"A very old friend of your father!" said Mr. Falconer, and his keen
eyes looked into Stafford's as he held out his hand. Then he turned to
Sir Stephen, whose face had resumed its usual serenity, and was fixed
in the smile appropriate to the occasion. "Mr. Stafford Orme and I have
met before to-day--"
Sir Stephen shot an enquiring glance from one to the other.
--"At the inn at the other side of the lake. My daughter, Maude, and I
have been resting there for a few hours. Maude," he said to that young
lady, who was standing looking on at the group generally, but more
particularly, under her lids, at Stafford's tall figure; "this is a
very strange meeting between old friends. Sir Stephen Orme and I
haven't met for--how long ago is it, Orme?"
Sir Stephen shook his head, and raised his thick, dark brows.
"Too long for us to go back--especially in the presence of these young
people, whom we are always trying to persuade that we are not old. I am
delighted to see you, my dear young lady, and I am devoured by
curiosity to know how it is that you are here."
"Well, we owe it to your son, Mr. Orme here, I should imagine, Sir
Stephen," she replied. She had fully recovered her self-possession, and
her manner and voice had all the tone of pride and indolence which
Stafford had noticed when he met her at the inn. "If he had not stopped
the horses, I suppose we should have either been killed or on the way
to the nearest hospital. By the way, have you thanked Mr. Orme yet,
father?"
"Not yet; and I shall find it difficult to do so," said Mr. Falconer.
"Thanks are poor return for one's life, Mr. Orme. I hope you were not
hurt." He glanced at Stafford's usually immaculate dress-clothes, which
were covered with dust on one side, and displayed a rent in the sleeve
of the coat.
"Oh, that's all right, sir," returned Stafford, with all an
Englishman's dread of a fuss. "They stopped short the moment I got hold
of them, and I only slipped, and got up directly.
"You are not hurt, then, Stafford?" said Sir Stephen. "As I came up I
thought, was afraid that you were smashed up--and I daresay I showed my
fear: it's my only boy, Falconer."
He looked at his old friend meaningly, and Falconer promptly backed him
up.
"Well, yes, you looked fairly startled and scared," he said. "But now,
if the horses are all right, we may as well get on. We have given you
quite trouble enough."
"The horses are all right, sir," said the driver. "I've managed to take
up the broken trace; it was that that startled them, sir, and they'll
be quiet enough now."
"Oh, but where are you going?" said Sir Stephen, with hospitable
eagerness. "Were you not coming to us, to the Villa?"
"No; we were going to Keswick," said Mr. Falconer. "My daughter had a
fancy for seeing the lake district, and we are making a kind of tour."
"You have no other engagement? I am delighted to hear it," said Sir
Stephen. "Oh, I'll take no denial! What! Do you think I shall part with
an old friend so quickly--and after such a--er--sudden and unexpected
meeting! Miss Falconer, let me beg you to plead with your father for
me!"
Mr. Falconer regarded Sir Stephen for a moment curiously, then looked
towards his daughter. Her fine eyes rested on Stafford's face, and he
could do not less than repeat his father's invitation.
"I hope you'll consent, Miss Falconer," he said. "You have no doubt
been a little upset by the accident, and it is rather late to go on.
Pray stay with us!"
"Thanks. I shall be delighted." she said, with her indolent, regal air.
By this time, as they went towards the gate, some of the men who had
been walking in the garden came up, and Howard's voice called out:
"Hallo, Stafford! Anything the matter?" "No; nothing whatever," said
Stafford, promptly; and Sir Stephen seized the opportunity to steer the
Falconers through the group. "Some old friends of mine, Mr. Howard;
their carriage broke down--fortunately at our very door--this way,
Falconer. Stafford, will you give Miss Maude your arm?"
"Strange, our meeting again so soon, and under such circumstances," she
said. "You must have stopped those horses very pluckily. I thought that
kind of thing was out of date now, and that gentlemen only called the
police on such occasions. You are sure you are not hurt? I thought from
your father's face you must be. He must be very fond of you to look so
scared. He was as white as a ghost."
"He is fond of me, I hope and think," said Stafford. "Candidly, I did
not think he would be so alarmed--but I don't know him very well
yet--we have been living apart until just recently."
"Why, that is my case," she said. "My father and I were strangers until
the other day, when he came from abroad--What a beautiful house! It is
like a miniature palace."
She looked at the Villa and then at Stafford with renewed interest.
"I suppose your father is _the_ Sir Stephen Orme of whom one has heard
so much? I did not think of it until this moment."
Stafford was giving instructions that the Falconers' carriage should be
seen to, and so was spared a reply. She stood in the hall looking round
with a kind of indolent admiration and surprise, and perfectly
self-possessed, though the hall was rapidly filling with the men from
the garden.
"You would like to go to your rooms at once," said Sir Stephen, in his
serene and courtly voice. "If you should be too tired to come down
again to-night I will have some dinner sent up to you--but I hope you
won't be. It would be a great disappointment."
"Oh, I am not at all tired," said Miss Falconer, as she followed the
housekeeper and the two demure maids up the exquisite staircase.
Sir Stephen looked after them with a bland smile, then he turned to
Stafford and caught his arm.
"Not hurt, my boy?" he said, in a tone of strained anxiety.
Stafford was beginning to get tired of the question, and answered
rather impatiently: "Not in the least sir--why should I be! I'll change
my things and be down in five minutes!"
"Yes, yes!" Sir Stephen still eyed him with barely concealed anxiety.
"Strange coincidence, Stafford! I--I haven't seen Ralph Falconer
for--for--ever so many years! And he is thrown at my very gate! And
they say there is no such thing as Fate--"
"Hadn't you better go into the drawing-room, sir," Stafford reminded
him. "They'll think something has happened."
"Eh? Yes, yes, of course!" said Sir Stephen, with a little start as if
he had been lost in thought; but he waited until he saw Stafford walk
up the stairs, without any sign of a limp, before he followed his son's
advice.
The butler, who was too sharp to need any instructions, quickly served
a choice little dinner for the unexpected guests, and Stafford, who had
waited in the hall, accompanied them into the dining-room. Miss
Falconer had changed her travelling-dress for a rich evening-frock, and
the jewels Stafford had noticed were supplemented by some remarkably
fine diamonds.
"I wish you had come in time for dinner!" he said, as he conducted her
to her seat.
"So do I!" she returned, serenely. "We are giving a great deal of
trouble; and we are keeping you from your guests. The maid who waited
on me told me that you had a large house party."
"Yes," said Stafford. "It is a kind of house-warming. My father intends
settling in England for some time, I think," he added. "And he has
built this place."
Mr. Falconer looked up from his plate in his alert, watchful way.
"Sir Stephen's plans rather uncertain?" he said. "I remember he always
used to be rather erratic. Well, if he means settling, he's made
himself a very cosy nest." He looked round the magnificent room with a
curious smile. "A wonderful man, your father, Mr. Orme!"
"Yes?" said Stafford, with a non-committal smile.
"Yes; of course, I've heard of his great doings--who hasn't! Did you
ever hear him speak of me--we were great friends one time?"
"No, I don't think I have," replied Stafford. "But as I was telling
Miss Falconer, I have not seen very much of him." "Ah, yes, just so,"
assented Mr. Falconer, and he went on with his dinner.
Stafford had taken a seat at the table and poured out a glass of wine
so that they might not hurry; but he felt that he need not have been
anxious on that account, for the girl ate her dinner in a most
leisurely manner, talking to him in her soft, slow voice and looking at
him from under her half-closed lids. She talked of the scenery, of the
quaint inns and hotels they had put up at, of the various
inconveniences which she had suffered on the way; then suddenly she
raised her lids and looked at him fully and steadily.
"I suppose the young lady we saw with you this morning is your sister?"
With all his natural simplicity, Stafford was a man of the world, and
he did not redden or look embarrassed by the suddenness of the question
and the direct gaze of the luminous eyes.
"No," he said. "I have neither sister nor brother--only my father. She
was a friend."
"Oh," she said; then after a pause: "She was very pretty."
Stafford nodded. Like a flash floated before him the exquisite
loveliness of Ida Heron.
"Do you think so?" he said, with affected indifference.
"Why, yes; don't you?" she retorted.
"Oh, yes," he assented; "but I didn't know whether you would; men and
women so very seldom agree upon the question of looks. I find that most
of the women I think pretty are considered next door to plain by my
lady-friends."
"Well, there can't be any doubt as to your friend's good looks," she
said. "She made rather a striking, not to say startling figure perched
sideways on that horse, in the pelting rain. I suppose she is one of
your neighbours?"
"Yes," replied Stafford, as easily and casually as he could, for the
face still floated before him--"yes; but not a very near one. Let me
give you some more wine."
"No, thanks. Father, haven't you nearly finished? Mr. Orme has kept us
company so nicely that we've been tempted to forget that we are keeping
him from his guests."
She rose, and with a peculiarly sinuous movement threw out the train of
her dress, and swept languidly to the door Stafford offered her his arm
and they entered the drawing-room.
Her appearance naturally caused a little sensation, for some of the men
had learnt and told of the story of Stafford's plucky arrest of the
bolting horses, and the people were curious to see the father and
daughter who had been rescued, and who had proved to be friends of Sir
Stephen.
