as on the previous day, luncheon was provided for the baronet's visitors, and, as before, they partook of it without his presence.
giovanna, in her clear simple way, related to her uncle all that had passed--all except that last speech of sir gilbert, which she left to be told later on.
the captain rubbed his hands gleefully.
"all has gone well so far, very well indeed," he said; "and now that the worst is over--by which i mean now that luigi has been introduced to the old man and accepted by him as his grandson, as, from what you tell me, seems undoubtedly to be the case--now that the most difficult part of our task has been successfully accomplished, i don't mind saying that i shall sleep more soundly to-night than i have for the last week or more."
"it seems to me that sir gilbert favoured me with a precious cool reception," said luigi, in an aggrieved tone; "in fact it was enough to freeze one. and those eyes of his seemed to go right through me; i was never so nervous in my life. i wouldn't go through such a quarter of an hour again for a good deal."
"there will be no call for you to do so," replied the captain. "as i said before, you have gone through the worst. you know now the kind of man he is, and must act accordingly. if you only knew how"--adding, to himself, "and were not so self-opinionated and conceited"--"you might lead sir gilbert anywhere with your little finger. in the case of such a man, you have only to fall in with his humours, or make believe to fall in with them, and you may do anything in reason with him."
"if i had but your head on my shoulders, uncle!" exclaimed luigi, with a smile that had a spice of mockery in it.
"or my brains in your numbskull," retorted the captain. "oh, the chance--the golden chance that is now yours! one can but hope that you will know how to make the best of it."
it seemed to giovanna that the time had now come for making her uncle acquainted with what sir gilbert had said about him. the captain pulled a wry face for a moment, and then broke into one of his short harsh laughs.
"what a cantankerous old shaver he is!" he exclaimed. "i was sure from the first that he had taken a dislike to me." then laying a hand on his niece's arm, he added in a voice which had become suddenly grave: "it matters not a grain of salt in what light sir gilbert chooses to regard me, so long as you and luigi--especially the boy--contrive to keep in his good graces. that is the only thing of any real consequence."
for the next few days sir gilbert felt thoroughly unsettled and out of sorts. his ordinary avocations seemed to have lost all interest for him; he was unable to fix his attention on anything outside the special current of his thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time. he shut himself up in his own room, a small apartment which opened out of the library, and even everard lisle was only admitted to the briefest possible audience each forenoon. his mental attitude at this time was a puzzle to himself. a wonderful thing had come to pass. one which, had an inkling of it been permitted him beforehand, he should have assured himself could not fail to fill his few remaining days with a happiness undreamt of, and almost too deep to find expression in words. a gift, the most precious of any he could have asked for (seeing that we cannot bring back our lost ones from the tomb), had been vouchsafed to him, yet, strange to say, he felt little or none of that elation which would have seemed the natural outcome of such a state of affairs. why was this, and to what cause was it attributable? he tried to look forward to the presence of his newly-found grandson as to something that would crown his life with a blessing, and to mentally picture their daily life together in time to come, but he derived no pleasure from the process; neither did the future, now that he looked at it with fresh eyes, as it were, take to itself any added brightness from the fact that a son of his son would succeed him when the time should have come for him to pass into the silent land.
"is it that my heart is dead?" he sadly asked himself, "or is it because i am so old and have gone through so much, that only the ghost of either joy or sorrow will ever keep me company again? or is it," he went on, "because in this youth who has so suddenly intruded himself into my life i can discern nothing that serves to recall his father to memory, nor any likeness, however vague, to any of my pictured ancestors in the long gallery--who are his ancestors also--that i seem in no way drawn towards him? i cannot tell why it is so. i only know that it is."
in one respect, however, he derived a certain amount of mordant satisfaction from the knowledge that he would now be followed by an heir in the direct line of descent. his detested kinsman, colonel eustace clare, who, he felt sure, never missed a day without hoping it would bring the tidings of his death, would now, at what might be termed the eleventh hour, be baulked of his chance of succession to the title, even as the cutting off of the entail in years gone by had deprived him of all prospect of ever succeeding to the estates.
