The letter to George Betterton had scarcely been posted an hour when a communication bearing the Harrogate postmark was delivered to the Countess of Crewkerne, Pen-y-Gros Castle. It said—
My Dear Caroline,—Having effected my annual cure, and feeling in consequence immeasurably the better able in mind and body to cope with the things of this world, I have proposed to myself to spend the week-end with you in your Welsh fastness. You will be interested to learn that I have given a certain matter the most anxious and careful consideration, which I do not need to remind you is demanded by its highly critical nature. I am now in a position to make a definite offer, provided there has been no foreclosure.
I remain, my dear Caroline,
Always yours,
Cheriton.
Having read this letter twice very carefully, the recipient proceeded to tear it up into small pieces. There was a dangerous light in her eye.
“Humph!” said she, ominously. “I am not sure, Cheriton, that you have not overstayed your market.”
All the same, the second communication did not appear wholly to displease the person to whom it was addressed.
CHAPTER XXIV
EPISODE OF A FRENCH NOVEL AND A RED UMBRELLA
IT was in the middle of the afternoon of Saturday that Cheriton arrived at Pen-y-Gros Castle by the station fly from Dwygyfy. George Betterton had arrived at the same hour the previous afternoon, and by the same medium of travel. Cheriton was received by his hostess without any excess of cordiality. Her demeanor implied that any person of either sex who presumed to try a fall with her did so at his or her peril.
The other members of the party were in the woods, and after Cheriton had taken some slight refreshment, the August evening being extremely beautiful, Miss Burden and he went to join them. The party consisted merely of George Betterton, the wonderful Miss Perry, and the accomplished Miss Elizabeth. Miss Burden had been enjoined strictly beforehand not to disclose the presence of either of the newcomers.
“How is our delectable Miss Goose?” said Cheriton, poetically. “Transformed, I am sure, into a woodland creature or a spirit of the mountains.”