A SURPRISE FOR MR. CHATTAWAY
George Ryle by no means liked the uncertainty in which he was kept as to
the Upland Farm. Had Mr. Chattaway been any other than Mr. Chattaway,
had he been a straightforward man, George would have said, "Give me an
answer, Yes or No." In point of fact, he did say so; but was unable to
get a reply from him, one way or the other. Mr. Chattaway was pretty
liberal in his sneers as to one with no means of his own taking so
extensive a farm as the Upland; but he did not positively say, "I will
not lease it to you." George bore the sneers with equanimity. He
possessed that very desirable gift, a sweet temper; and he was, and
could not help feeling that he was, so really superior to Mr. Chattaway,
that he could afford that gentleman's evil tongue some latitude.
But the time was going on; it was necessary that a decision should be
arrived at; and one morning George went up again to the Hold, determined
to receive a final answer. As he was entering the steward's room, he met
Ford, the Blackstone clerk, coming out of it.
"Is Mr. Chattaway in there?" asked George.
"Yes," replied Ford. "But if you want any business out of him this
morning, you won't get it. I have tramped all the way up here about a
hurried matter and have had my walk for my pains. Chattaway won't do
anything or say anything; doesn't seem capable; says he shall be at
Blackstone by-and-by. And that's all I've got to go back with."
"Why won't he?"
"Goodness knows. He seems to have had a shock or fright: was staring at
a letter when I went in, and I left him staring at it when I came out,
his wits evidently wool-gathering. Good morning, Mr. Ryle."
The young man went his way, and George entered the room. Mr. Chattaway
was seated at his desk; an open letter before him, as Ford had said. It
was one that had been delivered by that morning's post, and it had
brought the sweat of dismay upon his brow. He looked at George angrily.
"Who's this again? Am I never to be at peace? What do you want?"
"Mr. Chattaway, I want an answer. If you will not let me the Upland
Farm----"
"I will give you no answer this morning. I am otherwise occupied, and
cannot be bothered with business."
"Will you give me an answer--at all?"
"Yes, to-morrow. Come then."
George saw that something had indeed put Mr. Chattaway out; he appeared
incapable of business, as Ford had intimated, and it would be policy,
perhaps, to let the matter rest until to-morrow. But a resolution came
into George's mind to do at once what he had sometimes thought of
doing--make a friend, if possible, of Miss Diana Trevlyn. He went about
the house until he found her, for he was almost as much at home there as
poor Rupert had been. Miss Diana happened to be alone in the
breakfast-room, looking over what appeared to be bills, but she
laid them aside at his entrance, and--it was a most unusual
thing--condescended to ask after the health of her sister, Mrs. Ryle.
"Miss Diana, I want you to be my friend," he said, in the winning manner
that made George Ryle liked by everyone, as he drew a chair near to her.
"Will you whisper a word for me into Mr. Chattaway's ear?"
"About the Upland Farm?"
"Yes. I cannot get an answer from him. He has promised me one to-morrow
morning, but I do not rely upon it. I must be at some certainty. I have
my eye on another farm if I cannot get Mr. Chattaway's; but it is at
some distance, and I shall not like it half as well. Whilst he keeps me
shilly-shallying over this one, I may lose both. There's an old proverb,
you know, about two stools."
"Was that a joke the other day, the hint you gave about marrying?"
inquired Miss Diana.
"It was sober earnest. If I can get the Upland Farm, I shall, I hope,
take my wife home to it almost as soon as I am installed there myself."
"Is she a good manager, a practical woman?"
George smiled. "No. She is a lady."
"I thought so," was the remark of Miss Diana, delivered in very knowing
tones. "I can tell you and your wife, George, that it will be uphill
work for both of you."
"For a time; I know that. But, Miss Diana, ease, when it comes, will be
all the more enjoyable for having been worked for. I often think the
prosperity of those who have honestly earned it must be far sweeter than
the monotonous abundance of those who are born rich."
"True. The worst is, that sometimes the best years of life are over
before prosperity comes."
"But those years have had their pleasure, in working on for it. I
question whether actual prosperity ever brings the pleasure we enjoy in
anticipation. If we had no end to work for, we should not be happy. Will
you say a word for me, Miss Diana?"
"First of all, tell me the name of the lady. I suppose you have no
objection--you may trust me."
George's lips parted with a smile, and a faint flush stole over his
features. "I shall have to tell you before I win her, if only to obtain
your consent to taking her from the Hold."
"_My_ consent! I have nothing to do with it. You must get that from Mr.
and Madam Chattaway."
"If I have yours, I am not sure that I should care to ask--his."
"Of whom do you speak?" she rejoined, looking puzzled.
"Of Maude Trevlyn."
Miss Diana rose from her chair, and stared at him in astonishment.
