"
The man touched his hat, the carriage drove off, and Trent, with a
grim smile upon his lips, walked along the dusty road. Soon he
paused before a little white gate marked private, and, unlocking
it with a key which he took from his pocket, passed through a
little plantation into a large park-like field. He took off his hat
and fanned himself thoughtfully as he walked. The one taste which
his long and absorbing struggle with the giants of Capel Court had
never weakened was his love for the country. He lifted his head
to taste the breeze which came sweeping across from the Surrey Downs,
keenly relishing the fragrance of the new-mown hay and the faint
odour of pines from the distant dark-crested hill. As he came up
the field towards the house he looked with pleasure upon the great
bed of gorgeous-coloured rhododendrons which bordered his lawn, the
dark cedars which drooped over the smooth shaven grass, and the
faint flush of colour from the rose-gardens beyond. The house
itself was small, but picturesque. It was a grey stone building of
two stories only, and from where he was seemed completely embowered
in flowers and creepers. In a way, he thought, he would be sorry
to leave it. It had been a pleasant summer-house for him, although
of course it was no fit dwelling-house for a millionaire.
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