A MORNING WALK.
Tor awoke next morning to a variety of new sensations. This personation
of his friend, which had seemed a simple thing enough at the first
and at a distance, looked a far more difficult and complicated matter
now that he was well launched upon the adventure. He did not shrink
from the exigencies of the position: he had no idea of abandoning the
game, nor did he as yet regret the daring resolution he had taken; but
he was quite alive to the difficulties before him, and was perfectly
aware that great caution and calmness were needful for the successful
development of his design.
‘I am glad I came. If Phil should be ill long, it would have given that
rascal Belassis opportunity to tyrannize still more over those two
poor women, and perhaps bully Maud into a marriage with his precious
son.’ At this point Tor’s brow contracted, and his face grew stern. ‘I
will not have her bullied. She is a very sweet girl, and she shall not
be forced into a distasteful marriage for anyone. There is nothing more
improbable than that she cares two straws for that affected jackanapes
of a cousin; she has far too much sense and spirit. Yes, it certainly
is high time that some one came over to look into things, and to put
a spoke into old Belassis’ wheel. He may have managed matters very
cleverly, but I have strong suspicions that he has feathered his nest
pretty well at the expense of the Debenhams. I’m not a man of business
myself, but I hope I’m not a fool: and though I know nothing of the
law, I suppose I can find a man who does. Honest lawyers may be scarce,
but I imagine they are to be found. Yes, Uncle Belassis, we will soon
see how we stand together, you and I; and if my suspicions verify
themselves——’ Tor paused and laughed a little to himself at the picture
his fancy drew, after which his face grew grave, and he continued his
soliloquy meditatively. ‘I flatter myself I shall manage this business
better than the true heir. Phil would let old Belassis lead him by the
nose far too readily. He will find me a tougher subject to deal with
than his own nephew; only I must be cautious, and not launch poor Phil
into a family feud needlessly, for that would be sorely against his
peaceable tastes. I expect there will be a row in time, but meantime I
must keep the peace as far as possible. It is that Mrs. Belassis who is
most hostile. She seems as ready for the fray as I am; but there must
be no recklessness on my part. I must not show my hand too soon. At
present I have no hand to show. My duty just now seems to be to make
myself very agreeable to everyone.’
With that amiable resolution in his mind, Tor completed his toilet and
descended leisurely. It was still early, and the morning gloriously
bright and fine. The door into the garden stood wide open, and Tor
strolled willingly into the sunny world without.
Next moment Maud was running to meet him, as fresh and sweet, in her
simple white dress, as the flowers she held in her hand.
‘Phil, dear old Phil!’ she cried, standing on tip-toe to kiss him. ‘It
is so good to have you here. How nice you do look! I am so glad you
are tall and handsome and not a bit like anybody else. I can’t bear
_pretty_-looking men, with little neat moustaches, and glossy hair, and
dapper clothes. I like them to look like men—just as you do.’
Tor laughed, and drew her hand within his arm. He looked down into the
bright face, with its tender, gracious curves and loving fearless eyes,
and felt that it was a face which was good to look at and good to love.
‘I think I must return the compliment, little sister, and tell you that
I like to see you look just as you do.’
‘Do you?’ she cried gaily. ‘How nice of you! Because, you know, I am
not really pretty—I wish I were, but I know I’m not. My nose turns up
just a very little (Matilda calls it a snub, but it isn’t so bad as
that), and my mouth is too straight, and my chin rather square, don’t
you think?’ feeling it critically. ‘But if you like me as I am, I don’t
care a bit; and when I have pretty dresses—for I do know how to dress,
I think—then I flatter myself that I have a sort of _je ne sais quoi_
expression which is very nice.’
Tor looked down at her with an amused look in his great grey eyes.
‘Well, Maud, you shall have as many _je ne sais quoi_ expressions
as ever you please now, if those and new dresses are identical. The
mistress of Ladywell Manor must certainly “walk in silk attire and
siller have to spare.” Well, little sister?’
For Maud clasped his arm tight, and made a little bound into the air.
‘Oh, it is so lovely to hear you talk! Everybody here is so stingy and
prosaic. It is like walking into a nice novel.’
The _tête-à-tête_ was interrupted at this moment by the arrival of
Lewis upon the scene.
‘Good-morning, Maud. Good-morning, Phil. What a lovely day it is!’
Tor assented readily, casting a keen, quick glance at his cousin, who
was perhaps to be Maud’s husband before very long. This thought he
found unpleasant; but he was not unjust, and he did not on that account
feel any acute dislike towards Lewis. On the contrary, he entered
into amicable conversation, and the half-hour before breakfast slipped
rapidly away.
