We dashed through a tiny village, and up a steep hill. "Dashed" is rather a clap-trap word, perhaps, but it is not far from correctly expressing the rate of our progress. The roads were in good order, it was not yet dark; the thoroughbred horses were eager to get home, and quivering with impatience, and the coachman seemed to be of the same mind. And so I could see but very little of the country. A heather-covered moor, varied by occasional patches of pasture land, bordered the road on either side, but in front things seemed to be different. I could just distinguish the dim outline of a low range of hills, and we seemed to be approaching a wood. Suddenly the carriage came to a halt, but it was only for a moment. A pair of great iron gates were rolled open before us, and we proceeded along a smoother road as swiftly as before.
"Are we nearly there?" asked Marian, looking behind at the grey stone, thatched lodges, which were as large as moderate-sized houses.
Colonel Devereux's servant shook his head, and smiled in the light of his superior knowledge.
"Bless you, no, miss; we're only just inside the park. It's six miles from the lodge gates to the House" (the capital may seem superfluous, but I'm quite sure that the man meant it), "and five and a half to the cottage."
Marian's grey eyes were wide open in earnest now.
"Oh, dear me! Did you hear that, Hugh? The park six miles from the house! This must be a very big place."
"Big!" Our companion's face grew quite solemn in its impressiveness. "There ain't such another place in Yorkshire, nor yet in England, barring three. Devereux Court, to my mind, is the finest building I ever set eyes on. Why, it's the show place of the county, and we gets no end of visitors from all parts to look at it."
"Colonel Devereux is a very fortunate man," I remarked.
The man's manner grew a shade more confidential, and I listened with more eagerness than I dared show.
"Well, he should be, sir; but I doubt whether he thinks himself so. You see, his family ain't turned out exactly well. He married twice, and each wife died within two years of her marriage, and, strangely enough, each left him a son. Of course, when they grew up they both wanted to be soldiers. They do say, sir, that every Devereux for twelve generations has been a soldier. A bloodthirsty race they must be! But, as I was saying, they both became soldiers, and went out together in the same regiment for their first campaign. Well, they say that one of 'em, Mr. Herbert his name was, the elder of the two, and the old Colonel's favourite and heir, disgraced himself. Anyway, he was found guilty of cowardice, and turned out of his regiment. It very near killed the Colonel, and he's never been the same man since. He's taken a mortal dislike to his other son, Mr. Rupert, and, though he makes no secret of it that he's left him all his estates and property, he never lets him come down here scarcely."