Was it really Her wish?
He thought of the thousand pounds in bank notes in the despatch-box at the inn.
“Of course you shall come, old friend; and Mary with you. But I have no home, as yet. We must make one together. I am going south by the express. Could you be happy in London? I will find a cosy flat. As soon as I have found it, I will send for you and Mary.”
The old man blew his nose.
“Beg pardon, Sir Nigel.” His relief was pathetic. “We felt if we lost you again, we lost all. It isn’t a matter of money. It’s service, and our lady’s wishes, and love of you, Sir Nigel. Boy and man——”
“Right. Tell Mary the thing’s settled. I’m off in an hour, Thomas. I don’t want any awkward questions.”
“True, Sir Nigel. The doctor wanted to know why you had left the house before the new master and mistress arrived. He had counted on you to give them full particulars of our lady’s last hours. He has been hindered from coming over until to-day, by a very serious case. As I say to Mary, there are always dispensations! But he has gone down to the house now. And you were noticed at the grave. There will be talk in every home by nightfall. Douglas saw you, and Fergusson and old Nannie Steer. You remember them, Sir Nigel?”
No. The sub-conscious well was rapidly growing deeper, its memories more elusive. Douglas, Fergusson, old Nannie Steer, conveyed nothing to him. Only his Treasure in the heavens was inalienably his own. But he began to realise how largely his sub-consciousness had drawn from hers. With her departure from this earthly setting, all its memories were fading into dream-like vagueness.
“To see you standing at the grave, Sir Nigel, looking down at that coffin! It was like the Judgment Day. It made my blood run cold; and Mary well-nigh swooned.”
“It need not have, Thomas; any more than when I stood looking down into that drawer when you shewed me my old suits, folded and laid away by careful hands.”