“I don’t remember his name,” she replied. “Who is he?”
“Your mother’s cousin—surely she must have spoken of him!”
“I have heard of Eustace Gerant,” Miss Charteris answered, “but he is dead.”
“This is his brother. He, too, might have been dead for all that we have seen or heard of him. He was a ne’er-do-wee’l, an utter scamp.”
“But with great good in him,” added the squire, warmly. “I know you did not think so, Constance, but Douglas always had a fine, generous nature.”
“It was well hidden, then,” his wife retorted, coldly. “I never had much sympathy with him, and I have less now. A man has no right to be lost to the world, as he has been, and leave a magnificent inheritance wasting and neglected when there are others who would prize it.”
“Is this the long-lost cousin who owns Beecham Park?” asked Vane, with sudden interest. “Oh, then I have heard of him, of course!”
“He came into the property ten years ago,” Stuart explained, “and he has not come home till now. I must confess I always had a strong sympathy for this unknown cousin. What a strange life his has been! I am tempted to envy him the wonders he must have seen.”
“I am surprised you should speak like that, Stuart,” said his mother, coldly. “I cannot understand any man of principle putting aside his duties for his inclinations.”
Miss Charteris looked bored.