“Do not make me a jest, sir! Do not sneer at an old man’s dreams.... They were very dear, very sacred to me. And now they lie shattered by your detestable selfishness ... and I am an old man indeed!” “Though you never looked stronger, Hector!” “And what o’ your tenantry, your people that should be your responsibility?” “I leave them in good and, I think, capable hands.” “And Dering Manor, John ... the old house you’ve just had made habitable, will you leave it to emptiness and decay?” Sir John turned to stare down the empty street. “Go you and live there, Hector,” said he at last. “Why not? Mayhap I shall come back one day, but ... just now I—I could not bear the place.... And, thank heaven, here they come with the trunk!” So saying, Sir John stepped rather hastily into the chaise as Robert and the post-boy appeared, bearing the leathern trunk between them. “All aboard, Bob?” “Aye, your honour.” “You will write every week regarding the estates?” “Every week, sir.” “Then good-bye, Bob!” “Good-bye, your honour!” And, having shaken the hand Sir John extended, the Corporal took three steps to the rear and stood at attention. “Good-bye, Hector!” “Fare ye weel, John! An’ ... ye’ve nae worrd for her ... no message? Juist ane worrd, John?” “Not one, Hector!” “Aweel, guid-bye, lad! An’ when ye’re weary an’ waeful an’ heartsick, come back tae Alfriston, to the Downs, tae auld Hector as lo’es ye vera weel—guid-bye!” Then Sir Hector nodded, the post-boy cracked his whip and the chaise rolled away. CHAPTER XLVII TELLETH HOW MY LADY HERMINIA BARRASDAILE WENT A-WOOING It was a golden morning; beyond dew-spangled hedgerows stretched green meadows where brooks sparkled and the river gleamed, while afar, to right and left, rose the majestic shapes of Windover and Firle Beacon. Never had the country looked so fair, never had it filled him with such yearning; never had the birds carolled so joyously. And very soon, instead of this widespread smiling countryside he loved so much, the reverent hush and stillness of these everlasting hills, the rugged, simple folk he had learned to honour and respect, in place of all this would be the narrow, roaring streets of London, the glitter of Mayfair, the whirl of Paris.... Emptiness and Desolation! Sir John sighed again and closed his eyes wearily. Presently from an inner pocket he took a wallet, whence he extracted a small, folded paper and, opening this, beheld a thick curl of glossy black hair; for a long moment he gazed down at this; then, taking it from the paper, made to toss it from the chaise window. But, as he did so, the pretty thing twined itself softly about his finger and clung there, whereupon he sighed, raised it suddenly to his lips, kissed it passionately and cast it forth, shaking it violently from his hand much as if it had stung him. And now from the wallet he drew a folded parchment, and frowned at the words that stared at him therefrom in fair black and white: