“Such aspirations in the fair sex are absolutely harmless,” he said; “Let us hope the lady’s wishes may find their limit in a soothing pastoral!” “Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Sir Morton.  “You are deep, my dear sir, you are very deep!  God bless my soul!  Deep as a well!  No wonder people are afraid of you!  Clever, clever!  I’m afraid of you myself!  Come along, come along!  Can I assist your Grace?” Here he pushed aside with a smothered ‘Damn!’ the footman, who stood holding open the door of the waggonette, and officiously gave the Duke of Lumpton a hand to help him into the carriage.  “Now, Lord Mawdenham, please!  You next, Mr. Longford!  Come, come, Mr. Adderley!  Think of Lady Elizabeth!  She will be arriving at the Hall before we are there to receive her!  Terrible, terrible!  Come along!  We’re all ready!”

Julian Adderley had turned to Walden.

“Permit me to call and see you alone!” he said.  “I cannot just now appreciate the poetry of your work in the church as I should do—­as I ought to do—­as I must do!  The present company is discordant!—­one requires the music of Nature,-the thoughts,—­the dreams!  But no more at present!  I should like to talk with you on many matters some wild sweet morning,—­if you have no objection?”

Walden was amused.  At the same time he was not very eager to respond to this overture of closer acquaintanceship with one who, by his dress, manner and method of speech, proclaimed himself a ‘decadent’ of the modern school of ethics; but he was nothing if not courteous.  So he replied briefly: 

“I shall be pleased to see you, of course, Mr. Adderley, but I must warn you that I am a very busy man—­I should not be able to give you much time—­”

“No explanations—­I understand!” And Adderley pressed his hand with enthusiasm.  “The very fact that you are busy in a village like this adds to the peculiar charm of your personality!  It is so strange!—­ so new—­so fresh!”

He smiled, and again pressed hands.

“Good-bye!  The mood will send me to you at the fitting moment!”

He clapped his hat more firmly on his redundant red locks and clambered into the waiting waggonette.  Sir Morton followed him, and the footman shut to the door of the vehicle with a bang as unnecessary as his master’s previous ‘Damn!’

“Good-morning, Mr. Walden!” then shouted the knight of bone-melting prowess; “Much obliged to you, I’m sure!”

Walden raised his hat with brief ceremoniousness, and then as the carriage rolled away addressed the Reverend Mr. Leveson, who was throwing himself with hippopotamus-like agility across his bicycle.

“You follow, I suppose?”

“Yes.  I’m lunching at Badsworth Hall.  The Duke wants to consult me about his family records.  You know I’m a bit of an authority on such points!”

Walden smiled.

“I believe you are!  But mind you calendar the ducal deeds carefully,” he said.  “A slip in the lineal descent of the Lumptons might affect the whole prestige of the British Empire!”