" He pointed to the east wing.
"One can see now what a jolly old place it is," said Tatham, pausing in
the gateway to survey the scene.
Backhouse grinned responsively.
"I do believe, my lord, Muster Melrose hissel' is pleased. He stood a
lang while lookin' at it this morning, afore he started oot."
"Well, no one can deny it's an improvement!" laughed Tatham, as he walked
toward the house.
Dixon had already opened the door. Slave and factotum of Melrose as he
was, he shared the common liking of the neighbourhood for young Lord
Tatham. Two of his brothers were farmers on the Duddon estate; and one
of them owed his recovery from a dangerous and obscure illness to the
fact that, at the critical moment, Tatham had brought over a specialist
from Leeds to see him, paying all expenses. These things--and others
besides--were reflected in the rather tremulous smile with which Dixon
received the visitor.
"Mr. Faversham expects me?"
"Aye, aye, my lord." The old man quickly led the way through the front
hall, more quickly than Tatham's curiosity liked. He had time to notice,
however, the domed and decorated ceiling, the classical mantelpiece, with
its medallions and its pillars of Sienese marble, a couple of bold
Renaissance cabinets on either side, and a central table, resting on
carved sphinxes, such as one might find in the _sala_ of a Venetian
palace.
But as they turned into the corridor or gallery Tatham's exclamation
brought Dixon to a halt.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180