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‘Won’t you say yes?’ she said at last, her voice breaking the silence sharply.

‘I was just thinking, dear: they have all gone to a tennis-party today. There’ll be no one at home.’

‘Well! why not today?’

‘Well; I was thinking I’ve been lucky enough to get hold of some very interesting information about the Websters–about their ancestor Sir Thomas, who distinguished himself in the Peninsular–and I wanted to get it copied under the proper heading, but I daresay we can do that another day. The only thing is, how are you to get there? You are not equal to walking so far–‘

‘I was thinking, dear, that I might take a fly. I know there is the expense, but …’

‘Yes; five or six shillings, at least. And where will you leave the fly? At the lodge gate? The flyman would be sure to get into conversation with the lodge-keeper or his wife. He’d tell them where he came from, and–‘

‘Supposing you were to get a two-wheeled trap and drive me yourself; that would be nicer still.’

‘I’m so unlucky; someone would be sure to see me.’

The Major puffed at his pipe in silence. Then he said, ‘If you were to put on a thick veil, and we were to get out of the town by this end and make our way through the lanes–it would be a long way round; but one hardly meets anyone that way, and the only danger would be going. We should return in the dusk. I don’t care how late you make it; my people won’t be home till nine or ten o’clock at night, perhaps later still. There will be dancing, and they are sure to stay late.’

Finally the matter was decided, and about four o’clock the Major went to the livery stable to order the trap. Mrs Shepherd and Nellie joined him soon after. Turning from the pony, whose nose he was stroking, he said–

‘I hope you have brought a thick shawl; it will be cold coming back in the evening.’

‘Yes, dear, here it is, and another for Nellie. What do you think of this veil?’

‘It will do very well. I do hope these stablemen won’t talk; let’s go off at once.’ The Major lifted in the child, tucked the rug about them, and cried to the stableman to let go. He drove very nervously, afraid at every moment lest the pony should bolt; and when the animal’s extreme docility assured him there was no such danger, he looked round right and left, expecting at every moment some friend to pounce down upon him. But the ways were empty, the breeze that came across the fields was fresh and sweet, and they were all beginning to enjoy themselves, when he suddenly espied a carriage following in his wake. He whipped up the pony, and contrived to distance his imaginary pursuer; and having succeeded, he praised his own driving, and at the cross-roads he said: ‘I dare not go any farther, but you can’t miss the lodge gate in that clump of trees–the first white gate you come to. Don’t ask any questions; it is ten to one you’ll find the gate open; walk straight through, and don’t forget to go through the beech-wood at the back of the house; the river runs right round the hill. I want to know what you think of the view. But pray don’t ask to see the house; there’s nothing to see; the housemaids would be sure to talk, and describe you to my sisters. So now goodbye; hope you’ll enjoy yourself. I shall have just time to get to Hambrook and back; I want to see my solicitor. You’ll have seen everything in a couple of hours, so in a couple of hours I shall be waiting for you here.’

Part II

It was as the Major said. The lodge-keepers asked no questions, and they passed up the drive, through the silence of an overgrowth of laurels and rhododendrons. Then the park opened before their eyes. Nellie rolled on the short, crisp, worn grass, or chased the dragonflies; the spreading trees enchanted her, and, looking at the house–a grey stone building with steps, pillars, and pilasters, hidden amid cedars and evergreen oaks–she said, ‘I never saw anything so beautiful; is that where the Major goes when he leaves us? Look at the flowers, Mother, and the roses. May we not go in there–I don’t mean into the house? I heard the Major ask you not to go in for fear we should meet the housemaids–but just past this railing, into the garden? Here is the gate.’ The child stood with her hand on the wicket, waiting for reply: the mother stood as in a dream, looking at the house, thinking vaguely of the pictures, the corridors, and staircases, that lay behind the plate-glass windows.