On a fine afternoon in August—and the month was now drawing towards its close—the 2.25 train from London steamed into the station at Helstonleigh, eight minutes behind time, and came to a standstill. Amongst the passengers who alighted, was a gentleman of middle age, as it is called—in point of fact, he had entered his fiftieth year, as the peerage would have told any curious inquirer. As he stepped out of a first-class carriage, several eyes were drawn towards him, for he was of notable height, towering above every one; even above Roland Yorke, who was of good height himself, and stood on the platform waiting for him.
It was the Earl of Carrick, brother to Lady Augusta Yorke, and much resembling her—a pleasant, high cheek-boned, easy face, betraying more of good humour than of high or keen intellect, and nothing of pride. The pride of the young Yorkes was sometimes talked of in Helstonleigh, but it came from their father’s side, not from Lady Augusta’s. The earl spoke with a slight brogue, and shook both Roland’s hands heartily, as soon as he found that it was to Roland they belonged.
“Sure then! but I didn’t know ye, Roland! If ye had twenty years more on to ye’re head, I should have thought it was ye’re father.”
“Have I grown like him, Uncle Carrick?”
“Ye’ve grown out of knowledge, me boy. And how’s ye’re mother, and how are the rest of ye?”
“Stunning,” responded Roland. “They are all outside. She would bring up the whole caravan. The last time the lot came to the station, the two young ones got upon the line to dance a hornpipe on the rails; so she has kept them by her, and is making Gerald and Tod look after them. Where’s your luggage, Uncle Carrick? Have you brought a servant?”
“Not I,” replied the earl. “Servants are only troubles in other folk’s houses, and me bit of luggage isn’t so much but I can look after it meself. I hope they put it in,” he continued, looking about amid the boxes and portmanteaus, and unable to see his own.
The luggage was found at last, and given in charge of a porter; and Lord Carrick went out to meet his relatives. There were enough of them to meet—the whole caravan, as Roland had expressed it. Lady Augusta sat in her barouche—her two daughters and Constance and Annabel Channing with her. Little Percy and Frank, two most troublesome children, were darting in and out amidst the carriages, flys, and omnibuses; and Gerald and Tod had enough to do to keep them out of danger. It was so like Lady Augusta—bringing them all to the station to welcome their uncle! Warm-hearted and impulsive, she had little more judgment than a child. Constance had in vain protested against herself and Annabel being pressed into the company; but her ladyship looked upon it as a sort of triumphal expedition, and was deaf to remonstrances.
The earl, warm-hearted and impulsive also, kissed them all, Constance included. She could not help herself; before she was aware of the honour intended her, the kiss was given—a hearty smack, as all the rest had. The well-meaning, simple-minded Irishman could not have been made to understand why he should not give a kiss of greeting to Constance as readily as he gave it to his sister, or his sister’s daughters. He protested that he remembered Constance and Annabel well. It may be questioned whether there was not more of Irish politeness than of truth in the assertion, though he had seen them occasionally, during his visit of three years ago.
How were they all to get home? In and on the barouche, as all, except Roland, had come, to the gratification of the curious town? Lord Carrick wished to walk; his long legs were cramped: but Lady Augusta would not hear of it, and pulled him into the carriage, Gerald, Percy, and Frank were fighting for places on the box beside the driver, Tod intending to hang on behind, as he had done in coming, when the deep-toned college bell struck out a quarter to three, and the sound came distinctly to their ears, borne from the distance. It put a stop to the competition, so far as Gerald was concerned. He and Tod, startled half out of their senses, for they had not observed the lapse of time, set off on foot as hard as they could go.