PRESSURE OF CIRCUMSTANCES
The early breakfast over, Leland was walking up and down beneath the red
beeches that grew close up to the old arched gateway of Barrock-holme,
one of his fellow guests beside him, and a gun under his arm. Looking in
through the quadrangle, they saw a young groom holding with some
difficulty a restive, champing horse that pawed the gravel and shook his
head impatiently.
"He doesn't like waiting either," said Leland's companion to the groom.
"How long have you been holding him here?"
"About half an hour, Mr. Terry," said the groom.
Terry glanced at Leland with a little uplifting of his brows, and again
addressed the groom.
"You can't pack all of us into that dog-cart, and it's four miles,
anyway, to the edge of Garberry moor," he said. "Do you know how we are
expected to get there?"
"Mr. Parsons of the Dell farm keeps a smart cart, and he promised to
lend it Mr. James when he heard we had the tire loose on our other one.
It should have been here."
"Then why isn't it?"
Leland fancied that a suspicion of a smile flickered in the man's eyes.
"I don't know, sir, unless Mr. James forgot to let him know when we
wanted it."
"I should consider it very probable," said Terry drily. "Have you any
objections to walking on as far as the Dell, Leland? It wouldn't
astonish me greatly if Jimmy kept us waiting an hour yet."
Leland having no objections, they strode away together. Beech-mast
crackled underfoot between the colonnades of lichened trunks, whose
great branches stayed the high, vaulted roof of gold and crimson leaves.
Looking out through the openings between, one could see the sweep of
rolling champaign stretch away into the horizon through gradations of
blueness, and the rigid line of the fells smeared with warm brown
patches of withered bracken.
"It's rather a shame that Jimmy and his father should have a place of
this kind in their hands at all," said Terry. "Still, for the credit of
the country, I should like to explain that there are not very many
English properties run on the same lines. In fact, the Denhams are an
exception to everything, but I really think Jimmy might have got up in
time for once in a way."
Leland laughed. "The loss of an hour's shooting seems to count with
you."
"It does. You see, like a good many other people, I have to work rather
hard for my living, and time is of a little more value to me than it
apparently is to Jimmy Denham. Besides, my stay here has cost me a good
deal more than I expected, and, being engaged in commerce, I can't help
feeling that I ought to get something in return for my money."
"I don't quite understand that last remark."
"No?" said Terry. "Well, perhaps you don't. In fact, I have had a fancy
that you were a bona-fide guest. You see, two or three of us aren't."
"Will you make that a little clearer?" And Leland looked astonished,
though he remembered now several little incidents that had struck him as
strange.
"With pleasure. Indeed, I feel I owe it to Jimmy for his losing us an
hour or two every day. Our amusement costs two or three of us a good
deal directly, as well as the other way. Branscombe Denham, naturally,
doesn't advertise Barrock-holme as a shooting hotel, but, though affairs
are arranged more tastefully, it amounts to much the same thing. You
share expenses of watching and turning down hand-reared birds, and you
get so many days' shooting with entertainment thrown in. The latter,
however, is usually costly. One way or the other, Jimmy has taken one
hundred pounds out of me."
"Ah," said Leland. "Is that sort of thing common in this country? I had
a notion that you were rather proud of yourselves. It wouldn't strike us
as quite nice in Western Canada."
"No," said the other man. "Still, it's done occasionally, and, as to
family pride, you are not likely to come across anybody who has more of
it than the Denhams. How they reconcile it with some of the things they
do is a different matter; but you can take it as a rule that the less
people have to congratulate themselves upon, the prouder they are. In
fact, Jimmy Denham, who, though one can't help liking him, is a
downright bad egg, was at first a little shy of me. I am a partner in a
concern making a certain advertised specialty, you see."
"I wonder," said Leland reflectively, "if the girls quite understand the
position."
"I don't think they do. Anyway, not exactly. Indeed, it's a little
difficult to believe they're daughters of Branscombe Denham, or sisters
of Jimmy. They show some trace of sense and temper, whilst you can't
ruffle Jimmy. Still, I fancy, if it were necessary, they would stand by
their delightful relatives through thick and thin."
