“No; it is at a farmhouse some miles off. It will be brought home after the inquest.”
“Quite so.”
We reached the Grange.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I will get back to town. I would sooner. I don’t think I can be of any further use.”
He did not press me to remain, and I went back to town carrying messages for his managing clerk. I did not witness the meeting between Miss Gascoyne and himself, but it must have been quite satisfactory, for he stayed away over a week, and I learnt that Mrs. Gascoyne had joined them.
I fancied that Miss Gascoyne would be rather surprised at the dignity and well-bred restraint of the tradesman’s daughter, and would find it a little difficult to account for her father’s prejudice; in fact, his objection could not fail to strike her as having something in it of unreasoning snobbery.
I would have given a great deal to be at the inquest, but although there was no particular reason why I should not be, I thought Mr. Gascoyne might deem it a little officious. Neither did I go down to the funeral, but wrote a sympathetic note and sent a wreath. I let it fully appear that my reason for not going was diffidence, and a desire not to assume too intimate an attitude.
The morning of Mr. Gascoyne’s return he called me into his office.
“Close the door, Israel.”
He motioned me to a chair.