"Forgive us for being so long, Gwendolen," he said in his cheery, bantering fashion. "I hope my nephew has been doing his best to entertain you."
"He has been behaving very nicely," Gwendolen replied, "and I think you have brought him up very well."
"I told Martin to bring us some coffee and liqueurs," Sir Geoffrey went on, "and I'm going to smoke, if you ladies will allow me, and look at the reflections in the water, and fancy I'm young again."
Mrs. Austen protested.
"You are young, until you feel old," she said, "and you don't feel that to-night."
"No, I don't," said Sir Geoffrey stoutly. "This is an ideal ending to one of the happiest days of my life, and if a man is only as old as he feels, I shall come of age on Ralph's wedding-day." He lighted a cigar and flung the match into the river. "Have a cigar, Ralph? I'm sure you have earned it." The old fellow was pleased that his nephew could not chime in with his trivial chatter, and pulling up a chair by Gwendolen's side, he patted her hand. "Happy, Gwen?" he asked, and as the answering smile dawned in the girl's dark eyes, he wiped his own, which suddenly grew misty. "That's right, that's right," he said quickly. "Ah! here is Martin with the tray."
Allured by the material pleasures of tobacco and liqueurs, Ralph descended to earth again, and soon the little party were laughing and chatting merrily enough. Soft strains of music from another houseboat were carried down to them, and presently a young fellow poled a racing punt swiftly down the stream; two swans floated out from underneath the trees, rocking gracefully on the water ruffled by the punt; and from the tender came suggestively domestic sounds as the old butler put away the cups and saucers and decanted whiskey for the men.
Then presently they strolled back to the manor house and lingered for a little in the hall; and while Ralph took his time to bid Gwendolen good-night, Sir Geoffrey found opportunity to say a few more words to Mrs. Austen.
"I wish I could tell you how happy I am," he said. "I have hoped for this all my life, and now it has come to pass. They both are worthy of each other, and to see such happiness as theirs is almost as good as having it oneself."
Mrs. Austen cordially agreed, but she wondered if Sir Geoffrey's hearty words were at all belied by the sigh that accompanied them. Yet she stifled the suspicion as it was born, for no woman lives long enough to give her child in marriage without learning the truth that underlies the words: