sleep at last.'
She flitted away down the gallery, and the Earl returned to his bedchamber. Sleep was far from him, however, and after drawing the curtain across the window again he began to pace slowly about the room, thinking over all that had passed. The creak he had heard might, he supposed, have been caused merely by the settling of a chair; but he could not charge his nerves with having led him to imagine the closing of a door. He could have sworn that a latch had clicked very softly, and this sound was too distinctive to be confused with the many noises of the storm. He glanced towards the door into his dressing-room, and took a step towards it. Then he checked himself, reflecting that his silent visitor would scarcely return to his room that night. Instead of locking the door, he bent to pick up his handkerchief, which had fallen on the floor beside the bed, and stood for a moment, kneading it unconsciously between his hands, and wondering whether the click he had heard had not been in the room after all, but had been caused by Martin's closing of the door leading to the stairway down the gallery. He could not think it, but it was useless to cudgel his brain any further at that hour. He tossed the handkerchief on to his pillow, and took off his dressing-gown. Suddenly his abstracted gaze became intent. He picked the handkerchief up again, and held it near the candle, to perceive more clearly the monogram which had caught his eye. Delicately embroidered on the fine lawn were the interlinked initials, M and F.
CHAPTER 7
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A bright day succeeded the storm, with a fresh wind blowing, but the sun shining, and great cumulus clouds riding high in a blue sky. Some of the havoc wrought from the night's tornado could be observed from the windows of the breakfast-parlour; and when Martin strode in presently, he reported that at least one tree had been struck in the Home Wood, and that shattered tiles from the roof of the Castle littered the courts.
'I trust your lordship's rest was not too much disturbed?' Mr. Clowne said solicitously. 'It was indeed a tempestuous night!'
'His lordship will tell you, sir,' said Theo, 'that, having bivouacked in Spain, an English thunderstorm has no power to disturb his rest. He was boasting of it to me last night. I daresay you never enjoyed a quieter sleep, eh, Gervase?'
'Did I boast? Then I am deservedly set-down, for I must own that my rest was not quite undisturbed.' He met his brother's wary, kindling glance across the table, and added, meeting those dark eyes smilingly, but with irony in his own lazy gaze: 'By the by, Martin, I fancy this must be yours!'
Martin caught the handkerchief tossed to him, and inspected it casually. 'Yes, it is. Did you find it amongst your own?'
'No,' said Gervase. 'You dropped it.'
Martin looked up quickly, suspicion in his face. 'Oh! I daresay I might have: it can easily happen, after all!' He turned away, and began to tell his cousin about the damage caused by the storm which had so far been reported.
'Then, as I really mean to ride towards Hatherfield this morning,' observed the Earl, 'I shall no doubt be besieged with demands for new roofs and chimney-stacks. What shall I say to my importunate tenants, Theo?'
'Why, that they must carry their complaints to your agent! Do you indeed mean to go there? I had abandoned hope of bringing you to a sense of your obligations! Mind, now, that you don't deny old Yelden the gratification of receiving a visit from you! He has been asking me for ever when he may hope to see you. You have no more devoted a pensioner, I daresay! He swears it was he who taught you to climb your first tree!'
'So he did, indeed! I will certainly visit him,' Gervase promised.
Martin, who had become engaged in conversation with the Chaplain, seemed not to be paying any heed to this interchange; nor, unless some direct enquiry obliged him to do so, did he again address his brother while the meal lasted. He strolled away, when the party rose from the table; and, upon Mr. Clowne's excusing himself, Theo looked shrewdly at his cousin, and said: 'Now what's amiss?'
The Earl raised his brows. 'Why do you ask me that? Do I seem to you to be out of humour?'
'No, but it's easy to see that Martin has taken one of his pets.'
'Oh, must there be a reason for his pets? I had not thought of it! Are you very busy today? Go with me to Hatherfield!'
'Willingly. I shall be glad to see what damage may have been done to the saplings in the new plantation, Cheringham way. I daresay we may meet Hayle there, and I must have a word with him about fencing. You might care to talk to him yourself!'
'Pray hold me excused! I know nothing of fencing, and should infallibly betray my ignorance. It will not do for my bailiff to hold me cheap!'
His cousin laughed, but shook his head at him. He went off to transact some trifling matter of business, but in less than twenty minutes he rejoined the Earl, and they set forward on their ride.
The most direct route to the village of Hatherfield lay through the Home Park and across a stream to Cheringham Spinney. The ground on either side of the stream was marshy, and a long wooden bridge had been thrown across it by the Earl's grandfather. No more than a footbridge, it was not wide enough to permit of two horsemen riding abreast of it. After the storm, the stream was a miniature torrent, with evidences of the night's havoc swirling on its churned-up flood. The nervous chestnut Gervase was riding jibbed at the bridge, but, after a little tussle with his rider, stepped delicately on to the wooden planks.
'Take care, Gervase!' Theo ejaculated, hard on his heels, but reining back. 'Gervase,
'Why, what is it?' Gervase said, obediently halting, and looking over his shoulder.
'It won't hold! Back!' Theo said, backing his own horse off the bridge. He dismounted quickly, thrust his bridle into the Earl's hand, and went squelching through the boggy ground to the edge of the swollen stream. 'I thought as much!' he called. 'One of the supports is scarcely standing! Good God, what a merciful thing that Hayle was speaking to me about the supports only five days ago, and I recalled it in time! One of those great branches must have been hurled against it: it is cracked almost right through!'
'No wonder, then, that Orthes refused to face it!' said Gervase. 'Poor fellow, I maligned you, didn't I? You are wiser by far than your master, and would have spared him an ignominious wetting!'
'A wetting!' Theo exclaimed, coming back to dry ground. 'You might think yourself fortunate to escape with no worse than that! There are boulders in the streambed: if you had ridden this way alone, and been stunned perhaps—! I blame myself: I should have had this bridge attended to when Hayle first spoke to me of it! My dear Gervase, it is very well to laugh, but you might have sustained an ugly injury—if not a fatal injury! Now what are we to do?'
'Ford the stream, of course. Orthes won't like it, so this well-mannered roan of yours shall give him a lead.'
Theo took the bridle from him again, and remounted. 'Very well, but take care how you go! The water has risen so much that you can't perceive the rocks—and, I assure you, there are several!'
Though the muddied water did indeed hide the rocks, it was not very deep, scarcely rising above the horses' knees. Gervase was obliged to acknowledge, however, that a fall from the bridge might have resulted in a broken limb or a concussion, for the boulders were numerous, making it necessary for them to pick their way very slowly across the stream. Once Orthes stumbled, but his master held him together, and the passage was accomplished in safety. 'An adventurous ride!' remarked Gervase merrily. 'I am glad you were with me, Theo. A tumble into this dirty water would not have suited me at all. And what my poor Turvey will have to say to my boots when he sees them I shudder to think of! Ah, now, behold the guardian of the bridge—a trifle late, but you can see how zealous!'
He pointed with his riding-whip down the rough track that lay before them to where a ruddy-cheeked urchin in a smock and frieze breeches was striding importantly towards them with a red handkerchief attached to a hazel-wand carried in the manner of a standard before him.
'Well, Ensign, and who may you be?' the Earl enquired, smiling down at the boy. 'Horatius, I fancy!'
'That's Parson,' disclaimed the urchin. 'I'm nobbut Tom Scrooby, come to mind the bridge, and see no one don't come acrost, your honour, because it's clean busted.' His round eyes, having thoroughly taken in the Earl, travelled to Theo. He pulled his sandy forelock. 'Mr. Martin said as how he would tell Mr. Hayle, sir, and Father said
