Part 35 (1/2)
She would have been the most miserable creature on earth married to a clod.”
”Ay, she's been here to show herself,” Vont muttered, ”down in a motor-car, in furs and silks, like a creature from some world that I know not about. She's talked as you've talked. I've listened to the pair of you. I thrust my daughter out of the garden and bade her go away and learn the truth. And you--well, I just take leave to say that as I cursed you nigh on a score of years ago, and have cursed you in my heart ever since, so I curse you now!”
”But are you going to sit there every day doing it?” the Marquis enquired, a little irritably.
”This house and garden are mine,” Richard Vont replied stolidly, ”although you've done your best to beggar me by taking them away. When I choose, I shall sit here. When I choose, I shall sit and watch you with your guests, watch you morning, noon and night. I've one wish in my heart, hour by hour. Maybe that wish will reach home, Marquis of Mandeleys. If it does, you'll see them all in black along the churchyard path there, and hear the doors of your vault roll open.”
”You're a little mixed in your similes, my friend,” the Marquis remarked, ”because, you know, if those things happen--to me, I shall be the one person who doesn't hear them. Still, I gather that you are implacable, and that is what I came to find out. What astonis.h.i.+ngly fine hollyhocks!” he observed, as he turned away. ”I must go and look at my own.”
For a moment there was tragedy in Vont's clenched fists and fierce, convulsive movement forward. The Marquis, however, without a backward glance, lounged carelessly away and, finding Let.i.tia, strolled with her to the walled garden.
”The man is impossible,” he proclaimed. ”It is obviously his intention to sit there and make himself a nuisance. Well, we get used to everything. I may get used to Richard Vont.”
Let.i.tia hesitated for a few moments.
”Father,” she said, ”there are certain subjects which are not, as a rule, mentioned, but if you will permit me--”
The Marquis stopped her.
”My dear, please not,” he begged, a little stiffly. ”Remember, if you will, that I have little in common with the somewhat modern school of thought indulged in by most of your friends. There are certain subjects which cannot be discussed between us. Let us hear what Mr.
Hales has to say.”
Hat in hand, the head gardener had hastened down to meet them, and under his tutelage they explored his domain. His master murmured little words of congratulation.
”I have done my best, your lords.h.i.+p,” the man observed, ”but Mr.
Merridrew has been cruel hard on me for bulbs and seeds and plants, and as to shrubs and young trees, he'll not have a word to say.”
The Marquis nodded sympathetically.
”We may be able to alter that next year, Hales,” he promised. ”Mr.
Merridrew, I know, has had great trouble with the tenants for the last few quarters. Next year, Mr. Hales, we will see what we can do.”
The gardener once more doffed his cap and received the intelligence with gratified interest. Over the top of the hill, a small governess'
cart, drawn by a fat pony, came into sight, and Let.i.tia waved her hand to the girl who was driving.
”It's Sylvia Laycey,” she murmured. ”Now how on earth can that child still be at Broomleys, if Mr. Thain is really here?”
Sylvia explained the matter as she drove into the great stableyard, Let.i.tia walking on one side of her and the Marquis on the other.
”Of course we've left Broomleys,” she told them, ”but we are staying with the Medlingcourts for three or four days. They asked us at the last moment. And then your letter came, Let.i.tia--just in time. I'm simply crazy to come and stay with you. Let.i.tia, you lucky girl! You are going to be here all the time! I am simply foolish about him!”
”About whom?” Let.i.tia asked indifferently.
”Why, Mr. David Thain, of course! He's the nicest thing I've ever talked to. He lunched with us on Thursday--but of course you're in love with him, too, so there'll be no chance for me.”
Let.i.tia's laugh was half amused, half scornful.