“We’re going to stay at Ravenor Castle for a week,” Cecil explained. “We’re off to-morrow.”
I leaned forward and watched de Cartienne’s face intently. There was an expression in it which I could not analyse. It might have been pleasure, or apprehension, or indifference. Though I watched him narrowly, I could not make up my mind whether he was more dismayed or gratified at the prospect of our visit.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A METAMORPHOSIS.
It seemed almost as though some magical metamorphosis had taken place within the walls of Ravenor Castle. Directly we came in sight of it we had the first intimation of its altered aspect. Instead of the one or two solitary lights shining above the dark woods, it seemed a very blaze of illumination, and when we drew up at the great front door the change was still mere apparent. Liveried servants with powdered hair were moving about the hall. From open doors there came the sound of laughing voices, and even Mr. Ravenor’s manner, as he came out to meet us, seemed altered.
“Come in and have some tea here,” he said, leading the way to one of the smaller rooms. “Your mother is here, Cecil.”
We followed him into Lady Silchester’s favourite apartment. Several ladies and one or two men were lounging on divans and in easy chairs around a brightly-blazing fire. Lady Silchester, who was presiding at a green-and-gold Sèvres tea-service, welcomed us both with a languid smile.
“My dear Cis, how you have grown!” she said, leaning back in her chair and leisurely sipping her tea. “I declare I had no idea that I had a son your height, sir! Had you, Lord Penraven?”
Lord Penraven, who was lounging by her side with his elbow upon the mantelpiece, stroked a long, fair moustache vigorously and answered with emphasis:
“’Pon my word, I hadn’t the slightest idea. Seems almost impossible!”
“Let me give you boys some tea!” Lady Silchester said, in her sweetest tone.