Leland lapsed into thoughtful silence. He fancied that his companion was
right, for he had seen a good deal of Carrie Denham during the month he
had now spent at Barrock-holme. She had been, in her own reserved
fashion, gracious to him, and Leland did not in the least resent the
fact that there was in all she said a suggestion of condescension that
he surmised was unconscious. Indeed, this struck him as being what it
should be. Though quite aware of his own value where men were concerned,
he had seen very few women, and regarded them in general with a vague,
uncomprehending respect. Furthermore, the girl's physical beauty, her
pride and almost stately coldness, made a strong appeal to him. She was,
he was quite willing to admit, a being of a very different order from a
plain Western farmer. Besides that, she was the one person who had quite
come up to his expectations, for his visit to the old country had in
most respects brought him disillusionment.
His father had often spoken of it with all the exile's appreciation of
the home he had left, and he could remember his mother's daintiness and
refinement; it was, perhaps, not astonishing that he had learned to
idealise the old land and those who lived in it. It was also unfortunate
that, whilst it might have happened differently, the few English men and
women he had met on any terms of intimacy during his stay in London had
resembled the Denhams more or less, and it had hurt him to discover what
he considered was the reality. For Jimmy and his father he had a
tolerant contempt, and it was, in fact, only the presence of Carrie
Denham that had kept him at Barrock-holme so long. He was sorry for her,
and had a vague fancy that she might need a friend. There was a vein of
chivalry in him, and he was also a just man. His sense of justice led
him to play billiards periodically for somewhat heavy stakes with Jimmy.
It was one way of getting even, as he expressed it, for he did not care
to be indebted to a man he looked down upon. Jimmy, who was skilful and
almost suspiciously fortunate at both billiards and cards, had also no
objections to emptying the pockets of his guests, though, as Leland was
aware, the chance stranger very seldom leaves a ranch of Western Canada
any poorer than when he came there.
In the meanwhile it happened that Branscombe Denham sat talking to his
son in what he called his library. The few books in it for the most part
related to the estate, for Denham had reasons for not trusting his
affairs altogether to a steward or country lawyer. He was, in some
respects, a handsome man, though his eyes were of too pale a blue, and
his thin face, in spite of its unmistakable stamp of refinement, lacked
character. The room was in the old tower, ceiled with dark wood and
sombrely panelled, with one long, narrow leaded-glass window. The tall,
sparely-framed man with his white hands and immaculate dress seemed out
of place there. He was essentially modern, the room belonged to the more
virile past. There was a pile of letters before him, and he took one up
delicately.
"If I could have foreseen that it would lead to this kind of thing, I
should never have consented to your grandfather's breaking the entail,"
he said, with a little whimsical smile. "Lancely has written me in his
usual stand-and-deliver style again:--'I am now directed to inform you
that, unless the last instalment with arrears of interest is remitted me
by next quarter-day, my clients will regretfully feel themselves
compelled to foreclose.'"
He laid down the letter with a little lifting of his brows. "I really
think they mean it at last, and their mortgage covers most of the Dell,
and the leys on Stapleton's holding. I suppose it is no use asking if
you could dispense with your next allowance."
Jimmy Denham laughed, though he was quite aware that the occasion was
serious enough. "I'm afraid not, sir. In fact, as I had regretfully to
admit, unless I can raise two hundred pounds in addition to it before my
leave runs out, I shall probably have to send in my papers. Fortunately,
I think I can manage it."
He spoke quite frankly, and there was nothing in the attitude of either
to suggest that one was a father embarrassed by financial difficulties
and the other a spendthrift son. Indeed, they faced each other as
comrades, one could almost have said confederates, for in spite of their
shortcomings, which were somewhat plentiful, the Denhams at least
recognised the family bond, standing by one another in everything.
"In that case," said Branscombe Denham, "the allowance must stand,
though I don't know at present where it is to come from. The other
affair is more difficult. In fact, unless we face it resolutely it might
become serious."
"So one would imagine," said Jimmy, reflectively. "The Dell is the best
farm we have, and to let those fellows have it would make things a
little too plain to everybody. Besides, it's splitting up the property.
To a certain extent, of course, we are living upon our credit."
Branscombe Denham nodded, though there was a curious look in his pale
blue eyes as he fixed them on his son.
"I'm rather afraid you don't quite grasp the point," he said. "You see,
Lancely's man holds a mortgage on most of the Dell; but, as you,
perhaps, remember, Lennox lent me a couple of thousand, with the
plough-land in the bottom as security. He did it as a friend, and didn't
worry much about his papers, while I'm not sure I remembered to mention
Lancely's bond to him, so there is what one might call a certain
overlapping of the mortgages. Then I found it necessary to realise a
little on the oaks and beeches at Arkil bank."
