Sir Charles glanced furtively at his watch. Lord Fordingbridge
examined wistfully a print on the library wall representing a
gentleman coming to grief in the hunting field.
"They should be here by now," observed Sir Charles. "Are you
absolutely sure of the day?"
Lord Fordingbridge smiled reassuringly.
"Rupert put in for a month's leave of absence commencin' yesterday,
my dear fellow. Virginia was clingin' to your Dorset cottage, and so
I wrote to Arthur Scrope, the vicar down there. You know him, of
course--stroked the Cambridge boat in--let me see, what year was it?
He wrote back that he'd been sworn to secrecy, but if I ordered a
special luncheon for the twenty-eighth I shouldn't be far wrong. So
I let you order the luncheon, Charles. They should be here very
shortly."
Even as he spoke a 30-98 Vauxhall with Rupert at the wheel glided
along Park Street and drew up outside the front door.
A radiant Vingie descended followed by her husband. They entered
jovially a minute later.
"Hullo, darlings! We've got a surprise for you. We're married,"
exclaimed Vingie, kissing Sir Charles lightly on the brow. "Would
you like to look at little Vingie's marriage lines? I carry them
about everywhere."
"Congratulations, my dear Virginia. Of course the shock of the
surprise is very great," declared Sir Charles, glancing at Lord
Fordingbridge, who was busy slapping Rupert on the back. He then
relinquished this occupation in order to kiss the bride.
"You must tell us your story over luncheon," went on Sir Charles, as
the door opened to admit the butler.
They found the dining-room a mass of roses. By Vingie's plate lay
two intriguing cases. One proved to contain a long jade necklace
from Lord Fordingbridge, the other a diamond and sapphire bracelet
from Sir Charles.
Rupert was staring in amazement at a receipted bill and a check of
comforting proportions.
"That's the receipt for the car I 'lent' you, my boy," chuckled Lord
Fordingbridge. "I hope you find her to your liking."
"The check is a humble offering from myself," added Sir Charles.
Vingie sat gazing at them with sparkling eyes. "But we never
breathed a word. We meant to surprise you. We never gave the
faintest hint----"
Lord Fordingbridge regarded her solemnly.
"What did the Duke of Wellington say in 1800?" he observed. "'The
great thing is to find out what's going on at the other side of the
hill.' Laugh at me if you like, but respect my secret service. Why,
the very wine is iced to the psychological temperature!"
"George," interrupted Sir Charles solemnly, "I give you the toast of
the bride and bridegroom!"
When the triumphal car had finally departed on its honeymoon journey
to Scotland the two old gentlemen returned to the library. With
pardonable pride, Sir Charles indicated a bottle of 1815 brandy.
"The last in the cellar, George," he said. "I kept it for Virginia's
wedding, God bless her."
"Well, here's to youth and love!" observed his lordship, sipping
reverently.
Sir Charles allowed a wise expression to modify his well-cut mouth.
"In a sense, yes, George. Youth and love are remarkable possessions.
Nevertheless, give me the understanding of age. In youth one flies
into mad ecstasies, but age in the background holds the reins. These
two young people are a case in point. Every step of their careers
has been ordained by you and me. For the time we let them rejoice
and then, from what would seem the most unlikely circumstances we
engineered this marriage. We led them, my dear George, by devious
routes to meet at the altar. Now that is a thing they could never
have done to us, for all their youth."
Lord Fordingbridge placed the tips of his fingers together and a
tolerant smile irradiated his rubicund face.
"There is much in what you say, Charles, as even I can see and I'm
only a foolish old man. But to-day is a day of rejoicing when the
cautious spirit of age seems out of place. Let us therefore, my dear
fellow, emulate the glorious recklessness of youth and each take
another glass of this excellent brandy."