Part 40 (1/2)
”Fancy being a lamp to oneself!” cried Lady Engleton.
”It's as much as most of us can do to be a lamp to others,” commented Hadria.
”Some one has compared the glow-worm's light to Hero's, when she waited, with trimmed lamp, for her Leander,” said Professor Theobald. ”Look here, Mr. Fleming, if you stoop down just here, you will be able to see the little animal.” The Professor resigned his place to him. When Joseph rose from his somewhat indifferent survey of the insect, Professor Theobald had established himself at Mrs. Temperley's right hand, and the rest of the party were left behind.
”Talking of Greek ideas,” said the Professor, ”that wonderful people perceived more clearly than we Christians have ever done, with all our science, the natural forces of Nature. What we call superst.i.tions were really great scientific intuitions or prophecies. Of course I should not dare to speak in this frank fas.h.i.+on to the good people of Craddock Dene, but to _you_ I need not be on my guard.”
”I appreciate your confidence.”
”Ah, now, Mrs. Temperley, you are unkind. It is of no use for you to try to persuade me that you are _of_ as well as in the village of Craddock Dene.”
”I have never set out upon that task.”
”Again I offend!”
Hadria, dropping the subject, enquired whether the Professor was well acquainted with this part of the country.
He knew it by heart. A charming country; warm, luxuriant, picturesque, the pick of England to his mind. What could beat its woodlands, its hills, its relics of the old world, its barns and churches and smiling villages?
”Then it is not only Tudor mansions that attract you?” Hadria could not resist asking.
Tudor mansions? There was no cottage so humble, provided it were picturesque, that did not charm him.
”Really!” exclaimed Hadria, with a faintly emphasized surprise.
”Have I put my luckless foot into it again?”
”May I not be impressed by magnanimity?”
The Professor's mouth shut sharply.
”Mrs. Temperley is pleased to deride me. Craddock Dene must shrivel under destroying blasts like these.”
”Not so much as one might think.”
The sound of their steps on the broad avenue smote sharply on their ears. Their absurd-looking shadows stretched always in front of them. ”A splendid night,” Hadria observed, to break the silence.
”Glorious!” returned her companion, as if waking from thought.
”Spring is our best season here, the time of blossoming.”
”I am horribly tempted to take root in the lovely district, in the hope of also blossoming. Can you imagine me a sort of patriarchal apple-tree laden with snowy blooms?”
”You somewhat burden my imagination.”
”I have had to work hard all my life, until an unexpected legacy from an admirable distant relation put me at the end of a longer tether. I still have to work, but less hard. I have always tried not to ossify, keeping in view a possible serene time to come, when I might put forth blossoms in this vernal fas.h.i.+on that tempts my middle-aged fancy. And where could I choose a sweeter spot for these late efforts to be young and green, than here in this perfect south of England home?”
”It seems large,” said Hadria.