'I expect you enjoyed staying with Lady Manorwater, Alice?' Mrs.
Andrews declared at dinner. 'They are very plain people, aren't they, to be such great aristocrats?
'I suppose so,' said the girl listlessly.
'I once met Lady Manorwater at Mrs. Cookson's at afternoon tea. I thought she was badly dressed. You know Manorwater, don't you, George?'
said the lady to her husband, with the boldness which comes from the use of a peer's name without the handle.
'Oh yes, I know him well. I have met him at the Liberal Club dinners, and I was his chairman once when he spoke on Irish affairs. A delightful man!'
'I suppose they would have a pleasant house-party when you were here, my dear?' asked the lady. 'And of course you had the election. What fun!
And what a victory for you, Mr. Stocks! I hear you beat the greatest landowner in the district.'
Mr. Stocks smiled and glanced at Alice. The girl flushed; she could not help it; and she hated Mr. Stocks for his look.
Her father spoke for the first time. 'What is the young man like, Mr.
Stocks? I hear he is very proud and foolish, the sort of over-educated type which the world has no use for.'
'I like him,' said Mr. Stocks dishonestly. 'He fought like a gentleman.'
'These people are so rarely gentlemen,' said Mrs. Andrews, proud of her high attitude. 'I suppose his father made his money in coal and bought the land from some poor dear old aristocrat. It is so sad to think of it. And that sort of person is always over-educated, for you see they have not the spirit of the old families and they bury themselves in books.' Mrs. Andrews's father had kept a crockery shop, but his daughter had buried the memory.
Mr. Wishart frowned. The lady had been asked down for her husband's sake, and he did not approve of this chatter about family. Mr. Stocks, who was about to explain the Haystoun pedigree, caught his host's eye and left the dangerous subject untouched.
'You said in your letters that they had been kind to you at this young man's place. We must ask him down here to dinner, Alice. Oh, and that reminds me I found a letter from him to-day asking me to shoot. I don't go in for that sort of thing, but you young fellows had better try it.'
Mr. Stocks declined, said he had given it up. Mr. Thompson said, 'Upon my word I should like to,' and privately vowed to forget the invitation. He distrusted his prowess with a gun.
'By the by, was he not at the picnic when you saved my daughter's life?
I can never thank you enough, Stocks. What should I have done without my small girl?'
'Yes, he was there. In fact he was with Miss Alice at the moment she slipped.'
He may not have meant it, but the imputation was clear, and it stirred one fiery expostulation. 'Oh, but he hadn't time before Mr. Stocks came after me,' she began, and then feeling it ungracious towards that gentleman to make him share a possibility of heroism with another, she was silent. More, a lurking fear which had never grown large enough for a suspicion, began to catch at her heart. Was it possible that Lewis had held back?
For a moment the candle-lit room vanished from her eyes. She saw the warm ledge of rock with the rowan berries above. She saw his flushed, eager face-it was her last memory before she had fallen. Surely never-never was there cowardice in those eyes!
Mrs. Andrews's vulgarities and her husband's vain repetitions began to pall upon the anxious girl. The young Mr. Thompson talked shrewdly enough on things of business, and Mr. Stocks abated something of his pomposity and was honestly amiable. These were her own people, the workers for whom she had craved. And yet-were they so desirable? Her father's grave, keen face pleased her always, but what of the others?
The radiant gentlewomen whom she had met with the Manorwaters seemed to belong to another world than this of petty social struggling and awkward ostentation. And the men! Doubtless they were foolish, dilettanti, barbarians of sport, half-hearted and unpractical! And she shut her heart to any voice which would defend them.
Lewis drove over to dine some four days later with dismal presentiments.
The same hopeless self-contempt which had hung over him for weeks was still weighing on his soul. He dreaded the verdict of Alice's eyes, and in a heart which held only kindness he looked for a cold criticism. It was this despair which made his position hopeless He would never take his chance; there could be no opportunity for the truth to become clear to both; for in his plate-armour of despair he was shielded against the world. Such was his condition to the eyes of a friend; to himself he was the common hopeless lover who sighed for a stony mistress.
He noticed changes in Glenavelin. Businesslike leather pouches stood in the hall, and an unwontedly large pile of letters lay on a table. The drawing-room was the same as ever, but in the dining-room an escritoire had been established which groaned under a burden of papers. Mr.
Wishart puzzled and repelled him. It was a strong face, but a cold and a stupid one, and his eyes had the glassy hardness of the man without vision. He was bidden welcome, and thanked in a tactless way for his kindness to Mr. Wishart's daughter. Then he was presented to Mrs.
Andrews, and his courage sank as he bowed to her.
At table the lady twitted him with graceful badinage. 'Alice and you must have had a gay time, Mr. Haystoun. Why, you've been seeing each other constantly for months. Have you become great friends?' She exerted herself, for, though he might be a parvenu, he was undeniably handsome.
Mr. Stocks explained that Mr. Haystoun had organized wonderful picnic parties. The lady clapped her many- ringed hands, and declared that he must repeat the experiment. 'For I love picnics,' she said, 'I love the simplicity and the fresh air and the rippling streams. And washing up is fun, and it is such a great chance for you young men.' And she cast a coy glance over her shoulder.
'Do you live far off, Mr. Haystoun?' she asked repeatedly. 'Four miles? Oh, that's next door. We shall come and see you some day. We have just been staying with the Marshams-Mr. Marsham, you know, the big cotton people. Very vulgar, but the house is charming. It was so exciting, for the elections were on, and the Hestons, who are the great people in that part of the country, were always calling. Dear Lady Julia is so clever. Did you ever meet Mr. Marsham, by any chance?'
'Not that I remember. I know the Hestons of course. Julia is my cousin.'
The lady was silenced. 'But I thought,' she murmured. 'I thought-they were-' She broke off with a cough.
'Yes, I spent a good many of my school holidays at Heston.'
Alice broke in with a question about the Manorwaters. The youthful Mr.
Thompson, who, apart from his solicitor's profession, was a devotee of cricket, asked in a lofty way if Mr. Haystoun cared for the game.
'I do rather. I'm not very good, but we raised an eleven this year in the glen which beat Gledsmuir.'
The notion pleased the gentleman. If a second match could be arranged he might play and show his prowess. In all likelihood this solemn and bookish laird, presumably brought up at home, would be a poor enough player.
'I played a lot at school,' he said. 'In fact I was in the Eleven for two years and I played in the Authentics match, and once against the Eton Ramblers. A strong lot they were.'
'Let me see. Was that about seven years ago? I seem to remember.'
'Seven years ago,' said Mr. Thompson. 'But why? Did you see the match?'
'No, I wasn't in the match; I had twisted my ankle, jumping. But I captained the Ramblers that season, so I remember it.'
Respect grew large in Mr. Thompson's eyes. Here were modesty and distinction equally mated. The picture of the shy student had gone from his memory.
'If you like to come up to Etterick we might get up a match from the village,' said Lewis courteously. 'Ourselves with the foresters and keepers against the villagers wouldn't be a bad arrangement.'
To Alice the whole conversation struck a jarring note. His eye kindled and he talked freely on sport. Was it not but a new token of his incurable levity? Mr. Wishart, who had understood little of the talk, found in this young man strange stuff to shape to a politician's ends.
