Just then the Doctor called his child.
“Coming, papa.”
“Here’s young Master Rolleston coming along the road, miss,” continued Thomas, hammering away at his bines. “Not much like his father, he ain’t. Wouldn’t ha’ ketched him sticking shutter-boards up in the very front o’ people’s houses, and wanting to cut down the trees. Nice young gent, he is, as ever stepped, miss. Very different to my lord, and—Hullo, when did she go?” said the gardener, looking round to find that his young mistress had gone.
“Ah! I see. Gone into the house ’cause Mr Rolleston’s coming. Tck! Shouldn’t be a bit surprised to hear them two asked in church some day; and a very pretty pair they’d make. Mum! here’s the master.”
Thomas went on hammering away; for the Doctor, who had been to the gate to meet his visitor, had received him coldly, and slowly led him into the room where Veronica was seated.
“Well, Mr Rolleston, may I ask the meaning of this visit?” he said, after a conscious greeting between the young people.
“Doctor Salado, pray, pray don’t take that tone with me!” cried Denis appealingly.
“What other tone can you expect, after the treatment I have received?”
“I know, sir. It has been most painful; but I have come to apologise.” As he spoke he glanced at Veronica, who was seated, looking pale and troubled, with her eyes cast down.
“Oho! An apology? That alters the case. Then his lordship is apologetic, and acknowledges that he is in the wrong?”