He shuffled down the steps and along the street, obviously on his way to liquidate Hughie's half-crown, and the donor of that gratuity returned to the dining-room, where he took Mr. Mould's laboriously indited receipt from the table. Then he went upstairs, feeling desperately sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Lance. He had done what he could for them, in his eminently practical fashion, and set them on their feet again; but--for how long? Debts! Millstones! Poor things!

On the landing above he encountered Mrs. Gaymer, wide-eyed and incredulous.

"Lance would like to see you now," she said. "In here!" She opened a door. "And--and--I say," she added, half in a whisper, "surely you don't mean to say he's been and _gawn_!"

For answer Hughie awkwardly handed her the stamped receipt, and pa.s.sed into the bedroom.

His interview with Lance lasted an hour and a half. Much pa.s.sed between them during that period, and by the time Hughie rose and said he must be going, each man had entirely revised his opinion of the other. Most of us have the right stuff concealed in us somewhere, however heavily it may be overlaid by folly or vanity or desire to make a show. There are few men who do not improve on acquaintance, once you get right through the veneer.

Poor Lance, struggling in deep waters, suddenly discovered in the dour and undemonstrative Hughie a cheerful helper and--most precious of all to a proud nature--an entirely uncritical confidant. Hughie on his part discovered what he had rather doubted before, namely, that Lance was a man. Moreover, he presently laid bare a truly human and rather sad tale of genuine ability and secret ambition, heavily handicapped by youthful c.o.c.ksureness and want of ballast.

They discussed many things in that dingy bedroom: Lance's past; Uncle Jimmy's little allowance, mortgaged many years in advance; the creditors to whom, together with the law of the land, he was indebted for the presence beneath his roof of the versatile Mr. Mould; his future; the journalistic work which was promised him as soon as he should be fit again; Mrs. Lance; and also Mr. Haliburton.

Joan's name was barely mentioned. Lance exhibited a newborn delicacy in the matter. His officious solicitude on his sister's behalf was dead; he knew now that no woman need ever regret having trusted Hugh Marrable; and he was content to leave it at that.

"Well, I must be moving," said Hughie at last. "Buck up, and get fit!

It's good to hear that there's work waiting for you when you get about again. Grand tonic, that! So long!"

He shook Lance's hand, and the two parted undemonstratively. Lance made no set speech: he appreciated Hughie's desire that there should be no returning of thanks or contrite expressions of grat.i.tude. All he said was:--

"Hughie, you are a sportsman!"

Then he settled down on his pillow with a happy sigh. He had paid Hughie the highest compliment it was in his power to bestow--and that costs an Englishman an effort.

So they parted. But Mrs. Lance did not let Hughie off so easily. As she accompanied him downstairs to open the door for him, she suddenly seized his hand and kissed it. Tears were running down her cheeks.

Hughie grew red.

"I say, Mrs. Lance," he said in clumsy expostulation, "it's all right, you know! He'll soon be quite well again."

"Let me cry," said Mrs. Lance comfortably. "It does me good."

They stood together in the obscurity of the shabby little hall, and Hughie, surveying the flamboyant but homely figure before him, wondered what the future might hold in store for this little household. It all depended, of course, on--

"Mrs. Lance," he said suddenly, "tell me--do you--love him?"

"I do!" replied Mrs. Lance, in a voice which for the moment relegated her patchouli and dyed eyebrows to nothingness.

"And does he--love you?"

"He _does_--thank G.o.d!"

"You are both all right, then," said Hughie, nodding a wise head.

"Nothing matters much--except that!"

"That's true," said Mrs. Gaymer. "But--I wonder how _you_ knew!" she added curiously.

"Good-bye!" said Hughie.

As Hughie stood in the darkening street a church clock began to chime.

He looked at his watch.

It was six o'clock, and he had promised faithfully to be at Joey's entertainment at eight! He had good reason for his absence, it is true, but a reason is not always accepted as an excuse.

"I've fairly torn it, this time!" he reflected morosely.

He was right.

Early next morning he arrived at the village station by the newspaper train, and made his way on foot to Manors. A sleepy housemaid was sweeping out the hall, which was strewn with _confetti_,--some cotillion figures had been included in last night's festivities,--and as Hughie made his way to his dressing-room, intent upon a bath and shave before breakfast, he reflected not without satisfaction that, despite Joey's prospective fulminations, he had escaped something by missing his train.

On his dressing-table he found a note, addressed to him in Joan's handwriting. It said:--

DEAR HUGHIE,--To-night at the dance Mr. Haliburton asked me to marry him. Being a dutiful ward above all things, I have referred him to you. He is coming to see you to-morrow afternoon--that is, if you are back. I hope you had a good time in town.

J.

CHAPTER XVIII

_EX MACHINA_

Miss Joan Gaymer, pleasantly fatigued after last night's dissipation, reclined in a canvas chair on the lawn at Manors. She had just finished reading a letter which had arrived by the afternoon post. It was from her brother Lance, and conveyed, probably a good deal more fully than Hughie himself would have done, the reasons for Hughie's absence on the previous evening. Joan's brow was puckered thoughtfully, and she surveyed the tips of her small shoes, which were c.o.c.ked at an unladylike alt.i.tude upon a stool in front of her, with a profundity of maiden meditation which was perhaps explained by the fact that she had received a proposal of marriage the evening before, and was expecting the proposer to come and second his own motion at any moment.

To her entered suddenly Jno. Alex. Goble.

"Yon felly!" he intimated austerely.

"Mr. Haliburton, do you mean, John?" inquired Miss Gaymer, hastily letting down her feet.

"Aye. Wull I loose him in here?"

"Yes, please. No--I mean--"

But Cupid's messenger was gone. Presently he returned, and, with the air of one introducing the Coroner to the foreman of the jury, announced Mr.

Haliburton.

That ardent suitor advanced gallantly across the lawn, and taking Joan's hand with an air of respectful rapture, endeavoured to draw its owner into the shade of the copper beech. Joan forestalled his intentions by saying at once,--

"Come along into the library, Mr. Haliburton, and we'll see what my guardian has to say to you."

Mr. Haliburton hinted that there was no hurry, and made a pointed reference to Amaryllis and the shade; but his unsentimental nymph marched him briskly across the lawn, round the corner of the house, and in at the front door.

They crossed the cool, dark hall, and Joan tapped at the oaken door of the library.