The Quiet Gentleman

You have frequently been meeting him, while we—'

'I have met him occasionally,' interrupted Theodore. 'His employment abroad has not made frequent meetings possible.'

'Just so—precisely as I was about to remark! But you know him well enough to have a kindness for him!'

'I have always had a great kindness for him, sir.'

The reappearance of Miss Morville, bearing a small firescreen set upon an ebony stick, which she handed to the Dowager, created a timely diversion. The Dowager bestowed a smile upon her, saying that she was very much obliged to her. 'I do not know how I shall bear to relinquish you to your worthy parents when they return from the Lakes, for I am sure I shall miss you excessively. My daughter—Lady Grampound, you know—is for ever advising me to employ some genteel person to bear me company, and to run my little errands for me. If ever I should decide to do so I shall offer the post to you, I promise you!'

Miss Morville, not so swift as Mr. Clowne to recognize her ladyship's wit, replied to this pleasantry in a practical spirit. 'Well, it is very kind in you to think you would like to have me to live with you, ma'am,' she said, 'but I do not think it would suit me, for I should not have nearly enough to do.'

'You like to be very busy, don't you?' Theodore said, smiling at her in some amusement.

'Yes,' she replied, seating herself again in her chair, and resuming her knitting. She added thoughtfully: 'It is to be hoped that I shall never be obliged to seek such a post, for my disposition is not meek, and would render me ineligible for any post but that, perhaps, of housekeeper.'

This prosaic observation appeared to daunt the company. A silence fell, which was broken by the ubiquitous Mr. Clowne, who said archly: 'What do you think of, Miss Morville, while your hands are so busy? Or must we not seek to know?'

She looked rather surprised, but replied with the utmost readiness: 'I was wondering whether I should not, after all, make the foot a little longer. When they are washed at home, you know, they don't shrink; but it is sadly different at Cambridge! I should think the washerwomen there ought to be ashamed of themselves!'

Finding that this reflection evoked no response from the assembled company, she again applied herself to her work, and continued to be absorbed in it until Martin, who had quick ears, jerked up his head, and ejaculated: 'A carriage! At last!'

At the same moment, an added draught informed the initiated that the door beyond the Grand Staircase had been opened; there was a subdued noise of bustle in the vestibule, and the sound of trampling hooves in the carriage-drive. Miss Morville finished knitting her row, folded the sock, and bestowed it neatly in the tapestry-bag. Though Martin nervously fingered his cravat, the Dowager betrayed by no sign that she had heard the sounds of an arrival. Mr. Clowne, taking his cue from her, lent a spuriously eager ear to the platitude which fell from her lips; and Theodore, glancing from one to the other, seemed to hesitate to put himself forward.

A murmur of voices from the vestibule indicated that Abney, the butler, had thrown open the doors to receive his new master. Several persons, including the Steward, and a couple of footmen, were bowing, and falling back obsequiously; and in another instant a slim figure came into view. Only Miss Morville, seated in a chair with its back turned to the vestibule, was denied this first glimpse of the seventh Earl. Either from motives of good manners, or from lack of interest, she refrained from peeping round the back of her chair; and the Dowager, to mark her approbation, addressed another of her majestic platitudes to her.

All that could at first be seen of the seventh Earl was a classic profile, under the brim of a high-crowned beaver; a pair of gleaming Hessians, and a drab coat of many capes and graceful folds, which enveloped him from chin to ankle. His voice was heard: a soft voice, saying to the butler: 'Thank you! Yes, I remember you very well: you are Abney. And you, I think, must be my steward. Perran, is it not? I am very glad to see you again.'

