The final suggestion that he should insinuate himself into the confidence of the Marvens in order to minister to Hora's scheme of revenge was, however, the culminating point. His whole nature revolted at the thought. Though by his early training he saw nothing wrong in preying upon the world, instinctively his mind rebelled at the idea of victimising his friends. Though the world might dub him thief—he would have shrugged his shoulders in amusement at the world's folly in doing so—yet his sense of honour was far keener than that of the majority of those who would have thrown the epithet at him, Captain Marven, henceforward, should be secure, so far as he was concerned. There was no obligation upon him to take upon himself the burden of another man's quarrel, even though that other man were his own father. The philosophic Commandatore himself would necessarily admit the logic of such a decision.
Busied with such thoughts, it seemed to Guy that he had hardly entered the cab before it stopped at the railway station. He had no intention of turning back. Jessel was awaiting him on the platform. He saw his master into his seat and retired to another compartment, where he had reserved a corner seat for himself. Guy had given him no instructions to proceed beyond the railway station, so Cornelius decided that he might just as well take it for granted that he was to accompany his master, particularly as Hora had impressed upon him the necessity for obtaining exact information regarding Guy's relationship with the members of the Marven household. Still busied with his train of ideas, Guy did not bestow another thought upon his valet.
The train wandered but slowly onwards to its destination, far too slowly for Guy's desires, but Whitsea was off the main route to anywhere, and the railway service was the minimum which a sleepy-headed management thought would serve the necessities of the situation. But at last Guy knew that he was nearing his destination. The country stretched out flat on either side of the railway track, unbroken for miles. Through the open window of his compartment entered the cool salt breath of the sea. On his right a gleam of silver shone amidst the green and crimson carpet of the marsh lands. The silver streak broadened. Now it bore a red-winged barge on its bosom, and there came in view the white wings of a flight of small craft skimming upon the water. Next appeared a cluster of red-tiled, red brick houses shimmering in the heat. The train drew into a station, a porter roused himself from his afternoon nap and strolled slowly down the platform calling "Whitsea! Change here for Whitsea," in a melancholy sing-song. Guy picked up his stick and alighted. Would Meriel come herself to meet him? He had asked the question of himself a hundred times on the journey, and a hundred times had told himself that he expected far too much.
But Meriel was there, and the delight in his heart showed in his eyes as he went forward with outstretched hand to welcome her. Her eyes dropped under his ardent glance, and the colour flushed her cheek. Guy had seen no one but Meriel. Another voice recalled his wandering faculties.
"I am just as delighted to welcome you to Whitsea, Mr. Hora, as Meriel can be."
It was Guy's turn to flush, as he half turned to meet Mrs. Marven's kindly glance.
"I only saw Miss Challys," he remarked simply.
"That was quite obvious," replied Mrs. Marven, as she took Guy's hand, "and I am inclined to think that if I had been in your place I shouldn't have seen anyone else, either. She is a pretty picture, isn't she?" There was a tender inflection in her voice which put Guy at his ease.
"There can be no two opinions about that," he answered heartily.
"Auntie would make me vain, if I were not so already," said the girl demurely, as she thrust her arm in Mrs. Marven's. "If you'll just tell the porter which is your luggage, he will see that it is sent on. We are not more than half a mile from the station, and we thought you would like to walk to the Hall."