Jimmy's face grew grave. "I rather fancy they brought you in a good
deal. They were unusually good trees. You sold the timber after you
raised the money on the mortgages?"
"I did. That is just the point of it. I needn't say that I had then a
scheme of retrenchment in my mind which would provide a kind of sinking
fund to meet the interest, and in due time extinguish the loan, in
which case the question of the timber would, naturally, never have been
raised. Unfortunately, the fall in rents and one or two other
matters--rendered it unworkable."
Jimmy made a gesture of comprehending sympathy. "I'm afraid it would
look rather bad, sir, if it came out. Lancely's man might make a good
deal of trouble if he wants his timber and finds it isn't there, to say
nothing of what Lennox, who, it seems, has a claim on it as well, might
do. Still, no doubt, you did what you could, sir, and I'm rather afraid
it was one or two of my little extravagances that put some of the
pressure on you. I needn't say that if there is anything I can do, down
to cutting the service--or bearing part of the responsibility----"
"Thanks," said Denham, as if he meant it. "You were not very
extravagant, Jimmy, as young men go, and we have hitherto, at least,
always stood by each other. Still, I'm not sure that it's my son I can
count on now."
"Ah," and Jimmy's voice was a trifle sharper. "I'm afraid I never liked
that notion, sir. I think I've mentioned it. There's a good deal of the
beast in Aylmer. Has he said anything?"
A curious look crept into Denham's face, and it suggested repugnance as
well as anxiety. "He came to me yesterday, and his ideas of a settlement
were liberal. I pointed out a few of my difficulties to him, and he
mentioned rather tastefully that he fancied they could be got over if he
had my good will in the other matter. In fact, he left me with the
impression that the mortgage bonds would be handed Carrie after the
wedding."
Jimmy Denham's face appeared a trifle flushed, though he was considered
a rather hard case by a certain officers' mess.
"I don't like it, sir," he said again. "I can't claim to be very
particular, but that man is rather too much for me."
"Then have you any proposition to make?"
Jimmy sat still for at least a minute, apparently lost in thought, which
was in his case a very unusual thing.
"The whole affair is a little unpleasant, and I think you won't mind my
saying that much. Still, it's evident that we have to face the
circumstances, and I scarcely think Carrie will flinch when she
understands the necessity. There might, however, be a more suitable man
than Aylmer. In fact, I almost think I know of one."
"The Canadian?"
"Exactly. Anyway, the man is wholesome, which is more than anybody could
say of Aylmer, and I rather fancy he will be a person of considerable
importance by-and-bye, in his own country. If, as I suppose, you haven't
given Aylmer a definite answer yet, I might suggest that you tell him he
must make his own running, and leave the rest to me. Though she's not
fond of any of us but Carrie, I've no doubt that Eveline Annersly would
stand by me."
There was silence again for almost a minute, and then Denham sighed.
"Well," he said, with a little gesture, "you will remember that there is
not very much time left. In the meanwhile aren't you keeping the rest
of them waiting?"
Jimmy went out, and none of the three men he drove to the Garberry moor
could have suspected that he had a single care. They would certainly not
have believed, had he told them, that he was, for once, sincerely
disgusted with himself as well as his father, and troubled with a very
unusual sense of shame. There was courage of a kind in the Denhams, and
they could, at least, hide their feelings very well. He inspired the
rest with good-humour and shot rather better than he generally did, but
he had grown grave again when he had an interview with Mrs. Annersly
shortly before dinner that evening. She listened to him with a little
frown.
"Jimmy," she said, "you are almost as deficient in estimable qualities
as your father is."
"Well," said Jimmy humbly, "I know I am, but you might leave the
governor out. I think he is a little older than you are--and he is my
father. Anyway, though you mightn't believe it, I feel a trifle sick
when I think of Aylmer."
"What do you expect from me?"
Jimmy smiled. "Not a great deal. Only a persistence in your original
policy. I have rather a fancy that you and I have had the same thing in
our minds."
Mrs. Annersly looked thoughtful. "If it must be one or the other, I'll
do what I can. In fact, I don't mind admitting that, seeing what it
would probably come to, I have, as you surmise, had the affair in hand
already. Still, it was not to make things easier for either you or your
father."