"HE IS MY RIVAL STILL"
Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
--SHAKESPEARE.
Love is patient and content with anything, so it be
together with its beloved.
--JEREMY TAYLOR.
It was on a bright sunshiny April afternoon that Malcolm at last
paid his long-deferred visit to Staplegrove. Cedric had been at home
for nearly a week then, but he and Malcolm had already met. Cedric had
spent a night at Cheyne Walk before going down to the Wood House, and
had extracted from his friend a reluctant promise that he would come
down as early in the week as possible. Malcolm's assurance that he
could only spare two nights was treated by the young matron with
incredulity.
"Look here, Herrick," he returned in a lordly manner, "it is no good
putting on side with me. You may be a brilliant essayist, as that
fellow called you, and a tiptop literary swell, but you are not going
to chuck up old friends in this fashion. You are going to pay us a
decent visit, or your humble servant will kick up no end of a shindy."
But to all this Malcolm turned a deaf ear. He repeated gravely that his
engagements would only allow him to sleep two nights at the Wood House;
and as Malcolm had made the engagements himself for the express purpose
of shortening his visit, he probably knew best.
Cedric grumbled a good deal, and used some strong language, but he
quieted down after a time, and they went on with their conversation;
for Cedric had a plan in his head, and he wanted his friend's advice
and co-operation. As Malcolm listened, he wondered what Dinah would
think of her boy. Cedric looked at least two or three years older; he
was broader, stronger, and Malcolm even fancied he had gained an inch
in height; he was certainly a magnificent specimen of an athletic young
Englishman.
He had always been handsome, but in Malcolm's opinion he had never
appeared to greater advantage than now. His skin was slightly tanned by
sun and wind, and his hair had darkened a little; he had lost the
expression of weak irresolution which had marred his face, and he had
evidently grown in manliness and self-restraint. His manner was still
boyish at times, and Malcolm was glad to hear the old ringing laugh.
Cedric's wound had been deep, but it was not incurable--time and change
of scene had been potent factors in the cure. Malcolm listened with a
great deal of interest to the scheme that Cedric intended to lay before
his sisters.
It appeared that in the Bavarian highlands he had stumbled across an
old school-fellow, Harry Strickland.
"We were chums at Haileybury," went on Cedric. "Harry was always a good
sort; but his people sent him to Cambridge, so I lost sight of him. I
knew his father was dead and that an uncle had offered him a home--his
mother had died when he was quite a little chap, and he had no brothers
or sisters--but when we met in the inn that wet night--when Dunlop and
I were nearly drowned getting down from the Alp--he told me that a fit
of gout had carried off his uncle quite unexpectedly."
"Poor chap, he seems a bit lonely," observed Malcolm sympathetically.
"Yes, he was mooning about, and rather bothered what to do next. So he
was delighted at the idea of joining some of our excursions. But I will
keep all that for the Wood House, for we had no end of adventures--the
dare-devil Englishmen as they called us. But never mind that, I must
hurry on."
"Harry is his uncle's heir--not that that amounts to much--but he has
come into possession of a fine old farm that has been in the family for
a hundred years at least, with plenty of good land, but, alas! little
capital. The facts of the case are these, Herrick. Roger Strickland was
not a rich man, and for want of a little ready money the farm has
deteriorated in value. There is plenty to be got out of the land if
only more could be spent on it; they want a new barn and some
outhouses, and some of the fencing is disgraceful. As for the Priory
itself--it is the Priory farm, you know--it is an old ramshackle place
and in sore need of repair; some of the floors are rotten, and there
are holes and crannies, and the mice and rats hold high revel in the
disused rooms."
"My dear fellow, your description is not alluring," remarked Malcolm,
wondering what all this meant.
"Oh, I am telling you the worst; it really is a lovely old place. Only
Harry declares he would not live there alone for anything; it is
supposed to be haunted by a certain evil-minded Strickland, in a green
velvet suit and a powdered periwig, who drags one leg--but I will tell
you the story another time; it will make your hair stand on end. Now
Harry's difficulty is this: he has so little capital that he is half
afraid of taking up the farm himself, and yet it is the only life he
cares about; and he wants to find some one, with money to spare, who
would join him in working the concern"--and here Cedric stopped and
looked significantly at Malcolm.
"Ah, I understand now," returned his friend; "it is to be a sort of
partnership. And so you think you would like to take to farming--eh,
Cedric?"
"Like it," returned Cedric, colouring with excitement, "it is the very
life I should choose. It would be just splendid for Harry and me to
work together! Oh, I know what you are going to say"--as Malcolm opened
his lips--"but wait a moment and let me finish first. Of course I know
nothing of farming, and Harry knows precious little either; but he has
a good bailiff whom he can trust, and whose wife manages the dairy.
