mellow with the richness of the South. Her English was perhaps slow and
a trifle stilted, but King’s English for all that.
“I was sent by Her Ladyship to ask you, Sir Henry, whether there was
aught you needed before we take our usual walk round the improvements on
the Castle grounds. They await me with the flower baskets upon the
terrace, where the peacocks walk.”
“Then take Doctor Syn with you, child, and become the better
acquainted yourselves, or with Lady Pembury’s help,” replied Sir Henry.
“But is there aught you can do for me, you say? Aye, there is. Two
requests to one man. Summon that rascally old butler of mine and tell
him that Sir Henry would take the physic ordered him by the Doctor
Sennacherib Pepper. It is, tell him, a full flagon of sherry sack, and
in it, my dear young friends, I shall drink to your good healths. I am
sure, too, Senorita, that you will remember enough of our English to
inform him that Doctor Syn, your escort here, is consenting to stay with
us for dinner.”
Doctor Syn bowed his thanks to the Squire of Lympne, saying, “I am
neither impertinent enough nor so stupid as to disobey your orders,
sir.” Then, turning to the girl and offering her his arm, added, “May I
help you, Senorita, to find the butler and deliver Sir Henry’s
commands?”
The young Doc tor, knowing the Castle well, escorted his beautiful
charge on air to the pantries, where he delivered the Squire’s messages.
He then took pains to take a roundabout way to the terrace, finding, to
his great relief, that Lady Pembury and the Spanish widow had left it
solitary but for the peacocks.
Imogene, who, owing to her father’s death and the strangeness of a
foreign land, had been considered reserved and shy, found herself
talking more freely than she had though possible to this young scholar.
And Doctor Syn, who had been so often rallied by his friend Tony for not
attempting a success amongst the ladies, realized that in this young
girl was a cure for all his shyness and aloofness. He knew also that in
her companionship he could be more than comp ensated for the loss of
parents and relatives that had forced his young life into a loneliness
that was unnatural.
Now, like all good Marshmen, Doctor Syn had been bred to understand
their natural enemy, the sea: the sea which angrily waited to destroy
the great
- 12 -
seawall which kept their pastures safe. He was a fine swimmer, and
knew something of sail, of tides and winds. But he confessed afterwards
to Tony Cobtree that he had never been so proud of his skill in
navigation as he was that morning in successfully avoiding a meeting in
the wide grounds of Lympne with Lady Pembury and the girl’s mother. No
sooner did he descry them in the distance than he tacked away on another
course which kept himself and his consort on a uninterrupted steering.
Therefore, by the time he exchanged greetings with the elder ladies on
their return to the Castle, the two young people had learned a good deal
about each other.
Having spent many happy years at the University, and knowing the
best families in the district, Doctor Syn was naturally interested to
know what house they were visiting in Oxford. The daughter, who spoke
English more fluently than her mother, explained that they were bound to
Iffley, on the outskirts of the town, and were to reside there with the
Squire until such time as certain business connected with her father’s
will could be settled. The Squire’s nephew, on Nicholas Tappitt, had
secured an important position under the British Ambassador at Madrid.
Through some unfair treatment, as the girl pointed out sympathetically,
the young man had lost his post, and having a liking for Spain as well
as for the sea, he had enlisted the influence of Senor Almago, who
provided him with a ship in which to carry his own fruit -produce to
England and the Netherlands. In this way Nicholas, for whom they seemed
to have a liking, was able to remain in Spain in spite of his lost
position. “My dear father believed in Nicholas,” said the girl. “And
whatever the trouble many have been at the Embassy, we w ere all
convinced that Nicholas was not to blame.”
Doctor Syn, knowing something of the said Nicholas, though otherwise,
for this plausible young rascal had been sent down from his college
owing to an unsavory scandal connected with a serving-wrench. H e kept
his opinion, though allowing himself to consider Imogene’s fine sympathy
wasted on such a rapscallion.
Hearing that Doctor Syn was acquainted with Squire Tappitt, the
Spanish ladies pressed him for information concerning him and the Iffley
estate. Here the young Doctor found himself in an awkward dilemma, for
certainly what he knew of the uncle was a good deal more unpalatable
than his knowledge of the nephew, for, known as Bully Tappitt, the
Iffley Squire was shunned by all God -fearing people in the
neighbourhood. Coarse, and brutally strong, with the worst reputation
where women were concerned, he was the last man Doctor Syn would have
wished to play the host towards his new-found friend and already adored
Imogene. So he answered all their questions concerning Iffley and the
Squire as evasively as possible, inwardly rejoicing that he was to be
their escort, and determined that they should transact any necessary
business with the Squire of Iffley from some quiet lodgings in the town,
where he and Tony could keep protective watch.
