“ruralizing,” quoth elizabeth, “agrees with you.”
they were driving in a vehicle politely termed a victoria. it was not unlike a good-sized bath-chair. it was driven by a one-armed boy. seeing the driver, elizabeth had had a moment’s qualm of heart. then she had seen the horse.
“oh, it’s a pleasant enough spot,” responded john, “and—and restful.” he coloured the merest trifle beneath his tan.
“restfulness,” said elizabeth gravely, “is delightful.”
but she wasn’t deceived, not a bit of it. neither the pleasantness of malford, nor its restfulness was accountable for that particular exuberance in john. it was a subtle, indefinable exuberance, which no amount of mere bodily health could cause. it emanated from his mind, his spirit; [pg 223]it surrounded him; he was bathed in it. he might pretend to its non-existence; he might pretend—allowing it—that it was the mere outcome of a country life, but elizabeth was not deceived.
“have you met the delanceys?” she demanded.
“oh, yes,” he responded airily enough. “they’re—you’ll like them. that rumour you got hold of was correct enough, by the way. there is a claimant. he’s proved his claim. it’s a mere matter of courtesy on his part that he is not already in possession. he will be by the end of the autumn.”
elizabeth sat up.
“an american?” she said.
“an american,” said john. “at least he hailed originally from the states. he has been living in africa since his boyhood.”
“i suppose he’s quite impossible?” said elizabeth frowning.
“on the contrary,” owned john reluctantly, “he isn’t at all impossible, at any rate not in one way. of course he’ll be entirely unsuited to his surroundings, but he is quite a decent fellow in himself.”
“brr!” breathed elizabeth, and there was a [pg 224]hint of impatience in the sound. “a kangaroo is a decent animal in itself, but you don’t want it in your drawing-room. what do the delanceys think about it?”
“oh,” quoth john, “they accept the inevitable. there’s a strong hint of the french aristocrats’ attitude towards the guillotine, in their manner; lacking, however, the scorn.”
“i see.” elizabeth fell into meditation.
“i don’t think even you can reconstruct matters,” said john smiling. “you see, the whole thing turns on that missing document.”
“the whole thing,” said elizabeth, “is so blatantly melodramatic as to be barely respectable.”
john laughed.
“wait till you see lady mary,” he said. “she saves the situation completely.”
elizabeth was silent. then:
“where is the man now?” she asked.
“staying at the green man,” said john. “i’ve had to take a room there for you. you’ll breakfast at the inn, and have the rest of your meals with us. i am sorry there isn’t another room at the white cottage.”
[pg 225]
“don’t apologize,” said elizabeth gaily. “i came down to picnic. it’s i who should apologize for thrusting myself upon you.”
“that,” said john decidedly, “is pure nonsense.”
they were ascending a hill by now. twilight was falling rapidly. bats flew through the dusk, their shrill queer note breaking the silence. a great white owl flew noiselessly, like a huge moth, across a field. the road was a white line between dark hedges.
coming to the top of the hill, wide stretches of moorland lay around them. far off on the horizon was a strip of silver-grey sea. in the middle distance was a hill, wood-covered, dark towers rising among the trees.
“delancey castle,” said john.
