CHAPTER XX

Rupert Haverford came back from America about the beginning of October.

He went down immediately to Yelverton.

The children were still with Mrs. Brenton--that is to say, they had gone for a brief while to stay with their mother; but the visit had not been a success, and Camilla herself proposed that she should make some arrangement to let the little folk stay for a few months longer under Mrs. Brenton's care.

"You see, we haven't got a house yet," she said; "nothing would induce Cuthbert to live in the house his mother left him. We must get that off our hands before we settle ourselves in another, and then I think we shall go to the Riviera this winter. He has several portraits that he wants to paint there."

Once, with a laugh, she had said--

"I have two minds to ask Rupert to lend us that big house of his. It is absurd to shut it up for months at a time when we are homeless."

It was, therefore, as much on the children's account as anything else that Haverford went to Yelverton.

Nevertheless, he found himself travelling down to Mrs. Brenton's comfortable house with a sense of eagerness that was half pleasure.

The reason for his visit to the States had not been wrongly reported; chance had brought to his knowledge the fact that there were some connections of Matthew Woolgar settled in America--humble, struggling people to whom money would be a G.o.dsend.

He spent at least a couple of months before he came across a trace of these people, and then, to his disappointment, found that the family had dwindled to two old people, who were quite unfit to take the voyage to England, and for whom little was possible except placing them in comfortable circ.u.mstances.

So he said to Agnes Brenton when he told her of all this.

"You see, I can't get rid of my money."

"It seems to me," said Mrs. Brenton, "you have made a very good attempt at it." Then, with a little colour in her face, she added, "I go back to my old theory about you. I want to see you well married. I should like you to take a prominent part in the life of the day."

He made no remark for a little while, then he said--

"Yes, I shall marry; I hope soon."

To herself Mrs. Brenton confessed a great disappointment.

"An American woman!" she said to herself. "I did hope he would have married somebody over here."

The welcome the children gave him was a royal one; but Caroline barely touched his hand, and expressed no pleasure at seeing him again. It seemed however, that he had something to say to her.

"I want to talk to you about the children," he said. "Will you come out into the garden?"

"I thought everything was settled for the time being," Caroline said.

"There are various things I should like to discuss with you."

She stole a little glance at him as they walked into the well-remembered path, where now the rose-bushes were barren of bloom and the ground was carpeted with faded leaves.

He was looking wonderfully well, with that bronzed look in his skin, which made his teeth so white, and his eyes so delightful. She noticed that he seemed altogether brisker, and his first speech touched on this.

"Do you know that my trip to America has done me a lot of good? It has shaken me up--hustled me out of my old groove. The Americans are a wonderful nation! There are no rich idle men there, they have given me enough hints to keep me employed for the rest of my existence."

He looked at her with half a smile.

"I am glad," said Caroline.

"Are you? Well say it a little more as if you meant it."

Against herself she laughed.

Then he stretched out his hand.

"You don't bear me any grudge, Caroline?"

"Why should I?"

She did not take his hand, and with a quick frown he let it drop to his side.

"Well, you know you have not written me a line since I have been away."

She looked at him with open eyes at this.

"Did you expect me to write?"

"Of course," he said, with a smile. "It would have been the proper thing for a ward to do. And that brings me to the question I put to you just now. Are you still angry with me because I tried to enforce my authority when last I saw you?"

"No," she said, "I am not angry."

"Then look more pleasant."

Again she had to laugh, but it was a very transitory laugh.

"I thought you wanted to talk about the children."

"You are one of the children," he answered.

As she made an impatient movement he changed his tone.

"I want to talk to you about myself. I'm not exactly a child, but I find I want some one to give me just a little of the attention that you give Betty and Baby."

She grew very hot, and found it rather difficult to breathe.

"I am not satisfied with you only as a ward," Haverford said, and there was an indescribable note of tenderness in his voice, "because there are such difficulties in the way of seeing you. I want you for something closer, better, more helpful. Caroline, will you be my wife?"

She stopped dead, and looked at him with eyes ablaze, then, in a choked voice, she said--

"No!" and then again, "No!" and then she walked on very quickly. He followed her.

"You can't mean that," he said, his tone one of absolute astonishment.