They had been awfully good to him; they had in very truth played the part of the good Samaritan; and in his mind he compared these simple folk, buried in an out-of-the-way fishing village, with some of his fashionable friends. Which of them would have nursed him as he had been nursed at The Cottage, would have treated him as one of the family, would have lavished upon him a regard nearly akin to affection? It was a hollow world, he thought, and he wished to Heaven he had been born in Shorne Mills, and got his living as a fisherman, putting in his spare time by looking after, say, the Annie Laurie!
He had wired to his man, and he found his rooms all ready for him. He wondered as he looked round the handsome and tastefully furnished sitting room, while Sparling helped him off with his coat, whether he should be able to afford to keep them up much longer.
"Any news, Sparling?" he asked. "Hope you've been all right," he added, in the pleasant and friendly way with which he always addressed those who did service for him.
"Thank you, my lord," said Sparling, "I've been very well; but I was much upset to hear of your lordship's accident, and very sorry you wouldn't let me come to you."
The man spoke with genuine sympathy and regret, for he was attached to Drake, and was fully convinced that he had the best, the handsomest, and the most desirable master in all England.
"Thanks; very much," said Drake; "but it was nothing to speak of, and there was no reason for dragging you down there. There wasn't any accommodation, to tell the truth, and you'd have moped yourself to death."
"You're looking very well, my lord—a little thinner, perhaps," said Sparling respectfully.
Drake sighed at the naïve retort, then sighed unaccountably.
"Oh, I've done some fishing, boating, and riding," he said, "and I'm pretty fit—fitter than I've been for some time. There's an awful pile of letters, I see."
"Yes, my lord; you told me not to send them on. Will your lordship dine at home to-night?"