“And now you must come and have your tea,” said Mrs. Henderson, hospitably. “You must need it, I am sure, after your long journey.”
“Or perhaps you would prefer something more substantial,” put in Godfrey. “I noticed that you shivered as we came up the drive.”
“I really think I should,” said Victor. “After the warmth of the East our English winters are not to be trifled with.”
Godfrey led the way to the dining-room and placed the spirit-stand before his friend.
“I don’t think I have ever been so cold in my life before,” said Victor, as he poured out an amount of brandy for himself that made Godfrey open his eyes in astonishment, for he had always looked upon the other as an exceedingly temperate man.
“Now, tell me, would you prefer to see your room first?” Godfrey inquired, when the other had tossed off his refreshment, “or shall we join the ladies?”
“Perhaps I had better make myself presentable first,” Victor answered, glancing complacently at himself in the mirror above the chimney-piece.
Godfrey accordingly led the way to the room which had been set apart for his friend’s use, and to which the latter’s luggage had been conveyed. It was a pleasant apartment, looking out on what was called the Ladies’ Garden, and thence across the park to a high and wooded hill. Victor went to the window and studied the prospect.
“You have a charming home,” he said, with what was almost a sigh; “you are about to marry a beautiful girl; you have wealth, success, and everything else that can make life worth living, Godfrey. You should be a happy man.”
“I am happy,” Godfrey replied, “and, please God, I’ll do my best to make others so. And that reminds me, Victor, I want to have a talk with you. Do you know that on Thursday night I met Teresina in the Strand?”