Part 60 (1/2)

Max roused himself for my benefit, and Mr. Tudor seemed in excellent spirits, and we joked Uncle Max a great deal about his fortune, and after dinner we made a pilgrimage through the house, to see what new furniture was needed.

Max accompanied us, looking very bored, and entered a mild protest to most of our remarks. He certainly agreed to a new carpet for the study and a more comfortable chair, but he turned a perfectly deaf ear when Mr.

Tudor proposed that the drawing-room should be refurnished.

'It is such a pretty room, Mr. Cunliffe,' he remonstrated; 'and it will be ready by the time you want to get married. Mother Drabble's arrangement of chairs and tables is simply hideous. I was quite ashamed when Mrs. Maberley and her daughter called the other day.'

'Nonsense, Lawrence!' returned Max, rather sharply. 'What do two bachelors want with a drawing-room at all? You and Ursula may talk as much as you like, but I do not mean to throw away good money on such nonsense. We will have a new book-case and writing-table, and fit up the little gray room as your study--and, well, perhaps I may buy a new carpet, but nothing more.' And we were obliged to be content with this.

Max brought out a couple of wicker chairs on the terrace presently, and proposed that we should have our coffee out of doors. Mr. Tudor grumbled a little, because he had a letter to write; but I was not sorry when he left me alone with Max. I really liked Mr. Tudor, but we were neither of us in the mood for his good-natured chatter.

'I think old Lawrence is very much improved,' observed Max, as we watched his retreating figure. 'His sermons have more ballast, and he is altogether grown. I begin to have hopes of him now.'

'He is older, of course,' I remarked oracularly, wondering what Max would say if he knew the truth. 'Well, Max, did you go up to Gladwyn last night?'

'Yes,' he returned, with a quick sigh, 'and Hamilton made me stay to dinner. I have found out about Captain Hamilton. He cannot get leave just yet, and they do not expect him until the end of November.'

'I am sorry to hear that. Do you not wish that you had taken my advice now, and gone down to Bournemouth?' But a most emphatic 'No' on Max's part was my answer to this.

'I am very thankful I did nothing of the kind,' he returned, a little irritably. 'You meant well, Ursula, but it would have been a mistake.'

'Hamilton told me about his cousin,' he went on; 'but his sister was in the room. She coloured very much and looked embarra.s.sed directly Claude's name was mentioned.'

'That was because Miss Darrell was there.' But I should have been wiser and, held my tongue.

'You are wrong again,' he returned calmly. 'Miss Darrell was dining at the Maberleys', and never came in until I was going.'

'How very strange!' was my comment to this.

'Not stranger than Miss Hamilton's manner the whole evening, I never felt more puzzled. When I came in she was alone. Hamilton did not follow me for five minutes. She came across the room to meet me, with one of her old smiles, and I thought she really seemed glad to see me; but afterwards she was quite different. Her manner changed and grew listless.

She did not try to entertain me; she left me to talk to her brother. I don't think she looks well, Ursula. Hamilton asked her once if her head ached, and if she felt tired, and she answered that her head was rather bad. I thought she looked extremely delicate.'

'Oh, Gladys is never a robust woman. She is almost always pale.'

'It is not that,' he returned decidedly. 'I consider she looked very ill. I don't believe the change has done her the least good. There is something on her mind: no doubt she is longing for her cousin.'

I thought it well to remain silent, though Max's account made me anxious.

If only I could have spoken to him about Eric! Most likely Gladys was fretting because there was no news from Joe Muggins. She was certainly not fit for any fresh anxiety. I felt my banishment from Gladwyn acutely.

If Gladys were ill or dispirited, she would need me more than any one.

I think both Max and I were sorry when Mr. Tudor came back and interrupted our conversation. He carried me off presently to show me some improvements in the kitchen-garden; but Max was too lazy to join us, and we had quite a confidential talk, walking up and down between the apple-trees. Mr. Tudor told me that, after all, he was becoming fond of his profession, and that the old women did not bore him quite so much.

When we returned, Max was not on the lawn, but a few minutes afterwards he appeared at the study window.

'I was just speaking to Hamilton,' he said. 'He came while you were in the kitchen-garden, but he was in a hurry and could not wait. By the bye, he told me that I was not to let you sit out there any longer, as the dews are so heavy. So come in, my dear.'

I obeyed Max without a word. He had been here, and I had missed him!

Everything was flat after that.