“But why not?” he asked, with surprise. “Why should I not have that pleasure? There is the priory.” He nodded to some stately ruins, and Esmeralda drove up to them and looked at them with interest.
“Selvaine shall tell you its history,” said his grace. “He is the historian of the family, you know, and is never so pleased as when he is relating some story connected with it. Dear, dear, how out of repair the fencing has got! I must tell Helby to replace it with some of the new iron railing. Now we will drive to the lake. Turn down this lane to the left. Are you sure you are warm enough, my dear?”
“Oh, yes,” said Esmeralda. “Do you feel it cold?” She saw that his fur collar had slipped down a little, and she pulled it up and arranged it round him more closely.
The duke was much touched by her thoughtfulness.
“Thank you—thank you, my dear!” he said, gratefully.
They drove on and presently came to the lake. It was a large piece of water surrounded by firs. A flock of ducks rose as they approached, and a heron sailed away above their heads. The place was weird-looking for all its prettiness, and Esmeralda gazed at it in silence, and with a creepy feeling.
“It reminds me of Australia—I don’t know why,” she said. “How silent and far away it seems.”
“Some persons think it rather dismal,” he said. “But that, I think, is because of the story connected with it.”
Emeralda was always ready for a story, and turned to him eagerly.