Chapter 13

A MIDNIGHT VENTURE.

Not a word was said to Laura when she returned as to the scene which had
occurred in her absence. She was in the gayest of spirits, and prattled
merrily about her purchases and her arrangements, wondering from time to
time when Raffles Haw would come. As night fell, however, without any
word from him, she became uneasy.

"What can be the matter that he does not come?" she said. "It is the
first day since our engagement that I have not seen him."

Robert looked out through the window.

"It is a gusty night, and raining hard," he remarked. "I do not at all
expect him."

"Poor Hector used to come, rain, snow, or fine. But, then, of course,
he was a sailor. It was nothing to him. I hope that Raffles is not
ill."

"He was quite well when I saw him this morning," answered her brother,
and they relapsed into silence, while the rain pattered against the
windows, and the wind screamed amid the branches of the elms outside.

Old McIntyre had sat in the corner most of the day biting his nails and
glowering into the fire, with a brooding, malignant expression upon his
wrinkled features. Contrary to his usual habits, he did not go to the
village inn, but shuffled off early to bed without a word to his
children. Laura and Robert remained chatting for some time by the fire,
she talking of the thousand and one wonderful things which were to be
done when she was mistress of the New Hall. There was less philanthropy
in her talk when her future husband was absent, and Robert could not but
remark that her carriages, her dresses, her receptions, and her travels
in distant countries were the topics into which she threw all the
enthusiasm which he had formerly heard her bestow upon refuge homes and
labour organisations.

"I think that greys are the nicest horses," she said. "Bays are nice
too, but greys are more showy. We could manage with a brougham and a
landau, and perhaps a high dog-cart for Raffles. He has the coach-house
full at present, but he never uses them, and I am sure that those fifty
horses would all die for want of exercise, or get livers like Strasburg
geese, if they waited for him to ride or drive them."

"I suppose that you will still live here?" said her brother.

"We must have a house in London as well, and run up for the season.
I don't, of course, like to make suggestions now, but it will be
different afterwards. I am sure that Raffles will do it if I ask him.
It is all very well for him to say that he does not want any thanks or
honours, but I should like to know what is the use of being a public
benefactor if you are to have no return for it. I am