Even at a cursory view it was evident that Partinborough Grange was of considerable antiquity. It was a house of no great size, but it had many gables and was pleasantly irregular in proportion. It was ivy-covered, too, almost to the roof, and the windows were framed with rose creepers. The porch before which the carriage drew up was a veritable mass of white and red blooms.
Mostyn's heart leapt delightedly within him. He had often pictured to himself a house like this, and now his dreams were realised. Partinborough Grange was his own—absolutely his own—and not only the Grange, but this wide expanse of wood, this spreading lawn with its carefully-tended flower-beds, and its pergola of roses; however negligent Samuel Willis, the gardener, may have been in not attending to instructions as to meeting the train, he was undoubtedly accomplished at his craft.
Mostyn alighted from the carriage, and almost as he did so, the door was thrown open, and a tall man, curiously thin and cadaverous of face, made his appearance. His manner was nervous, but he spoke civilly, and was evidently anxious to appear at his best.
"You are Mr. Clithero, sir?" he began, awkwardly. "I am Samuel Willis."
"You had my letter?" interrupted Mostyn, seeing that the man hesitated as though at a loss for words. "I expected that you would have sent a cart to meet me. I mentioned the time that I should arrive."
"Yes, sir." The man blurted out his explanation. "But unfortunately I didn't get your letter till about half an hour ago. It was like this, my boy, who's workin' for Colonel Marchmont at Mowbray Hall, a couple of miles on the other side of Partinborough, met with a bad accident last night, and me and my missus went out early this mornin' to be with him. That's how it was, sir, that neither of us saw your letter. It's a good thing I came back when I did. I meant to fetch the cart and bring him home, for the doctor says he must lie up a bit."
"I see," said Mostyn, pleasantly, evincing no annoyance whatever—this, evidently, very much to the gardener's relief. "I found my own way up quite safely, you see. And I am very sorry to hear about your son—I hope he isn't seriously hurt."
Willis replied that he anticipated no danger. The boy was raw at his work, and had carelessly damaged his foot with a scythe. The doctor had patched him up, and he would be on the mend in a day or two; but in the meantime, there was the necessity of driving over to Mowbray Hall that evening to fetch both Willis's wife and his son back to the cottage.
"You can go as soon as you have shown me over the place," Mostyn said, "I don't the least mind being left alone—that is, if I can get something to eat, and if there is a bed ready for me to sleep on. What time do you expect to return?"
"Well, sir, the doctor's coming round again a little before nine, he said. I expect we could be back at the cottage by ten. In the meanwhile, I can arrange for your dinner, and make you quite comfortable for the night."