"Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before."
—SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE.
It had been arranged that the fledgling architect should be accompanied by Mr. Helston, and have the benefit of his knowledge and experience when she went down to look at Captain Brooke's estate at Clunbury. But fate decreed otherwise. On Thursday morning Mr. Helston was in bed with a high temperature and sore throat. A railway journey on a raw, gusty day in early spring was out of the question for him; and Melicent was obliged to go alone.
Brenda suggested something about her being unchaperoned, which was met by the young lady with unspeakable scorn.
"Better throw up my profession at once, if Mrs. Grundy is to have a say in my business arrangements," she remarked; and caught her train at Paddington with professional composure.
She alighted at a small station on a branch line, which was the nearest point to the village; and as she stepped from the compartment, Captain Brooke approached, in a suit of country tweeds, gaiters and knickerbockers. In such guise he reminded her of her beloved Dalesmen, and the idea gave kindness to her smile of greeting.
As he approached, she noted that he looked pale under his tan, and seemed not perfectly ready to speak at once.
"So Mr. Helston was unable," he brought out, after manifest hesitation.
The girl looked surprised.
"I am so sorry! He is in bed with a severe chill. I bring you his apologies. But if you think he is indispensable—" she added, as an afterthought, puzzled by the disturbance visible in his face.
"Oh! by no means. It is good of you to come alone," he said hurriedly. "This way, please; I have only a hired trap at present, and am putting up at the inn near here, which is two miles from the village. I've ordered lunch, but it won't be much good, I'm afraid; these English country inns are astonishingly bad."