“None for me, thanks, mother,” replied Cecil. “Why, Ag—Miss Hamilton, is that really you over in the corner?” he exclaimed, rising and crossing the room. “How awfully jolly!”
Lady Silchester shrugged her shoulders and turned to me.
“Mr. Morton?”
I took the cup which she had filled and the conversation which our entrance had interrupted flowed on again. Presently Mr. Ravenor, who had been standing on the hearthrug talking to a stately, grey-haired lady who occupied the seat of honour—a black oak arm-chair drawn up to the fire,—moved over to my side and dropped into a vacant seat between Lady Silchester and myself.
“Well, Philip,” he said softly, “you seem lost in thought. Are you wondering whether a magician’s wand has touched Ravenor Castle?”
“It all seems very different,” I answered.
“Of course. Nothing like change, you know. It is only by comparison that we can appreciate. Stagnation sharpens one’s appetite for gaiety, and one must go through a course of overwork before one can taste the full sweetness of an idle country life.”
Then Mr. Ravenor was silent for a minute, leaning back in his chair and looking steadily into the fire, and by the dancing, fitful light of the flames I could see that the old weariness and deep indefinable sadness had stolen into his pale face and dark eyes. It was only a passing change. The sound of the laughing voices around seemed suddenly to galvanise him into consciousness of the rôle which he was playing and the expression faded away. Someone asked him a question and he answered it with a light jest. Once more he was the courteous, smiling host, whose sole thought appeared to be the entertainment of his guests. But I knew that there was a background.
The dressing-bell rang and the gossiping assembly broke up. Mr. Ravenor, standing with the opened door in his hand, exchanged little happy speeches with most of the ladies as they swept out. When they were all gone he turned to Cecil and me and looked at us critically, with a faint smile upon his lips.
“Well, are you ready for your matric., Cecil?” he asked.