my last letter to you into
the post-box, I made up my mind to run down here and have a look round;
and here I am. My surroundings I will describe later. I told you I
had decided not to go to poor old Major Lessing's funeral for various
reasons. I have a horror of humbug; and to pose as sole and chief
mourner at the funeral of a man who had made me his heir by a fluke,
and if he had lived an hour longer would have altered his will, seemed
humbugging, to my mind. Also the funeral service, beautiful as it
appears to those who can believe in it, means absolutely nothing to me;
and I have scruples about appearing as if it did. Two surprises
awaited me at Rudham: first, that by the same train by which I arrived
Mrs. and Miss Webster got out upon the platform; and the beauty who
fascinated you 'all of a heap' at Brussels, turns out to be the tenant
of Rudham Court--_my_ tenant, in fact!--a judgment upon me, you will
say, for my unreasoning prejudice. Secondly, the extreme difficulty of
getting a night's lodging, unless your character and circumstances are
well known, was borne in forcibly upon my mind! An under-gardener of
Mrs. Webster's took me up in the cart which carried your charmer's
luggage.

"Judging by the size and number of the boxes, beauty needs a great deal
of adorning, by the way! Then I was handed over to the village
blacksmith, and, under the shelter of his name, I persuaded a Mrs.
Macdonald to take me in. You would describe her as 'quite a darling!'

"She and her husband are Scotch by birth, and still retain the soft
intonation and pretty accent. They have no children--indeed, Mrs.
Macdonald informs me that they have not long been married; and she must
be fifty, and 'my John,' as she calls him, some ten years older; but I
have never seen two people more in love with each other. If
surroundings are an index to character they must be very nice people
indeed. Let me try and describe my room, which is furnished with the
solid simplicity of a hundred years ago. A grandfather clock ticks
solemnly in the corner, two oak chairs stand on either side of the
fireplace, with down cushions in print covers on the seats--a
concession to modern luxury. In place of the cheap modern sideboard an
open oak cupboard, whereon are displayed my dinner and tea-things,
furnishes one side of the room, leaving just sufficient space for two
Windsor chairs, polished to such a dangerous brightness that to sit
upon them withou