came to the spot she had mentioned； and like a good wife rushed into
the arms of her husbandhoo…hoo…hoo…hoo…hoo！'
As if by an ungovernable impulse； Ethelberta broke into laughter
alsolaughter which had a wild unnatural sound； it was hysterical。
She sank down upon the leaves； and there continued the fearful laugh
just as before。
Lord Mountclere became greatly frightened。 The spot they had
reached was a green space within a girdle of hollies； and in front
of them rose an ornamental cottage。 This was the building which
Ethelberta had visited earlier in the day： it was the Petit Trianon
of Enckworth Court。
The viscount left her side and hurried forward。 The door of the
building was opened by a woman。
'Have you prepared for us； as I directed？'
'Yes； my lord； tea and coffee are both ready。'
'Never mind that now。 Lady Mountclere is ill； come and assist her
indoors。 Tell the other woman to bring wine and water at once。'
He returned to Ethelberta。 She was better； and was sitting calmly
on the bank。 She rose without assistance。
'You may retire；' he said to the woman who had followed him； and she
turned round。 When Ethelberta saw the building； she drew back
quickly。
'Where is the other Lady Mountclere？' she inquired。
'Gone！'
'She shall never returnnever？'
'Never。 It was not intended that she should。'
'That sounds well。 Lord Mountclere； we may as well compromise
matters。'
'I think so too。 It becomes a lady to make a virtue of a
necessity。'
'It was stratagem against stratagem。 Mine was ingenious； yours was
masterly！ Accept my acknowledgment。 We will enter upon an armed
neutrality。'
'No。 Let me be your adorer and slave again； as ever。 Your beauty；
dearest； covers everything！ You are my mistress and queen！ But
here we are at the door。 Tea is prepared for us here。 I have a
liking for life in this cottage mode； and live here on occasion。
Women； attend to Lady Mountclere。'
The woman who had seen Ethelberta in the morning was alarmed at
recognizing her； having since been informed officially of the
marriage： she murmured entreaties for pardon。 They assisted the
viscountess to a chair； the door was closed； and the wind blew past
as if nobody had ever stood there to interrupt its flight。
Full of misgivings； Christopher continued to wait at the north gate。
Half…past seven had long since been past； and no Ethelberta had
appeared。 He did not for the moment suppose the delay to be hers；
and this gave him patience； having taken up the position； he was
induced by fidelity to abide by the consequences。 It would be only
a journey of two hours to reach Anglebury Station； he would ride
outside with the driver； put her into the train； and bid her adieu
for ever。 She had cried for help； and he had heard her cry。
At last through the trees came the sound of the Court clock striking
eight； and then； for the first time； a doubt arose in his mind
whether she could have mistaken the gate。 She had distinctly told
Sol the west lodge； her note had expressed the north lodge。 Could
she by any accident have written one thing while meaning another？
He entered the carriage； and drove round to the west gate。 All was
as silent there as at the other； the meeting between Ethelberta and
Lord Mountclere being then long past； and he drove back again。
He left the carriage； and entered the park on foot； approaching the
house slowly。 All was silent； the windows were dark； moping sounds
came from the trees and sky； as from Sorrow whispering to Night。 By
this time he felt assured that the scheme had miscarried。 While he
stood here a carriage without lights came up the drive； it turned in
towards the stable…yard without going to the door。 The carriage had
plainly been empty。
Returning across the grass by the way he had come； he was startled
by the voices of two men from the road hard by。
'Have ye zeed anybody？'
'Not a soul。'
'Shall we go across again？'
'What's the good？ let's home to supper。'
'My lord must have heard somebody； or 'a wouldn't have said it。'
'Perhaps he's nervous now he's living in the cottage again。 I
thought that fancy was over。 Well； I'm glad 'tis a young wife he's
brought us。 She'll have her routs and her rackets as well as the
high…born ones； you'll see； as soon as she gets used to the place。'
'She must be a queer Christian to pick up with him。'
'Well； if she've charity 'tis enough for we poor men； her faith and
hope may be as please God。 Now I be for on…along homeward。'
As soon as they had gone Christopher moved from his hiding； and；
avoiding the gravel…walk； returned to his coachman； telling him to
drive at once to Anglebury。
Julian was so impatient of the futility of his adventure that he
wished to annihilate its existence。 On reaching Anglebury he
determined to get on at once to Melchester； that the event of the
night might be summarily ended； to be still in the neighbourhood was
to be still engaged in it。 He reached home before midnight。
Walking into their house in a quiet street； as dissatisfied with
