THE ROMANCE OF TREVLYN HOLD
It is impossible to go on without a word of retrospect. The Ryles,
gentlemen by a long line of ancestry, had once been rich men, but they
were open-handed and heedless, and in the time of George's grandfather,
the farm (not called the farm then) passed into the possession of the
Trevlyns of the Hold, who had a mortgage on it. They named it Trevlyn
Farm, and Mr. Ryle and his son remained on as tenants where they had
once been owners.
After old Mr. Ryle's death, his son married the daughter of the curate
of Barbrook, the Reverend George Berkeley, familiarly known as Parson
Berkeley. In point of fact, the parish knew no other pastor, for its
Rector was an absentee. Mary Berkeley was an only child. She had been
petted, and physicked, and nursed, after the manner of only children,
and grew up sickly as a matter of course. A delicate, beautiful girl in
appearance, but not strong. People (who are always fond, you know, of
settling everybody else's business for them) deemed that she made a poor
match in marrying Thomas Ryle. It was whispered, however, that he
himself might have made a greater match, had he chosen--no other than
Squire Trevlyn's eldest daughter. There was not so handsome, so
attractive a man in all the country round as Thomas Ryle.
Soon after the marriage, Parson Berkeley died--to the intense grief of
his daughter, Mrs. Ryle. He was succeeded in the curacy and parsonage by
a young clergyman just in priest's orders, the Reverend Shafto Dean. A
well-meaning man, but opinionated and self-sufficient in the highest
degree, and before he had been one month at the parsonage, he and Squire
Trevlyn were at issue. Mr. Dean wished to introduce certain new fashions
and customs into the church and parish; Squire Trevlyn held to the old.
Proud, haughty, overbearing, but honourable and generous, Squire Trevlyn
had known no master, no opposer; _he_ was lord of the neighbourhood, and
was bowed down to accordingly. Mr. Dean would not give way, the Squire
would not give way; and the little seed of dissension grew and spread.
Obstinacy begets obstinacy. That which a slight yielding on either side,
a little mutual good-feeling, might have removed at first, became at
length a terrible breach, the talk of a county.
Meanwhile Thomas Ryle's fair young wife died, leaving an infant
boy--George. In spite of her husband's loving care, in spite of having
been shielded from all work and management, so necessary on a farm, she
died. Nora Dickson, a humble relative of the Ryle family, who had been
partially brought up on the farm, was housekeeper and manager. She saved
all trouble to young Mrs. Ryle: but she could not save her life.
The past history of Trevlyn Hold was a romance in itself. Squire Trevlyn
had five children: Rupert, Maude, Joseph, Edith and Diana. Rupert, Maude
and Diana were imperious as their father; Joseph and Edith were mild,
yielding, and gentle, as had been their mother. Rupert was of course
regarded as the heir: but the property was not entailed. An ancestor of
Squire Trevlyn's coming from some distant part--it was said
Cornwall--bought it and settled down upon it. There was not a great deal
of grass land on the estate, but the coal-mines in the distance made it
very valuable. Of all his children, Rupert, the eldest, was the Squire's
favourite: but poor Rupert did not live to come into the estate. He had
inherited the fits of passion characteristic of the Trevlyns; was of a
thoughtless, impetuous nature; and he fell into trouble and ran away
from his country. He embarked for a distant port, which he did not live
to reach. And Joseph became the heir.
Very different, he, from his brother Rupert. Gentle and yielding, like
his sister Edith, the Squire half despised him. The Squire would have
preferred him passionate, haughty, and overbearing--a true Trevlyn. But
the Squire had no intention of superseding him in the succession of
Trevlyn Hold. Provided Joseph lived, none other would be its inheritor.
_Provided_. Joseph--always called Joe--appeared to have inherited his
mother's constitution; and she had died early, of decline.
Yielding, however, as Joe Trevlyn was naturally, on one point he did not
prove himself so--that of his marriage. He chose Emily Dean; the pretty
and lovable sister of Squire Trevlyn's _bete noire_, the obstinate
parson. "I would rather you took a wife out of the parish workhouse,
Joe," the Squire said, in his anger. Joe said little in reply, but he
held to his choice; and one fine morning the marriage was celebrated by
the obstinate parson himself in the church at Barbrook.
The Squire and Thomas Ryle were close friends, and the former was fond
of passing his evenings at the farm. The farm was not a productive one.
The land, never of the richest, had become poorer and poorer: it wanted
draining and nursing; it wanted, in short, money laid out upon it; and
that money Mr. Ryle did not possess. "I shall have to leave it, and try
and take a farm in better condition," he said at length to the Squire.
