Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 5).djvu/501

At that moment Allan Meredith entered the room, which not even the shabby furniture and appurtenances of the dinner table could render mean looking, with its noble proportions, oak ceiling, carved, high chimney-piece, and oriel window. There was not sufficient carpet even for the fashion—only, indeed, one large old Turkey rug; and that was spread in the recess of the window, where were, also, a finely-carved, high-backed, well cushioned chair, small work and writing tables, and two or three other last relics of better days, devoted to the use of the invalid; a gentle, suffering-looking woman, with traces of great beauty in her thin, worn face.

Meredith was introduced to her by her daughter, with a tone and look which showed she felt that she had still something to be proud of. Her pride in, and loving care of, her mother was, indeed, evident enough. Even his eyes could see how much more thought had been expended upon the invalid's toilet than upon her daughter's, of which the most that could be said was that it was neat as any village girl's might be.

Mrs. Verschoyle received the stranger with the simple courtesy of good breeding. There was no allusion by word or look to the altered fortunes of the house; no attempt at explanation; but a simple, earnest welcome which had its full effect upon Allan Meredith. He noticed, too, at the table that no apologies were made for the dinner, until the contemptuous shrug of the shoulders which Laurence gave as he glanced from the dish of curried mutton at one end to the remainder of the same joint that served as the roast at the other, called forth the reply:—

"It is the best I could do, Laurence. There was no time to send into the town, and I hoped that Mr. Meredith might have sufficient appetite after his walk, perhaps, to be able to dine on what we have"; apologizing to her brother, as she had not felt it to be necessary to apologize to their guest.

"That am I, Miss Verschoyle," he said, determined that she should see no lack of appreciation on his side. "I have eaten only a biscuit since eight o'clock this morning"; going on to explain what had brought him to the neighbourhood. "I had got a little out of condition from overwork, and—"

"Overwork!" put in Laurence. "Of what kind?"

"Oh, you know I used to have a fancy for comparing evidence, and latterly I have plodded a little too closely in getting at some I wanted," speaking a little hesitatingly and awkwardly in his desire to avoid seeming to pose. "I needed change of scene and more out-of-door exercise. It happened that a final settlement had, just now, to be made about a small property my father had in this county, and I thought it would be an object, or at any rate give me the change of scene they talked about, to go and look after the sale myself."

"I did not know you owned property in this direction, Meredith."

"It was of very little importance; only a small farm; but there was some competition for it, on account of its joining Lord Drayltown's property. He wanted to take it into his park."

"Did you let him have it?"

"No; it was not so much a question of money with me, and the tenant who had held it so long, and done his best for the house and land, had, I considered, the first claim. He and I settled it together without much law. He is the possessor of the farm, and I have brought away a roll of notes; that's about all."

"I suppose a small farm does not fetch much in these days," said Verschoyle.

"This would have fetched more had I allowed them to bid one against the other; three or four instead of two thousand, I was told."

"Two thousand would seem a pretty good haul to some people. Notes, do you say?"

"Partly; and partly in cheques," replied Meredith, looking a little surprised.

"Do you carry them about with you, Meredith? I mean"—noticing the surprise in the other's face—"is it wise—safe, do you think, to go about these lonely places with all that——" breaking off, and hurriedly adding: "But, of course, we can't let you go to-night. You must put up with what we have to offer, until the morning at any rate." A sudden thought had crossed his mind. Might it not be possible to appeal to Meredith for a loan? "What a quarter of that money would do for me just now! If I could only open my heart to him, as Madge says. Pshaw! Easy enough for girls, such as she, to open their hearts. She wouldn't have been so ready to advise me to do that, had she known all."

"Mr. Meredith would, perhaps, prefer the inn in the town, Laurence; he might find it more comfortable," put in his sister, a little puzzled by the change in his tone; but, supposing it might be only to keep up