“You’re the only Lyndesay I ever knew who didn’t stop on that bridge!” he said reproachfully. “Nearly everybody stops on bridges, haven’t you noticed it? It must be because they feel a little bit nearer Heaven. But you didn’t stop, and I’m afraid you preferred the road!”
She looked up at him, conscious that he guessed at the existence of her mask, yet ready to fight for it at all costs.
“Perhaps I did!” she answered casually, and stood aside to let her father greet him in the porch.
Christian sat for long in the little, lamp-lit parlour overlooking the river, while the old man told him tales of farm and field with the easy memory and sure knowledge of one who carries recollection in his heart. Deborah came down at last to find them standing at the window, the fair head close to the white one, and Roger Lyndesay’s hand marking the curve of the hill under the sharp light of the risen moon.
“Cappelside?” the old man was saying. “I could find my way to Cappelside in a blinding blizzard! ’Twas there I courted my wife, as my father before me. Lyndesay stewards love all Crump better than their own souls, but they love Cappelside best. They will be found there, sure enough, when the earth gives up its dead!”
“How you feel about the old place!” Christian exclaimed. “It’s home to me, of course, but if love alone were a claim, you’d have a better right to it than I. Yes, and by right of work, too, your own and your fathers’, Crump should be yours, Mr. Lyndesay!”
“Crump is mine!” Roger Lyndesay returned, with curious emphasis and conviction. “Do you think either deed or descent could give it me as the long years of labour and knowledge have done? You are master and I am only servant and lover, but I own it in my heart. Crump is mine!”
Christian’s voice was very gentle as he bade the old man good-night. “I will try to hold it worthily for you,” he said; then smiled whimsically at Deb. “But you preferred the road!”
CHAPTER X
Slinker’s wife was restless on Christmas Eve. At dinner, she talked in feverish snatches, and ate nothing; and when the dismal meal was over at last, she wandered nervously from room to room, lifting blind after blind to look at the white waste of the park. Christian followed her like a puzzled dog, oppressed once more by the mighty loneliness which had lifted a little since her coming, until she turned on him brusquely with a little jump.