Lord Charles took the letter from his pocket and turned it over quickly.
"It's got tumbled and creased," he said. "Fact is, I ought to have given it to you an hour or two ago, but I was led on to tennis and forgot it."
"Oh, it's all right," said Frank, eagerly. "I am very much obliged, sir. Won't you come in? My father and my cousin Stella will be glad to see you."
But Lord Charles shook his head, and glanced at the pretty cottage, with its air of peace which surrounded it, with something like a pang of remorse.
"I do hope this will all turn out right," he thought. "Leycester means well, but he is as likely as not to bungle it in one of his mad humors!" Then aloud, he said, "No, I won't come in, but——" he hesitated a moment, "but will you tell your cousin—Miss Etheridge, that—that——" Simple Lord Charles hesitated and took off his hat, and stared at the maker's name for a moment. "Well, look here, you know, if either you or she want any assistance—want a friend, you know—come to me. I shall be at the Hall. You understand, don't you? My name is Guildford."
Frank nodded, and took Lord Charles's extended hand.
"Thank you, very much, Lord Guildford," he said.
And Lord Charles, with another rather rueful glance at the cottage, retired.
Frank tore open the envelope and devoured the contents of the short and pregnant note, then he went in search of Stella.
She was sitting at the organ, not playing, but touching the keys with her fingers, a rapt look of meditation on her face. Mr. Etheridge was hard at work making the best of the golden evening light.