monday at noon brought giovanna and luigi again to the chase. verinder had kept them company as far as mapleford station, where they all alighted. it had been arranged that he should await, either their return, or the receipt of some message from them, at the railway hotel, it being impossible to say how long sir gilbert might choose to detain them. the captain's impatience would not admit of his quietly awaiting their return in london.
if sir gilbert received his guests without any particular display of cordiality he yet greeted them with a grave and kindly courtesy which went far towards putting them at their ease. for the time the more brusque and imperious traits of his character failed to assert themselves: indeed, no stranger seeing him on this occasion only, would have as much as suspected their existence. to-day he kept the others company at luncheon, although all he partook of was a biscuit and a glass of madeira. by special invitation everard lisle made a fourth at table.
when once sir gilbert had made up his mind to acknowledge giovanna as his daughter-in-law, and luigi as his grandson, he was not a man to stick at half measures. the acknowledgment should be full and complete, and everard lisle was the person he chose to whom first to communicate his intentions, with which purpose in view he invited him to dine at the chase on sunday. it was as they sat together after dinner that sir gilbert broke his news.
"for the present i shall have the boy to live with me," he said. "i want us to become better acquainted. my daughter-in-law, if she chooses to do so, can take up her residence at maylings, the family dower-house, although not used as such in my time, which has stood empty since old miss hopkins's death three years ago. of course the news that my grandson and his mother have been received and acknowledged by me will very soon get noised abroad, and as you are likely, owing to your being at the chase so much, to be appealed to on the point by a number of people, i want you to be in a position to confirm the accuracy of the report and to give it the stamp of verity. that all sorts of ridiculous stories will get about, originating in the fact of my grandson's and daughter-in-law's existence not having been made public till now, i do not doubt, but with any, or all, such inventions you need have nothing to do. we have simply to deal with the two or three plain facts of the case."
thus it fell out that everard lisle was already prepared for the meeting on monday. the baronet introduced him simply as "my secretary, mr. lisle."
as luigi did not proffer his hand, everard contented himself by bowing slightly. but sir gilbert did not fail to notice the omission.
"where is your hand, sir?" he demanded of his pseudo grandson with a drawing together of his shaggy brows. "let me tell you that, young as mr. lisle is, i hold him in the highest esteem and regard."
luigi smilingly hastened to repair his oversight. he was quick-witted enough in some things. "a favourite, evidently," he said to himself with an almost imperceptible shrug. "i suppose it will be to my interest to keep in with this fellow for the present, but when it comes to my turn he shall very soon be presented with the order of his going."
it seemed to lisle that the best thing he could do would be to draw young clare into talk over luncheon and leave sir gilbert and mrs. clare to get on together as best they could. luigi responded readily enough to everard's advances, all he asked just then being to be left alone by his "grandfather," whom he still regarded with secret fear and trembling, the enormity of the fraud of which he had been guilty impressing itself far more unpleasantly on his consciousness when in the presence of the baronet than at any other time. both the young men were careful to confine their talk to the merest generalities. both of them were on their guard, neither of them could tell yet what his future relations towards the other might develop into.
as for the baronet, he proceeded to mount one of his antiquarian hobbies (it may have been of set purpose, and in order to save both giovanna and himself the awkwardness of having to make talk about nothing in particular) and ambled on, apparently to the content of both himself and his listener. nothing more was required of mrs. clare than to look interested and to interject an occasional "yes," or "no," or "indeed," at the proper moment, all of which she did to perfection, although three-fourths of sir gilbert's monologue was clearly beyond her comprehension.
when luncheon was over, the baronet, turning to everard, said: "mr. lisle, i want you to be good enough to conduct mrs. clare and my grandson over the house and grounds, and to show them everything worth seeing. mrs. burton will place herself at your disposal as far as the house is concerned, and you can impound shotover to show you over the gardens, and so forth. for myself, i am sorry that the infirmities of age should have so far prevailed over me as to preclude me from undertaking a task which otherwise would have been one of unmixed pleasure. you will find me in the library when you have finished your peregrination: but there is no need whatever for you to hurry yourselves."
