"My dear Stafford, my dear boy!" he said, in a deep but musical voice.

"I expected you hours ago; I have been waiting! But better late than never. Who is this? Your friend, Mr. Howard? Certainly! How do you do, Mr. Howard! Welcome to our little villa on the lake!"

CHAPTER VI

Stafford's heart warmed at his father's greeting; indeed it would have been a very callous heart if it had not; for the emotion of genuine affection shone in Sir Stephen's brilliant eyes, and rang in his musical voice. Stafford was all the more impressed and touched, because the emotion was unusual, or rather, the expression of it.

This is a "casual" age, in which a man parts from or meets his relations and friends with the real or a.s.sumed indifference which is ordained by fashion. It is bad form to display one's affection, even for the woman one loves, excepting in extreme seclusion and privacy. If you meet your dearest chum who has just come out of the Transvaal War by the skin of his teeth, it is not permitted you to say more than: "Ah--er--how d'ye do. Got back, then, old man?" and at parting from one's nearest relative, perhaps for the remainder of his life, one must hide the grief that racks the heart, with an enquiry as to whether he has got a comfortable berth and has remembered his umbrella.

But Sir Stephen was evidently not ashamed of his pleasure and delight at the sight of his son, and he wrung his hand and looked him up and down with an affectionate and proud scrutiny.

"You're looking fit, Stafford, very fit! By George, I--I believe you've grown! And you've got--uglier than ever!"

Then, still holding Stafford's hand, he turned with a smile to Howard.

"You must forgive me, Mr. Howard! I've not seen this boy of mine for a devil of a time, and I've been looking forward to this meeting very keenly. The fond parent, you know, eh? But now let me say again how pleased I am to see you. Stafford has often mentioned you, his closest chum, and I was almost as anxious to see you as I was to see him."

"You are very kind, Sir Stephen," said Howard--his slow drawl unusually quickened--for he, too, was touched, though he would have died rather than have admitted it, by the warmth of Sir Stephen's reception of his son. "I was afraid that I should be rather _de trop_, if not absolutely intrusive--"

"Not at all--not at all!" Sir Stephen broke in. "My boy's friends are mine, especially his own particular pal. You are David and Jonathan, you two, I know; and Heaven forbid that I should part you! If you'll consider yourself one of the family, free to come and go just as you choose, I shall feel grateful to you; yes, that's the word--grateful!"

All this was said in the heartiest way, with the crowd of servants looking on and listening--though, like well-trained servants, they appeared both deaf and blind for all the expression that could be seen in their faces--then Sir Stephen led the way into the drawing-room.

"You've just time to dress," he said, consulting his watch; "your man Measom has turned up, Stafford. Mr. Howard will permit me to offer him the services of my valet--I don't trouble him much. And now I'll show you your rooms. Like this?" he added, as he paused at the door and looked round. "It's one of the smaller rooms; the ladies can keep it for themselves if they like."

"Charming!" said Howard; and the word was appropriate enough to the dainty apartment with its chaste decorations of crushed strawberry and gold, with hangings and furniture to match; with its grand piano in carved white wood and its series of water colours by some of the best of the Inst.i.tute men.

"I'm glad!" responded Sir Stephen. "But I mustn't keep you. We'll go over the place after dinner--or some other time. To-night we are alone; the party doesn't come up till to-morrow. I wanted to have you, Stafford--and your friend--to myself before the crowd arrived."

They followed him up the broad stairs, which by low and easy steps led up to the exquisite corridor, harmonising perfectly with the eastern hall, on to which it looked through arches shaped and fitted in Oriental fashion.

"Here is your room. Ah, Measom! here is Mr. Stafford, Got everything ready for him, I hope?--and here, next door almost, is Mr. Howard's.

This is a snuggery in between--keep your books and guns and fishing-rods in it, don't you know. Mr. Howard, you play, I think?

There's a piano, Hope you'll like the view. Full south, with nothing between you and the lake. I'm not far off. See? Just opposite, You may find the rooms too hot, Stafford--Mr. Howard--and we'll change 'em, of course. Don't hurry: hope you'll find everything you want!"

He laid his hand on Stafford's shoulder and nodded at him with frank affection, before he went, and as he closed the door they heard him say to some one below:

"Don't serve the dinner till Mr. Stafford comes down!"

Stafford went to the window, and Howard stood in silence beside him for a moment, then he said--Measom had left the room:

"I congratulate you, Staff! In sackcloth and ashes, I confess I thought that kind of father only existed in women's books and emotional plays."

Stafford nodded.

"He's--he's kindness itself," he said, in a very low voice and not turning his head. "I didn't know that he was like--this. I didn't know he cared--"

"It's evident he cares very much!" said Howard, gravely. "If you were the Prodigal Son he couldn't have felt it more."

