Evals--is much older than our St.Agneshere.I do duty in that and this alternately,you know.The fact is,I ought to have some help;riding across that park for two miles on a wet morning is not at all the thing.If my constitution were not well seasoned,as thank God it is,--here Mr.Swancourt looked down his front,as if his constitution were visible there,--I should be coughing and barking all the year round.And when the family goes away,there are only about three servants to preach to when I get there.
Well,that shall be the arrangement,then.Elfride,you will like to go?
Elfride assented;and the little breakfast-party separated.
Stephen rose to go and take a few final measurements at the church,the vicar following him to the door with a mysterious expression of inquiry on his face.
Youll put up with our not having family prayer this morning,I hope?he whispered.
Yes;quite so,said Stephen.
To tell you the truth,he continued in the same undertone,we dont make a regular thing of it;but when we have strangers visiting us,I am strongly of opinion that it is the proper thing to do,and I always do it.I am very strict on that point.But you,Smith,there is something in your face which makes me feel quite at home;no nonsense about you,in short.Ah,it reminds me of a splendid story I used to hear when I was a helter-skelter young fellow--such a story!But--here the vicar shook his head self-forbiddingly,and grimly laughed.
Was it a good story?said young Smith,smiling too.
Oh yes;but tis too bad--too bad!Couldnt tell it to you for the world!
Stephen went across the lawn,hearing the vicar chuckling privately at the recollection as he withdrew.
They started at three oclock.The gray morning had resolved itself into an afternoon bright with a pale pervasive sunlight,without the sun itself being visible.Lightly they trotted along--the wheels nearly silent,the horses hoofs clapping,almost ringing,upon the hard,white,turnpike road as it followed the level ridge in a perfectly straight line,seeming to be absorbed ultimately by the white of the sky.
Targan Bay--which had the merit of being easily got at--was duly visited.They then swept round by innumerable lanes,in which not twenty consecutive yards were either straight or level,to the domain of Lord Luxellian.A woman with a double chin and thick neck,like Queen Anne by Dahl,threw open the lodge gate,a little boy standing behind her.
Ill give him something,poor little fellow,said Elfride,pulling out her purse and hastily opening it.From the interior of her purse a host of bits of paper,like a flock of white birds,floated into the air,and were blown about in all directions.
Well,to be sure!said Stephen with a slight laugh.
What the dickens is all that?said Mr.Swancourt.Not halves of bank-notes,Elfride?
Elfride looked annoyed and guilty.They are only something of mine,papa,she faltered,whilst Stephen leapt out,and,assisted by the lodge-keepers little boy,crept about round the wheels and horses hoofs till the papers were all gathered together again.
He handed them back to her,and remounted.
I suppose you are wondering what those scraps were?she said,as they bowled along up the sycamore avenue.And so I may as well tell you.They are notes for a romance I am writing.
She could not help colouring at the confession,much as she tried to avoid it.
A story,do you mean?said Stephen,Mr.Swancourt half listening,and catching a word of the conversation now and then.
Yes;THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE;a romance of the fifteenth century.Such writing is out of date now,I know;but I like doing it.
A romance carried in a purse!If a highwayman were to rob you,he would be taken in.
Yes;thats my way of carrying manu.The real reason is,that I mostly write bits of it on scraps of paper when I am on horseback;and I put them there for convenience.
What are you going to do with your romance when you have written it?said Stephen.
I dont know,she replied,and turned her head to look at the prospect.
For by this time they had reached the precincts of Endelstow House.Driving through an ancient gate-way of dun-coloured stone,spanned by the high-shouldered Tudor arch,they found themselves in a spacious court,closed by a facade on each of its three sides.The substantial portions of the existing building dated from the reign of Henry VIII.;but the picturesque and sheltered spot had been the site of an erection of a much earlier date.Alicence to crenellate mansum infra manerium suum was granted by Edward II.to Hugo Luxellen chivaler;but though the faint outline of the ditch and mound was visible at points,no sign of the original building remained.
The windows on all sides were long and many-mullioned;the roof lines broken up by dormer lights of the same pattern.The apex stones of these dormers,together with those of the gables,were surmounted by grotesque figures in rampant,passant,and couchant variety.Tall octagonal and twisted chimneys thrust themselves high up into the sky,surpassed in height,however,by some poplars and sycamores at the back,which showed their gently rocking summits over ridge and parapet.In the corners of the court polygonal bays,whose surfaces were entirely occupied by buttresses and windows,broke into the squareness of the enclosure;and a far-projecting oriel,springing from a fantastic series of mouldings,overhung the archway of the chief entrance to the house.
As Mr.Swancourt had remarked,he had the freedom of the mansion in the absence of its owner.Upon a statement of his errand they were all admitted to the library,and left entirely to themselves.
Mr.Swancourt was soon up to his eyes in the examination of a heap of papers he had taken from the cabinet described by his correspondent.Stephen and Elfride had nothing to do but to wander about till her father was ready.