The Squire, with all his faults and his overbearing temper, was generous
and considerate. He knew what the land wanted; money spent on it; he
knew Mr. Ryle had not the money to spend, and he offered to lend it him.
Mr. Ryle accepted it, to the amount of two thousand pounds. He gave a
bond for the sum, and the Squire on his part promised to renew the lease
upon the present terms, when the time of renewal came, and not raise the
rent. This promise was not given in writing: but none ever doubted the
word of Squire Trevlyn.
The first of Squire Trevlyn's children to marry had been Edith: some
years before she had married Mr. Chattaway. The two next to marry had
been Maude and Joseph. Joseph, as you have heard, married Emily Dean;
Maude, the eldest daughter, became the second wife of Mr. Ryle. A
twelvemonth after the death of his fair young wife Mary, Miss Trevlyn of
the Hold stepped into her shoes, and became the step-mother of the
little child, George. The youngest daughter Diana, never married.
Miss Trevlyn, in marrying Thomas Ryle, gave mortal offence to some of
her kindred. The Squire himself would have forgiven it; nay, perhaps
have grown to like it--for he never could do otherwise than like Thomas
Ryle--but he was constantly incited against it by his family. Mr.
Chattaway, who had no great means of living of his own, was at the Hold
on a long, long visit, with his wife and two little children,
Christopher and Octavia. They were always saying they must leave; but
they did _not_ leave; they stayed on. Mr. Chattaway made himself useful
to the Squire on business matters, and whether they ever would leave was
a question. She, Mrs. Chattaway, was too gentle-spirited and loving to
speak against her sister and Mr. Ryle; but Chattaway and Miss Diana
Trevlyn kept up the ball. In point of fact, they had a motive--at least,
Chattaway had--for making permanent the estrangement between the Squire
and Mr. Ryle, for it was thought that Squire Trevlyn would have to look
out for another heir.
News had come home of poor Joe Trevlyn's failing health. He had taken up
his abode in the south of France on his marriage: for even then the
doctors had begun to say that a more genial climate than this could
alone save the life of the heir to Trevlyn. Bitterly as the Squire had
felt the marriage, angry as he had been with Joe, he had never had the
remotest thought of disinheriting him. He was the only son left: and
Squire Trevlyn would never, if he could help it, bequeath Trevlyn Hold
to a woman. A little girl, Maude, was born in due time to Joe Trevlyn
and his wife; and not long after this, there arrived the tidings that
Joe's health was rapidly failing. Mr. Chattaway, selfish, mean, sly,
covetous, began to entertain hopes that _he_ should be named the heir;
he began to work on it in stealthy determination. He did not forget
that, were it bequeathed to the husband of one of the daughters, Mr.
Ryle, as the husband of the eldest, might be considered to possess most
claim to it. No wonder then that he did all he could, secretly and
openly, to incite the Squire against Mr. Ryle and his wife. And in this
he was joined by Miss Diana Trevlyn. She, haughty and imperious,
resented the marriage of her sister with one of inferior position, and
willingly espoused the cause of Mr. Chattaway as against Thomas Ryle. It
was whispered about, none knew with what truth, that Miss Diana made a
compact with Chattaway, to the effect that she should reign jointly at
Trevlyn Hold with him and enjoy part of its revenues, if he came into
the inheritance.
Before the news came of Joe Trevlyn's death--and it was some months in
coming--Squire Trevlyn had taken to his bed. Never did man seem to fade
so rapidly as the Squire. Not only his health, but his mind failed him;
all its vigour seemed gone. He mourned poor Joe excessively. In rude
health and strength, he would not have mourned him; at least, would not
have shown that he did so; never a man less inclined than the Squire to
allow his private emotions to be seen: but in his weakened state he gave
way to lamentation for his heir (his _heir_, note you, more than his
son) every hour in the day. Over and over again he regretted that the
little child, Maude, left by Joe, was not a boy. Nay, had it not been
for his prejudice against her mother, he would have willed the estate to
her, girl though she was. Now was Mr. Chattaway's time: he put forth in
glowing colours his own claims, as Edith's husband; he made golden
promises; he persuaded the poor Squire, in his wrecked mind, that black
was white--and his plans succeeded.
To the will which had bequeathed the estate to the eldest son, dead
Rupert, the Squire added a codicil, to the effect that, failing his two
sons, James Chattaway was the inheritor. But all this was kept a
profound secret.
During the time the Squire lay ill, Mr. Ryle went to Trevlyn Hold, and
succeeded in obtaining an interview. Mr. Chattaway was out that day, or
he had never accomplished it. Miss Diana Trevlyn was out. All the
Squire's animosity departed the moment he saw Thomas Ryle's
long-familiar face. He lay clasping his hand, and lamenting their
estrangement; he told him he should cancel the two-thousand-pound bond,
giving the money as his daughter's dowry; he said his promise of
renewing the lease of the farm to him on the same terms would be held
sacred, for he had left a memorandum to that effect amongst his papers.
