"No, I—I could not possibly hesitate,—such very apparent need—er. Poor thing! It is a great gratification to be able to help those in need—er. My dear boy, it is very cold—very chilly—er. I am quite distressed to think of the girls driving to the station—er—in the open chaise. I really wish I had given different directions—er."
I could not help thinking of Craven; though this speaker, with something of the same cautious hesitation in bringing out his words, and even more of a tendency to linger on concluding syllables, had nothing whatever of Craven's grandiloquent pomposity. He was short, and of narrow small-boned make, with sunken cheeks, and delicate girlish hands. Grey hair, in the prettiest silken curls, peeped from under his most dainty travelling cap, partly hiding the defects of a narrow and unintellectual forehead; and a pair of deep-blue eyes, full of anxious appeal, wandered to and fro beseechingly. The mouth was anxious too—a really beautiful mouth in its classic curves, only so tremulously nervous and troubled.
Side by side with this little elderly personage was a young man, not at all resembling him. For the young man was tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully made, with no pretensions to good looks. It seemed to me a good sensible face, however—that plain sunburnt face of his—though not handsome; and I admired the deferential kindness of his manner towards the older gentleman. Could they be father and son?
"If I had guessed—er—that it would be so chilly—er—I think it would have been advisable to procure hot-water cans for the journey—er. My feet are so very cold—er—quite suffering. I hope you do not feel the cold—er—very much, my dear boy."
He feel the cold! I could have laughed at the question. But the young man answered, without a smile, "Not at all, thanks. I wish I had thought of the hot-water tin for you, though."
"No consequence, my dear boy,—not of the very least consequence—er. And we shall be there directly, so it really does not—er—does not matter. But I am very chilly. I almost think—er—if you could get out a shawl for me, I should like it over my shoulders—er. Thanks—no, not that one. The Scotch tartan. Not there, do you say? Very strange, very strange indeed—er. I must speak to Phipps, I must speak to him quite seriously. He knows so well—er—I always use that shawl in travelling—er—quite invariably. No, nothing else, my dear boy,—nothing else will do. If the tartan shawl is not here, I must endure the chill."
Poor gentleman,—he shivered and looked quite blue. But the young man made no attempt to persuade him, only rolling up submissively the rejected wraps.
"Very cold indeed for the girls," went on the elder gentleman. "I am so afraid they will suffer—er. If only I had desired them to have a closed cab, instead of driving in the open chaise—er—it would have been safer. But perhaps they may think of it. Perhaps when we arrive, we could arrange—er—don't you think, my dear boy?"
"Yes, father," said the young man. He spoke very gravely, with no relaxing in the set of his strong plain face. Was he always so serious? It struck me as singular; for I should not have guessed him to be more than three or four and twenty at the most.
"I think we might arrange—er—if it should be very cold indeed at the station—er—perhaps—but I really do not know. It is very distressing to have had to send away the brougham just now. I shall ask you to see about that, my dear boy,—to get matters pushed forward—er. I have been really too shaken myself to attend—er—to attend to anything."