By a sort of tacit understanding, Lady Clausford, who was a
good-natured individual, was playing the part of hostess and general
chaperon, and Stafford led Miss Falconer up to her.
Before a quarter of an hour had passed Miss Falconer seemed to be quite
at home in her novel surroundings; and leaning back in her chair, and
slowly fanning herself, received with perfect self-possession the
attentions which her beauty, her costly dress, and her still more
costly jewels merited. Presently Stafford heard Lady Clansford ask her
to sing; and he went to conduct her to the piano.
"My music is upstairs in my box--but it does not matter: I will try and
remember something," she said. "I wonder what you like?" She raised her
eyes to his, as her fingers touched the keys. "The simple ballad would
be rather out of place, wouldn't it? Do you know this thing of
Wagner's?"
As she began to sing the talking died down and gradually ceased; and
every eye was fixed upon her; for it was evident that she not only had
an exquisite voice, but knew how to use it. She sang like an artist,
and apparently without the least effort, the liquid notes flowing from
her red lips like the water of a mountain rill.
Stafford was surprised, almost startled, but as he stood beside her, he
was thinking, strangely enough, not so much of the singer as of the
girl he was going to meet on the morrow. When she had finished, there
was a general murmur of applause, and Lady Clansford glided to the
piano and asked her to sing again.
"You have a really wonderful voice, Miss Falconer. I don't think Melba
ever sang that better."
"Melba's register is ever so much greater than mine," remarked Miss
Falconer, calmly. "No, thanks; I won't sing again. I think I am a
little tired."
She went back to her seat slowly, her fan moving languidly, as if she
were too conscious of the worth of her voice to be affected by the
murmurs of applause and admiration; and Stafford, as his eyes followed
her, thought she resembled a superb tropical flower of rich and subtle
colouring and soft and languorous grace.
None of the women would venture to sing after this exhibition, and one
of the young men went to the piano and dashed off a semi-comic song
which relieved the tension produced by Miss Falconer's magnificent
voice and style. Then the woman began to glance at the clock and rise
and stand about preparatory to going to bed, and presently they went
off, lingering, talking, and laughing, in the hall and in the
corridors.
The men drifted into the billiard and smoking-room, and Sir Stephen
started a pool. He had been at his very best in the drawing-room,
moving about amongst the brilliant crowd, with a word for each and all,
and pleased smile on his handsome face, and a happy, genial brightness
in his voice. Once or twice Sir Stephen approached Mr. Falconer, who
leant against the wall looking on with the alert, watchful eyes half
screened behind his lids, which, like his daughter's had a trick of
drooping, though with a very different expression.
"Your daughter has a magnificent voice, Falconer," Sir Stephen had said
in a congratulatory voice; and Falconer had nodded.
"Yes. She's been well taught, I believe," he had responded,
laconically; and Sir Stephen had nodded emphatically, and moved away.
"Will you play, Falconer?" he asked, as Stafford gave out the balls.
"You used to play a good game."
Falconer shrugged his shoulders.
"Haven't played for years: rather look on," he said.
"Let me give you a cigar. Try these; they are all right, Stafford
says."
Falconer seated himself in one of the lounges and looked at the players
and round the handsome room in contemplative silence. Sir Stephen's eye
wandered covertly towards him now and again, and once he said to
Stafford:
"See if Mr. Falconer has some whiskey, my boy?"
As Stafford went up to Mr. Falconer's corner he saw that Mr.
Griffinberg and Baron Wirsch had joined him. The three men were talking
in the low confidential tone characteristic of city men when they are
discussing the sacred subject of money, and Stafford caught the
words--"Sir Stephen"--"South African Railway."
Mr. Falconer looked round sharply as Stafford stood at his elbow.
"Eh? Whiskey? Oh, yes, thanks, I have some," he said.
As Stafford returned to the billiard-room, Falconer nodded after him.
"Is the son in this?" he asked, sharply.
"Oh, no," replied the baron, with a smile. "He knows nothing; he ees
too young, too--vat do you say?--too vashionable, frivolous. No, Sir
Stephen doesn't bring him in at all. You understand? He is ze
ornamental, shleeping' pardner, eh?" And he chuckled.
Falconer nodded, and leaning forward, continued the conversation in a
low voice. The men went off to bed one by one, and presently only Sir
Stephen, Stafford and Falconer remained; and as the latter rose as if
to retire, Sir Stephen laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't go yet! I should like to have a little chat with you--about old
times."
Falconer sank into his seat again and took a fresh cigar, and Stafford
left them.