Looking delightfully cool and well-bred in his grey flannel suit and straw hat, with a turn-down collar that seemed to suggest an innocent simplicity of character, Melville walked slowly down the hill from the station and presented himself at the Austens' door. The ladies were in the garden, the servant informed him, and there Melville sought them, confident of a friendly greeting from them both.
Mrs. Austen was unaffectedly glad to see him. She had a tolerant feeling for nearly all young men, and Melville's marvellous gift as a musician had an especial charm for her. To Gwendolen he was Ralph's brother, and hitherto Ralph had championed Melville's cause, with the result that the girl was disposed to regard him as a somewhat maligned young man. So to-day they made much of him, and, under the influence of their warm welcome and gentle refinement, Melville was at his best.
"I've been sowing wild oats at Monte Carlo," he said gently, "and I found it vanity. So I've come home. No, I had no adventures and met nobody I knew. I lost all my money, and I'm very sorry for myself."
He congratulated Gwendolen on her engagement to Ralph, and there was a touch of pathos in his voice that proved him to be a consummate actor. Altogether, he enjoyed himself hugely, and awaited the critical moment of meeting his brother with actual pleasure. Ralph was expected early in the afternoon, and Melville lunched at the Grange and occupied the centre of its little stage with much complacency.
After luncheon Gwendolen remained indoors to watch for Ralph, and Melville sat in the verandah with Mrs. Austen and waxed confidential. She liked to be regarded as the recipient of the confidences of young men, and Melville played upon her amiable weakness, being careful to invent such peccadilloes only as would not strain her charity unduly.
"Heaven divides its gifts very unequally," he remarked presently.
"Why that platitude?" asked Mrs. Austen.
"I was thinking of Ralph and myself," he said. "Of course, Sir Geoffrey has been equally generous to us both, but I notice that Ralph gets all the affection. He was always Uncle Geoffrey's favourite, and now he is engaged to Gwen." He sighed pathetically, and Mrs. Austen considered.
"I think your uncle is just as fond of you as he is of Ralph," she said, "but you're not a home bird and your brother is. Really, I don't think Sir Geoffrey could have been kinder to you if you had been his own son."
"Not kinder," Melville said, "but fonder, more affectionate. You have known him a long time, Mrs. Austen. Why do you suppose he never married?"