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Updated: May 12, 2025
A great restlessness was upon her, and she thought the walk to the post-office would do her good. She came upon Jeffcott in one of the shrubberies, and he stopped her with the freedom of an old servant. "Beggin' your pardon, missie, but you'll let me wish you joy?" he said. "I heard the good news this morning." She stood still.
It was thus she rendered inviolate that inner sanctuary of memory which none might enter. As she passed along the terrace in the golden glow, the slight frown was still upon her brow. It had been such a difficult time. Her one ray of comfort had been the thought of Guy, dear, faithful lover working for her far away. And now old Jeffcott had cast a shade even upon that.
Then they went out into the playing-fields, where a cricket-match was going forward. Jack Bouldon pointed out some of their crack players with no little pride. "There's Jeffcott; he's at my tutor's," he observed. "The tall fellow with the light hair; he's just going in. Did you see how beautifully Strangeways was caught out? See! Jeffcott is certain of making a good hit. I knew it!
"Lor!" ejaculated old Jeffcott again. "But wherever could they have got to, Miss Sylvia? Don't Bliss have the sortin' of the letters?" "I don't know." Sylvia was gazing straight before her with that in her face which frightened the old man. "Those letters have been kept back." She turned from him with the words, and suddenly she was running, running swiftly up the path.
"Certainly it cannot. Mother must look after her own house soon." "I would speak to her to-day, Sophia. She has had six weeks now to arrange her plans, and next month I want to begin and put the house into decent condition. I think I will write to London this afternoon, and tell Jeffcott to send the polishers and painters on the 15th of March."
Jeffcott was a faithful old servant, but he could be very exasperating when he liked. The gardens were bathed in the evening sunlight as she passed through them on her way to the house. The old Manor stood out grey and ancient against an opal sky. She looked up at it with loving eyes. Her home meant very much to Sylvia Ingleton.
I'm not going to take up with anyone, unless it's Mr. Guy Ranger. You don't seem to realize that we've been engaged all this time." "Ah!" said old Jeffcott, looking sardonic. "And you not met for five years! Do you ever wonder to yourself what sort of a man he may be after five years, Miss Sylvia? It's a long time for a young man to keep in love at a distance. It's a very long time."
He'll get two runs at least. There's Osbaldiston, the fellow who is in with him. It's worth watching him. He's even a better player than Jeffcott, though he is still so young. There! I knew it! What a grand hit! Run! run! three times, you'll do it! Capital! He's at my tutor's. A first-rate fellow, and expects to be one of the eleven next half."
"What a pity now as you couldn't take up with young Mr. Eversley or that Mr. Preston over the way, or or any of them young gents with a bit of property as might be judged suitable!" Sylvia's laugh rang through the vinery, a gay, infectious laugh. "Oh, really, Jeffcott! You talk as if I had only got to drop my handkerchief for the whole countryside to rush to pick it up!
His friendly look went straight to her heart, stirring in her an urgent need for sympathy. "Oh, Jeffcott," she said, "I'd never have given in if Mr. Ranger hadn't stopped writing." "Lor!" said Jeffcott. "Did he now?" He frowned for an instant. "But -didn't you have a letter from him last week?" he questioned. "Friday morning it were.
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