What I am going to propose is this, that Harry and I should go to the
Agricultural College at Cirencester for a few months and get an idea of
the business; and then, if Dinah would start me with a good round sum
we could begin to get the place in order. I have set my heart on it,
Herrick," and here Cedric's voice was very persuasive, "and I want you
to come down and talk it out with her, like the good fellow you are."
"I will come, of course," returned Malcolm slowly, "and on the whole I
am inclined to approve of your plan; but I do not think we can decide
anything in this off-hand way. I think the best thing would be for us
to reconnoitre the place, and perhaps Mr. Strickland could accompany
us. The bailiff could give us full particulars, and we might consult
Mr. Strickland's lawyer if we are in any difficulty."
And Cedric made no objection to this arrangement. They would go into
the thing properly, of course, and there was no need to hurry matters;
he only stipulated that Malcolm should come down and talk to Dinah
without delay. This Malcolm had already promised; and when Cedric went
to bed he felt assured that Malcolm's interest and sympathy were fully
enlisted on his behalf.
"It is a foregone conclusion as far as Dinah is concerned," he thought,
as he laid his head on his pillow. "Herrick can make her believe
anything he likes, she has such faith in him; he has only to say that
it is a capital plan, and that I shall make a first-rate farmer, and
she will be ready to take out her cheque-book at once."
Cedric went round to 27 Queen's Gate to pay his respects to the ladies
before he started for Staplegrove. Malcolm, who dined there that night,
was amused by his mother's openly-avowed admiration of their young
friend.
"Cedric Templeton is one of the most attractive-looking men I have ever
seen," she said in her most serious voice; "he is very much improved in
every way, and is altogether charming."
"I hope you agree with my mother, Anna?" observed Malcolm, laughing. "I
think Cedric's ears must be burning at the present moment." But Anna
only returned rather shyly that she thought Mr. Templeton looked
extremely well.
Malcolm had fixed his day, but he refused to state any hour for his
arrival. There was no need to send the dog-cart for him; he would
prefer taking a fly from the station. Of course, he put forth business
as his plea; but in reality he did not wish Cedric to meet him, the
lad's incessant chatter all the way to Staplegrove would have worried
him excessively. It was just a year since he had seen Elizabeth, and in
his heart he was secretly dreading that first meeting. Perhaps he had
left it too long, he ought to have gone sooner; they would be like
strangers, and the first interview would be very embarrassing to them
both. Yes, he had been a fool to spare himself the pain of seeing her
grief. He had kept away, banishing himself for all these months, and
yet what good had it done him? it had only increased his nervousness
and discomfort tenfold. He was haunted by the fear that he should find
her changed, that she would be cold and distant with him. He worked
himself up into such a fever at last, that half-way up the Staplegrove
Hill he stopped the fly and told the driver that he wished to walk, and
directed him to take his bag to the Wood House.
The walk certainly refreshed him, and by the time he reached the Crow's
Nest he felt more ready for the ordeal. When he came to the gate that
led to the Wood House, he hesitated, and then crossed the road and
stood for a few moments looking down the little woodland path he
remembered so well. No other place was so associated with Elizabeth.
How often he had met her at this little gate, or waited for her when he
knew she was coming back from Rotherwood! That day, for example, when
she wore her white sun-bonnet, and came along swinging her arms like an
imperial milkmaid, a "very queen of curds and cream." At that moment a
little sharp clang of a distant gate made his heart beat suddenly.
There were footsteps--yes, without doubt, there were footsteps--it was
no fancy. Then at the bend of the road he could see distinctly a tall
black figure, walking rather slowly and wearily along, and though he
could not see her face he knew it was Elizabeth.
The next minute he unlatched the gate a little noisily; he would not
steal a march on her--she believed herself alone; then she looked up
and quickened her pace, and when he came up to her, there was actually
a smile on her face.
"You are fond of surprises," she said, looking at him as she gave him
her hand. "Am I late, have you come to meet me; and what have you done
with your luggage?"
"I have sent it on," he returned quietly; "it is such a lovely
afternoon that I preferred to walk. No, I did not come to meet you; for
all I knew, you might have been at the Wood House. I only had a fancy
that I should like to see the woodlands again, and then I saw you
coming."
"It is not my usual afternoon for Rotherwood," she returned quickly,
but a faint colour had come in her face at his words; "but I am there
most days. You know, of course--Dinah will have told you--of the new
interest I have there. I think Die tells you most things," she
continued, with the same glimmer of a smile on her lips.
"Yes, she is very good," he returned gravely. They were walking side by
side now. Malcolm had hardly trusted himself to look at her, and yet
nothing had been lost on him. How changed she was! that was his first
thought. She looked years older; mourning did not suit her; the black
hat with its heavy trimming seemed to extinguish her somehow. She was
paler and thinner, he was sure of that, and had lost some of her
splendid vitality; and yet in spite of all this it was to him the
dearest face in the world.
