When Mr Armstrong with his jovial charge arrived about midday at
Maxfield, he was struck with the transformation scene which had taken
place since he quitted it gloomily a day or two before.
The house was the same, the furniture was untouched, the ordinary
domestic routine appeared to be unaltered, but a sense of something new
pervaded the place which he could interpret only by the one word--
Oliphant.
The captain had made a touching entry--full of sympathy, full of
affection, full of a desire to spare his dear cousin all business worry,
full of the responsibility that was on him to take charge of the dear
fatherless boy, full of that calm sense of duty which enables a man to
assert himself on all occasions for the good of those committed to his
care. As for his charming daughters, they had floated majestically into
their quarters--Miss Rosalind a trifle defiantly, making no secret of
her dislike of the whole business; Miss Jill merrily, delighted with the
novelty and beauty of this new home, so much more to her mind than the
barrack home in India. And Roger, despite all his sinister
anticipations, found himself tolerant already of the new guardian, and
more than tolerant of his _suite_.
For somehow his pulses had taken to beating a little quicker since
yesterday, and when half a dozen times that evening he had heard a
summons down the landing to come and hang this picture, or like a dear
boy unfasten that strap, or like an angel come and make himself
agreeable, unless he intended his cousins to sit by themselves all the
evening as penance for coming where they were not wanted,--at all such
summonses Roger Ingleton had experienced quite a novel sensation of
nervousness and awkwardness, which contributed to make him very
uncomfortable.
"Why," said he, as he and his tutor greeted one another again in Mr
Armstrong's room, "why, it seems ages since I saw you, and yet it's only
yesterday. I wish we could all have come down together. Do you know,
Armstrong, I half fancy it's not going to be as awful as I expected."
"That's all right," said Mr Armstrong, who had already begun to
entertain a contrary impression.
"Oliphant seems civilly disposed, and not inclined to interfere; and the
girls--well they seem harmless enough. How do you like Tom?"
"Tom's a nice, quiet, business-like boy," said the tutor with a grin.
"I'll tell you more about him soon, but at present I have no time. I
must catch the four o'clock train back to London."
"What! What ever for?" exclaimed Roger, with falling face.
"Urgent private affairs. I shall be away perhaps a week," said Mr
Armstrong shortly, in a tone which discouraged Roger from making further
inquiries.
"I'm awfully sorry," said he; "I shall miss you specially just now."
"If I could have taken any other time, I would," said the tutor, busily
throwing his things into his bag all the time; "but I am going to a
death-bed."
"Oh, Armstrong, I'm so sorry. Is it a relation?"
"As I regard relations, yes. Now I must go and make my apologies to
your mother. I'll come and see you before I go."
He found the lady sitting in the library in consultation with Captain
Oliphant. The table was spread with the late Squire's papers and
documents, concerning which the Captain was evincing considerable
interest.
The tutor glared a little through his glass at the spectacle of this
industry, and disposing of his co-trustee's greeting with a half nod,
accosted Mrs Ingleton.
"I must ask you to excuse me for a few days, Mrs Ingleton. I have just
received news which render a journey necessary."
"Indeed!" said Captain Oliphant, looking up from his papers. "I am
afraid, Mr Armstrong, we must ask you to postpone it, as there are a
good many business matters of importance to be gone into, which will
require the attention of all the trustees. It is an inconvenient time
to seek for leave of absence."
The tutor's mouth stiffened ominously.
"You take unnecessary interest in my affairs, sir. I shall be at your
service on my return. Mrs Ingleton, I am sorry for this interruption
in Roger's studies. It shall be as brief as I can make it."
"Oh, of course, Mr Armstrong," said the lady, "I hope it is nothing
serious. We shall be glad to have you back to consult about things;
that is all Captain Oliphant means, I'm sure."
The tutor bowed.
"I really hope," said Captain Oliphant blandly, "Mr Armstrong will
appreciate my desire to cooperate harmoniously in the sacred trust laid
upon us all by the dying wish of our dear friend."
"I have no wish to do anything else, sir," said the tutor shortly, "if
you will allow me. Good-bye, Mrs Ingleton."
Roger was a good deal concerned to notice the grim cloud on his friend's
face, when he returned for a moment to his room for his bag. He knew
him too well to ask questions, but made up for his silence by the warmth
of his farewell.
"Come back soon, Armstrong; it will be awfully slow while you're away.
Let's carry your bag down-stairs."
As they passed the end of the lobby, a certain door chanced to open, and
Armstrong caught a vision of an easel and a fair head beyond, and beyond
that a mantelpiece decorated with all sorts of Oriental and feminine
knick-knacks. He might have observed more had his glass been up, and
had he not been eagerly accosted by Miss Jill, who just then was running
out of the room.
