“A wonderful life!” she murmured.
“It would have suited few other men,” he rejoined. “It has suited me. I have activities out of doors as well as within. There is scarcely a tree in the park, for instance, whose history I could not tell you, nor an acre of the gardens I have not watched through the winter and summer; I have helped to protect the fruits and flowers from the frosts, and tried my best to gather in the sunshine for them. Indoors, of course,” he went on, after a moment’s pause, “has been the scene of my real labours, if labours they can be called. I have catalogued the pictures and the china, the armour and the various curios, after a style of my own, with the history, so far as possible, of each of the masters, the date and a copy of such criticisms as have appeared in the press. The catalogues, you observe, are all written by hand.”
She pored over the vellum-bound manuscript book which he had been carrying, turning the pages, and glancing at the extracts written with great care in a stiff, clerkly handwriting.
“Why, this must have taken you ages,” she exclaimed.
“There are thirty-two similar volumes,” he confided. “The compilation of those alone took me four or five years. I am very fortunate in my tastes, because, you see, I am not an ordinary custodian. I was born with these pictures, these Titians, and Corots and Murillos on the lower staircase, and those others, just as great but with lesser names, that hang upon the left-hand side of the galleries. On rainy days I have walked from end to end and seen something different each day and each day of each year. That is how, I suppose, affection for a home and its treasures grows. That is how, at any rate, in me has grown up a great love for this house and all that it contains. It will never be mine—I do not wish that it should, but I have my share in it. I am a Ballaston and even if I were turned away—and neither Bertram nor Gregory would do that—I think that my spirit would still haunt these staircases.”
“You make one realise,” she sighed, “how we waste our lives caring for indifferent things.”
“The choice is always with us,” he reminded her gently. “In youth, however, there are other tastes and inclinations which it is as well for us to gratify. For instance, I see they have commenced to play tennis, and Lady Annistair is looking towards the house. Shall we go down?”
“Not yet,” she begged. “I am loving being just here. Tell me some more, please.”
“You are very sympathetic,” he acknowledged, “and you see I am disposed to take advantage of you. Sometimes indeed it is a relief to talk of one’s hobby. Bertram loves his home and the traditions of his family almost as I do, but he has lived outside, moved in the great places. They are a sentiment to him, whereas they are a religion to me. And Gregory too—he is a little like that. It is only natural. To me no sort of career has ever appealed. I suppose that is why I have filled my life with this one thing. To-day we have only spoken of and looked at the pictures, but there are other treasures. Every Ballaston for many generations has collected china. One day I must show you our collection. There is something more to be appreciated there than its mere appearance. I will show you what design can really come to mean, what age can do to colouring. Then you will laugh at me, perhaps, but I am almost as foolish about our cellars. I have watched the laying down of all our clarets mid sherries and ports and Madeiras. Season by season I have given away or disposed of all of every vintage that disappointed. That is why every one in the county speaks of the Ballaston cellars. I cannot, alas, bring the new things which make life so easy and luxurious to Ballaston. We have no electric light or heating, and I am afraid you would laugh at our bathrooms. But there are some of our bedchambers which are wonderful. King James’ room, for instance, with the rosewood bedstead and original damask, and the tapestries which were sent from the Palace, has scarcely ever been touched.”
“Let me ask you something,” she begged. “May I? You will not think it impertinent?”