Two days later the bridegroom arrived. Lettice went to the station to meet him. A very handsome couple they looked as they drove up to the door, Mr Newcome immaculate as ever despite the long, dusty journey, and so large and impressive, that Norah was quite embarrassed by the suggestion that she should address him as “Arthur.” Lettice was all smiles and radiance, much delighted with a necklace of turquoise and diamonds which her lover had brought as his wedding present, and which she exhibited proudly to every member of the household.
Father, brothers and sisters were alike so relieved to see her happiness that they were prepared to welcome Arthur Newcome with open arms, and to acknowledge that their prejudices were unfounded. They listened with smiling faces to his tedious description of his journey north, of previous journeys, or journeys still to come; they tried to show an interest in the items of stale information which he offered in words of studied length and elegance, and with the air of imparting a startling novelty; but alas! it was all in vain. After three days’ experience, the unanimous verdict proclaimed that such a well-behaved and withal tiresome and prosy young gentleman had never before worn frock coats, or walked about country lanes in a tall hat and immaculate kid gloves.
“He must be different with Lettice. She could never endure it if he bored her as much as he does us,” reiterated Hilary firmly, upon which Raymond’s eyes twinkled with mischievous intentions.
“Well—do you know, I should like to feel certain about that!” he said, and forthwith strolled out into the garden through the open doorway.
Lettice and Arthur Newcome were pacing their favourite walk, the narrow shrubbery path which encircled the lawn, and at intervals of every three or four minutes the two figures came into sight as the path opened to drive and tennis ground. Master Raymond strolled across to the first of these openings, leant nonchalantly against a tree, and waited the approach of footsteps. They came—a strong, steady crunching of the gravel, a pattering of quick, uneven little steps, and the sound of a deep bass voice struck on the ear.
”...And further on, in the transept aisle, I came upon a particularly heavy and unattractive cenotaph to the memory of—”
Raymond gasped, and rolled his eyes; then, as the footsteps died away, he sped lightly across the lawn, and ensconced himself at the next point of vantage. The boom of Mr Newcome’s big voice came again to his ear. Poor little Lettice was evidently a good listener!
”...The epitaph is in the inflated style of the period—bombastic in character, and supposed to be written by—”
“Bombastic!” echoed Raymond in despair. “I know someone else to whom that epithet would apply uncommonly well. This is worse than I expected! I’ll give him one more chance, and then—” But at the third hearing Mr Newcome was discoursing on “allegorical figures and pseudo-classic statues,” whereupon Raymond dashed off into the house and horrified his sisters by an account of his experiences.
“What a shame to listen like that! Lettice would be furious if she knew.”