NEWS FOR MISS DIANA
In that pleasant room at the parsonage, with its sweet-scented
mignonette boxes, and vases of freshly-cut flowers, sat the Reverend Mr.
Freeman at breakfast, with his wife and visitor. It was a simple meal.
All meals were simple at Barbrook Parsonage: as they generally are where
means are limited. And you have not yet to learn, I dare say, that
comfort and simplicity frequently go together: whilst comfort and
grandeur are often separated. There was no lack of comfort and homely
fare at Mr. Freeman's. Coffee and rich milk: home-made bread and the
freshest of butter, new-laid eggs and autumn watercress. It was by no
means starvation.
Mr. Daw, however, paid less attention to the meal than he might have
done had his mind been less preoccupied. The previous evening, when he
and Mr. Freeman had first met, after an absence of more than twenty
years, their conversation had naturally run on their own personal
interests: past events had to be related. But this morning they could go
to other subjects, and Mr. Daw was not slow to do so. They were
talking--you may have guessed it--of the Trevlyns.
Mr. Daw grew warm upon the subject. As on the previous day, when Molly
placed the meal before him, he almost forgot to eat. And yet Mr. Daw, in
spite of his assurance that he was contented with a crust of bread and a
cup of milk knew how to appreciate good things. In plainer words, he
liked them. Men who have no occupation for their days and years
sometimes grow into epicureans.
"You are sparing the eggs," said Mrs. Freeman, a good-natured woman with
a large nose, thin cheeks, and prominent teeth. Mr. Daw replied by
taking another egg from the stand and chopping off its top. But there it
remained. He was enlarging on the injustice dealt out to Rupert Trevlyn.
"It ought to be remedied, you know, Freeman. It must be remedied. It is
a wrong in the sight of God and man."
The curate--Mr. Freeman was nothing more, for all his many years'
services--smiled good-humouredly. He never used hard words: preferring
to let wrongs, which were no business of his, right themselves, or
remain wrongs, and taking life as it came, easily and pleasantly.
"We can't alter it," he said. "We have no power to interfere with
Chattaway. He has enjoyed Trevlyn Hold these twenty years, and must
enjoy it still."
"I don't know about that," returned Mr. Daw. "I don't know that he must
enjoy it still. At any rate, he ought not to do so. Had I lived in this
neighbourhood as you have, Freeman, I should have tried to get him out
of it before this."
The parson opened his eyes in surprise.
"There's such a thing as shaming people out of injustice," continued Mr.
Daw. "Has any one represented to Chattaway the fearful wrong he is
guilty of in his conduct towards Rupert Trevlyn?"
"I can't say," equably answered the parson. "I have not."
"Will you go with me and do it to-day?"
"Well--no; I think I'd rather not, Daw. If any good could come of it,
perhaps I might do so; but nothing could come of it. And I find it
answers best not to meddle with the affairs of other folk."
"The wrongs dealt out to him are so great," persisted Mr. Daw. "Not
content with having wrested Trevlyn Hold from the boy, Chattaway
converts him into a common labourer in some coal office of his, making
him walk to and fro night and morning. You know him?"
"Know him?" repeated Mr. Freeman. "I have known him since he first came
here, a child in arms." In truth, it was a superfluous question.
"Did you know his father?"
"No; I came to Barbrook after his father went abroad."
"I was going to ask, if you had known him, whether you did not remark
the extraordinary resemblance the young man bears to his father. The
likeness is great; and he has the same suspiciously delicate complexion.
I should fear that the boy will go off as his father did, and----"
"I have long said he ought to take cod-liver oil," interposed Mrs.
Freeman, who was doctor in ordinary to her husband's parish, and very
decided in her opinions.
"Well, ma'am, that boy must die--if he is to die--Squire of Trevlyn
Hold. I shall use all my means while I am here to induce this Chattaway
to resign his possessions to the rightful owner. The boy seems to have
had no friend in the world to take up his cause. What this Miss Diana
can have been about, to stand tamely by and not interfere, I cannot
conceive. She is the sister of his father."
"Better let it alone, Daw," said the parson. "Rely upon it, you will
make no impression on Chattaway. You must excuse me for saying it, but
it's quite foolish to think that you will; quixotic and absurd.
Chattaway possesses Trevlyn Hold--is not likely to resign it."
"I could not let it alone now," impulsively answered Mr. Daw. "The boy
seems to have no friend, I say; and I have a right to constitute myself
his friend. I should not be worthy the name of man were I not to do it.
I intended to stay with you only two nights; you'll give me house-room a
little longer, won't you?"
"We'll give it you for two months, and gladly, if you can put up with
our primitive mode of living," was the hospitable answer.
Mr. Daw shook his head. "Two months I could not remain; two weeks I
might. I cannot go away leaving things in this unsatisfactory state. The
first thing I shall do this morning will be to call at the Hold, and
seek an interview with Chattaway."
But Mr. Daw did not succeed in obtaining the interview with Chattaway.
When he arrived at Trevlyn Hold, he was told the Squire was out. It was
correct; Chattaway had ridden out immediately after breakfast. The
stranger next asked for Miss Diana, and was admitted.
Chattaway had said to Miss Diana in private, before starting, "Don't
receive him should he come here; don't let his foot pass over the
door-sill." Very unwise advice, as Miss Diana judged; and she did not
take it. Miss Diana had the sense to remember that an unknown evil is
more to be feared than an open one. No one can fight in the dark. The
stranger was ushered into the drawing-room by order of Miss Diana, and
she came to him.
