The Quiet Gentleman

His recovery from the effects of his wound was speedy enough to astonish everyone but the Viscount. Having once left his room, he showed no signs of suffering a relapse; and it was not many days before he was taking the air on horseback. On these gentle expeditions he was invariably accompanied by Ulverston, who refused to be shaken off even when the Earl’s intention was merely to return Mr. and Mrs. Morville’s call. Under these circumstances it was scarcely surprising that the visit should have passed without the exchange of anything but civilities. Lord Ulverston rattled on in his usual style; and the Earl, although primed by his friend with a description of that one of Mrs. Morville’s novels which he had been obliged by circumstances to read, and which he said was a devilish prosy book about a dead bore of a girl who never did anything but struggle against adversity, and moralize about it, wisely chose to confine his conversation with his hostess to the military career of her elder son. Nor did he make the mistake of attempting to hoax Mr. Morville into believing that he had ever so much as looked between the covers of one of his interesting histories, a piece of rare good sense which caused Mr. Morville slightly to temper his first criticism of him. He still said that he was a frippery young fashionable, whose exquisite tailoring bore every evidence of extravagance, but he now added, in a fair-minded spirit, that he was not such an empty-headed jackanapes as he looked.

Mrs. Morville fully appreciated the worth of this tribute, which, indeed, set the Earl considerably above either Captain Jack Morville, of the — th Foot, or Mr. Tom Morville, Scholar of Queens’ College, Cambridge, but it did not greatly elevate her spirits. She sighed, and said: “One cannot wonder at Drusilla, but I dare not suppose that her regard is returned. I perceive that his manners are so universally pleasing that I cannot but dread lest she may be refining too much upon what, with him, is the merest civility. I do not scruple to say, my dear sir, that his air, his address, and his person are all so exactly what must cause any girl in the possession of her senses to fall in love with him, that I quite despair! Do you think, Mr. Morville, that he betrays any decided partiality for Drusilla?”

“No,” responded her life’s partner unequivocally. “Not that I have given the matter a thought, for I believe it to be one of your fancies, my dear.”

Mrs. Morville might have been cheered had she known that she was not quite the only person to suspect the Earl of forming an attachment. Whether because his own thoughts were largely occupied by the tender passion, or because he knew his friend better than did anyone else at Stanyon, the lively Viscount had already cocked a knowing eye in his direction. In a burst of confidence, engendered in him by the Stanyon port, he had even dropped a hint in the Chaplain’s ear.

Mr. Clowne, much startled, exclaimed: “Indeed, if you are right, my lord, I must think it an excellent thing, for I have often thought that Miss Morville would most worthily fill a great position! But I fear — that is, I am sure! — that her ladyship has quite other plans for her stepson!”

The Viscount was amused. “Daresay she has. I wish I may see Ger letting her, or Theo, or me, or — damme, or anyone! — manage his affairs for him! Trouble is, my dear sir, you none of you know Ger!”

“I own, my lord, that that suspicion has once or twice occurred to me,” admitted Mr. Clowne.

“Any other suspicions occurred to you?” asked the Viscount abruptly. “You don’t say much, but it wouldn’t surprise me if you saw more than you’re prepared to blab. What about this man Martin Frant has hired?”

Mr. Clowne, feeling that he was being towed out of his depth, said: “Oh, I feel sure your lordship need not consider Leek! To be sure, he is not to be compared with Studley, but I understand how it was! Mr. Martin, you know, is careless in his dress, but he dislikes to have strangers about him, and I daresay he was glad to hire Hickling’s uncle, when it was suggested to him. Truly, a rough fellow, but I have always found him respectful, and anxious to conform to our ways at Stanyon!”

“Well,” said the Viscount bluntly, “if I had a valet who was always to be found where he had least business, I’d very soon send him packing!”

“My lord!” said the Chaplain, much perturbed. “Your words rouse the gravest apprehensions in my mind!”

“Try if you may rouse them in St. Erth’s mind!” recommended the Viscount. “I can’t! He will only laugh!”

He spoke gloomily, for he had failed most signally to bring home to the Earl a sense of the danger in which he stood. All Gervase would say was that he found Leek a constant refreshment.

“Ger, it’s my belief the fellow spies on you!”