Quitting Mr. Lethbridge, Travers turned with
quick step towards the more solitary part of the grounds.
He did not find the object of his search in the walks
of the plantation; and, on taking the circuit of his
demesne, wound his way back towards the lawn through
a sequestered rocky hollow in the rear of the marquee,
which had been devoted to a fernery. Here he
came to a sudden pause; for, seated a few yards before
him on a gray crag, and the moonlight full on his face,
he saw a solitary man, looking upwards with a still
and mournful gaze, evidently absorbed in abstract
contemplation.
Recalling the description of the stranger which he
had heard from Mr. Lethbridge and the Saundersons,
Mr. Travers felt sure that he had come on him at last.
He approached gently; and, being much concealed by
the tall ferns, Kenelm (for that itinerant it was)
did not see him advance, until he felt a hand on his
shoulder, and, turning round, beheld a winning smile
and heard a pleasant voice.
“I think I am not mistaken,” said Leopold
Travers, “in assuming you to be the gentleman
whom Mr. Lethbridge promised to introduce to me, and
who is staying with my tenant, Mr. Saunderson?”
Kenelm rose and bowed. Travers saw at once that
it was the bow of a man in his own world, and not
in keeping with the Sunday costume of a petty farmer.
“Nay,” said he, “let us talk seated;”
and placing himself on the crag, he made room for
Kenelm beside him.
“In the first place,” resumed Travers,
“I must thank you for having done a public service
in putting down the brute force which has long tyrannized
over the neighbourhood. Often in my young days
I have felt the disadvantage of height and sinews,
whenever it would have been a great convenience to
terminate dispute or chastise insolence by a resort
to man’s primitive weapons; but I never more
lamented my physical inferiority than on certain occasions
when I would have given my ears to be able to thrash
Tom Bowles myself. It has been as great a disgrace
to my estate that that bully should so long have infested
it as it is to the King of Italy not to be able with
all his armies to put down a brigand in Calabria.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Travers, but I am one of those
rare persons who do not like to hear ill of their
friends. Mr. Thomas Bowles is a particular friend
of mine.”
“Eh!” cried Travers, aghast. “‘Friend!’
you are joking.
“You would not accuse me of joking if you knew
me better. But surely you have felt that there
are few friends one likes more cordially, and ought
to respect more heedfully, than the enemy with whom
one has just made it up.”
“You say well, and I accept the rebuke,”
said Travers, more and more surprised. “And
I certainly have less right to abuse Mr. Bowles than
you have, since I had not the courage to fight him.
To turn to another subject less provocative.
Mr. Lethbridge has told me of your amiable desire
to serve two of his young parishioners, Will Somers
and Jessie Wiles, and of your generous offer to pay
the money Mrs. Bawtrey demands for the transfer of
her lease. To that negotiation my consent is
necessary, and that consent I cannot give. Shall
I tell you why?”