During dinner, set out on a round table, where Doctor Syn sat between
Lady Pembury and the Spanish girl, the latter talked so much about
Nicholas that the young cleric for the first time in his life suffered
the worst pangs of jealousy. She afforded him the acutest agony as she
recounted the many churches, parties and theatres to which the rascal
has escorted her. She told him how very fond she was of him, how vastly
he amused her with his funny ways, how much she admired his adventurous
spirit in becoming a businessman after his forced failure as a diplomat.
“But I loved him best,” she said—“oh yes, very much indeed—when he
told me he was desperately in love with me, but even better still when
he most solemnly asked me to marry him.”
- 13 -
With his spirits at the lowest ebb, Doctor Syn managed to ask her, “And
what did you answer?”
“I?” she whispered. “Why, I laughed in his face. I told him that my
very life would be in danger from all the other women he had put the
same question to that very day. And it is true. He has a way with him.
But oh, too reckless! They say that when he goes up to woo a lady in
her drawing-room, he will make proposals to the serving-maid upon the
stairs. He is a rake, m y dear sir.”
“I admit he was when I knew him,” returned Syn. “And so neither of
you took the proposal very seriously, I take it?” he added, with his
heart much lighter.
“He did,” she laughed. “At one time he was so serious in his
protestations that he ran out of our house to the nearest church,
embraced the Catholic Faith, and was surprised that such devotion did
not sway me. But how could I marry a man who would forget the fact
whenever he saw another petticoat in view?”
“Also you would not think of marrying a fool,” whispered Doctor Syn.
“And the man who, having once seen you, could think of another woman
would prove himself the worst of fools, in my thinking.”
“That is very kindly put,” she answered. “But, do you know, I think
that you are even quicker than poor Nicholas in saying the pretty
thing.”
“But I have never said a pretty thing to a lady before in all my
life,” he replied. “And except to you, I never shall. From the first
moment I saw you in the doorway, I knew well that I love d you. I do
love you, and for me there will be no other woman.”
“Then may I ask you a favour—a great favour?” she whispered.
“I will do anything for you,” he whispered back. “What is it?”
“That you will tell me that again when we are alone beneath the
stars? Will you?”
“When? Soon?”
“I hope so, “ she breathed back gently.
Now it was easier than might be imagined for these two young lovers
to whisper about such intimate things. First the girl’s mother, who sat
directly opposite, was slow to understand English, and both her host and
hostess had moved their chairs as close to hers as possible, so that
they could speak the plainer in her ears. Also Sir Henry, who was
secretly enjoying this ripening love affair, tactfully moved a large
bowl of flowers, which screened their faces into a comparative privacy,
and of this Doctor Syn certainly made the best advantage, for just
before Lady Pembury suggested that they should retire to the drawing room and leave the gentlemen to their port, he had taken Imogene’s hand
in his beneath the table, had felt an answering pressure to his own, and
then seen, to his utmost joy, her lips frame silently the words, “I love
you too.”
Then, owing to Sir Henry’s gout, he claimed the privilege of
escorting the ladies to the door, and since the girl was last to leave,
he managed to whisper without the butler hearing, “Upon the terrace.
Soon. Beneath the stars.”
And the look she gave him was assent.
All very romantic, and cleverly done. But Doctor Syn had really no
cause to think, as he did, that he had deceived not only Sir Henry, but
the butler; for as he gazed after the girl until she disappeared into
the drawing-room,
Sir Henry was guilty of bestowing a solemn wink upon the ancient and
stately man-servant, who respectfully and solemnly returned the wink to
his master.
- 14 -
But of this Doctor Syn was ignorant, as he returned to the table and,
picking up his glass, toasted “All beneath the roof of Lympne Castle.”
“Sit down here, Doctor,” said the Squire of Lympne. “I told you that
you seemed to be the sort of young man who can get what he wants, and I
am most eager to help you.”
“That is very good of you, sir,” replied Doctor Syn, with a smile of
gratitude.