As she made that poor little attempt at a smile, his whole heart went
out to her in profound love and pity, and he forgot his own pain in
remembering her trouble.
"Your sister told me about Mr. Carlyon," he said, as they crossed the
road; "I was very glad to hear from her how well it answered."
"He is very happy at Rotherwood," returned Elizabeth. "The people seem
to take to him, and he and the vicar are like brothers, and the work
exactly suits him. Theo is happy too, and that is a great blessing. And
we have made the cottage so pretty that I should like you to see it."
Elizabeth's manner had become more natural; she spoke now as though she
were sure of Malcolm's interest. He did not disappoint her.
"I shall certainly call there when I go to the vicarage," he returned,
and then he stopped as though to take breath. "I was very glad when I
read your sister's letter, and knew that this new work was to come to
you; it must make you so much happier."
Malcolm's words were almost magical in their effect, for Elizabeth
turned to him with her old eagerness.
"Oh, you always understand," she said gratefully; "that is why it is so
easy to talk to you. Yes, indeed, it has made me so much happier. Life
is worth living when one knows there is some one in the world who is
dependent on one for earthly comfort. Of course Mr. Carlyon has Theo,
but she does not know him as I do. I am at the cottage nearly every
day."
Malcolm listened and smiled, but he could not have spoken at that
moment. How little she guessed how her words stabbed him! She could
tell him to his face that life was worth living "because there was some
one dependent on her for earthly comfort," and yet she could leave him
hungering and thirsting in that sad pilgrimage of his. All her thoughts
and sweet ministries were for David's father. "It is for him," he
thought bitterly; "he is my rival still--dead as well as living. She is
very faithful: she will not forget him, and her heart is still closed
to me."
Elizabeth did not seem to notice his silence; she talked on about Mr.
Charrington, and the new schools; and then Cedric came flying down the
path to meet them, and the next moment Malcolm saw Dinah smiling in the
porch.
After dinner that evening they gathered round the fire, for the nights
were still chilly, and Elizabeth joined the circle to hear Cedric's
scheme discussed.
From his dark corner Malcolm watched her. In spite of her unrelieved
black and absence of ornaments, she was looking more like the old
Elizabeth. She grew interested and then quite absorbed in Cedric's
project, and soon began discussing it with her wonted vivacity. When
Malcolm made some damping remark, she argued the point with him in a
most peremptory fashion, and was quite Elizabethan in her rebuke.
"That is the worst of talking to a lawyer," she said severely: "his
legal mind takes such cut-and-dried views. Granted that it is a
speculation, it seems a promising one; and nothing venture, nothing
have. I don't know how you feel, Die, but I am quite willing to do my
share." Then Dinah, who was in quite a flutter of excitement and
pleasure, looked at her adviser in a timid, deprecating fashion.
"If Mr. Herrick thinks we are not imprudent, I should like to do as
Cedric wishes," she replied; "though there is no need to touch your
money, Betty." But Elizabeth took no notice of this remark.
"I have a proposal to make," she went on in such an animated voice that
Malcolm quite started. "Why should we not all go down and see the
place? And Mr. Strickland could come too. Donnarton is only three hours
from town; it would be a sort of picnic excursion, and I know Dinah
would like it."
"Bravo, Betty, what a brick you are!" exclaimed Cedric boisterously;
and Malcolm observed in a low voice that it was an excellent idea.
But when they talked it over quietly they found an amendment was
necessary. It would be impossible to go and return the same day; there
was the farm to inspect, and most likely they would have to consult the
lawyer. The matter ended by Cedric volunteering to go back with Malcolm
when he returned to town, and talk the matter over with Harry
Strickland; and if any decent lodgings could be found in the little
town of Donnarton, they would stop at least one night.
As early a day as possible was to be fixed, and all the arrangements
were to be made by the gentlemen. Dinah was evidently charmed with the
prospect of seeing the Priory; but Elizabeth's ardour quickly cooled
when she found it would be necessary to remain the night. "I suppose
you could not go without me, Die?" she observed when alone with her
sister. Then Dinah's face fell.
"Oh, Betty dear, that would spoil everything," she said in a distressed
tone. "Surely you want to see dear Cedric's future home."
"Of course I want to see it," returned Elizabeth rather shortly; "only
I should have preferred going down quietly a little later on"--which
was somewhat contradictory, as she had herself proposed the plan. But
perhaps the delighted look on Malcolm's face when he heard her
proposition had somewhat alarmed her; for the next day she was a little
cool and distant in her manner to him, and left his entertainment to
Dinah and Cedric.