'Yes, I'll tell you about it presently. Not that it matters.'
Throughout the day I saw very little of him, as neither his father nor mother would allow him out of their sight. It was pathetic the way they followed him wherever he went. I saw, too, that they were constantly watching him, as if looking for some sign of illness or trouble. I imagine that their joy was so sudden, so wonderful, that they could scarcely believe their own senses. It was evident, too, that they gloried in his career since I had met him more than two years ago. The thought that he should have, without influence or position, surmounted so many difficulties, and become the hero of the hour, was wonderful beyond words. More than once I caught Lord Carbis scanning the newspapers which contained references to him, his eyes lit up with pride.
In spite of all this, however, I foresaw difficulties, saw, too, that if Edgecumbe had not become radically changed, he would be a great disappointment to his father. Would he, I wondered, stand by the words he had uttered at the great public meeting? Would he refuse to participate in the wealth which his father had amassed through his connection with the trade which he believed was one of the great curses of humanity? For it was evident that Lord Carbis was a man of strong opinions. He had built up a great and prosperous business by enterprise, foresight and determination. To him that business was doubtless honourable. Through the wealth he had amassed by it, he had become a peer of the realm. What would he say and do if his son took the stand which, in spite of everything, I imagined he would?
Other things troubled me, too. Springfield, who was staying with St. Mabyn, motored over early, and immediately sought Lorna Bolivick's society. Of course Edgecumbe saw this, and I wondered how it would affect him. I wondered, too, how Sir Thomas would regard Springfield's suit, now that the future of his life was so materially altered. I tried, by a study of Lorna Bolivick's face, to understand the condition of her heart. I wondered whether she really cared for the tall, sinister-looking man who, I judged, had evidently fascinated her.
It was not until after tea that I was able to get a few minutes' chat with her alone. Indeed, I had a suspicion that she rather avoided me. But seeing Springfield and St. Mabyn evidently in earnest conversation together, I made my way to her, and asked her to come with me for a stroll through the woods.
'Real life makes fiction tame and commonplace,' I said, as I nodded toward Lady Carbis and Edgecumbe, who were walking arm in arm on the lawn.
'Real life always does that,' was her reply; 'the so-called impossibilities of melodrama are in reality the prosiest of realism.'
'I can't quite settle down to it yet,' I said. 'I can't think of Edgecumbe as Lord Carbis's son, in spite of all we have seen. To begin with, his name isn't Edgecumbe at all.'
'No,' she replied; 'don't you know what it is? You know who Lord
Carbis was, I suppose?'
'I know he was a brewer; but really I have not taken the trouble to study his antecedents.'