Drake, with all his freedom from pride and side, was fully sensible of the altitude of his position, and he knew the world looked to him for an heir to Angleford.
Yes, he would have to marry, and as he had lost Nell, why, not marry Luce? He had an idea that she cared for him, as much as she cared for any other than herself, and he knew that she would fill the place as well as, if not better than, another.
Their names had been coupled together. Society expected the match. Why should he not ask her to renew the engagement, and ask her at once? The house would be comparatively empty, for most of the guests would not return until dinner time, and he would have the opportunity of making his proposal.
He stopped dead short, half resolved to obey the impulse; then, after the manner of men, he walked on again, and away from Anglemere, and, instead of returning to the house in time for lunch, found himself at one of the outlying farms.
It is needless to say that he was accorded a hearty welcome. They did not fuss over him; the Anglemere tenants were prosperous and self-respecting; and though they regarded their lord and master as a kind of sovereign, and felt greatly honored by his presence under their roof, there was nothing servile in their attentions.
Drake sat down to the midday meal with a ruddy-cheeked child on each side of him, and chatted with the farmer and his wife, the farmer eating his well-earned dinner with his usual appetite, the latter waiting on them with assiduity and perfect composure. Now and again Drake made a joke for the sake of the children, who laughed up at him with round eyes and open mouths; he discussed the breeding and price of poultry, the rival merits of the new churns and "separators" with the dame, and the prospects of the coming harvest with the good man. For a wonder the farmer did not grumble. The Anglefords were good landlords; there was no rack-renting, no ejections, and a farm falling vacant from natural causes was always eagerly tendered for.
After the meal, which Drake enjoyed exceedingly, he and the farmer sat at the open window with their pipes and a glass of whisky and water, and continued their conversation.
"I'm hearing that your lordship thinks of coming to Anglemere and living among us," said the farmer. "And I hope it's true, with all my heart. The land needs a master's presence—not that I've anything to complain of. Wood, the steward, has acted like a gentleman by me, and I hear no complaints of him among the neighbors. But all the same, it ain't like having the earl himself over us. It makes one's heart ache to see that great place shut up and empty most o' the year. Seems as if there ought to be some one living there pretty nigh always, and as if there ought to be little children running about the terrace an' the lawns. Begging your lordship's pardon, if I'm too free."
"That's all right, Styles," said Drake. "I know what you mean."
The farmer nodded, and stopped his pipe with his fat little finger.