Tatham
knew very well that there was no one in the county who was more rigidly
tied to caste or rank. But he was kind always to the outsider--kind
therefore to Lydia. Good heavens!--as if there was any one at the table
fit to tie her shoe-string!
His pulses raced. The heat, the golden evening, the flowers, all the
lavish colour and scents of nature, seemed to be driving him toward
speech--toward some expression of himself, which must be risked, even if
it lead him to disaster.
* * * * *
The dinner which appeared to Tatham interminable, and was really so
short, by Victoria's orders, that Squire Andover felt resentfully he had
had nothing to eat, at last broke up. The gentlemen lingered smoking on
the loggia. The ladies dispersed through the garden, and Delorme--after a
look round the male company--quietly went with them. So did the gentleman
in the dinner jacket and black tie. Tatham, impatiently doing his duty as
host, could only follow the fugitives with his eyes, their pale silks
and muslins, among the flowers and under the trees.
But his guests, over their cigars, were busy with some local news, and,
catching Faversham's name, Tatham presently recalled his thoughts
sufficiently to listen to what was being said. The topic, naturally, was
Faversham's appointment. Every landowner there was full of it. He had
been seen in Brampton on market day driving in a very decent motor; and
since his accession he had succeeded in letting two or three of the
derelict farms, on a promise of repairs and improvements which had been
at last wrung out of Melrose.
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