"Mr Armstrong! Mr Armstrong!" shouted she in glee. "Rosalind, he's
come back; here he is!"
And without more ado she caught the embarrassed tutor by the arm and
demanded a kiss. He compromised feebly by patting her head, whereat
Miss Jill pouted.
"You're more unkind than yesterday," she said; "you kissed me then."
"You shouldn't ask Mr Armstrong to do horrid things," said Miss
Rosalind, coming to the door.
The tutor, very hot and flurried, replied to this cruel challenge by
saluting the little tyrant and bowing to her sister.
"Won't you come in and see the studio?" said the latter. "It's a little
less dreadful than yesterday, thanks to Roger. What are you carrying
that bag for, Roger?"
"Armstrong's going up to town for a few days."
"How horrid!" said Miss Rosalind, with vexation in her voice; "just
while Jill and I are feeling so lonely, cooped up here like nuns, with
not a soul to talk to, and knowing we're in everybody's way."
"Armstrong has a sad enough reason for going," said Roger; "but I say,
it's not very complimentary to me to say you've not a soul to talk to."
The half-jesting petulance in Rosalind's face had given place to a look
almost of pain as she held out her hand.
"Good-bye, Mr Armstrong," said she. "I didn't know you were in
trouble."
"It _will_ be jolly when you come home," chimed in Jill.
Somehow in Mr Armstrong's ears, as he whirled along to town that
afternoon, those two pretty farewells rang continuous changes. When, at
evening, he took his seat in the Dover express, they still followed him,
now in solos, now in duet, now in restless fugue. On the steamer they
rose and fell with the uneasy waves and played in the whistling wind.
As he sped towards Paris, past the acacia hedges and poplar avenues,
among foreign scenes, amidst the chatter of foreign tongues, surrounded
by foreign faces, he still caught the sound of those two distant
voices--one quiet and low, the other gay and piping; and even when, at
last, he dropped asleep and forgot everything else, they joined in with
the rattle of the rail to give him his lullaby. Such are the freaks of
which a sensitive musical ear is often the victim.
At Maxfield, meanwhile, he remained in the minds of one or two of the
inmates.
The two young ladies, assisted by their cousin, and genially obstructed
by their easy-going brother, proceeded seriously in the task of adorning
the studio; now and then speculating about the absent tutor, and now and
then feeling very dejected and lonely. Roger did his best to enliven
the evening and make his visitors feel at home. But although Tom and
Jill readily consented to be comforted, Miss Rosalind as stubbornly
refused, and protested a score of times that the cabin of the "Oriana"
itself was preferable to the misery of being condemned, as she termed
it, to eat her head off in this dismal place. She was sorry for Mr
Armstrong, but she was vexed too that he should go off the very first
day after her arrival, and leave her to fight her battles alone. After
that talk on the steamer, she had, in her own mind, reckoned on him as
an ally, and it disappointed her not to find him at her bidding after
all.
But she was not the only person whose mind was exercised by the tutor's
abrupt exodus.
Captain Oliphant felt decidedly hurt by the manner of his going. It
argued a lack of appreciation of the newly arrived trustee's position in
the household on which he had hardly calculated; and it bespoke a spirit
of independence in the tutor himself, which his colleague could not but
regard as unpromising. Indeed, when, after the day's labours, Captain
Oliphant sought the seclusion of his own apartment, this amiable,
pleasant-spoken gentleman grew quite warm with himself.
"Who is this grandee?" he asked himself. "A man hired at a few pounds a
year and fed at the Maxfield table, in order to help the heir to a
little quite unnecessary knowledge of the ancient classics and modern
sciences. What was the old dotard,"--the old dotard, by the way, was
Captain Oliphant's private manner of referring to the lamented "dear
one," whose name so often trembled on his lips in public,--"what was the
old dotard thinking about? At any rate, I should like to know a little
more about the fellow myself."
With this laudable intention he questioned Mrs Ingleton next morning.
"He is a good friend to dear Roger," said the mother. "Roger is devoted
to him. I am sure you will get to like him, Edward. He is perhaps a
little odd in his manner, but he has a good heart."
This was about all Mrs Ingleton knew, except that he was a University
man and an accomplished musician.
Captain Oliphant was not much enlightened by this description. He sat
down, and for the third time carefully read over the "dear one's" will.
"I think," said he at lunch-time, "I will stroll over to Yeld this
afternoon and see Mr Pottinger. Roger, will you walk with me? A walk
would do you good. You are looking pale, my boy."
