I had a reply from the country: "So glad you are within reach again! When will you come and see us?" I was not very keen on going to Riddings. After all, it was Lord Lathkill's place, and Lady Lathkill, his mother, was old and of the old school. And I always something of a sansculotte, who will only be king when breeches are off. "Come to town," I wrote, "and let us have lunch together." She came. She looked older, and pain had drawn horizontal lines across her face. "You're not a bit different," she said to me. "And you're only a little bit," I said. "Am I!" she replied, in a deadened, melancholic voice. "Perhaps! I suppose while we live we've got to live. What do you think?" "Yes, I think it. To be the living dead, that's awful." "Quite!" she said, with terrible finality. "How is Lord Lathkill?" I asked. "Oh," she said. "It's finished him, as far as living is concerned. But he's very willing for _me_ to live." "And you, are you willing?" I said. She looked up into my eyes, strangely. "I'm not sure," she said. "I need help. What do you think about it?" "Oh God, live if you can!" "Even take help?" she said, with her strange involved simplicity. "Ah, certainly!" "Would you recommend it?" "Why, yes! You are a young thing----" I began. "Won't you come down to Riddings?" she said quickly. "And Lord Lathkill--and his mother?" I asked. "They want you." "Do you want me to come?" "I want you to, yes! Will you?" "Why, yes, if you want me." "When, then?" "When you wish." "Do you mean it?" "Why, of course." "You're not afraid of the Lathkill ill-luck?" "_I_!" I exclaimed in amazement; such amazement, that she gave her schoolgirl snirt of laughter. "Very well, then," she said. "Monday? Does that suit you?" We made arrangements, and I saw her off at the station. I knew Riddings, Lord Lathkill's place, from the outside. It was an old Derbyshire stone house, at the end of the village of Middleton: a house with three sharp gables, set back not very far from the high road, but with a gloomy moor for a park behind. Monday was a dark day over the Derbyshire hills. The green hills were dark, dark green, the stone fences seemed almost black. Even the little railway-station, deep in the green, cleft hollow, was of stone, and dark and cold, and seemed in the underworld. Lord Lathkill was at the station. He was wearing spectacles, and his brown eyes stared strangely. His black hair fell lank over his forehead. "I'm so awfully glad you've come," he said. "It is cheering Carlotta up immensely." Me, as a man myself, he hardly seemed to notice. I was something which had arrived, and was expected. Otherwise he had an odd, unnatural briskness of manner. "I hope I shan't disturb your mother. Lady Lathkill," I said as he tucked me up in the car.