Tor began to wake to the consciousness that he was a very popular man
in his new surroundings. At the conclusion of the repast he found that
Matilda and Bertha had attached themselves to him, and had evidently
no intention of allowing him to make a second escape. These nominal
cousins of his did not specially attract him, but he was willing for
the moment to drift with the current and to make himself agreeable to
all, so he submitted gracefully to their attentions; and as he found,
they intended to remain his companions for some time, he proposed
walking over to Ladywell and arranging for the luncheon-party there on
the following day.
This scheme was gladly acceded to, and the plan carried into execution.
Lewis led the way with Maud, and Tor followed with the other ladies.
Matilda was full of a gracious interest in all that concerned her
companion. For awhile she had laid aside her laziness, and was
sprightly and playful.
‘We so much hope that you are going to settle amongst us, Phil,’ she
said. ‘We have all set our hearts on seeing Ladywell Manor opened
at last, as such houses should be—a centre for hospitality and
merry-making. It would be such an advantage to the whole neighbourhood,
and would make a popular man of you at once.’
‘Phil will be a popular man whatever he does,’ put in Bertha glibly.
‘There, Phil, I don’t often pay compliments, so you ought to feel
flattered.’
Tor bowed; but there was no time to put in a word.
‘You have not said a word yet as to your intentions,’ continued
Matilda. ‘You are keeping us all on tenter-hooks. We are all in
dreadful fear that you will keep to your wandering life, and your
_fidus Achates_, and leave poor Ladywell desolate, and the whole
neighbourhood lamenting at your departure. Do be a good boy, and say
you will settle down and live amongst us.’
‘It is rather early days to settle upon one’s course of action,’
answered Tor; ‘but Ladywell shall certainly not be left desolate.’
‘Oh well, I know that the house and place have to be kept up, to a
certain extent; but I don’t call that anything. What’s the good to
anyone of a splendid house and lovely gardens if nobody lives there?
It’s no more good than a ruin.’
‘Ah! but somebody will be living there now.’
‘Oh, then you are going to stay! I am glad!’ cried Matilda. ‘How you do
like to tantalize us!’ she added, looking up archly.
‘I believe he’s only chaffing now,’ added Bertha doubtfully. ‘I believe
he means the servants. Do let him have his say out without interrupting
so often.’
‘I was thinking of Maud,’ answered Tor. ‘Of course she will live there
now. She will be mistress of my house, whether I am there or not.’
Both faces fell visibly. They had failed to realize that Maud would
live at Ladywell as mistress there, and the idea was anything but
palatable. They were not fond of their bright, pretty cousin, whose
cleverness and sweet temper often threw their attractions sadly into
the shade.
‘Maud!’ cried Matilda almost scornfully. ‘Maud the mistress of
Ladywell! Oh, poor Phil! you will have an odd _ménage_!’
‘How so?’ asked Tor quietly.
‘Why, Maud is a child—a mere baby in all household matters. She knows
nothing and cares nothing for such things. She will make a sad mess of
your affairs, if you entrust them to her, Phil.’
He laughed carelessly.
‘Oh, as for that, Maud need not trouble her head over domestic details.
I dare say there is a housekeeper to see to all that; if not, we can
get one. Maud can receive company, and ride with me, and drive round
to call on our friends, and give dinners and dances, and all the
hospitalities of which you spoke just now. Her part will be to dress
elegantly and reign as lady of the Manor. She need not be bothered with
housekeeping.’
Matilda and Bertha looked still more blank; and the latter said, with a
short laugh:
‘Oh, Phil, what an idea! I suppose Maud has been trying to get all the
nonsense out of her head into yours. Such an arrangement would be too
absurd. She hasn’t the least bit of dignity or experience.’
‘Well, as she is my sister, I don’t see how any other arrangement is
possible,’ said Tor, with inward amusement at the obvious jealousy of
the cousins.
‘You will find her very capricious and wilful,’ said Matilda. ‘Mamma
has always had great trouble with her. She is a nice child enough, but
quite unsuited to such a position.’
‘Not more so than I am, at any rate. We shall have to learn our duties
together.’
‘You! Oh, it is quite different with you,’ answered Matilda. ‘Anyone
can see that you were just made for such a position.’
‘Nobody ever saw it before,’ answered Tor good-humouredly. ‘Well, well!
Maud and I and Aunt Olive must jog along as best we can, and come to
you for advice when we are in difficulties.’
‘Aunt Olive! Is she going to live with you?’ cried Bertha.