"Oh, I'm all right," said Roger, whose cough, however, was still
obstinate. "I'll come with pleasure."
A walk of five miles on a damp afternoon through drenched country lanes
may be a good specific for a cough in India, but in England it
occasionally fails in this respect. Roger was wet through when he
reached Yeld.
"I shall not be long," said the Captain as they reached the attorney's
door. "Don't catch cold, there's a good fellow. Remember your health
is very precious."
Roger undertook to act on this considerate advice, and occupied his time
of waiting by strolling up and down the High Street in the rain, paying
a call here and there at one or two shops, and finally dropping in to
see his friend Dr Brandram.
The Captain meanwhile was having an interesting chat with the attorney.
After introducing himself and receiving the suitable congratulations, he
said--
"Mr Ingleton's will, Mr Pottinger, so far as I can understand it,
seems fairly simple, and I am ready and anxious to perform my part of
its provisions."
"Yes. You see, after all, it is only a matter of two years' trouble.
As soon as Master Roger comes of age you will be released."
"Unless," says the Captain, laughing, "he marries, becomes mad, or goes
to prison, isn't that it? What a curious proviso!"
"It is. The old Squire had his peculiarities, like most of us. He set
his heart on this boy turning out well."
"Ah! I presume this tutor, Mr Armstrong, has very high qualifications,
since so much depends on him."
"Of that I can't say, Captain Oliphant. To tell you the truth, I never
quite understood that appointment. But doubtless the Squire knew best."
"Doubtless. He must have had a very high opinion of him to associate
him with Mrs Ingleton and me in the guardianship. I take it, by the
way, that hardly extends beyond his present duties as tutor."
"That's just it," said Mr Pottinger. "According to the will, he has
the right to participate in every action taken by the other trustees,
either as regards the boy, or the estate, or anything else."
"How very singular! You don't mean to say that he is to be consulted in
matters of finance or the management of the property?"
"Technically, yes--if he claims it. I imagine, however, he is hardly
aware of this, and I am not inclined to urge him to claim it. I should
be sorry to give you an unfavourable impression, Captain Oliphant, but I
do not like this Mr Armstrong."
"He appears to be well thought of at Maxfield," said the Captain.
"My private opinion is--but you must not let it influence you--that he
is somewhat of an adventurer. I know nothing of his antecedents."
"Indeed! not even where he lives?"
"No; the Squire was reticent on the matter. He told me he had good
recommendations with him, and that he was an Oxford man."
"Surely that should be satisfactory. I hope we shall find him not
difficult to get on with, after all. We shall have to wait a week or
so, however, before putting the question to the test, as he has just
gone off rather abruptly, and at this particular time rather
inopportunely, on a journey, for what object I do not know."
"Humph!" said the attorney. "I do not like mysteries. However, I trust
it will be as you say."
Dr Brandram, when presently the Captain called in for his ward, was in
by no means a good temper.
"I have been blowing Roger up sky-high," said he, puffing his smoke
rather viciously in the Captain's direction, "for behaving like a
lunatic. The idea of his coming out and getting himself wet through
with this cold upon him."
"Dear, dear!" said the Captain; "has he got wet through? Why, my dear
boy, what did I tell you?"
"You shouldn't have let him come," said the doctor bluntly. "He's no
business to play tricks with himself."
"Really, doctor," said Roger, laughing and coughing alternately, "I'm
not a baby."
"You're worse," said the doctor severely. "Don't let it happen again.
You must go home in a fly; I won't allow you to walk. Armstrong
wouldn't have let you do it."
It grated on the Captain's nerves to hear the tutor thus quoted in what
seemed to be a reflection on himself.
"Roger, my boy," said he, "you are fortunate to have somebody to look
well after you. I quite agree with the doctor; we must drive home. I
hope your things are dry."
"He's made me change everything I had on," said Roger.
"Quite right--quite right!"
The doctor took an opportunity before the fly arrived of talking to the
Captain seriously about his ward's health.
"He's not robust, you can see that yourself," said he, "and he won't
take care of himself, that's equally evident. You must make him do it,
or I won't answer for the consequences."
The Captain laughed pleasantly. "My duties grow on me apace," said he.
"I have come over from India to look after his morals, his estate, his
education, and now I find I must add to them the oversight of--"
"Of his flannels. Certainly; see they are well aired, that's more
important than any of the others. Good-bye!"
The Maxfield household was a dismal one that evening. Mrs Ingleton in
distress had prevailed on Roger to go to bed. Miss Rosalind, defrauded
in one day of her two allies, sulked in a dignified way in her own room,
and visited her displeasure with the world in general on poor Jill, who
consoled herself by beginning a letter to her "dear Mr Armstrong."
