Mrs. Graves wrote back by return of post that she was delighted to
think that Howard was coming. "I am getting an old woman," she said,
"and fond of memories: and what I hear of you from your enthusiastic
pupil Jack makes me wish to see my nephew, and proud of him too. This
is a quiet house, but I think you would enjoy it; and it's a real
kindness to me to come. I am sure I shall like you, and I am not
without hopes that you may like me. You need not tie yourself down to
any dates; just come when you can, and go when you must."
Howard liked the simplicity of the letter, and determined to go down at
once. He started two days later. It was a fine spring day, and it was
pleasant to glide through the open country all quickening into green.
He arrived in the afternoon at the little wayside station. It was in
the south-east corner of Somersetshire, and Howard liked the look of
the landscape, the steep green downs, with their wooded dingles
breaking down into rich undulating plains, dappled with hedgerow trees
and traversed by gliding streams. He was met at the station by an
old-fashioned waggonette, with an elderly coachman, who said that Mrs.
Graves had hoped to come herself, but was not very well, and thought
that Mr. Kennedy would prefer an open carriage.
Howard was astonished at the charm of the whole countryside. They
passed through several hamlets, with beautiful old houses, built of a
soft orange stone, weathering to a silvery grey, with evidences of
careful and pretty design in their mullioned windows and arched
doorways. The churches, with their great richly carved towers, pierced
stone shutters, and clustered pinnacles, pleased him extremely, and he
liked the simple and courteous greetings of the people who passed them.
He had a sense, long unfamiliar to him, as though he were somehow
coming home. The road entered a green valley among the downs. To the
left, an outstanding bluff was crowned with the steep turfed bastions
of an ancient fort, and as they went in among the hills, the slopes
grew steeper, rich with hanging woods and copses, and the edges of the
high thickets were white with bleached flints. At last they passed into
a hamlet with a church, and a big vicarage among shrubberies; this was
Windlow Malzoy, the coachman said, and that was Mr. Sandys' house.
Howard saw a girl wandering about on the lawn--Jack's sister, he
supposed, but it was too far off for him to see her distinctly; five
minutes later they drove into Windlow. It lay at the very bottom of the
valley; a clear stream ran beneath the bridge. There were but half a
dozen cottages, and just ahead of them, abutting on the road, appeared
the front of a beautiful simple house of some considerable size, with a
large embowered garden behind it bordering on the river; Howard was
astonished to see what a large and ancient building it was. The part on
the road was blank of windows, with the exception of a dignified
projecting oriel; close to which was a high Tudor archway, with big oak
doors standing open. There were some plants growing on the
coping--snapdragon and valerian--which gave it a look of age and
settled use. The carriage drove in under the arch, and a small
courtyard appeared. There was a stable on the right, with a leaded
cupola; the house itself was very plain and stately, with two great
traceried windows which seemed to belong to a hall, and a finely carved
outstanding porch. The whole was built out of the same orange stone of
which the churches were built, stone-tiled, all entirely homelike and
solid.
He got down at the door, which stood open. An old man-servant appeared,
and he found himself in a flagged passage, with a plain wooden screen
on his left, opening into the hall. It had a collegiate air which he
liked. Then he was led out at the opposite end of the vestibule, the
servant saying, "Mrs. Graves is in the garden, sir." He stepped out on
to a lawn bordered with trees; opposite him was a stone-built Jacobean
garden-house, with stone balls on the balustraded coping. Two ladies
were walking on the gravel path; the older of the two, who walked with
a stick, came up to him, put her hand on his shoulder, and gave him a
kiss in a simple and motherly way, saying, "So here you actually are,
my dear boy, and very much welcome." She then presented the other lady,
a small, snub-nosed, middle-aged woman, saying, "This is Miss Merry,
who lives with me, and keeps me more or less in order; she is quite
excited at meeting a don; she has a respect for learning and talent,
which is unhappily rare nowadays." Miss Merry shook hands as a spaniel
might give its paw, and looked reverentially at Howard. His aunt put
her hand through his arm, and said, "Let us walk about a little. I live
by rule, you must know--that is, by Miss Merry's rule; and we shall
have tea in a few minutes."
