At Love's Cost

As Stafford rode homewards he wondered whom the strange pair could be.

It was evident they were not going to stay at the Villa, or they would

have driven straight there; but it was also evident that the gentleman

had heard of Sir Stephen's "little place," or he would not have asked

where it was; but, as Stafford reflected, rather ruefully, it would be

difficult for any traveller passing through the neighbourhood not to

see the new, great white house, or to hear something, perhaps a very

great deal, of the man who had built it.

Howard sauntered down the hall to meet him.

"Good heavens, how wet you look, and, needless to add, how happy. If

there is anything in the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, my

dear Stafford, your future embodiment will be that of a Newfoundland

dog. Such an extremely strong passion for cold water is

almost--er--indecent. I've had a lovely morning in the library; and

your father is still at work with his correspondence. I asked him what

he thought of Lord Palmerston's aphorism: that if you left your letters

unanswered long enough they answered themselves; and he admitted it was

true, and that he had sometimes adopted the plan successfully. There is

a secretary with him--a dark and silent man named Murray, who appears

to have an automatic, double-action brain; anyway he can write a letter

and answer questions at the same time. And he watches your father's

lips as if he--the secretary, not Sir Stephen--were a dog waiting for a

stone to be thrown. It is interesting to watch--for a time; then it

gets on one's nerves. May I ask where you have been?"

"Oh, just for a ride; been trying the new horse: he's a clinker! The

governor couldn't have got hold of a better if he'd searched all

Arabia, and Hungary to boot. I'll just change and get some lunch. I

hope you haven't waited?"

"Your hope is not in vain, young man," replied Howard, suavely; "but I

will come and sit beside you while you stoke."

With Measom's aid Stafford was soon into dry clothes and seated at

lunch, and, as he had promised, Howard drew a chair to the table, and

contemplated him with vicarious enjoyment.

"What an appetite you have!" he drawled, admiringly. "I imagine it

would stand by you, even if you were in love. As a specimen of the

perfectly healthy animal you stand preeminent, my dear Stafford. By the

way, shall I spoil your lunch if I read you out a list of the guests

whom we are expecting this afternoon? Sir Stephen was good enough to

furnish me with it, with the amiable wish that I might find some friend

on it. What do you say to Lord and Lady Fitzharford; the Countess of

Clansford; the Baron Wirsch; the Right Honourable Henry Efford; Sir

William and Lady Plaistow--"