himself as a man well could be who still retained health and an
occupation； he found Faith sitting up as usual。 His news was
simple： the marriage had taken place before he could get there； and
he had seen nothing of either ceremony or viscountess。 The
remainder he reserved for a more convenient season。
Edith looked anxiously at him as he ate supper； smiling now and
then。
'Well； I am tired of this life；' said Christopher。
'So am I；' said Faith。 'Ah； if we were only rich！'
'Ah； yes。'
'Or if we were not rich；' she said； turning her eyes to the fire。
'If we were only slightly provided for； it would be better than
nothing。 How much would you be content with； Kit？'
'As much as I could get。'
'Would you be content with a thousand a year for both of us？'
'I daresay I should；' he murmured； breaking his bread。
'Or five hundred for both？'
'Or five hundred。'
'Or even three hundred？'
'Bother three hundred。 Less than double the sum would not satisfy
me。 We may as well imagine much as little。'
Faith's countenance had fallen。 'O Kit；' she said； 'you always
disappoint me。'
'I do。 How do I disappoint you this time？'
'By not caring for three hundred a yeara hundred and fifty each
when that is all I have to offer you。'
'Faith！' said he； looking up for the first time。 'Ahof course！
Lucy's will。 I had forgotten。'
'It is true； and I had prepared such a pleasant surprise for you；
and now you don't care！ Our cousin Lucy did leave us something
after all。 I don't understand the exact total sum； but it comes to
a hundred and fifty a year eachmore than I expected； though not so
much as you deserved。 Here's the letter。 I have been dwelling upon
it all day； and thinking what a pleasure it would be； and it is not
after all！'
'Good gracious； Faith； I was only supposing。 The real thing is
another matter altogether。 Well； the idea of Lucy's will containing
our names！ I am sure I would have gone to the funeral had I known。'
'I wish it were a thousand。'
'O noit doesn't matter at all。 But； certainly； three hundred for
two is a tantalizing sum： not enough to enable us to change our
condition； and enough to make us dissatisfied with going on as we
are。'
'We must forget we have it； and let it increase。'
'It isn't enough to increase much。 We may as well use it。 But how？
Take a bigger housewhat's the use？ Give up the organ？then I
shall be rather worse off than I am at present。 Positively； it is
the most provoking amount anybody could have invented had they tried
ever so long。 Poor Lucy； to do that； and not even to come near us
when father died。 。 。 。 Ah； I know what we'll do。 We'll go abroad…
…we'll live in Italy。'
SEQUEL。 ANGLEBURY … ENCKWORTH … SANDBOURNE
Two years and a half after the marriage of Ethelberta and the
evening adventures which followed it； a man young in years； though
considerably older in mood and expression； walked up to the 'Red
Lion' Inn at Anglebury。 The anachronism sat not unbecomingly upon
him； and the voice was precisely that of the Christopher Julian of
heretofore。 His way of entering the inn and calling for a
conveyance was more off…hand than formerly； he was much less afraid
of the sound of his own voice now than when he had gone through the
same performance on a certain chill evening the last time that he
visited the spot。 He wanted to be taken to Knollsea to meet the
steamer there； and was not coming back by the same vehicle。
It was a very different day from that of his previous journey along
the same road； different in season； different in weather； and the
humour of the observer differed yet more widely from its condition
then than did the landscape from its former hues。 In due time they
reached a commanding situation upon the road； from which were
visible knots and plantations of trees on the Enckworth manor。
Christopher broke the silence。
'Lord Mountclere is still alive and well； I am told？'
'O ay。 He'll live to be a hundred。 Never such a change as has come
over the man of late years。'
'Indeed！'
'O； 'tis my lady。 She's a one to put up with！ Still； 'tis said
here and there that marrying her was the best day's work that he
ever did in his life； although she's got to be my lord and my lady
both。'
'Is she happy with him？'
'She is very sharp with the pore manabout happy I don't know。 He
was a good…natured old man； for all his sins； and would sooner any
day lay out money in new presents than pay it in old debts。 But
'tis altered now。 'Tisn't the same place。 Ah； in the old times I
have seen the floor of the servants' hall over the vamp of your boot
in solid beer that we had poured aside from the horns because we
couldn't see straight enough to pour it in。 See？ No； we couldn't
see a hole in a ladder！ And now； even at Christmas or Whitsuntide；
when a man； if ever he desires to be overcome with a drop； would
naturally wish it to be； you can walk out of Enckworth as straight
as you walked in。 All her doings。'
'Then she holds the reins？'
'She do！ There was a little tussle at first； but how could a old
man hold