The speaker, a slightly built man, just beyond the vague line of

"young," glanced up with his dark, somewhat sombre and yet softly

cynical eyes at the face of his companion who was driving. This

companion was unmistakably young, and there was not a trace of cynicism

in his grey-blue eyes which looked out upon the rain and mist with

pleasant cheerfulness. He was neither particularly fair nor dark; but

there was a touch of brighter colour than usual in his short, crisp

hair; and no woman had yet found fault with the moustache or the lips

beneath. And yet, though Stafford Orme's face was rather too handsome

than otherwise, the signs of weakness which one sees in so many

Advertisement..

good-looking faces did not mar it; indeed, there was a hint of

strength, not to say sternness, in the well-cut lips, a glint of power

and masterfulness in the grey eyes and the brows above them which

impressed one at first sight; though when one came to know him the

impression was soon lost, effaced by the charm for which Stafford was

famous, and which was perpetually recruiting his army of friends.

No doubt it is easy to be charming when the gods have made you good to

look upon, and have filled your pockets with gold into the bargain.

Life was a pageant of pleasure to Stafford Orme: no wonder he sang and

smiled upon the way and had no lack of companions.

Even this man beside him, Edmund Howard, whose name was a by-word for

cynicism, who had never, until he had met Stafford Orme, gone an inch

out of his self-contained way to please or benefit a fellow-man, was

the slave of the young fellow's imperious will, and though he made

burlesque complaint of his bondage, did not in his heart rebel against

it.

Stafford laughed shortly as he looked at the rain-swept hills round

which the two good horses were taking the well-appointed phaeton.

"Oh, I knew you would come," he said. "It was just this way. You know

the governor wrote and asked me to come down to this new place of his

at Bryndermere--"

"Pardon me, Stafford; you forget that I have been down South--where I

wish to Heaven I had remained!--and that I only returned yesterday

afternoon, and that I know nothing of these sudden alarums and

excursions of your esteemed parent."

"Ah, no; so you don't!" assented Stafford; "thought I'd told you: shall

have to tell you now; I'll cut it as short as possible." He paused for

a moment and gently drew the lash of the whip over the wet backs of the

two horses who were listening intently to the voice of their beloved

master. "Well, three days ago I got a letter from my father; it was a

long one; I think it's the first long letter I ever received from him.

He informed me that for some time past he has been building a little

place on the east side of Bryndermere Lake, that he thought it would be

ready by the ninth of this month; and would I go down--or is it

up?--there and meet him, as he was coming to England and would go

straight there from Liverpool. Of course there was not time for me to

reply, and equally, of course, I prepared to obey. I meant going

straight down to Bryndermere; and I should have done so, but two days

ago I received a telegram telling me that the place would not be ready,

and that he would not be there until the eleventh, and asking me to

fill up the interval by sending down some horses and carriages. It

occurred to me, with one of those brilliant flashes of genius which you

have so often remarked in me, my dear Howard, that I would drive down,

at any rate, part of the way; so I sent some of the traps direct and

got this turn-out as far as Preston with me. With another of those

remarkable flashes of genius, it also occurred to me that I should be

devilish lonely with only Pottinger here," he jerked his head towards

the groom, who sat in damp and stolid silence behind. "And so I wrote

and asked you to come. Kind of me, wasn't it?"




Most Popular