Christmas came, but not Minty.It drew a large contingent from Oldenhurst to the quaint old church, who came to view the green-wreathed monuments, and walls spotted with crimson berries, as if with the blood of former Oldenhurst warriors, and to impress the wondering villagers with the ineffable goodness and bounty of the Creator towards the Lords of Oldenhurst and their friends.Sir Robert, a little gouty, kept the house, and Bradley, somewhat uneasy at the Sharpes' absence, but more distrait with other thoughts, wandered listlessly in the long library.At the lower angle it was embayed into the octagon space of a former tower,which was furnished as a quaint recess for writing or study,pierced through its enormous walls with a lance-shaped window,hidden by heavy curtains.He was gazing abstractedly at the melancholy eyes of Sir Percival, looking down from the dark panel opposite, when he heard the crisp rustle of a skirt.Lady Canterbridge tightly and stiffly buttoned in black from her long narrow boots to her slim, white-collared neck, stood beside him with a prayer-book in her ungloved hand.Bradley colored quickly;the penetrating incense of the Christmas boughs and branches that decked the walls and ceilings, mingled with some indefinable intoxicating aura from the woman at his side, confused his senses.
He seemed to be losing himself in some forgotten past coeval with the long, quaintly-lighted room, the rich hangings, and the painted ancestor of this handsome woman.He recovered himself with an effort, and said,"You are going to church?"
"I may meet them coming home; it's all the same.You like HIM?"she said abruptly, pointing to the portrait."I thought you did not care for that sort of man over there."
"A man like that must have felt the impotence of his sacrifice before he died, and that condoned everything," said Bradley,thoughtfully.
"Then you don't think him a fool?Bob says it was a fair bargain for a title and an office, and that by dying he escaped trial and the confiscation of what he had."
Bradley did not reply.
"I am disturbing your illusions again.Yet I rather like them.I think you are quite capable of a sacrifice--perhaps you know what it is already."
He felt that she was looking at him; he felt equally that he could not respond with a commonplace.He was silent.
"I have offended you again, Mr. Bradley," she said."Please be Christian, and pardon me.You know this is a season of peace and goodwill."She raised her blue eyes at the same moment to the Christmas decorations on the ceiling.They were standing before the parted drapery of the lance window.Midway between the arched curtains hung a spray of mistletoe--the conceit of a mischievous housemaid.Their eyes met it simultaneously.
Bradley had Lady Canterbridge's slim, white hand in his own.The next moment voices were heard in the passage, and the door nearly opposite to them opened deliberately.The idea of their apparent seclusion and half compromising attitude flashed through the minds of both at the same time.Lady Canterbridge stepped quickly backward, drawing Bradley with her, into the embrasure of the window; the folds of the curtain swung together and concealed them from view.
The door had been opened by the footman, ushering in a broad-shouldered man, who was carrying a travelling-bag and an umbrella in his hand.Dropping into an arm-chair before the curtain, he waved away the footman, who, even now, mechanically repeated a previously vain attempt to relieve the stranger of his luggage.
"You leave that 'ere grip sack where it is, young man, and tell Sir Robert Mainwaring that Mr. Demander Sharpe, of Californy, wishes to see him--on business--on BUSINESS, do ye' hear?You hang onter that sentence--on BUSINESS! it's about ez much ez you kin carry, I reckon, and leave that grip sack alone."
From behind the curtain Bradley made a sudden movement to go forward; but Lady Canterbridge--now quite pale but collected--restrained him with a warning movement of her hand.Sir Robert's stick and halting step were next heard along the passage, and he entered the room.His simple and courteous greeting of the stranger was instantly followed by a renewed attack upon the "grip sack," and a renewed defence of it by the stranger.
"No, Sir Robert," said the voice argumentatively, "this yer's a BUSINESS interview, and until it's over--if YOU please--we'll remain ez we air.I'm Demander Sharpe, of Californy, and I and my darter, Minty, oncet had the pleasure of knowing your boy over thar, and of meeting him agin the other day at Nice."
"I think," said Sir Robert's voice gently, "that these are not the only claims you have upon me.I have only a day or two ago heard from Mr. Bradley that I owe to your generous hands and your disinterested liberality the saving of my California fortune."
