Little more than an hour before his words with the old gardener, Sir
James was in his dingy office in Leadenhall Street, where, young as he
was, through succession to his father, he stood head of a large shipping
business. He had been waiting for his cousin, Arthur Prayle, who was
invited to spend a few days with him in the country. Then a cab was
taken, the train caught, and in an hour they were whirled down to a
station in Berkshire, where, in light, simple, summer dress, looking
bright and attractive as the country round, sat Lady Scarlett, eagerly
watching the platform from her seat in the little phaeton drawn by two
handsome cobs, who tossed their heads impatiently, and threw the white
foam from their well-champed, brightly polished bits, to the
bespecklement of the smart groom's hat and coat. Her face brightened as
she caught sight of her husband, and fell a little as she saw that he
was followed by his cousin, Arthur Prayle; but she smiled sweetly at
their visitor, and held out her hand to him as he came up and raised his
hat.
"I've brought Arthur down to get rid of the soot, Kitty," cried Scarlett
heartily. "See how solemn he looks."
"I am very glad to see him," said Kate Scarlett, smiling, and colouring
slightly.
"There, jump up beside Kitty, old man," continued Scarlett. "She'll
soon rattle us home."
"No, no, dear; you'll drive."
"What! In these lavender kids, and in this coat!" cried Scarlett
laughingly. "No, thanks.--Jump in, Arthur. That's right. I'm up.--Let
'em go, Tom.--Now, my beauties."
The handsome little pair of cobs shook their heads, and started off at a
rapid trot, the groom catching the side of the phaeton as it passed him,
and mounting beside his master in the seat behind; when the brisk,
sweet, summer air seemed to bring a little colour into the cheeks of
Arthur Prayle, and a great deal into those of Lady Scarlett, as she
guided the spirited little pair along the dusty road, and then in
between the long stretches of fir-wood, whence came delicious warm
breathings of that lemony aromatic scent of the growing pines brought
forth by the mid-day sun.
"There, my lad, that's better than sitting in chambers," cried Scarlett.
"Fellows pooh-pooh me for living out here. It is living, my boy. It's
dying, to shut yourself up in town."
"Ah, yes," said Prayle with a sigh; "it is very delicious."
"Delicious I should think it is," cried Scarlett eagerly; and he stood
up behind his wife, holding on by the back seat, as fine and manly a
specimen of humanity as could be found in a day's march. He was
fashionably dressed, tightly buttoned up, and had the orthodox flower in
his button-hole; but his bronzed face and fresh look told of
country-life; and down in Berkshire, the staid solemnity of his London
ways was cast aside for a buoyant youthfulness that made his sedate
cousin turn slightly to gaze at him through his half-closed eyes.
"Give them their heads, Kitty," cried Scarlett, as they approached a
hill; and, as they heard the order, the cobs gave their crests a toss,
and broke into a canter, breasting the hill, and keeping up the speed to
the very top, where they were checked for the descent upon the other
side.
"There you are, old fellow," cried Scarlett. "There's the river winding
among the patches of grove and meadow. There's the Rosery; you can
catch it beautifully now. Do you see how the creeper has gone up the
chimney-stack? No, of course you can't from here.--Gently, my beauties;
steady, steady, little rascals. Don't pull your mistress's arms out by
the roots."
"A lovely view indeed, James," said the visitor. "It seems more
beautiful every time I come."
"Oh, every place looks at its best now," said Scarlett heartily. "I
say, I've got down a new boat; we must have a pull up to the locks.
That's the sort of thing to do you good, my boy."
Prayle smiled, and shrugged his shoulders lightly.
"How long does it take you to drive from the station?" he said quietly.
"We allow five-and-twenty minutes," said Scarlett. "We shall do it in
twenty to-day. I like to go fast, and these little ruffians enjoy it.
They want it: they're getting too fat."
The cobs tossed their heads again at this, and tried to break into
another canter.
"Steady, steady, you larky little scoundrels.--Give them a pull, Kitty.
Oh, that's right; the gate's open."
They were in sight of a rustic gateway banked with masses of
rhododendrons and other flowering shrubs, and through this Mrs Scarlett
deftly guided the phaeton, which seemed suddenly to run more quietly
along the pretty curved gravel drive, whose sides were lawn of the most
velvety green; while flowers of the brightest hues filled the many beds.
The grounds were extensive, though the house was small and
cottage-like, with its highly-pitched gables, latticed windows, and
red-brick walls covered with magnificent specimens of creeping plants.
On either side of the house were pretty extensive conservatories, and
glimpses of other glass-houses could be seen beyond a tall thick hedge
of yew. In fact, it was just the _beau-ideal_ of a pretty country-home,
with a steep slope down to the river.
"Here we are, old fellow," cried Scarlett, as he leaped out and helped
his wife to alight.--"Are they warm, Tom?"
"No, sir; not turned a hair, sir."
"That's right.--Now then, Arthur. Same room as you had before. Will
you take anything after your ride?"
"Oh, dear, no," said Prayle; "and if you'll allow me, I'll ramble about
till dinner."
"Do just what you like, old man. There are cigars and cigarettes in the
study. If there's anything else you want, just ring."
"Oh, don't; pray don't," said Prayle deprecatingly. "You will spoil my
visit if you make so much of me."
"Make much of you, lad? Stuff!--Good-bye, Buddy; good-bye, Jen," he
cried, patting the cobs.--"Take care of them, Tom.--Beauties, aren't
they, Arthur? My present to Kate. Now then, come along."
He led the visitor into the tiled hall, at every corner of which was
some large _jardiniere_ full of flowers, and up the broad staircase to
the guest-chamber, flowers being in the window even here; while the
floors were covered with the softest carpets and rugs, and pictures and
engravings of no little merit covered the walls.
"You have a magnificent place here, James," said the visitor, with a
sigh.
"Nonsense, man. Half the beauty is Nature's own doing, aided by your
humble servant, Kitty, old John Monnick, and a couple of labourers.
Why, I pay less for this pretty Elizabethan cottage than I should for
some brick dungeon in a West-end square. Less? Why, I don't pay half.
Now, I'm going to unfig."
He nodded pleasantly at his guest, and left him alone, when a scowl came
over Prayle's face, and glancing round at the well-furnished room, with
its bright fittings and charming flowers in window and vase, he said in
a low and bitter voice: "Why should this weak boor be rolling in wealth,
while I have to pinch and spare and contrive in my dim blank chambers?
The world is not fair. Oh, it is not fair!"
As he stood there in the middle of the room, a distant sound made him
turn his head sharply, and he caught sight of his frowning face in the
dressing-glass, when, smoothing away the wrinkles, he paid a few
attentions to his personal appearance, and went down to stroll about the
grounds.
Volume 1, Chapter III.