SIR NOEL'S VISITOR.
"It is not the old man, Sir Noel, but young Storms, who says he must
and will see you!"
"Did the hind send that message to me?"
"No, Sir Noel, he only said it to me, and impudent enough in him to do
it. His message to you was soft as silk. He had important business
which you would like to hear of, and could not wait. That was what
made him bold to ask," answered the servant, who had been greatly
disturbed by the manner of young Storms, who was no favorite at "The
Rest."
"You can let him come in," said Sir Noel, with strange hesitancy; for
over him came one of those chilly presentiments that delicately
sensitive persons alone can feel, when some evil thing threatens them.
"Let the young man come in."
The servant went out of the library, and Sir Noel leaned back in his
chair, subdued by this premonition of evil, but striving to reason
against it.
"He has come about the lease, no doubt," he argued. "I wish the
question was settled. After all, its consequence is disproportionate
to the annoyance. I would rather sign it blindly than have that young
man ten minutes in the room with me."
It was a strange sensation, but the baronet absolutely felt a thrill
of dread pass through him as the light footsteps of Richard Storms
approached the library, and when he came softly through the door,
closing it after him, a slow pallor crept over his face, and he shrunk
back with inward repulsion.
Storms, too, was pale, for it required something more than brute
courage to break the wicked business he was on to a man so gentle and
so proud as Sir Noel Hurst. With all his audacity he began to cringe
under the grave, quiet glance of inquiry bent upon him.
"I have come, Sir Noel--that is, I am wanting to see you about a
little business of my own."
"I understand," answered the baronet. "Your father wishes a new lease
to be made out, and some additional land for yourself. I think that
was the proposition."
"Yes, Sir Noel, only the old man was backward in saying all that he
wanted, and so I came to finish the matter up, knowing more than he
does, and feeling sure that your honor would want to oblige me."
"I am always ready to oblige any good tenant," answered Sir Noel,
smiling gravely at what he considered the young man's conceit; "but
think that wish should apply to your father rather than yourself, as
he is in reality the tenant; but if you are acting for him, it amounts
to the same thing."
"No, Sir Noel, it isn't the same thing at all. I came here on my own
business, with which my father has nothing to do. His lease is safe
enough, being promised; but I want the uplands, with a patch of good
shooting-ground, which no man living will have the right to carry a
gun over without my leave."
"Anything else?" questioned Sir Noel, with quiet irony, smiling in
spite of himself.
"Yes, Sir Noel, there is something else," rejoined the young man,
kindling into his natural audacity. "I want a house built on the
place. No thatched cottage or low-roofed farm-house, but the kind of
house a gentleman should live in, who shoots over his own land, for
which he is expected to pay neither rent nor tithes."
"That is, you wish me to give you a handsome property on which you can
live like a gentleman? Do I understand your very modest request
aright?"
"Not all of it. I haven't done yet."
"Indeed! Pray, go on."
"There isn't land enough out of lease to keep a gentleman, whose wife
will have all the taste of a lady, being educated as the chief friend
and associate of Sir Noel Hurst's ward. So I make it a condition that
some fair income in money should be secured on the property."
"A condition! You--"
"Yes, Sir Noel, it has come to that. I make conditions, and you grant
them."
Sir Noel's derisive smile deepened into a gentle laugh.
"Young man, are you mad? Nothing short of that can excuse this
bombast," he said at last, reaching out his hand to ring the bell.
"Don't ring!" exclaimed Storms, sharply. "You are welcome to the
laugh, but don't ring. Our business must be done without witnesses,
for your own sake."
"For my own sake? What insolence is this?"
"Well, if that does not suit, I will say for the sake of your son!"
The blow was struck. Sir Noel's face blanched to the lips; but his
eyes kindled and his form was drawn up haughtily.
"Well, sir, what have you to say of my son?"
"This much, Sir Noel. He has been poaching on my grounds, which I
don't think you will like better than I do, letting alone the Lady
Rose."
Sir Noel rose to his feet.
"Silence, sir! Do not dare take that lady's name into your lips."
Storms stepped back, frightened by the hot anger he had raised.
"I--I did but speak of her, Sir Noel, because the whole country round
have thought that she was to be the lady of 'Norston's Rest.'"
"Well, sir, who says that she will not?"
"I say it! I, whose sweetheart and almost wedded mate he has made a
by-word, and I do believe means to make his wife, rather than let the
bargain settled between William Jessup and my father come to
anything."
"What--what reason have you for thinking so?" questioned the baronet,
dismayed by this confirmation of fears that had been a sore trouble to
him.
"What reason, Sir Noel? Ask him about his private meetings with Ruth
Jessup in the park--in her father's house--by the lake--"
"I shall not ask him. Such questions would insult an honorable man."
"An honorable man! Then ask him where he was an hour before William
Jessup was shot. Ask him why the old man went out in search of him,
and why a discharged gun, bruised about the stock, was found under
that old cedar-tree. If your son refuses to answer, question the girl
herself, my betrothed wife. Ask her about his coming to the cottage,
while the old man was away. These are not pleasant questions, I dare
say; but they will give you a reason why I am here, why the land I
want must be had, and why I am ready to pay for it by marrying the
only girl that stands in the way of your ward, without asking too many
questions. You would not have the offer from many fellows, I can tell
you."
Sir Noel had slowly dropped into his chair, as this coarse speech was
forced upon him. His own fears, hidden under the habitual reserve of a
proud nature, gave force to every word the young man uttered. He was
convinced that a revolting scandal, if not grave troubles, might
spring out of the secret this young man was ready to sell and cover
for the price he had stated. But great as this fear was, such means of
concealment seemed impossible to his honorable nature. He could not
force himself into negotiations with the dastard, who seemed to have
no sense of honor or shame. The dead silence maintained by the baronet
made Storms restless. He had retreated a little, when Sir Noel sat
down; but drew near the table again with cat-like stillness, and
leaning upon it with both hands, bent forward, and whispered:
"Now I leave it to you, if the price I ask for taking her, and keeping
a close mouth, isn't dog-cheap?"
"Yes, dog-cheap," exclaimed the baronet, drawing his chair back, while
a flush of unmitigated disgust swept across the pallor of his face.
"But I do not deal with dogs!"
Storms started upright, with a snarl that seemed to come from the
animal to which he felt himself compared, and for a moment his face
partook of the resemblance.
"Such animals have been dangerous before now!" he said, with a hoarse
threat in his voice.
Sir Noel turned away from that vicious face, sick with disgust.
"If a harmless bark is not enough to start you into taking care of
yourself, take the bite. I did not mean to give it yet, but you will
have it. If you will not pay my price for your son's honor, do it to
save his life, for it was he who killed William Jessup."
Sir Noel arose from his seat, walked across the room and rang the
bell. When the servant answered it he pointed toward the door, saying
very quietly, "Show this person out."