The old man stared at this outburst, and said: "He handed it to me,
sir."
"Did he; and have you mentioned it to anyone, else?"
With a sly look, that bordered as nearly on a wink as his well-trained
discretion would allow, the old man replied, "No, Sir Raife, I have the
rope. I gave him half a crown and told him to mind that we didn't want
no gabblers round Aldborough Park."
"Quite right, Edgson, you acted very wisely. I'll tell you all about
it, perhaps, some day."
"Perhaps" is always useful, in qualifying a promise. Producing a
sovereign-purse, he extracted two sovereigns and handing them to Edgson,
said: "Do what you like with these, Edgson. I suggest you give the man,
Hodgson, one."
Edgson bowed low. "Very good, Sir Raife, I'll carry out your
instructions."
When the old man had finally gone, Raife mixed himself another whisky
and soda, and cursed with a freedom that was not customary with him.
This contretemps was more tangible than the others, and it was the
fourth incident or train of unpleasant thoughts that had been forced on
him, on this the joyful day, when he had brought Hilda to his home. He
was not superstitious, but his nerves were affected by the sequence of
events. Did they spell disaster?
The spring day had ended in an unusually warm moonlight night. After
dinner they walked on to the terrace and sauntered up and down. Hilda's
happiness was very great, and unmarred by doubt or foreboding. "The
other woman" was not in her thoughts. She surveyed the ornamental
flower beds which, even in this light, showed the wealth of blossom.
She had already examined, at close quarters, the old sundial and the
quaint-carved stone figures around the lily pond, with a fountain in the
centre, with sleepy old carp gliding through the dark shadows of its
waters. At length, they decided it was warm enough to sit in the chairs
that had been brought from some mysterious corner where they had rested
through the long winter time.
The silence that was customary among the trio, when conversation
appeared superfluous, was broken by the sound of bells from a church on
a hillside some distance away. Softly at first, in irregular clangs of
varying notes, they burst into a carillon, ending in crashes, known in
some parts as firing. There was an evident intention of joy in the
sounds that floated through the still night air until it reached the
group seated in the moonlight on the terrace of old Aldborough Park.
Raife broke the silence. "Mother, why are the church bells ringing?
This used not to be practice-night, for I've helped myself many a time
to clang with those ropes in our old church tower. They wouldn't ring
like that for an ordinary week-day service, besides, it's too late for a
service. I'll call Edgson. Perhaps he'll know."
The duties of an old family butler are many and not well-defined.
Speaking generally he does mostly what he pleases. He is always working
in some way or another, and may be safely trusted to guard the interests
of his master. It is his own chosen duty to know everything that
transpires on his domain, and to know the reason for it. In response to
Raife's call, Edgson appeared. "What are the church bells ringing for,
Edgson?"
With a beaming countenance, the old man replied: "They are ringing for
you, Sir Raife, and, begging your pardon, Sir Raife, they are ringing
for the young lady, Miss Muirhead."
Hilda, in astonished tones, exclaimed: "What's that? Ringing for me?
What are they ringing for me for?"
Edgson stammered, but failed to make a coherent reply.
"Thank you, Edgson. That'll do," intimated Raife.
The old man retired, chortling to himself: "She's a nice young lady for
an American. But, lor', these Americans don't know as much as we do."
When Edgson had gone, Lady Remington explained how those church bells
had rung for the birth and marriage of many generations of Reymingtounes
during four centuries, and sadly, she added, they had tolled a knell at
many a funeral of the family. Then, more cheerfully, smiling at Raife,
she continued: "My son, I am glad to say, is very popular with the
bell-ringers, as well as all over the estate."