‘Yes; Maud will want a chaperon and a companion when I am away. Aunt
Olive has kindly consented to fill that office.’
‘What a great many plans you have made already!’ remarked Bertha
sharply. ‘Maud has lost no time.’
‘Those plans were pretty well made before I reached England,’ answered
Tor coolly. ‘Do you not think them excellent?’
Matilda had recovered her smiles, and answered readily:
‘Oh, delightful; only you know they will so soon have to be changed
again.’
‘Why so?’
‘I mean when Maud marries.’
‘She is not even engaged as yet, is she?’
‘Oh, well, I don’t know what you call engaged, but she and Lewis know
quite well that when she is twenty-four she will marry him. She has not
actually said as much yet, because she has not been told all about it;
but Lewis has been in love for years, and she is very fond of him, and
of course everybody knows how it will end.’
‘And then,’ added Bertha, ‘you will lose Maud, and be left lamenting
all alone.’
Matilda gave a little conscious laugh.
‘At any rate he need not be alone long, unless he chooses.’
‘Aunt Olive might consent to stay on,’ acquiesced Tor gravely.
The sisters laughed, and Bertha said boldly:
‘Matilda meant that you might get married, but I don’t believe you’d
ever be so silly.’
‘You look upon matrimony as a snare and a delusion, do you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know that I ever considered the subject particularly; but I
know if I were a man, and had led the kind of life you have done, I
should be precious careful how I gave up my liberty.’
‘I should have thought,’ said Matilda softly, ‘that after such a life,
a man would feel a great pleasure in settling down in his own home and
surrounding himself by family ties. What is your idea, Phil? You ought
to be the best judge.’
Tor was thinking of Maud and Lewis, who were on together ahead, and he
had not quite caught the drift of the question.
‘I beg your pardon. Were you asking if I intended to get married?’
The girls coloured, and made no very distinct response.
‘That entirely depends,’ went on Tor composedly, ‘upon whether the
right woman appears. At my age, I don’t imagine a man often falls in
love simply with a pretty face—at least, he is a fool if he does. He
looks for character and mind and compatibility of temper.’
He spoke so gravely that his companions felt half pleased and half
fearful. As nobody had as yet fallen in love with either of them for
their pretty faces, it was something of a relief to hear their cousin
speak so dispassionately of good looks. But then came the crucial
question, would their respective characters, minds, and tempers pass
muster here?
‘He never would care for Bertha,’ thought Matilda; ‘she is so flighty
and sarcastic and bold. I don’t think I need be afraid of _her_.’
Whilst Bertha said to herself:
‘He never could admire Matilda; she is so fat and lazy, and never has
two ideas in her head. I’m sure nobody need fear her as a rival. Phil
is sure to like spirit and dash.’
And both girls thought with strange unanimity:
‘What a good thing Maud is his sister! What a splendid thing it would
be to be the mistress of Ladywell Manor!’
Tor was perfectly aware that both his companions were wishful to marry
him; but the fact that such was the case did not awake any vanity
within him. It hardly could do so, since he knew equally well, that
this desire on their part had nothing whatever to do with his personal
attractions, but had been in their minds long before he ever appeared
upon the scene. In fact, it was not upon himself that their young
affections were set, but upon the owner of Ladywell Manor. He was only
the owner _pro tem._, and would soon be succeeded by another, to whom
he must hand over the property, together with the hearts of the two
fair aspirants for marriage with the heir.
Tor smiled to himself as this idea crossed his mind. He was more amused
than displeased by the calculations of his companions, for he had
outlived his years of youthful romance, and understood very well the
practical value of money. Most likely these girls had learnt the same
lesson, and in a harder school. Was it wonderful that they should
think as they did, or struggle after a good marriage? Most women in
their circumstances would have done the same.
Whilst Tor and his companions were indulging in the foregoing
conversation and meditation, Maud and Lewis were not silent on their
part.
Maud was willing to let Matilda and Bertha enjoy Phil’s society without
molestation. She felt so rich in the possession of such a brother, that
she could afford to be generous.
She was in gay spirits, and chatted away to Lewis as fast as her tongue
could wag. She told him of the golden future before her; how she was
to be queen of Phil’s splendid house, to have servants and carriages
and horses at her disposal, beautiful dresses to wear, and no wish, as
it seemed to her, left ungratified. She was so well used to chatter
her thoughts to Lewis, that her flow of language never failed, and his
silence passed unheeded.
Lewis was not very clever nor very amusing, nor did he possess any of
Maud’s favourite qualities or characteristics; but then he was very
good-natured, and never disagreeable or jealous, like his sisters.
