"Dear Alice," he said, hurrying forward to meet the carriage as it turned down the causeway. And he waved his hat, in return for which token of greeting Alice waved her hand.
But when the lovers met, their hearts were too full to speak. They simply took one another's hands and looked into one another's eyes. Miss Berengaria, alighting at the same time, ordered the carriage to drive to the castle door, and turned to salute the exile. "Well, young man," she said in her bluff way, "a nice mess you have got yourself into."
"Oh no, aunt," protested Alice; "it is not Bernard's fault."
Miss Berengaria rubbed her nose. "Well, I don't know," she observed tartly. "Bernard Gore always had a talent for getting himself into scrapes."
"I hope Mr. Grant is more cautious," said Gore, leading the way to the door with a smile.
"And who is Mr. Grant?" asked Alice, puzzled.
"I am. I have to take a false name because of the servant, Victoria. She is so sharp that she might write and tell Judas I am here."
"Judas!" echoed Miss Berengaria, who, with her dress kilted up, was picking her way amidst the puddles. "Oh, that brat who says he loves fowls and harries mine beyond endurance. I assure you, Bernard, the wretch has spoilt the nerves of the whole poultry yard. I'd give him his walking-ticket if it were not for you. But I'm bound to keep an eye on him, according to Durham. And a nice lawyer he is, with his finiking ways," finished the old lady grimly.
"There is no danger of Jerry getting any letter," said Alice, as they entered the castle. "Aunt looks over all the correspondence. Jerry is behaving himself nicely."
"Except that he's always in places he shouldn't be," said Miss Berengaria. "Deuce take the boy, I don't know what he is after."