In person he was moderately tall, with dark grizzled hair, agreeable features and a moustache.  Among his aristocratic relations whom he met in London, the men thought him a little dishevelled and old-fashioned; the women pronounced him interesting and “a dear.”  His manners were generally admired, except by captious persons who held that such a fact was of itself enough to condemn them; and he was welcome in many English and some foreign circles.  For he travelled every spring, and was well acquainted with the famous places of Europe.  It need only be added that he had a somewhat severe taste in music, and could render both Bach and Handel on the piano with success.

His property was only some six miles distant from Martindale Park, the Gaddesdens’ home.  During the preceding winter he had become a frequent visitor at Martindale, while Elizabeth Merton was staying with her mother and brother, and a little ripple of talk had begun to flow through the district.  Delaine, very fastidious where personal dignity was concerned, could not make up his mind either to be watched or laughed at.  He would have liked to woo—­always supposing that wooing there was to be—­with a maximum of dignity and privacy, surrounded by a friendly but not a forcing atmosphere.  But Elizabeth Merton was a great favourite in her own neighbourhood, and people became impatient.  Was it to be a marriage or was it not?

As soon as he felt this enquiry in the air, Mr. Delaine went abroad—­abruptly—­about a month before Elizabeth and her brother started for Canada.  It was said that he had gone to Italy; but some few persons knew that it was his intention to start from Genoa for the United States, in order that he might attend a celebration at Harvard University in honour of a famous French Hellenist, who had covered himself with glory in Delaine’s eyes by identifying a number of real sites with places mentioned in the Odyssey.  Nobody, however, knew but himself, that, when that was done, he meant to join the brother and sister on part of their Canadian journey, and that he hoped thereby to become better acquainted with Elizabeth Merton than was possible—­for a man at least of his sensitiveness—­under the eyes of an inquisitive neighbourhood.

For this step Lady Merton’s consent was of course necessary.  He had accordingly written from Boston to ask if it would be agreeable to them that he should go with them through the Rockies.  The proposal was most natural.  The Delaines and Gaddesdens had been friends for many years, and Arthur Delaine enjoyed a special fame as a travelling companion—­easy, accomplished and well-informed.

Nevertheless, he waited at Boston in some anxiety for Elizabeth’s answer.  When it came, it was all cordiality.  By all means let him go with them to the Rockies.  They could not unfortunately offer him sleeping room in the car.  But by day Lady Merton hoped he would be their guest, and share all their facilities and splendours.  “I shall be so glad of a companion for Philip, who is rapidly getting strong enough to give me a great deal of trouble.”