Dick was not so jolly as usual, in the hour of smoke and converse which ensued. It was usually the rector’s favourite hour, the moment for expansion, for confidences, for assurances on his part, to his young friends, that life in the company of a nice woman, and with your children growing up round you, was in reality a far better thing than your clubs and theatres—although a momentary regret might occasionally cross the mind, and a strong desire for just so many reasonable neighbours as might form a whist-party. Dick was in the habit of making fun of the rector’s self-congratulations and regrets, but on this evening he scarcely made a single joke. Three or four times he relapsed into that silence, meditative or otherwise, which is permitted and even enjoyable in the midst of smoke, when two men are confidential without saying anything, and are the best of company without exchanging one idea. But in the midst of one of those pauses, which was more remarkable, he suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair, and said, “I am afraid I must leave you tomorrow,” taking away the rector’s breath.
“Leave us tomorrow! Why in the name of wonder should you leave us tomorrow?” Mr. Wilberforce cried.
“Well, the truth is,” said Dick, “you see I have been away from home a considerable time: and my people are going abroad very soon; and then I’ve been remiss, you know, in my home duties.”
“But you knew all that, my dear fellow, yesterday as well as today.”
“That’s true,” said Dick, with a laugh. “The fact is that’s not all, Wilberforce. I have had letters.”
“Letters! Has there been a delivery? Bless my soul!” said the rector, “this is something quite new.”
“Look here,” said Dick. “I have been out, and I passed by the—the post-office, and there I got news—Come, don’t look at me in that violent way. I have got news, and there is an end of it, which makes me think I had better clear out of this.”
“If you want to make a mystery, Cavendish,” said the rector, slowly knocking out the ashes of his pipe.
“I don’t want to make any mystery,” said Dick; then he added, “If I did, it would be, of course, because I could not help it. Sometimes a man is mixed up in a mystery which he can’t throw any light upon, for—for other people’s sake.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Wilberforce. He refilled the pipe very deliberately, and with a very grave face. Then, with a sudden flash of illumination, “I make no doubt,” he cried, “it’s something about those tenants of your uncle’s. He is urging you to go to the Elms.”
“Well, since you have guessed, that is about it,” said Cavendish. “I can’t carry out my commission, and as I’d rather not explain to him—”
“Why shouldn’t you explain to him? I have quite been calculating that you would explain to him, and get him to take action, and free us of a set of people so much—so entirely,” cried the indignant rector, “out of our way!”
“Well, you see,” said Dick, “it’s not such an easy thing to get people out of a house. I know enough about law to know that; and the old fellow would be in a terrible way if he knew. I don’t want to worry him, don’t you see? so the best thing I can do is to say I left very soon, and had not the time to call.”
“Well, for one thing, I am rather glad to hear you say so,” said the rector; “for I thought at first, by the way you introduced the subject, that your uncle himself, who has always borne such an excellent character, was somehow mixed up—”
Cavendish replied by a peal of laughter so violent as almost to look hysterical. He laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. “Poor old uncle,” he said—“poor old fellow! After a long and blameless life to be suspected, and that by a clergyman!”
“Cavendish,” said the rector severely, “you are too bad; you make fun of things the most sacred. It is entirely your fault if I ever associated in my mind for a moment—However,” he added, “there is one thing certain: you can’t go away till you have dined at the Warren, according to Mrs. Warrender’s invitation. In her circumstances one must be doubly particular, and as she made an effort for Theo’s sake, and yours as his friend—”
“Oh, she made an effort! I did not think of that.”
“If you are in such a hurry, Emily can find out in the morning whether tomorrow will suit them, and one day longer will not matter, surely. I can’t conceive why you should feel such an extreme delicacy about it.”
“Oh, that’s my way,” said Dick lightly. “I am extremely delicate about everything, though you don’t seem to find it out.”
“I wish you could be a little serious about something,” said the rector, with a sigh. “Things are not all made to get a laugh out, though you seem to think so, Dick.”
“It is as good a use as another,” said Dick. But as he went upstairs shortly after, the candle which he carried in his hand lighted up, in the midst of the darkness of the peaceful, sleeping house, a face which revealed anything rather than an inclination to get laughter out of everything. Nevertheless, he had pledged himself to stay for the dinner at the Warren which was to cost Mrs. Warrender an effort. It might cost him more than an effort, he said to himself.
XIV
“One day is the same to us as another. We see nobody.”
“Oh, of course!” said Mrs. Wilberforce. “Dear Mrs. Warrender, it is so noble of you to make such an effort. I hope Theo will appreciate it as it deserves.”
Mrs. Warrender coloured a little,