"Maude Trevlyn!" she repeated. "Since when have you thought of Maude
Trevlyn?"
"Since I thought of any one--thought at all, I was going to say. I loved
Maude--yes, _loved_ her, Miss Diana--when she was only a child."
"And you have not thought of anyone else?"
"Never. I have loved Maude, and I have been content to wait for her. But
that I was so trammelled with the farm at home, keeping it for Mrs. Ryle
and Treve, I might have spoken before."
Maude Trevlyn was evidently not the lady upon whom Miss Diana's
suspicions had fallen, and she seemed unable to recover from her
surprise or realise the fact. "Have you never given cause to another
to--to--suspect any admiration on your part?" she resumed, breaking the
silence.
"Believe me, I never have. On the contrary," glancing at Miss Diana with
peculiar significance for a moment, his tone most impressive, "I have
cautiously abstained from doing so."
"Ah, I see." And Miss Trevlyn's tone was not less significant than his.
"Will you give her to me?" he pleaded, in his softest and most
persuasive voice.
"I don't know, George, there may be trouble over this."
"Do you mean with Mr. Chattaway?"
"I mean----No matter what I mean. I think there will be trouble over
it."
"There need be none if you will sanction it. But that you might
misconstrue me, I would urge you to give her to me for Maude's own sake.
This escapade of poor Rupert's has rendered Mr. Chattaway's roof an
undesirable one for her."
"Maude is a Trevlyn, and must marry a gentleman," spoke Miss Diana.
"I am one," said George quietly. "Forgive me if I remind you that my
ancestors are equal to those of the Trevlyns. In the days gone by----"
"You need not enter upon it," was the interruption. "I do not forget it.
But gentle descent is not all that is necessary. Maude will have money,
and it is only right that she should marry one who possesses it in an
equal degree."
"Maude will not have a shilling," cried George, impulsively.
"Indeed! Who told you so?"
George laughed. "It is what I have always supposed. Where is her money
to come from?"
"She will have a great deal of money," persisted Miss Diana. "The half
of my fortune, at least, will be Maude's. The other half I intended for
Rupert. Did you suppose the last of the Trevlyns, Maude and Rupert,
would be turned penniless into the world?"
So! It had been Miss Diana's purpose to bequeath them money! Yes; loving
power though she did; acquiescing in the act of usurping Trevlyn Hold as
she had, she intended to make it up in some degree to the children.
Human nature is full of contradictions. "Has Maude learnt to care for
you?" she suddenly asked. "You hesitate!"
"If I hesitate it is not because I have no answer to give, but whether
it would be quite fair to Maude to give it. The truth may be best,
however; she _has_ learnt to care for me. Perhaps you will answer me a
question--have you any objection to me personally?"
"George Ryle, had I objected to you personally, I should have ordered
you out of the room the instant you mentioned Maude's name. Were your
position a better one, I would give you Maude to-morrow--so far as my
giving could avail. But to enter the Upland Farm upon borrowed
money?--no; I do not think that will do for Maude Trevlyn."
"It would be a better position for her than the one she now holds, as
Mr. Chattaway's governess," replied George, boldly. "A better, and a far
happier."
"Nonsense. Maude Trevlyn's position at Trevlyn Hold is not to be looked
upon as that of governess, but as a daughter of the house. It was well
that both she and Rupert should have some occupation."
"And on the other score?" resumed George. "May I dare to say the truth
to you, that in quitting the Hold for the home I shall make for her, she
will be leaving misery for happiness?"
Miss Diana rose. "That is enough for the present," said she. "It has
come upon me with surprise, and I must give it some hours' consideration
before I can even realise it. With regard to the Upland Farm, I will ask
Mr. Chattaway to accord you preference if he can do so; the two matters
are quite distinct and apart one from the other. I think you might
prosper at the Upland Farm, and be a good tenant; but I decline--and
this you must distinctly understand--to give you any hope now with
regard to Maude."
George held out his hand with his sunny smile. "I will wait until you
have considered it, Miss Diana."
She took her way at once to Mrs. Chattaway's room. Happening, as she
passed the corridor window, to glance to the front of the house, she saw
George Ryle cross the lawn. At the same moment, Octave Chattaway ran
after him, evidently calling to him.
He stopped and turned. He could do no less. And Octave stood with him,
laughing and talking rather more freely than she might have done, had
she been aware of what had just taken place. Miss Diana drew in her
severe lips, changed her course, and sailed back to the hall-door.
Octave was coming in then.
"Manners have changed since I was a girl," remarked Miss Diana. "It
would scarcely have been deemed seemly then for a young lady to run
after a gentleman. I do not like it, Octave."
"Manners do change," returned Miss Chattaway, in tones she made as
slighting as she dared. "It was only George Ryle, Aunt Diana."
"Do you know where Maude is?"