“I suggest,” continued Sir Henry, “that I despatch one of my stablemen down to Dymchurch with a note from me to say that you are staying
the night with us here, for it has occurred to me that the evenings
being still long, the stars may be plaguey late coming out upon the
terrace.”
“Faith, sir,” laughed the Doctor, “either I talk too loud, or your
hearing is very acute.”
“Or your speaking is always clear, even in whisperings,” said Sir
Henry. “But listen to my further suggestions, and see if they commend
themselves to you. Tomorrow you will escort the lady and her Spanish
companions to Dymchurch, and make them acquainted with our good friends,
the Cobtrees. Sir Charles, being your guardian, will no doubt be glad
of the opportunity of looking well upon the face and person of the
Senorita, for I may drop such a hint to him in my letter. I then
suggest that while he talks with our Spanish ladies, you take the
opportunity of packing up your traps and having them put into the boot
of my coach. I then suggest that you persuade the Cobtrees how very
essential it is for you to return to Lympne and finish your vacation
with us. Young Cobtree will certainly excuse you, since he must be in
the same frame of mind which your visit to Lympne has framed you in too.
My further suggestion is that, since the Senorita is a keen horsewoman,
and owing to the fact that your whisperings inside the coach might be
too clear, you two shall ride behind the coach at a distance sufficient
to avoid the dust of the wheels. I mention the back of the coach in
order that my good coachman shall have nothing to distract his attention
from the horses before him. And now, if you are in agreement, bring me
those writing materials, and I will pen the letter on the table here.
But let me first recharge our glasses, and drink to Doctor Syn, and one
other that shall be nameless.”
“And to our kind host,” replied the Doctor.
“And since I like to be undisturbed when toiling with the pen,” went
on Sir Henry, “I suggest that when you have helped me finish this
bottle, you rejoin the ladies in the drawing -room.”
Before carrying out this last suggestion, Doctor Syn unfolded his
anxiety concerning the Squire of Iffley, telling Sir Henry in confidence
all that he knew of the uncle and the nephew.
To this, Sir Henry listened gravely, and then asked, “How long is it
since you visited these Tappitt people, then?”
“For nearly a year I have avoided Iffley,” replied Syn. “I formed
the opinion they were not the sort of people with whom a
clerical official of my college should be associated. I have too many
young and impressionable youths under my charge, and have to set them an
example. Warning them against such rakes as the Tappitts, I had in all
honesty to take the warning to myself.”
“And have you heard nothing of the uncle since?” asked Sir Henry.
“Nothing to his credit, believe me, sir.”
“You tell me that he had a bad reputation where women are concerned,”
went on Sir Henry. “But when you knew him, he was a bachelor, I
understand.”
“He certainly had no wife to insult with the presence of the many
questionable ladies that resorted there.”
- 15 -
“Then, since a woman can so often change a man for the better,” said
Sir Henry, “perhaps even Bully Tappitt has mend his ways. I have a
letter here that you may read. The Senora had another couched in the
same terms. As you see, this is addressed to Lady Pembury and myself,
telling us what a pleasure it will be to receive our Spanish guests, and
asking when they may expect them. It is signed, as you see, by Elinor
Tappitt, wife to the Squire of Iffley.”
Saying which, he handed the parson a letter which he took from his
pocket.
Doctor Syn read the letter through, and then glanced up at Sir Henry.
“Well, sir,” he said, “at the risk of seeming suspicious and perhaps
uncharitable, I believe this letter to be false.
“The Squire of Iffley thinks, quite rightly, that if our Spanish
ladies realize he is a bachelor and has no wife to welcome and protect
them, they would decline to sojourn under his roof. This would not suit
Bully Tappitt. He needs money for his gaming, and if he can get our
friends into his power he will do what he likes with their money. Now,
I know a landlady in Oxford of the strictest integrity, where our
friends could be lodged most comfortable, and I suggest, sir, in my
turn, that we shall be fortunate in having Tony Cobtree in our company,
for since he has already been called to the Bar, his advice on any
document that may be presented to the ladies for signature will be of
the greatest help.”
“And the very nature of his journey will keep him in Oxford some
time, no doubt,” laughed Sir Henry. “Well, my lad, since you are to be
the ladies’ escort, this Squire of Iffley be contemplating any rascally
tricks, I warrant you and young Cobtree will be more than a match for