And away in his solitary walks, or his rides
home from hunting in the dusk of the afternoon, he let them echo in his
heart.
But the desire to be near her was growing an obsession.
Some days when a wild gallop had made his blood run, triumphant thoughts
of his son would come to him. How he should love to teach him to sit a
horse in days to come, to ride to hounds, and shoot, and be an English
gentleman. Oh! why was she a Queen, his loved one, and far away--why not
here, and his wife, whom he could cover with devotion and honour? Surely
that would be enough for them both--a life of trust and love and sweetness;
but even if it were not--there was the world to choose from, if only they
were together.
The two--Paul and his father--were a silent pair for the most part, as they
jogged along the lanes on their way back from hunting.
One afternoon, when this sense of parenthood was strong upon Paul, he went
in to tea in his mother's sitting-room. And as he leant upon the
mantelpiece, his tall, splendid figure in its scarlet coat outlined against
the bright blaze, his eye took in--perhaps for the first time--the immense
number of portraits of himself which decorated this apartment--himself in
every stage, from infantile days upward, through the toy rocking-horse
period to the real dog companion--in Eton collars and Fourth of June
hats--in cricketing flannels and Oxford Bullingdon groups--and then not so
many, until one taken last year.
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