“Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished
her lessons.”
“The fact is,” continued the squire, “that
I was going to survey the nakedness of the land which
has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of the park
I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist
the temptation of calling. I had no idea we were
such near neighbours.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Goddard, “it is
very near.”
Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not
exactly at a loss for words, but Mrs. Goddard did
not seem inclined to encourage the conversation.
He saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable
but that its arrangement betrayed a considerable taste
for luxury. The furniture was of a kind not generally
seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed part
of some great establishment. The carpet itself
was of a finer and softer kind than any at the Hall.
The writing-table was a piece of richly inlaid work,
and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe
and valuable kind that are seen in rich men’s
houses. A clock which was undoubtedly of the
Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece.
On the walls were hung three or four pictures which,
Mr. Juxon thought, must be both old and of great value.
Upon a little table by the fireplace lay four or five
objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver
chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw,
and wondered why such a very pretty woman, who possessed
such very pretty things, should choose to come and
live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield.
And having seen and wondered he became interested
in his charming tenant and endeavoured to carry on
the conversation in a more confidential strain.
“You have done more towards beautifying the
cottage than I could have hoped to do,” said
Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one
hand on Stamboul’s great head.
“It was very pretty of itself,” answered
Mrs. Goddard, “and fortunately it is not very
big, or my things would look lost in it.”
“I should not say that—you have so
many beautiful things. They seem to suit the
place so well. I am sure you will never think
of taking them away.”
“Not if I can help it—I am too glad
to be quiet.”
“You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?”
asked the squire.
“No—not exactly that—only
a little, after all. I have not been to Constantinople
for instance,” she added looking at the hound
Mr. Juxon had brought from the East. “You
are indeed a traveller.”
“I have travelled all my life,” said the
squire, indifferently, as though the subject of his
wanderings did not interest him. “From what
little I have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will
find all the quiet you could wish, here. Really,
I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for
information. What sort of man is that excellent
rector down there, whom I met last night?”