Then he always did as she told him, and was always ready to be her
escort, to change her books at the library, turn over her music when
she played, water the plants in her garden-border, and, in fact, make
himself useful to her in any capacity she wished. Maud had, therefore,
a strong cousinly affection for Lewis, not unmixed with a little
feminine contempt for one so entirely and unquestionably obedient.
Latterly she had been annoyed from time to time by comments made upon
her treatment of Lewis. He had always been something of a butt for
playful raillery, with no spice of malice, and he always took her jokes
in good part; but Mrs. Belassis had of late chosen to make mysterious
and cutting remarks, which her daughters had echoed; and Maud had
wondered why it should be so, and had resented the implied rebukes
without understanding them.
This morning, however, she was in no mood to resent anything, and
talked gaily for a long while, until at last she paused, more for lack
of breath than of ideas.
‘Well, Lewis, you look as solemn as an owl, and almost as stupid. Can’t
you say how glad you are at my good fortune?’
‘I can say it, of course; but I shouldn’t mean it.’
‘Not mean it, you disagreeable boy! What do you mean by that?’
‘Do you suppose I shall be glad when you leave Thornton House? Is it
likely?’
‘Oh, you can come and see me at Ladywell whenever you like,’ explained
Maud graciously. ‘I shall always be so pleased to see you.’
Lewis grunted, not seeming as grateful as he ought for this general
invitation.
‘Don’t be cross, Lewis,’ said Maud, coming down from her high horse and
speaking naturally. ‘You ought to be glad at anything so nice coming to
me.’
‘Well,’ said Lewis slowly, ‘I did hope something nice would come to
you, some change which would make your life more pleasant; but not in
this way—this makes it more difficult.’
‘What _do_ you mean, Lewis?’
‘Can’t you guess, Maud? _I_ wanted to be the one to make a new home for
you. I believe you’d have come gladly to it from my father’s house;
whether you will from Ladywell, is another matter.’
Maud lifted her great eyes to his, full of surprise and vexation.
‘Don’t be silly, Lewis. Don’t spoil everything. We have always been
such friends. If you are stupid, we cannot be friends any more, and it
will be your fault.’
‘Is it stupid to love you, Maud?’
‘It is stupid to tell me so, when I don’t want to think about such
things.’
‘But, Maud, you will soon have to think about them, whether you like or
not.’
‘What do you mean, Lewis?’
‘I mean that when you are twenty-four you will be of age, and you will
then——’
‘I shall then be rich,’ laughed Maud, interrupting him gaily. ‘Is that
why you want to marry me?’
‘You will not be rich, unless you fulfil a condition your father made
in his will.’
‘Oh, I forgot. I did hear there was a condition. Do you know what it
is, Lewis?’
‘Yes, Maud. The condition is that you marry me. If you refuse, you only
get five thousand pounds, and I get the rest. He was so anxious about
it that he made a will, as I have said.’
‘Marry you!’ Maud’s face had flushed crimson. ‘Why, Lewis, when papa
died, I was six and you were nine. How could he want us to marry?’
‘He looked to the future, I suppose. I have known this some time, Maud;
but I loved you before I knew. I think it was a very unjust condition
to make; but I cannot help that. Only do help to cancel the injustice;
do think of your dead father’s wishes, and think a little of my love.’
Maud was silent, and her face was grave.
‘You like me, don’t you, Maud?’
‘Oh yes, Lewis; I like you very much.’
‘Do you think it would be quite impossible to love me?’
‘I can’t fancy ever caring for you in that way,’ was the candid answer.
‘But you will think about it?—you will try?’
‘I shall think about it, I am sure; but it all seems so odd—it isn’t
fair. I ought to have my mother’s money, as Phil did not get it. You
have no right to it.’
‘Not the least,’ Lewis admitted frankly; ‘but I did not make the will.’
‘No; Uncle Belassis did that, I suppose,’ said the girl rather bitterly.
Lewis did not contradict her; he only said:
‘You value your fortune, Maud?’
‘Of course I do. I am not a baby, and I am not silly. I don’t want
to be dependent on Phil, though he is so generous. I ought to be
independent and have my rights.’
‘Then take them, Maud,’ pleaded Lewis earnestly; ‘take them, and take
me too.’
‘I must think about it,’ answered Maud, with the petulance of a
bewildered mind. ‘Don’t talk to me any more. I must think about it
all;’ and, in her own mind, she added, ‘I must talk to Phil.’
It was rather a silent party that walked back from Ladywell to Thornton
House.