Jeanne of the Marshes | Page 9

to-morrow
morning."
"I think," the Princess declared softly, "that we will come. Don't think
me rude if I say that we could not possibly be more bored than we are
in London. I do not want to take Jeanne to any of the country
house-parties we have been invited to. You know why. She really is

such a child, and I am afraid that if she gets any wrong ideas about
things she may want to go back to the convent. She has hinted at it
more than once already."
"There will be nothing of that sort at Salt-house," Cecil de la Borne
declared eagerly. "You see, I sha'n't have any guests at all except just
yourselves. Don't you think that would be best?"
"I do, indeed," the Princess assented, "and mind, you are not to make
any special preparations for us. For my part, I simply want a little rest
before we go abroad again, and we really want to come to you feeling
the same way that one leaves one's home for lodgings in a farmhouse.
You will understand this, won't you, Cecil?" she added earnestly,
laying her fingers upon his arm, "or we shall not come."
"It shall be just as you say," he answered. "As a matter of fact the Red
Hall is little more than a large farmhouse, and there is very little
preparation which I could make for you in a day or a day and a half.
You shall come and see how a poor English countryman lives, whose
lands and income have shrivelled up together. If you are dull you will
not blame me, I know, for all that you have to do is to go away."
The Princess rose and put out her hand.
"It is settled, then," she declared. "Thank you, dear Mr. Host, for your
very delightful dinner. Jeanne and I have to go on to Harlingham House
for an hour or two, the last of these terrible entertainments, I am glad to
say. Do send me a note round in the morning, with the exact name of
your house, and some idea of the road we must follow, so that we do
not get lost. I suppose you two," she added, turning to Forrest and Lord
Ronald, "will not mind starting a day or two before we had planned?"
"Not in the least," they assured her.
"And Miss Le Mesurier?" Cecil de la Borne asked. "Will she really not
mind giving up some of these wonderful entertainments?"
Jeanne smiled upon him brilliantly. It was a smile which came so

seldom, and which, when it did come, transformed her face so utterly,
that she seemed like a different person.
"I shall be very glad, indeed," she said, "to leave London. I am looking
forward so much to seeing what the English country is like."
"It will make me very happy," Cecil de la Borne said, bowing over her
hand, "to try and show you."
Her eyes seemed to pass through him, to look out of the crowded room,
as though indeed they had found their way into some corner of the
world where the things which make life lie. It was a lapse from which
she recovered almost immediately, but when she looked at him, and
with a little farewell nod withdrew her hand, the transforming gleam
had passed away.
"And there is the sea, too," she remarked, looking backwards as they
passed out. "I am longing to see that again."

CHAPTER III
Perhaps there was never a moment in the lives of these two men when
their utter and radical dissimilarity, physically as well as in the larger
ways, was more strikingly and absolutely manifest. Like a great sea
animal, huge, black-bearded, bronzed, magnificent, but uncouth,
Andrew de la Borne, in the oilskins and overalls of a village fisherman,
stood in the great bare hall in front of the open fireplace, reckless of his
drippings, at first only mildly amused by the half cynical, half angry
survey of the very elegant young man who had just descended the
splendid oak staircase, with its finely carved balustrade, black and
worm-eaten, Cecil de la Borne stared at his brother with the angry
disgust of one whose sense of all that is holiest stands outraged. Slim,
of graceful though somewhat undersized figure, he was conscious of
having attained perfection in matters which he reckoned of no small
importance. His grey tweed suit fitted him like a glove, his tie was a
perfect blend between the colour of his eyes and his clothes, his shoes

were of immaculate shape and polish, his socks had been selected with
care in the Rue de la Paix. His hair was brushed until it shone with the
proper amount of polish, his nails were perfectly manicured, even his