“I am glad that you think so, and, as I have a letter of introduction from the colonel to his London bankers, I will present it to-day. It is of no use leaving everything until the last moment, and you will be wanting money soon.”
“Yes,” was the thoughtful rejoinder. “You may draw a few hundreds on my behalf, and enter into arrangements with the colonel to let me have five thousand pounds in a month’s time. I suppose that I have plenty of funds, and I must make Theresa a handsome wedding present. You can explain, if you like, that I am going to be married!”
He laughed pleasantly.
“It shall be as you say,” Mr. Hamilton told him. “And now, if you will excuse me, Harold, I will go and dress, as I want to catch an early train. Our new servant will arrive by and by, and Theresa will look after her.”
An hour later Mr. Hamilton was gone, and after a little lover-like talk with Theresa, Sir Harold strolled into the garden. Wet or fine, he rarely was to be found anywhere else. The low-ceilinged cottage seemed to envelop him. He could not breathe within its close walls.
There had been a heavy fall of rain in the night, and the leaves were still dripping, with a sound that irritated his nerves.
He had been provided with plenty of books and cigars; but neither afforded him any pleasure now, and he wandered out of the garden into the lane beyond.
How many weeks had he been confined within the cottage and its environs? Six or seven? He could not remember exactly, and now the idea for viewing the country beyond seized upon him like an inspiration.
If he should chance to meet people who remembered him, what did it matter? He was a free agent. But there was little likelihood of that, and he strode away, interested in every new object that met his view.
When a sense of weariness began to creep over him, he knew that he must have walked half-a-dozen miles. He looked at his watch. It was eleven when he left the cottage, and now the hands pointed to the hour of one.