She pointed out one or two of the features of the house, and said, in
answer to Howard's loudly expressed admiration, "Yes, it is a nice old
house. Your uncle had a great taste for such things in days when people
did not care much about them. He bought this very cheap, I believe, and
was much attached to it; but he did not live long to enjoy it, you
know. He died nearly thirty years ago. I meant to sell it, but somehow
I did not, and now I hope to end my days here. It is not nearly as big
as it looks, and a good deal of it consists of unused granaries and
farm buildings. I sometimes think it is selfish of me to go on
occupying it--it's a house that wants CHILDREN; but one isn't very
consistent; and somehow the house is used to me, and I to it; and,
after all, it is only waiting, which isn't the worst thing in the
world!"
When Howard found an opportunity of scrutinising his aunt, which he did
as she poured out tea, he saw a very charming old lady, who was not
exactly handsome, but was fresh-coloured and silvery-haired, and had a
look of the most entire tranquillity and self-possession. She looked as
if she had met and faced trouble at some bygone time; there were traces
of sorrow about the brow and eyes, but it was a face which seemed as if
self had somehow passed out of it, and was yet strong with a peculiar
kind of fearless strength. She had a lazy and contented sort of laugh,
and yet gave an impression of energy, and of a very real and vivid
life. Her eyes had a great softness and brilliancy, and Howard liked to
feel them dwelling upon him. As they sat at tea she suddenly put her
hand on his and said, "My dear boy, how you remind me of your mother! I
suppose you hardly even remember her as a young woman; but though you
are half hidden in that beard of yours, you are somehow just like her,
and I feel as if I were in the schoolroom again at Hunsdon in the old
days. No, I am not sentimental. I don't want it back again, and I don't
hate the death that parts us. One can't go back, one must go
forward--and, after all, hearts were made to love with, and not to
break!"
They spent a quiet evening in the still house. Mrs. Graves said to
Howard, "I know that men always want to go and do something mysterious
after tea; but to-night you must just sit here and get used to me. You
needn't be afraid of having to see too much of me. I don't appear
before luncheon, and Jane looks after me; and you must get some
exercise in the afternoons. I don't go further than the village. I
expect you have lectures to write; and you must do exactly what you
like." They sat there, in the low panelled room, and talked easily
about old recollections. They dined in simple state in the big hall
with its little gallery, at a round table in the centre, lighted by
candles. The food was simple, the wine was good.
"Marengo chicken," said Mrs. Graves as a dish was handed round. "That's
one of Jane's historical allusions. If you don't know why it is called
Marengo, Jane will rejoice to enlighten you." After the meal she begged
him to smoke. "I like it," said Mrs. Graves; "I have even smoked myself
in seclusion, but now I dare not--it would be all over the parish
to-morrow."
After dinner they went back to the drawing-room, and Miss Merry turned
out to be quite a good pianist, playing some soft old music at the end
of the gently lighted room. Mrs. Graves went off early. "You had better
stop and smoke here," she said to Howard. "There's a library where you
can work and smoke to-morrow; and now good night, and let me say how I
delight to have you here--I really can't say how much!"
Howard sat alone in the drawing-room. He had an almost painful faculty
of minute observation, and the storage of new impressions was a real
strain to him. To-day it seemed that they had poured in upon him in a
cataract, and he felt dangerously wakeful; why had he been such a fool
as to have missed this beautiful house, and this home atmosphere of
affection? He could not say. A stupid persistence in his own plans, he
supposed. Yet this had been waiting for him, a home such as he had
never owned. He thought with an almost terrified disgust of his rooms
at Beaufort, as the logs burned whisperingly in the grate, and the
smoke of his cigarette rose on the air. Was it not this that he had
been needing all along? At last he rose, put out the candles, and made
his way to the big panelled bedroom which had been given him. He lay
long awake, wondering, in a luxurious repose, listening to the whisper
of the breeze in the shrubberies, and the faint murmur of the water in
the full-fed stream.