Herbert’s glorification, however, when he reached England duly came off, and this without any protest on the part of Mrs. Cavendish-Diggle. She did not know really that he was, or had ever been, a competitor for the family estates. Besides which, when he arrived she and her husband were at Aix; and however calmly she may have accepted the sad news of Ernest’s death, she could not openly be otherwise than pleased at the honour done to the man who had endeavoured to save her brother’s life. Herbert, whether or no, was invited at once to the Hall, whither he went, not from any love for Sir Rupert, but simply to see how the land lay, and whether he could help the poor old dowager, who still languished in her asylum prison.
Yet it was with a certain strange excitement that he entered the house which might be, and which somehow he felt ought to be his. The baronet received him most courteously; poor Lady Farrington fell upon his neck and wept torrents of tears; he was shown into a gorgeous guest chamber, a room all blue satin and silver, such as he had never before seen in all his life; and he was treated with the most profound respect on every side.
Lady Farrington was not equal to appearing at table, and he dined with Sir Rupert tête-à-tête. His host questioned him closely upon the events of the campaign. Acutely painful as was one of its episodes to the baronet, he yet seemed to ignore this, and was only anxious to give his guest an opportunity of describing what he had seen. Possibly he was anxious also to keep off dangerous ground, and to avoid inconvenient questions upon points on which Herbert was, if anything, far more closely concerned.
Here, however, he counted without his host. The young soldier was by nature, and still more by his recent rough and ready training, little disposed to beat about the bush. He had resolved upon coming to Farrington Hall to ascertain what could be done to release the old Lady Farrington from durance. He had had already one or two communications from ‘the Boy’ Hanlon, none of which, however, gave him much hope of effecting this without the assistance of the baronet himself. The ‘Boy’ had not seen much of the old lady. She was, of course, upon the female side of the asylum. But Hanlon was not to be baulked by any restrictions of sex, and as the rules of the establishment forbade him from attending upon a female patient, he made it his business to secure the co-operation of a female attendant. The person who had especial charge of Lady Farrington was a middle-aged damsel, to whom the blandishments of ‘the Boy’ were by no means distasteful. Through this impressionable daughter of Eve, Hanlon had communicated frequently with the old lady. He had told her of Herbert’s progress; of the young man’s advancement in the lower walks of the military career; finally of the Ashanti war, and Herbert’s undoubted success. Had the doctor been within easy reach, he might have ordered Lady Farrington the usual cooling regimen, so excited did she become. But she escaped observation, and under the advice of her attendant, and indeed through her own native intelligence she managed to preserve a calm exterior, feeling sure that her Herbert would soon appear to open wide her prison doors.
That he was most eager to do so was evident from his conversation with Sir Rupert that first night.
‘I shall be only too glad to meet your wishes in any way,’ the baronet had said. ‘At the Horse Guards, perhaps, or with Mr. Cardwell—’
‘I will not ask so much,’ Herbert replied. ‘I have been already treated most liberally by the authorities. All I want is—to pay a visit to Greystoke.’
‘To Greystoke?’ Sir Rupert turned rather pale.
‘Yes, and with you. You see I know everything. Why hesitate, Sir Rupert? There need be no concealment between us. The last time we met I was a victim—one of your victims—but now I am above all that, but poor Lady Farrington still suffers.’
‘It would not be safe, I assure you, to set her at large. I have that on the best authority. She is still quite insane.’