He sent for a certain box, in which the bond for the two thousand pounds
had been placed, and searched for it, intending to give it to him then;
but the bond was not there, and he said that Mr. Chattaway, who managed
all his affairs now, must have placed it elsewhere. But he would ask him
for it when he came in, and it should be destroyed before he slept.
Altogether, it was a most pleasant and satisfactory interview.
But strange news arrived from abroad ere the Squire died. Not strange,
certainly, in itself; only strange because it was so very unexpected.
Joseph Trevlyn's widow had given birth to a boy! On the very day that
little Maude was twelve months old, exactly three months after Joe's
death, this little fellow was born. Mr. Chattaway opened the letter, and
I will leave you to judge of his state of mind. A male heir, after he
had made everything so safe and sure!
But Mr. Chattaway was not a man to be thwarted. _He_ would not be
deprived of the inheritance if he could by any possible scheming retain
it, no matter what wrong he dealt out to others. James Chattaway had as
little conscience as most people. The whole of that day he never spoke
of the news; he kept it to himself; and the next morning there arrived a
second letter, which rendered the affair a little more complicated.
Young Mrs. Trevlyn was dead. She had died, leaving the two little ones,
Maude and the infant.
Squire Trevlyn was always saying, "Oh, that Joe had left a boy; that Joe
had left a boy!" And now, as it was found, Joe _had_ left one. But Mr.
Chattaway determined that the fact should never reach the Squire's ears
to gladden them. Something had to be done, however, or the little
children would be coming to Trevlyn. Mr. Chattaway arranged his plans,
and wrote off hastily to stop their departure. He told the Squire that
Joe's widow had died, leaving Maude; but he never said a word about the
baby boy. Had the Squire lived, perhaps it could not have been kept from
him; but he did not live; he went to his grave all too soon, never
knowing that a male heir was born to Trevlyn.
The danger was over then. Mr. Chattaway was legal inheritor. Had Joe
left ten boys, they could not have displaced him. Trevlyn Hold was his
by the Squire's will, and could not be wrested from him. The two
children, friendless and penniless, were brought home to the Hold. Mrs.
Trevlyn had lived long enough to name the infant "Rupert," after the old
Squire and the heir who had run away and died. Poor Joe had always said
that if ever he had a boy, it should be named after his brother.
There they had been ever since, these two orphans, aliens in the home
that ought to have been theirs; lovely children, both of them; but
Rupert had the passionate Trevlyn temper. It was not made a
systematically unkind home to them; Miss Diana would not have allowed
that; but it was a very different home from that they ought to have
enjoyed. Mr. Chattaway was at times almost cruel to Rupert; Christopher
exercised upon him all sorts of galling and petty tyranny, as Octave
Chattaway did upon Maude; and the neighbourhood, you may be quite sure,
did not fail to talk. But it was known only to one or two that Mr.
Chattaway had kept the fact of Rupert's birth from the Squire.
He stood tolerably well with his fellow-men, did Chattaway. In himself
he was not liked; nay, he was very much disliked; but he was owner of
Trevlyn Hold, and possessed sway in the neighbourhood. One thing, he
could not get the title of Squire accorded to him. In vain he strove for
it; he exacted it from his tenants; he wrote notes in the third person,
"Squire Chattaway presents his compliments," etc.; or, "the Squire of
Trevlyn Hold desires," etc., etc., all in vain. People readily accorded
his wife the title of Madam--as it was the custom to call the mistress
of Trevlyn Hold--she was the old Squire's daughter, and they recognised
her claim to it, but they did not give that of Squire to her husband.
These things had happened years ago, for Maude and Rupert were now aged
respectively thirteen and twelve, and all that time James Chattaway had
enjoyed his sway. Never, never; no, not even in the still night when the
voice of conscience in most men is so suggestive; never giving a thought
to the wrong dealt out to Rupert.
And it must be mentioned that the first thing Mr. Chattaway did, after
the death of Squire Trevlyn, was to sue Mr. Ryle upon the bond; which he
had _not_ destroyed, although ordered to do so by the Squire. The next
thing he did was to raise the farm to a ruinous rent. Mr. Ryle,
naturally indignant, remonstrated, and there had been ill-feeling
between them from that hour to this; but Chattaway had the law on his
own side. Some of the bond was paid off; but altogether, what with the
increased rent, the bond and its interest, and a succession of ill-luck
on the farm, Mr. Ryle had scarcely been able to keep his head above
water. As he said to his wife and children, when the bull had done its
work--he was taken from a world of care.