He started in surprised affront, as Norman came upon him. It was an awkward meeting, for his reason for being there was apparent, and he could not help knowing that it was so to Norman. He hunched his shoulders and turned away in offence, without a greeting. Norman, who had been thinking of him with cherished aversion, had an impulse of pity towards him, and obeyed the impulse instantly, as his custom was. "Merry Christmas!" he said. "I heard you were down here."
It was the first thing that came into his head to say, and was only meant as a disclaimer of enmity. But Fred took it as a jeer, and turned on him, his face flaming with antagonism. "I dare say you did," he said. "Damn you! I say something in confidence, and it's told to everybody at once; and I'm kicked out because of it. A merry Christmas!" There followed an oath directed against Norman, and he turned his back on him again.
Norman's impulsion of pity still held him. He had disliked Fred, in their boyhood, but before their final quarrel there had been times in which they had been companions, without hostility between them. That old contact was present to his mind; and Fred was down now; he couldn't triumph over him. "I didn't mean any offence," he said. "I do know what happened, but there's no offence in that either."
Fred turned on him again. "I'm not good enough for her," he said. "No offence in showing me that in the beastliest sort of way, I suppose! I do the straight thing, and it's immediately used as a weapon against me. Yet Eldridge was ready enough to come to me for help in his blasted money difficulties. If he doesn't mind telling everybody my affairs I don't mind telling his."
Again he turned away, leaving Norman at a loss. He took a few steps, and threw over his shoulder: "You make her think she's everything to you, and behave as if she was nothing. I'd have given her more than you ever will." Then he went away, leaving Norman with something more to think about, as he walked slowly back across the park in the chilly dusk to where the warmth and light of the house was awaiting him.
The next day he went away, and the Hall settled down again to the quiet life that had been brightened by his coming.
The weather cleared after Christmas, and on the first day on which the roads were dry enough Lord Crowborough came tricycling over to Hayslope Hall, and, in the same state of heat as before and with the same means of allaying it by his side, sat talking to his old friend.
He had heard of the decision to let the Hall, and was full of sympathy. At the same time, he couldn't quite understand it. What did William say about it? Surely—!
Colonel Eldridge cut him short. "There's no enmity now between me and William," he said. "We've practically agreed to go our separate ways, though that has never been put into words. William doesn't come into this, and wouldn't have come into it if we had never fallen out. All he could have done would have been to subsidize me here, and I dare say he would have been quite ready to do it. But of course I couldn't have accepted that in any case."
"No. I can see that, if you put it in that way. But there ought to be a way out, Edmund. He will succeed you here, and I am pretty certain that if you both wanted to you could arrange things."