It was not a satisfactory interview, since nothing came of it; but it
was a decently civil one. Miss Diana was cold, reserved, somewhat
haughty, but courteous; Mr. Daw was pressing, urgent, but respectful and
gentlemanly. Rupert Trevlyn was by right the owner of Trevlyn Hold, was
the substance of the points urged by the one; Squire Trevlyn was his own
master, made his own will, and it was not for his children and
dependants to raise useless questions, still less for a stranger, was
the answer of the other.
"Madam," said Mr. Daw, "did the enormity of the injustice never strike
you?"
"Will you be so good as to tell me by what right you interfere?"
returned Miss Diana. "I cannot conceive what business it can be of
yours."
"I think the redressing of the injustice should be made the business of
everyone."
"What a great deal everyone would have to do!" exclaimed Miss Diana.
"With regard to my right of interference, Miss Trevlyn, the law might
not give me any; but I assume it by the bond of friendship. I was with
his father when he died; I was with his mother. Poor thing! it was only
within the last six or seven hours of her life that danger was
apprehended. They both died in the belief that their children would
inherit Trevlyn Hold. Madam," quite a blaze of light flushing from his
dark eyes, "I have lived all the years since, believing they were in the
enjoyment of it."
"You believed rightly," equably rejoined Miss Diana. "They have been in
the enjoyment of it. It has been their home."
"As it may be the home of any of your servants," returned Mr. Daw; and
Miss Diana did not like the comparison.
"May I ask," she continued, "if you came into this neighbourhood for the
express purpose of putting this 'injustice' to rights?"
"No, madam, I did not. But it is unnecessary for you to be sarcastic
with me. I wish to urge the matter upon you in a friendly rather than an
adverse spirit. Business connected with my own affairs brought me to
London some ten days ago, from the place where I had lived so long. As I
was so near, I thought I would come down and see my former friend
Freeman, before starting homewards; for I dare say I shall never again
return to England. I knew Barbrook Parsonage and Trevlyn Hold were not
very far apart, and I anticipated the pleasure of meeting Joe Trevlyn's
children, whom I had known as infants. I never supposed but that Rupert
was in possession of Trevlyn Hold. You may judge of my surprise when I
arrived yesterday and heard the true state of the case."
"You have a covert motive in this," suddenly exclaimed Miss Diana, in a
voice that had turned to sharpness.
"Covert motive?" he repeated, looking at her.
"Yes. Had you been, as you state, so interested in the welfare of Rupert
Trevlyn and his sister, does it stand to reason that you would never
have inquired after them through all these long years?"
"I beg your pardon, Miss Trevlyn: the facts are precisely as I have
stated them. Strange as it may seem, I never once wrote to inquire after
them, and the neglect strikes me forcibly now. But I am naturally inert,
and all correspondence with my own country had gradually ceased. I did
often think of the little Trevlyns, but it was always to suppose them as
being at Trevlyn Hold, sheltered by their appointed guardian."
"What appointed guardian?" cried Miss Diana.
"Yourself."
"I! I was not the appointed guardian of the Trevlyns."
"Indeed you were. You were appointed by their mother. The letter--the
deed, I may say, for I believe it to have been legally worded--was
written when she was dying."
Miss Trevlyn had never heard of any deed. "Who wrote it?" she asked,
after a pause.
"I did. When dangerous symptoms set in, and she was told she might not
live, Mrs. Trevlyn sent for me. She had her little baby baptized Rupert,
for it had been her husband's wish that the child, if a boy, should be
so named, and then I sat down by her bedside at her request, and wrote
the document. She entreated Miss Diana Trevlyn--you, madam--to reside at
Trevlyn Hold as its mistress, when it should lapse to Rupert, and be the
guardian and protector of her children, until Rupert came of age. She
besought you to love them, and be kind to them for their father's sake;
for her sake; for the sake, also, of the friendship which had once
existed between you and her. This will prove to you," he added in a
different tone, "that poor Mrs. Trevlyn, at least, never supposed there
was a likelihood of any other successor to the estate."
"I never heard of it," exclaimed Miss Diana, waking up as from a
reverie. "Was the document sent to me?"
"It was enclosed in the despatch which acquainted Squire Trevlyn with
Mrs. Trevlyn's death. I wrote them both, and I enclosed them together,
and sent them."
"Directed to whom?"
"To Squire Trevlyn."
Miss Diana sent her thoughts into the past. It was Chattaway who had
received that despatch. Could he have dared to suppress any
communication intended for her? Her haughty brow grew crimson at the
thought; but she suppressed all signs of annoyance.
"Will you allow me to renew my acquaintance with little Maude?" resumed
Mr. Daw. "Little Maude then, and a lovely child; a beautiful girl, as I
hear, now."
Miss Diana hesitated--a very uncommon thing for her to do. It is strange
what trifles turn the current of feelings: and this last item of
intelligence had wonderfully softened her towards this stranger. But she
remembered the interests at stake, and thought it best to be prudent.
"You must pardon the refusal," she said. "I quite appreciate your wish
to serve Rupert Trevlyn, but it can only fail, and further intercourse
will not be agreeable to either party. You will allow me to wish you
good morning, and to thank you."
She rang the bell, and bowed him out, with all the grand courtesy
belonging to the Trevlyns. As he passed through the hall, he caught a
glimpse of a lovely girl with a delicate bloom on her cheeks and large
blue eyes. Instinct told him it was Maude; and he likewise thought he
traced some resemblance to her mother. He took a step forward
involuntarily, to accost her, but recollecting himself, drew back again.
It was scarcely the thing to do: in defiance of Miss Diana Trevlyn's
recent refusal.