‘These are strange things to say,’ said Beaufort, gravely.
‘Silly things,’ said Lady Car. ‘If you are not busy, let us take a stroll about the gardens. I have not been out to-day.’
She knew he was not busy, and she had given over even wishing him to be so. Desire grows faint with long deception and disappointment; but he was always kind—ready to stroll in the gardens or anything she pleased.
‘What did mother think I was going to do with you? Take you round by the Red Scaur and break your neck?’ Tom said to Janet.
‘Oh!’ cried Janet to Tom, with wide-open eyes; then added in a low tone, ‘that was where father was killed. I have never been there.’
‘And I’m not going to take you there. It’s all shut up ever since. But I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Jan. We’ll have a long spin—as far as Blackmore’s farm.’
‘Blackmore’s farm! That is the place——’
He gave a loud laugh.
‘Well, and what then? A thing may happen once and not again. They were tremendous friends of father’s. I don’t mean friends like—like the Erskines and so forth. Blackmore’s not a gentleman, but he’s a rattling good fellow. And you should just see his stables. There’s one hunter I’d buy in a minute if I had my liberty. It’s ten miles, or perhaps a little more. Perhaps you’re not up to that.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m quite up to it. But I wonder if we should go—it gets dark so soon—and perhaps mother——’