Mrs. De Wolfe waited to hear more, and continued to stare steadily at the word "asparagus." "He pays in the money for you to the day; it is lying in my name at Grindlays—about six hundred pounds."
The anxious matron felt immensely relieved; of course the money, had to do with coffee. She laid down the card, and glanced over at Nancy,—never had she seen her with so high a colour; and yet it was not a warm evening, and the girl hadn't touched anything stronger than barley water. Nancy, too, had violently assailed her with her foot. Why? She was not aware that she had made a social blunder, or faux pas; and how the girl chattered! Undoubtedly these tidings and reminiscences, and "Plain tales from the hills," had excited her, and made her rather odd and unlike herself!
CHAPTER XXV
THE MEDITATIONS OF DEREK MAYNE
The cable dispatched to Mayne, had been so urgent and alarming, that he half expected to hear bad news when the mail steamer called at Port Said,—however, neither cable nor letter awaited him. Arriving in London early one May morning, he drove up to his mother's house in Charles Street,—intending to ask for news and a meal. The door was opened by a somewhat dishevelled footman, who informed him that "her ladyship was out of town."
"But was I not expected?" inquired the caller, glancing at his luggage-laden taxi, "I am Captain Mayne."
"Oh yes, sir, you were expected, but her ladyship said as 'ow you couldn't possibly be here before Monday, and she and his lordship has gone down to Brighton for the week-end."
This was but a tepid welcome after an absence of some years; however, there was nothing for Mayne to do, but re-enter the cab and have himself driven to his club. Here, he encountered various old friends, lunched, paid a hasty visit to his tailor, bought an umbrella, and took the afternoon express to Campfield, the nearest station to Maynesfort.
Maynesfort was a venerable, but well preserved Jacobean house (with artfully hidden Georgian patches), and stood amidst delightful and rural surroundings. On the south side, lay a prim Dutch garden, beyond that, an undulating heavily wooded park,—both overlooked by the windows of a once famous library. This library was now the chief reception room; ever since the death of Mrs. Mayne, the drawing-rooms had been closed!