"And yet they say--that bagman said--" muttered Stafford with smouldering rage and indignation.

"There are few things in my life that I regret, my dear Staff; but till my dying day I shall regret that I did not turn and rend that bagman!

He's a splendid fellow--splendid! Now I've seen him I don't wonder at his success. Envy is not one of my numerous vices, Staff; but frankly I envy you your father! Wake up, old man! We mustn't keep him waiting!

What quarters!" He looked round the room as he moved to go. "Fit for a prince! But you _are_ a prince! Why, dash it, I feel like a prince myself! How are you, Measom? Got down all right, then?--I'll give you a knock when I'm ready, Stafford!"

Stafford dressed quickly, thinking all the while of his father; of his good looks, his deep, pleasant voice, his affectionate welcome; and thrusting from him the unfavourable impression which the ornate splendour of the place had made.

Howard knocked presently and the two men went down. Sir Stephen was waiting in the hall; and Stafford, with a little thrill of pride, noticed that he looked still more distinguished in his evening-dress, which was strikingly plain; a single pearl--but it was priceless one--was its only ornament.

"By George, you have been quick!" said Sir Stephen, with his genial smile.

"That's one for yourself, sir," said Stafford.

"Oh, I? I can dress in five minutes," responded Sir Stephen, linking his arm in Stafford's. "I'm almost as good as a 'quick-change artist.'"

He drew aside to let Howard follow the butler between the two footmen drawn up beside the door, and they entered the dining-room.

It was of choice American walnut, and lit by rose-shaded electric lights, in which the plate and the gla.s.s, the flowers and the napery glowed softly: an ideal room which must have filled the famous decorator who had designed it with just pride and elation. The table had been reduced to a small oval; and the servants proceeded to serve a dinner which told Howard that Sir Stephen had become possessed of a _chef_ who was a _cordon bleu_. The wines were as choice as the _menu_; but Sir Stephen watered his Chateau claret, and ate but little, excusing himself in the middle of a sentence with:

"I'm setting you a bad example. But there's always a skeleton at my feast--a rather common one nowadays; they call him Gout. And so you drove down? That must have been pleasant! It's a pretty country--so I'm told. I didn't see much of it from the train. But the lake--ah, well, it's indescribable, isn't it! After all one sees, one is bound to admit that there is nothing to beat English scenery; of course I include Irish. We've a strain of Irish blood in us, Mr. Howard, and I always stand up for the ould counthry. Things are looking up there lately; we're beginning to appreciated. Give us a year or two, and we'll have all the world and his wife scampering over it. I've a little Irish scheme of my own--but I mustn't bore you the first night. Mr. Howard, if that wine is too thin--"

Howard clutched his gla.s.s with dramatic intensity.

"Chateau Legrange, if I'm not mistaken, sir," he said; "but let it be what it may, it's simply perfect."

"I'm glad. See here, now, it's understood between us that if there's anything you want, anything you'd like altered, you'll say so, eh, Stafford?" he said, with an affectionate anxiety. "I'm a rough-and-ready kind of man, and anything pleases me; but you--ah, well, you two have the right to be particular; and I'll ask you to ask for just what you want--and be sure you get it."

Stafford glanced round the room with its costly appointments, and Sir Stephen caught the glance, and smiled.

"You're thinking--ah, well, no matter. Mr. Howard, try those strawberries. I don't think they're forced. They tell me that they get them on the slope even earlier than this. This port--now see how nice the people in these parts are! this port came from the landlord of the--the--yes, The Woodman Inn. He sent it with his respectful compliments, saying you did him the honour to praise it last night. You stayed there, I suppose? Surprisingly kind: quite a Spanish bit of courtesy. I wrote Mr.--yes, Mr. Groves a note thanking him on your behalf, and I sent him some dry sherry which Stenson here"--he smiled at the butler--"tells me is rather good, eh, Stenson?"

The solemn gravity of Stenson's face did not relax in the slightest, as he murmured:

"Count de Meza's '84, sir."

"Right! So long as it was the best we had. You approve, Stafford, eh?"

Stafford nodded with something more than approval.

"Thank you, sir," he said, simply. "We admired Mr. Groves's port."

"He's a good fellow. I hope he'll enjoy the sherry. I shall take the first opportunity of calling and expressing my sense of his kindness--No more? Shall we have the coffee with the cigars in the billiard room?"

The footmen escorted them through the billiard-room to the smoking-room, only divided from it by a screen of Eastern fret-work draped by costly hangings. There were inlaid tables and couches of exquisite workmanship, and a Moresque cabinet, which the butler unlocked and from which he took cigars and cigarettes.

Sir Stephen waved them to seats, and sank into a low chair with a sigh of satisfaction and enjoyment. The footmen placed the exquisite coffee-service of Limoges enamel on one of the tables, and, as they left the room, Howard, as if he could not help himself, said: