That night he made his maiden speech in the House.
* * * * * *
Reggie went down to Redmarley at the beginning of June from Saturday afternoon till Sunday evening. The Squire had a bad cold and was confined to the house. His nerves vibrated, so did the tempers of other people, but Reggie did not care. He joined Willets at the river and fished till dinner-time. Directly after dinner he went out again and they had splendid sport till nearly ten. Willets walked with him back to the house, and Reggie had a curious feeling that Willets wanted to tell him something and couldn't come to the point. So strong was this feeling that as they parted he said, "I shan't go to bed yet, Willets. It's such a perfect night—may stroll down to the bridge, and if you're still up we might have a cigar together."
He went into the house, chatted a while to Mrs Ffolliot and the Squire, and when they went to bed let himself out very quietly and strolled down the drive and out of the great gates to the bridge. The perfect peace of the warm June night, the yellow moonlight on the quiet water, the wide-spanned bridge, the long straggling street of irregular gabled houses so kindly and so sheltering with their overhanging eaves, the dear familiar charm of it all seemed to grip Reggie by the throat and caused an unwonted smarting in his eyes.
The village was absolutely deserted save for one motionless figure sitting on the wall at the far end of the bridge.
"Hullo, Willets," Reggie called, "not in bed yet?"
"I'm always a bit wakeful when the fly's up, sir; the river seems to draw me, and I can't leave it."
"Have a cigar," said Reggie, and sat down beside him.
They smoked in silence for a few minutes till Willets said—
"Seen anything of Miss Mary up there, sir?"