‘Arthur can have a room fitted up there directly,’ he said. ‘Where is he, my dear? How soon can he come?’
Violet was obliged to confess her ignorance. He had said he should be going about, and had given her no address. Much vexed, Lord Martindale forbore to distress her by remarks, and replied to his cousin’s question whether the house was insured—
‘For twenty thousand pounds, but that is nothing like the amount of damage. I hardly know how we shall meet it. I must have John at home to settle matters. How strange it is to look back. I remember as if it was yesterday, when John was born, Mrs. Nesbit insisting on my pulling down the poor old house, to make the place fit, as she said, for my son’s inheritance, and there is an end of it! Who would have told her that she would burn it down herself, poor woman? She always detested the old hall. Don’t you remember the stags’ antlers, Hugh? Ay, Johnnie, you would have wondered at those—a dozen stags’ heads with branching horns in the hall.’
‘Oh! tell me, grandpapa! Was it where you lived when you were a little boy?’
‘Ay, Johnnie,’ said Lord Martindale, pausing to take him on his knee. ‘Cousin Hugh could tell you how we went on together there! Such jackdaws’ nests as used to be in the chimneys—’
‘I do believe,’ said his cousin, ‘you have more regret at this moment for the old house than for this one!’
‘Well! when I think of going home, the old red pediment with the white facings always comes into my mind, as it used to look up the avenue, when we came back for the holidays. Those old shields with the martlets—see, Johnnie, like that—’ holding up the crest on a spoon, ‘where the martins used to build their nests over the windows, were such as I never saw anywhere else. I found one of them lying about at the farm the other day.’
‘Do you remember the hornet’s nest in the wall of the garden—?’
‘What a garden that was! They have never found any pear equal to that jargonelle, where you ate twenty the first day of the holidays. What do you think of that, Johnnie?’
‘Ay, Johnnie, and I can tell you of something grandpapa did,’ retorted Mr. Hugh Martindale; and to Violet’s diversion, the two old cousins continued to make Johnnie an excuse for bringing up their boyish memories, which seemed to rise on them the more vividly, now that the great mansion no longer obstructed their view. It was complete oblivion of everything else, and seemed to do infinite good to Lord Martindale, but soon it was interrupted; Lady Elizabeth had driven over to beg to carry the whole party back to Rickworth with her, or at least to take home Violet and the children; but this could not be; Violet could not leave Theodora, and though Lord Martindale pressed her to consult her own comfort by removing, he was evidently gratified by her begging to be allowed to remain at the parsonage. He then returned to his wife, and Lady Elizabeth, after offers of every service in her power, took leave, while Violet returned to her charge.