"No; I know nothing about her. I think if you gave Maude a word of
reprimand instead of giving one to me, it might not be amiss, Aunt
Diana. Since Rupert turned runagate--or renegade might be a better
word--Maude has shamefully neglected her duties with Emily and Edith.
She passes her time in the clouds and lets them run wild."
"Had Rupert been your brother you might have done the same," curtly
rejoined Miss Diana. "A shock like that cannot be lived down in a day.
Allow me to give you a hint, Octave; should you lose Maude for the
children, you will not so efficiently replace her."
"We are not likely to lose her," said Octave, opening her eyes.
"I don't know that. It is possible that we shall. George Ryle wants
her."
"Wants her for what?" asked Octave, staring very much.
"He can want her but for one thing--to be his wife. It seems he has
loved her for years."
She quitted Octave as she said this, on her way up again to Mrs.
Chattaway's room; never halting, never looking back at the still, white
face, that seemed to be turning into stone as it was strained after her.
In Mrs. Chattaway's sitting-room she found that lady and Maude. She
entered suddenly and hastily, and had Miss Diana been of a suspicious
nature it might have arisen then. In their close contact, their start of
surprise, the expression of their haggard countenances, there was surely
evidence of some unhappy secret. Miss Diana was closely followed by Mr.
Chattaway.
"Did you not hear me call?" he inquired of his sister-in-law.
"No," she replied. "I only heard you on the stairs behind me. What is
it?"
"Read that," said Mr. Chattaway.
He tossed an open letter to her. It was the one which had so put him
out, rendering him incapable of attending to business. After digesting
it alone in the best manner he could, he had now come to submit it to
the keen and calm inspection of Miss Trevlyn.
"Oh," said she carelessly, as she looked at the writing, "another letter
from Connell and Connell."
"Read it," repeated Mr. Chattaway, in low tones. He was too completely
shaken to be anything but subdued.
Miss Diana proceeded to do so. It was a letter shorter, if anything,
than the previous one, but even more decided. It simply said that Mr.
Rupert Trevlyn had written to inform them of his intention of taking
immediate possession of Trevlyn Hold, and had requested them to acquaint
Mr. Chattaway with the same. Miss Diana read it to herself, and then
aloud for the general benefit.
"It is the most infamous thing that has ever come under my notice," said
Mr. Chattaway. "What _right_ have those Connells to address me in this
strain? If Rupert Trevlyn passes his time inventing such folly, is it
the work of a respectable firm to perpetuate the jokes on me?"
Mrs. Chattaway and Maude gazed at each other, perfectly confounded. It
was next to impossible that Rupert could have thus written to Connell
and Connell. If they had only dared defend him! "Why suffer it to put
you out, James?" Mrs. Chattaway ventured to say. "Rupert _cannot_ be
writing such letters; he _cannot_ be thinking of attempting to take
possession here; the bare idea is absurd: treat it as such."
"But these communications from Connell and Connell are not the less
disgraceful," was the reply. "I'd as soon be annoyed with anonymous
letters."
Miss Diana Trevlyn had not spoken. The affair, to her keen mind, began
to wear a strange appearance. She looked up from the letter at Mr.
Chattaway. "Were Connell and Connell not so respectable, I should say
they have lent themselves to a sorry joke for the purpose of the worst
sort of annoyance: being what they are, that view falls to the ground.
There is only one possible solution to it: but----"
"And what's that?" eagerly interrupted Mr. Chattaway.
"That Rupert is amusing himself, and has contrived to impose upon
Connell and Connell----"
"He never has," broke in Mrs. Chattaway. "I mean," she more calmly
added, "that Connell and Connell could not be imposed upon by any
foolish claim put forth by a boy like Rupert."
"I wish you would hear me out," was the composed rejoinder of Miss
Diana. "It is what I was about to say. Had Connell and Connell been
different men, they might be so imposed upon; but I do not think they,
or any firm of similar standing, would presume to write such letters to
the master of Trevlyn Hold, unless they had substantial grounds for
doing so."
"Then what can they mean?" cried Mr. Chattaway, wiping his hot face.
Ay, what could they mean? It was indeed a puzzle, and the matter began
to assume a serious form. What had been the vain boastings of Mr. Daw,
compared with this? Cris Chattaway, when he reached home, and this
second letter was shown to him, was loudly indignant, but all the
indignation Mr. Chattaway had been prone to indulge in seemed to have
gone out of _him_. Mr. Flood wrote to Connell and Connell to request an
explanation, and received a courteous and immediate reply. But it
contained no further information than the letters themselves--or than
even Mr. Peterby had elicited when he wrote up, on his own part,
privately to Mr. Ray: nothing but that Mr. Rupert Trevlyn was about to
take possession of his own again, and occupy Trevlyn Hold.