That same evening he left them in high spirits, and without any pretence of decent regret for the death of one whom he had never seen. It would be untrue to say that Hester was not interested in the news. She and Vavasor had been so much thrown together, and in circumstances so favourable to intimacy, that she could hardly have been a woman at all and not care what might happen to him. Neither was she altogether indifferent to the idea of wearing a distinguished historical name, or of occupying an exalted position in the eyes of the world. Her nature was not yet so thoroughly possessed with the things that are as distinguished from the things that only appear, as not to feel some pleasure in being a countess of this world, while waiting the inheritance of the saints in light. Of course this was just as far unworthy of her as it is unworthy of any one who has seen the hid treasure not to have sold all that he has to buy it—not to have counted, with Paul, everything but dross to the winning of Christ—not even worth being picked up on the way as he presses towards the mark of the high calling

But I must say this for her, she thought of it first of all as a buttressing help to the labour which, come what might, it remained her chief hope to follow among her poor friends in London. To be a countess would make many things easier for her, she thought. Little she knew how immeasurably more difficult it would make it to do anything whatever worth doing!

So, again, the days passed quietly. Mark grew a little better. Hester wrote brief but regular bulletins to the major, which were seldom acknowledged. The new earl wrote that he had been to the funeral, and described, with would-be humour, the house and lands to which he had fallen heir. The house might, he said, with unlimited money, be made fit to live in, but what was left of the estate was merely a savage mountain.

20. An Unpleasant Interview

—Twenty —

An Unpleasant Interview

Mr. Raymount went to London now and then but never stayed long. In the autumn he had his books brought to Yrndale, saying in London he could always get what books he wanted, but must have his own about him in the country. When they were all accommodated and arranged to his mind, he began to feel for the first time in his life as if he had a permanent home, and talked of selling the house in Addison Square.