
“Oh, yes, she said good-bye,” he replied.
And then he cried out, seeing Guy Overton on a stool:
“Hullo, you here? Why, I thought that this was one of your school days.”
Amber had never before heard him speak in so boisterous a tone. He usually spoke in a low voice.
And she had also noticed that Josephine had laughed much louder than was her wont.
But she was sure that Josephine had not been rude to him. Josephine was not one of those horrid girls who cannot be clever without being rude.
Guy has been telling me all about his great investment,” cried Amber. “You never mentioned it to us, Mr. Winwood. But perhaps you didn’t hear of it?”
“You were the first one to whom I told it,” said Guy looking at her sentimentally. His tone was syrupy with sentimentality.
Pierce laughed quite boisterously. “What has he been doing?” he said. “I certainly heard nothing of it. It hasn’t yet been put into the hands of that Mr. Bateman, the advertiser whom I have been eluding for the past fortnight. Have you bought the Duke’s racers or what?”
“Not much,” said Guy. “I’ve got something more solid for my money.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said Pierce. “I saw one of the Duke’s racers and in the matter of solidity—but what have you bought?”
“The Gables—I’ve just bought The Gables. You must come down and see me, Pierce, old chap—you really must.”
He had the air of the old-fashioned proprietor—the owner of broad acres and so forth.
“I can see you quite well enough from where I stand—that is, when you keep still. Don’t wriggle about, sonny, but tell me what are The Gables? Whose gables have you been buying?”
“What are The Gables? What are—oh, he has just come from Australia. He has never heard of the historic mansion—see the agent’s catalogue—The historic mansion known as The Gables. Why, don’t you know enough of the history of your native land to be aware of the fact that it was at The Gables that King Charles the First—or was it Henry the First?—signed something or other.”
“Magna Charta?” suggested Pierce blandly.
“No, not Magna Charta,” said Guy with the natural irritation of a great scholar who, on forgetting for a moment an important name or date, hears the haphazard prompting of a tyro. “Not Magna Charta—that was somewhere else. Never mind, Nell Gwyn once lived at The Gables,” he added proudly. “You’ve heard of Nell Gwyn, I suppose?”
“Not in connection with the history of my native land, Mr. Overton. You will search in vain the history of Australia from the earliest date to find any allusion there to a visit from Nell Gwyn,” said Pierce. “But I’ve had fifteen houses pointed out to me within the four-mile radius, in each of which Nell Gwyn lived. And yet the greatest authority on the subject says she never lived in any but two.”
“Well, The Gables was one of them,” said Guy. “I should know it for the place is mine. I’ve just bought it.”
“The dearest old house by the river that was ever seen,” said Amber. “You must have seen it, Mr. Winwood. On the way to Hurley—you told us you went to Hurley. The river is at the bottom of the lawn.”
“Yes, in summer; but in the winter the lawn is at the bottom of the river—why it was Guy himself who told me that some friend of his had said that,” laughed Pierce. “Anyhow you’ve bought the place. Bravo, Guy! You got it cheap?”
“Not so cheap as I meant to when I set out to do it,” said Guy. “But another chap was in the running for it too—a brewer chap! Disgusting, isn’t it, that all these fine old places are getting into the hands of that sort of man?”
“It is revolting to the old stock like you and me, Guy,” responded Pierce with great solemnity.
“I got the historic mansion, the grounds with the wreck of three boats and two boathouses—the stables and a piggery—a decent sized piggery—accommodate a family of seventeen. I don’t suppose that I’ll ever want more than seventeen pigs at one time. The piggery is the only part of the place that has been occupied for the past two years. I got the furniture at a valuation too.”
“And the pigs?” suggested Pierce.
“Oh, I won’t need the pigs. I’m going to ask a crowd of you chaps down some Saturday,” said Guy, and he could not for the life of him understand why Lady Severn as well as Amber and Winwood burst out laughing. He thought it as well to allow himself to be persuaded that he had said something witty, so he too began to laugh; but he laughed so entirely without conviction that every one else in the room roared.
“Why shouldn’t I have a crowd down to keep me company?” he enquired blandly. “What’s the good of having a country house unless to entertain one’s friends. I’m going down as soon as I can. I’m not such a fool as to keep up two establishments. I have been paying two pounds a week for my rooms in town up to the present. That’s a lot of money, you know.”
“You’ll be able to save something now,” said Pierce.
“Not so much in the beginning. The house is not more than a couple of miles from your place, Lady Severn,” said Guy, and at this further suggestion of cause and effect there was another laugh.
