“Which one?” asked Ted, instantly changing from the exuberant host into the cautious business man.
“The one in the south parlour,” said the Duke, waving his hand towards the door of the room in which was Essie. “I desire to make it clear, as my agent has not done so, that everything in that room I intend to take with me, so that in my future home in the Pyrenees there may be one chamber exactly the same as my late mother’s room in my old home here.”
The explanation quite bowled over Ted. The business man gave way to the man of sentiment.
“Most creditable, I’m sure. Filial piety, most creditable. I don’t recall the mantlepiece in question, but of course as your Grace wishes to keep it, I agree at once. Between gentlemen, no difficulties, everything open to arrangement, amicable settlement.”
The old woman, dissolved in tears, interrupted Ted’s eloquence to tell “Mr. Rupert” that his car was at the door.
The Duke led her gently out of the hall, his hand on her shoulder, and then came back.
“I will detain you no longer from your luncheon,” he said. “With your permission I will spend a few moments in my mother’s chamber. It has many beautiful associations for me. I should like to see it once more before I leave for Spain.”
Ted hastened towards the door, but I barred the way.
“Dear Ted,” I said, “Essie is very ill. No one must go in.”
“No one go in!” said Ted flushing darkly. “I am astonished at you, Beatrice. The Duke wishes to see his mother’s room once more, on bidding farewell to his ancestral home, and you take upon yourself to forbid it.”