“He has a certain amount of business in connection with the property, but the agent does most of that. He hunts, of course, and shoots—he’s a capital shot—and fishes at odd times. All the ordinary things that a man does.”
“Is that so? They wouldn’t be ordinary with us. I like a man to work. You’ve got to work hard, I suppose? You’re a soldier.”
The quick pucker of lips and brows were almost startlingly eloquent of pain.
“Not now! I was.”
“You retired?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rupert Guest looked across the carriage in silence. At any time he was haughtily resentful of curiosity; but on this subject most of all he could not endure to speak with his most intimate friends. His first impulse was to ignore the question, but as he met Cornelia’s steady eyes that impulse underwent an extraordinary reversion. Incredible as it might appear, he became conscious that it was not only possible that he could tell this girl, this stranger, the hidden sorrow of his life, but that he actually wished to tell it! He wanted to hear what she would say; to see how she would look. Those childlike eyes would look very beautiful, softened with the light of sympathy and consolation. He wanted to see that light shining for his sake.
“It’s a long story,” he began slowly, “I don’t talk of it more than I can help, but I’ll tell you, if you care to hear it. I come of a race of soldiers: it never entered my head that I could be anything else. My father was in the Lancers; he died before I left Sandhurst, but my mother managed to allow me fifteen hundred a year, and I joined my father’s regiment. I was lucky as things go; went through two engagements before I was thirty; gained distinction at Omdurman. At home I had a nailing good time: Adjutant of the regiment. We had the jolliest mess! I don’t think a man ever lived who enjoyed his life more. There was lots of play, but I loved the work too, and studied hard, at every branch of the profession. I had the credit of being one of the best all-round men in the service.” He laughed; a hard, sore-hearted laugh. “I can say that now without reproach, for it belongs to another life. ... Then—my mother died! She had been living beyond her income, and there were all the legal expenses to face; selling up at a loss; giving the girls their share. She had made a special push to keep me in the old regiment; but in the end it came down to this, that in all, there was barely five hundred a year for me. It was a big blow, but there was nothing for it but to send in my resignation.”
“Why?”