At Loves Cost | Page 4

as, the mists still rising, was discovered on the
slope of the other side a long and extremely ornate building, the pure
whiteness of which was reflected in the marvellous blue and opal of the
lake. "Can that be Sir Stephen's 'little place'?"
"I'm afraid it is," said Stafford. "It looks like the governor," he added,
with a touch of gravity.
"Well, it's very big, or, rather, long; and it's very white, but one's bound
to admit that it doesn't spoil the landscape," said Howard; "in fact,
standing there amidst the dark-green trees, with its pinnacles and
terraces, it's rather an ornament than otherwise. I suppose there are
flowers on those velvety lawns; and the interior, I'll wager my life,
matches the exterior. Fortunate youth to possess a Croesus for a father:"
"Yes; I suppose the governor must be tremendously oafish," said
Stafford.
"The man who can build such a palace as that, and have the cool cheek
to call it 'a little place,' must in common decency be a
multi-millionaire."
Stafford nodded and smoked thoughtfully for a minute as Pottinger left
the horses' heads and climbed into his seat behind, and the
mail-phaeton moved along the road, which began to dip down at this
point.
"I know so little about my father," he said again.
"And yet the world knows so much," remarked Howard, throwing open
his waterproof and basking in the sun which shone as warmly and
unreservedly as if it had never heard of such a thing as rain. "One can't
take up the paper without seeing some mention of Sir Stephen Orme's

great name. One day he is in Paris negotiating a state loan; another you
read he is annexing, appropriating, or whatever you call it, a vast tract
in Africa or Asia; on the third you are informed with all solemnity that
he has become director of a new bank, insurance company, or one of
those vast concerns in which only Rothschilds and Barings can disport
themselves. Now and again you are informed that Sir Stephen Orme
has been requested to stand for an important constituency, but that he
was compelled to decline because of the pressure of his numerous
affairs. There may be a more famous and important individual in the
world than your father, my dear Stafford, but I can't call him to mind at
this moment."
"Chaff away," said Stafford, good-humouredly. "At any rate, he has
been a jolly liberal father to me. Did I tell you that just before he came
home be placed a largish sum at his bank for me; I mean over and
above my allowance?"
"You didn't tell me, but I'm not at all surprised," responded Howard. "A
truly wonderful father, and a model to all other parents. Would that I
possessed such a one. You don't remember your mother, Stafford?"
The young fellow's handsome face softened for an instant; and his
voice was low and grave as he replied:
"No--and yet sometimes I fancy that I do; though, seeing that she died
when I was quite a kid, it must be only fancy. I wish she'd lived," his
voice became still lower; "I wish I had a brother, or a sister, especially
a sister--By George! that's a fine stream! Did you see that fish jump,
Howard?"
"No, I was too much occupied in jumping myself. I thought by your
exclamation that something had happened to the carriage or the horses,
and that we were on the verge of a smash-up. Let it jump if it amuses
it."
"So it may--if I don't catch it," said Stafford, pulling up the horses near
the bank of the stream.

"Do you mean to tell me that you are going to fish?" demanded Howard,
with a groan. "My dear Stafford, I know that being that abominable
thing--a sportsman--you are consequently mad; but you might have the
decency to curb your insanity out of consideration for the wretched
man who has the misfortune to be your companion, and who plainly
sees that this period of sunshine is a gilded fraud, and that presently it
will rain again like cats and dogs."
Stafford laughed. He had got down and dragged out a rod and a
fishing-basket.
"Sorry, old chap," he said, "but no fisherman could lose such a chance
as this, even to save his best friend from rheumatic fever. I thought we
should come across a stream or two, and I put on these togs
accordingly." He wore a Norfolk suit of that wonderful Harris tweed
which, strange to say, keeps out the rain, the heat, and the cold; and
flies were stuck in his cap of the same material. "But, look here, there's
no need for me to keep you; Pottinger will drive you to this place,
Carysford, where we stay the