Tom, having wandered joyously over the whole house, making friends with
everybody and admiring everything, was engaged in the feverish
occupation of trying to find his stamp album, which he had left behind
in India.
The only serene member of the party was Captain Oliphant, who in the
arm-chair of the library smoked an excellent cigar and ruminated on
things at large.
"Poor lad!" said he to himself, "great pity he's so delicate. Not at
all a pleasant cough--quite a churchyard tone about it. Tut! tut! I'm
not favourably impressed with that doctor; an officious bumpkin, he
seems to me. And this Armstrong--I should really like to know a little
more about him. Pottinger was decidedly of my way of thinking. Not a
nice fellow at all, Armstrong. Wrong sort of companion for Roger. Poor
fellow! how he's coughing to-night."
And this kindly soul actually laid down his cigar and went out into the
passage to listen.
"Shocking cough," said he as he returned and relit his cigar. Then he
took out a document from his pocket--a copy of the will, in fact--and
read it again. Which done, he relapsed into genial meditation ones
more.
Presently his kindly feelings prompted him to pay his ward a visit.
"Well, my boy, how are you? Better, I hope."
"Oh, yes," said Roger, coughing; "it's only a cold in my head. I'll
soon be all right. I'm awfully sorry to desert the girls and Tom, tell
them."
"Nothing I can do for you, is there?"
"Thanks very much. I'm all right. I shall get to sleep pretty soon.
Good night, Cousin Edward."
"Good night, dear boy. Another time you must take better care of
yourself. Remember your life is precious to us all."
With these affectionate words Captain Oliphant left the room, candle in
hand. As he passed his daughter's boudoir he looked in. It was empty.
The young ladies had long since taken refuge in their bedroom. All the
house, in fact, except Captain Oliphant, had done the same.
That gentleman, as he passed another door which stood half open, could
not resist a friendly impulse to peep in. It was a snug room, with a
piano in one corner, and foils, boxing gloves, Oxford prints, and other
tokens of a bachelor proprietorship displayed on the walls. The table
was littered with classical exercises, music scores, and letters. A
college boating-jacket hung behind the door, and one or two prize-
goblets decorated the mantelpiece.
Captain Oliphant displayed a genial interest in everything. He read the
inscriptions on the goblets, glanced casually through the papers, read
the addresses on a few of the letters, and generally took stock of the
apartment. Of course, like an honourable gentleman, he disturbed
nothing, and presently, distressed by a sudden fit of coughing from the
direction of his ward's room, he hastily stepped out into the lobby
again and made his way back to the library.
Before he went to bed this methodical person committed three several
matters to paper. In his memorandum-book he wrote the name of a certain
college at Oxford, and a date, corresponding, oddly enough, to the name
and date on one of the goblets in Mr Armstrong's room.
That done, he scrawled a post card to Dr Brandram, requesting him to
call and see Roger, whose cough was still a little troublesome.
After that, he pulled out of his pocket and read with a somewhat pained
expression a letter he had received the day before by the Indian mail.
It was gather long, but the passage which pained Captain Oliphant
particularly ran thus:--
"The trouble about the mess accounts is not blown over yet. I have
done what I can for you. I hope you will make it unnecessary for me
to enter into details with the parties chiefly interested in that
affair. It depends pretty much on what you are able to tell me,
whether I can give you the time you mention in your last. You will
consult your own interests best by being quite square," and so on.
The expression which Captain Oliphant mentally applied to the writer as
he re-read this pleasant passage was not wholly flattering, and his
countenance, as I have said, bore traces of considerable pain. However,
after a little meditation it cleared somewhat, and he wrote:--
"It seems to me a pity you should take up a position which can only
end in trouble all round. You know how things stand, and how
impossible it is to hasten matters. At the present moment there seems
every probability of my being able to discharge all my accounts--yours
among them--considerably earlier than the time first mentioned. It is
worth your while, under the circumstances, reconsidering what, you
must allow me to say, is a preposterous claim for interest. Of
course, if you charge me for the full term, I have very little
inducement to settle up sooner. Turn it over, like a sensible man,
and believe me, meanwhile,
"Yours truly,
"E.O.
"_P.S_.--I enclose a copy of the clauses of the will most likely to
interest you. I am sorry to say my ward is in very bad--I might say
seriously bad--health. He has a constitutional complaint, which, I
greatly fear, will make this winter a most anxious time to us all."
After this, Captain Oliphant soothed himself down with a cigarette, and
spent a little time in admiring contemplation of an excellent portrait
of Mrs Ingleton on the wall. Finally, he went cheerfully to bed.