He found that the sight of it brought up painful recollections of Eastbourne; so he sold it, and acquired a most stylish four-wheeled vehicle which he called his “growler,” drawn by two spirited black horses. He spoke to his friends apologetically about his growler, and said it gave no particular scope for a man’s driving powers, but would serve until the coach which he had ordered from the most noted builders in London was finished. A four-in-hand, he held, was the only thing a man could drive with credit to himself and satisfaction to all beholders. So with the black span dancing before him, held by a firm hand, he rattled across Chelsea bridge and made for the interior of Surrey.
CHAPTER XXXI.
It is a pleasant thing on a beautiful day to drive through Surrey lanes, with a fine pair of horses in front and a liveried menial with folded arms on the seat behind. Barney, who knew the country well, chose the by-roads rather than the main thoroughfares; for he had a keen love of nature and an appreciation of landscape, as became a man who had placed on canvas so many amazing reproductions of natural scenery.
As he neared his destination he turned into the particular lane which he knew to be Lady Mary’s favourite walk, and he kept a sharp look-out ahead, hoping to descry the girl in the distance. He also looked at his watch, and slowed the horses when he saw he had arrived at the head of the lane somewhat in advance of the time he had set for himself. Barney was, above all things, a practical man, and he knew that, outside the drama, coincidences rarely happened unless they were touched up a bit; so before leaving Chelsea he took the precaution to telegraph Lady Mary, telling her that at a certain hour he would be at the head of the lane, and that if he met there any one who lived in the neighbourhood who would extend to him a cordial invitation to visit a certain country house, he would accept with all the heartfelt gratitude of a homeless man perambulating the country with two horses and a wagon. It was one of Barney’s habits rarely to write a letter, and to depend almost entirely on the telegraph as a means of communication with his fellows. He delighted in sending a friend a ten-page telegram on some perfectly trivial subject, and to the numerous people all over the country who now wrote to him asking for his autograph, he invariably sent it in a long telegram, explaining in the message that, as he never wrote letters, any signature of his at the end of an epistle was sure to be a forgery, and no autographs were genuine unless they came by wire. Barney’s electrical autographs now bring good prices at auction sales.
As he entered the lane, then, he looked ahead for the fulfilment of the coincidence he had arranged; and was presently rewarded by seeing the fine figure of the girl coming towards him, an ebony stick in her hand, and three big dogs following her. Barney threw the reins to his man, told him to drive on, and sprang down.
The girl’s cheeks were as rosy as the dawn, either with the exercise in the pure air or the pleasure of meeting him.
After greeting her, he cried:
“You got my telegram, then?”