He turned, as though aware of the eyes which watched him, and stood foursquare to the Hall, seeing his stepmother, her imposing form gowned in purple satin, a turban set upon her gray locks, her Roman nose elevated; his half-brother, standing scowling before the fireplace, one hand gripping the high mantelshelf, the other dug into the pocket of his satin breeches; his cousin, standing a little in the background, and slightly smiling at him; his Chaplain, torn between curiosity and his allegiance to the Dowager. He regarded them thoughtfully, while with one hand he removed the beaver from his head, and held it out, and with the other he relinquished his gloves and his cane into the care of a footman. His hat was reverently taken from him by Abney, who murmured: 'Your coat, my lord!'

'My coat, yes: in a moment!' the Earl said, moving unhurriedly towards the Hall.

An instant Theodore hesitated, waiting for the Dowager or for Martin to make some sign; then he strode forward, with his hands held out, exclaiming: 'Gervase, my dear fellow! Welcome!'

Martin, his affronted stare taking in the number of the capes of that drab coat, the high polish on the Hessian boots, the extravagant points of a shirt-collar, and the ordered waves of guinea-gold hair above a white brow, muttered audibly: 'Good God! the fellow's nothing but a curst dandy!'

CHAPTER 2

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The flicker of a quizzical look, cast in Martin's direction, betrayed that his half-brother had heard his involuntary exclamation. Before the ready flush had surged up to the roots of his hair, Gervase was no longer looking at him, but was shaking his cousin's hand, smiling at him, and saying: 'How do you do, Theo? You see I do keep my promises: I have come!'

Theo held his slender hand an instant longer, pressing it slightly. 'One year past! You are a villain!'

'Ah, yes, but you see I must have gone into black gloves, and really I could not bring myself to do so!' He drew his hand away, and advanced into the Hall, towards his stepmother's chair.

She did not rise, but she extended her hand to him. 'Well, and so you have come at last, St. Erth! I am happy to see you here, though, to be sure, I scarcely expected ever to do so! I do not know why you could not have come before, but you were always a strange, whimsical creature, and I daresay I shall not find that you have changed.'

'Dear ma'am, believe me, it is the greatest satisfaction to me to be able to perceive, at a glance, that you have not changed—not by so much as a hairsbreadth!' Gervase responded, bowing over her hand.

So sweetly were the words uttered, that everyone, except the Dowager, was left in doubt of their exact significance. The Dowager, who would have found it hard to believe that she could be the object of satire, was unmoved. 'No, I fancy I do not alter,' she said complacently. 'No doubt, however, you see a great change in your brother.'

'A great change,' agreed Gervase, holding out his hand to Martin, and scanning him out of his smiling, blue eyes. 'Can you be my little brother? It seems so unlikely! I should not have recognized you.' He turned, offering hand and smile to the Chaplain. 'But Mr. Clowne I must certainly have known anywhere! How do you do?'

The Chaplain, who, from the moment of the Earl's handing his hat to Abney, had stood staring at him as though he could not drag his eyes from his face, seemed to be a trifle shaken, and answered with much less than his usual urbanity: 'And I you, my lord! For one moment it was as though—Your lordship must forgive me! Memory serves one some strange tricks.'

'You mean, I think, that I am very like my mother,' said Gervase. 'I am glad—though it is a resemblance which has brought upon me in the past much that I wish to forget.'

'It has frequently been remarked,' stated the Dowager, 'that Martin is the very likeness of all the Frants.'

'You are too severe, ma'am,' said Gervase gently.

'Let me tell you, St. Erth, that if I favour the Frants I am devilish glad to hear it!' said Martin.

'Tell me anything you wish, my dear Martin!' said Gervase encouragingly.

His young relative was not unnaturally smitten to silence, and stood glaring at him. The Dowager said in a voice of displeasure: 'I have the greatest dislike of such trifling talk as this. I shall make you known to Miss Morville, St. Erth.'

Bows were exchanged; the Earl murmured that he was happy to make Miss Morville's acquaintance; and Miss Morville, accepting the civility with equanimity, pointed out to him, in a helpful spirit, that Abney was still waiting to relieve him of his driving-coat.

'Of course—yes!' said Gervase, allowing the butler to help him out of his coat, and standing revealed in all the