"Vicar," says old Benny, "he can't refuse to marry no man.Law won't let him." Such refusal, he intimates, might drive him to wild and riotous living.Remembering his last view of old Benny tottering down the village street in his white smock, his nut-cracker face like a withered rosy apple, his gnarled hand grasping the knotted staff his bent body leaned on, Mount Dunstan grinned a little.He did not smile when Penzance passed to the restoration of the ancient church at Mellowdene."Restoration" usually meant the tearing away of ancient oaken, high-backed pews, and the instalment of smug new benches, suggesting suburban Dissenting chapels, such as the feudal soul revolts at.Neither did he smile at a reference to the gathering at Dunholm Castle, which was twelve miles away.Dunholm was the possession of a man who stood for all that was first and highest in the land, dignity, learning, exalted character, generosity, honour.He and the late Lord Mount Dunstan had been born in the same year, and had succeeded to their titles almost at the same time.
There had arrived a period when they had ceased to know each other.All that the one man intrinsically was, the other man was not.All that the one estate, its castle, its village, its tenantry, represented, was the antipodes of that which the other stood for.The one possession held its place a silent, and perhaps, unconscious reproach to the other.Among the guests, forming the large house party which London social news had already recorded in its columns, were great and honourable persons, and interesting ones, men and women who counted as factors in all good and dignified things accomplished.Even in the present Mount Dunstan's childhood, people of their world had ceased to cross his father's threshold.As one or two of the most noticeable names were mentioned, mentally he recalled this, and Penzance, quick to see the thought in his eyes, changed the subject.
"At Stornham village an unexpected thing has happened,"he said."One of the relatives of Lady Anstruthers has suddenly appeared--a sister.You may remember that the poor woman was said to be the daughter of some rich American, and it seemed unexplainable that none of her family ever appeared, and things were allowed to go from bad to worse.As it was understood that there was so much money people were mystified by the condition of things.""Anstruthers has had money to squander," said Mount Dunstan."Tenham and he were intimates.The money he spends is no doubt his wife's.As her family deserted her she has no one to defend her.""Certainly her family has seemed to neglect her for years.
Perhaps they were disappointed in his position.Many Americans are extremely ambitious.These international marriages are often singular things.Now--apparently without having been expected--the sister appears.Vanderpoel is the name--Miss Vanderpoel."
"I crossed the Atlantic with her in the Meridiana," said Mount Dunstan.
"Indeed! That is interesting.You did not, of course, know that she was coming here.""I knew nothing of her but that she was a saloon passenger with a suite of staterooms, and I was in the second cabin.
Nothing? That is not quite true, perhaps.Stewards and passengers gossip, and one cannot close one's ears.Of course one heard constant reiteration of the number of millions her father possessed, and the number of cabins she managed to occupy.During the confusion and alarm of the collision, we spoke to each other."He did not mention the other occasion on which he had seen her.
There seemed, on the whole, no special reason why he should.
"Then you would recognise her, if you saw her.I heard to-day that she seems an unusual young woman, and has beauty.""Her eyes and lashes are remarkable.She is tall.The Americans are setting up a new type.""Yes, they used to send over slender, fragile little women.
Lady Anstruthers was the type.I confess to an interest in the sister.""Why?"
"She has made a curious impression.She has begun to do things.
Stornham village has lost its breath." He laughed a little.
"She has been going over the place and discussing repairs."Mount Dunstan laughed also.He remembered what she had said.And she had actually begun.
"That is practical," he commented.
"It is really interesting.Why should a young woman turn her attention to repairs? If it had been her father--the omnipotent Mr.Vanderpoel--who had appeared, one would not have wondered at such practical activity.But a young lady--with remarkable eyelashes!"His elbows were on the arm of his chair, and he had placed the tips of his fingers together, wearing an expression of such absorbed contemplation that Mount Dunstan laughed again.
"You look quite dreamy over it," he said.
"It allures me.Unknown quantities in character always allure me.I should like to know her.A community like this is made up of the absolutely known quantity--of types repeating themselves through centuries.A new one is almost a startling thing.Gossip over teacups is not usually entertaining to me, but I found myself listening to little Miss Laura Brunel this afternoon with rather marked attention.Iconfess to having gone so far as to make an inquiry or so.Sir Nigel Anstruthers is not often at Stornham.He is away now.
It is plainly not he who is interested in repairs.""He is on the Riviera, in retreat, in a place he is fond of," Mount Dunstan said drily."He took a companion with him.A new infatuation.He will not return soon."
