Had Miss Diana expressed her intention of purchasing ten ponies for Rupert, it would have made no impression then on Chattaway. In his terrible suspense and fear, a pony more or less was an insignificant thing, and he received the announcement in silence, to the intense surprise of Miss Diana, who had expected to see him turn round in a blaze of anger.
"Well? Quite well. I--I over-heated myself riding, and--and feel quite chilly now. What should hinder my being well?" he continued, resentfully.
"I say I shall buy a pony for Rupert. Those walks to Blackstone are too much for him. I think it must be that which is making him feel so ill."
"I wish you'd not bother me!" peevishly rejoined Chattaway. "Buy it, if you like. What do I care?"
"I'll thank you to be civil to _me_, Mr. Chattaway," said Miss Diana, with emphasis. "It is of no use your being put out about this business of Cris and the accident; and that's what you are, I suppose. Fretting over it won't mend it."
Mr. Chattaway caught at the mistake. "It was such an idiotic trick, to put an untried horse into harness, and let it smash the dog-cart!" he cried. "Cris did it in direct disobedience, too. I had told him he should not buy that horse."
"Cris does many things in disobedience," calmly rejoined Miss Diana. "I hope it has not injured Edith."
A ring at the hall-bell--a loud, long, imperative ring--and Mr. Chattaway's voice abruptly stopped. _He_ stopped: stopped and stood stock still in the middle of the room, eyes and ears open, his whole senses on the alert. A prevision rushed over him that the messenger of evil had come.
"Are you expecting any one?" inquired Miss Diana.
"Be still, can't you?" almost shrieked Chattaway. Her voice hindered his listening.
They were opening the hall-door, and Chattaway's face was turning livid. James came into the room.
"A gentleman, sir, is asking to see Mr. Rupert."
"What gentleman?" interposed Miss Diana, before Chattaway could move or look.
"I don't know him, ma'am. He seems strange to the place; has a white beard, and looks foreign."
"When I opened the door, first, ma'am, he asked if he could see young Squire Trevlyn; so I wanted to know who he meant, and said my master, Mr. Chattaway, was the Squire, and he replied that he meant Master Rupert, the son of Squire Trevlyn's heir, Mr. Joe, who had died abroad. He is waiting, ma'am."