No, Stephen was not likely to fail. There were not likely to be any hitches in anything he undertook.
Even the weather seemed to conform to his plans and wishes, for the morning broke clear and bright, so that he might say:
“Happy is the bride whom the sun shines on.”
Without fuss or bustle, the traveling chariot, with its pair of handsome bays, drew up to the door; a couple of portmanteaus, no larger than was necessary for a day or two’s outing, were put in the box; and Slummers, in his tall hat and black overcoat, looking very much like the old-fashioned banker’s clerk, stood with the carriage door in his hand.
Presently Stephen came down the steps, dressed in a traveling suit, and looking as calm as usual, but for the touch of color in his face. He had grown younger in appearance, less prim and formal, and altogether better-looking. If he could have lost the trick of looking from under his lowered eyelids, he would have been worth calling handsome. He exchanged a word with Slummers.
“All right, sir. The horses are at Netherton; everything is arranged exactly according to your wishes.”
“And no one suspects anything?”
“Not a soul,” said Slummers, with a smile.
This morning’s work was the sort of thing Slummers liked. He was enjoying himself, and as happy as his master.
Stephen went into the house again, and presently Mrs. Davenant and Una appeared. Notwithstanding Stephen’s warning, Mrs. Davenant’s eyes were red; but Una showed no traces of emotion; pale, almost white, she looked calmly around her.