Of the shadow which rested upon my father's name she knew nothing, nor did she know that the name we bore was an assumed one, or anything of the purpose which had induced me to fix our temporary residence in Yorkshire. I judged her to be of too light a nature to be trusted with a great secret—besides, she would doubtless be happier not knowing.
Three days we spent together in London making purchases and superintending the packing up and forwarding of our few belongings. Then there came a note from Colonel Devereux, short but polite, intimating that the sooner I could find it convenient to assume my new position the better. On the next day Marian and I travelled down to Yorkshire.
It was dusk when we arrived at the little wayside station at which we had been directed to alight. Directly I had helped Marian out of the carriage, and we stood together on the platform, a tall, bland-looking man, dressed in the soberest black, hurried up to us and took off his hat.
"Mr. Arbuthnot?"
I admitted that his surmise was correct, and presumed that he had come from Devereux.
"Just so, sir. Colonel Devereux desired me to present his compliments, and if you find that the cottage is not yet habitable, rooms can be prepared for you at the Court."
"Very kind, I'm sure," I answered, watching with satisfaction our last box safely thrown out from the van. "We're quite prepared to rough it for a day or two, however, and I have no doubt that we shall be able to manage. Have you brought anything down for the luggage?"
"Certainly, sir. Bring them this way, John," he added to the porter, and led us through the little booking office out into the road, where a small shapely brougham, drawn by a pair of magnificent dark bays, was waiting.
"I thought it better to bring a brougham, sir," he explained, "as the young lady might find it chilly driving across the moor. Londoners mostly finds it so. There's no need to wait for the luggage, sir. The cart's here for that, and I've given orders for them to bring it on. I'll have to intrude upon you inside, sir, as far as the cottage, as my master's orders is that I don't leave you until I see you in a fair way to be comfortable. I'd have come down on the box, but the Colonel is so mighty particular about little things that it's more than I dare do to let a carriage leave the yard without a man on the box, even at night. This is Knighton, this village, sir. From the top of the next hill you'd be able to see a good part of Devereux Court if it were only light enough."
I let him talk on uninterrupted, for I was too full of a nervous internal excitement to be able to talk. I was amongst the scenes—in a few minutes I should be in sight of the very house—where my father had spent his boyhood. That thought was enough to engross me—to drive every other from my mind, and for once I was devoutly thankful for Marian's ceaseless chatter, which spared me from all necessity of speech.