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But on Margaret Oniton was destined to make a lasting impression. She regarded it as her future home, and was anxious to start straight with the clergy, etc., and, if possible, to see something of the local life. It was a market-town as tiny a one as England possesses and had for ages served that lonely valley, and guarded our marches against the Kelt.
One might; but he was only gaining time for a plausible answer. Out it came, and he believed it as soon as it was spoken. "The truth is, I took Oniton on account of Evie. Don't let this go any further." "Certainly not." "I shouldn't like her to know that she nearly let me in for a very bad bargain. No sooner did I sign the agreement than she got engaged. Poor little girl!
No Pagan he, who lives for the Now, and may be wiser than all philosophers. He lived for the five minutes that have past, and the five to come; he had the business mind. How did he stand now, as his motor slipped out of Oniton and breasted the great round hills? Margaret had heard a certain rumour, but was all right. She had forgiven him, God bless her, and he felt the manlier for it.
Standing up in the car, just where she had leapt from it two days before, she gazed back with deep emotion upon Oniton. Besides the Grange and the Castle keep, she could now pick out the church and the black-and-white gables of the George. There was the bridge, and the river nibbling its green peninsula.
To him thus employed Helen entered. A telegram had preceded her. He noticed, in a distant way, that his sister had altered. As a rule he found her too pronounced, and had never come across this look of appeal, pathetic yet dignified the look of a sailor who has lost everything at sea. "I have come from Oniton," she began. "There has been a great deal of trouble there."
Oniton had been a discovery of Mr. Wilcox's a discovery of which he was not altogether proud. It was up towards the Welsh border, and so difficult of access that he had concluded it must be something special. A ruined castle stood in the grounds. But having got there, what was one to do? The shooting was bad, the fishing indifferent, and women-folk reported the scenery as nothing much.
Lastly the river appeared, still holding the mists between its banks and its overhanging alders, and only visible as far as a hill, which cut off its upper reaches. Margaret was fascinated by Oniton. She had said that she loved it, but it was rather its romantic tension that held her.
Maids, courier, heavy luggage, had already gone on by a branch-line to a station nearer Oniton, but there were five hat-boxes and four dressing-bags to be packed, and five dust-cloaks to be put on, and to be put off at the last moment, because Charles declared them not necessary. The men presided over everything with unfailing good-humour.
Wilcox known of his trespass? An interesting question, but Margaret fell asleep, tethered by affection, and lulled by the murmurs of the river that descended all the night from Wales. She felt herself at one with her future home, colouring it and coloured by it, and awoke to see, for the second time, Oniton Castle conquering the morning mists. "Henry dear " was her greeting.
"I loved the place extraordinarily. Don't you believe in having a permanent home, Henry?" He assured her that she misunderstood him. It is home life that distinguishes us from the foreigner. But he did not believe in a damp home. "This is news. I never heard till this minute that Oniton was damp." "My dear girl!" he flung out his hand "have you eyes? have you a skin?
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