CHAPTER VI.
THE BOY.
Leaving the mistress of Elmhurst among her flowers, Silas Watsonwalked slowly and thoughtfully along the paths until he reached theextreme left wing of the rambling old mansion. Here, half hidden bytangled vines of climbing roses, he came to a flight of steps leadingto an iron-railed balcony, and beyond this was a narrow stairway tothe rooms in the upper part of the wing.
Miss Merrick, however ungenerous she might have been to others, hadalways maintained Elmhurst in a fairly lavish manner. There wereplenty of servants to look after the house and gardens, and there weregood horses in the stables. Whenever her health permitted she dined instate each evening in the great dining-room, solitary and dignified,unless on rare occasions her one familiar, Silas Watson, occupied theseat opposite her. "The boy," as he was contemptuously called, wasnever permitted to enter this room. Indeed, it would be difficult todefine exactly Kenneth Forbes' position at Elmhurst. He had livedthere ever since his mother's death, when, a silent and unattractivelad of eight, Mr. Watson had brought him to Jane Merrick and insistedupon her providing a home for Tom Bradley's orphaned nephew.
She accepted the obligation reluctantly enough, giving the child asmall room in the left wing, as far removed from her own apartments aspossible, and transferring all details of his care to Misery Agnew,the old housekeeper. Misery endeavored to "do her duty" by the boy,but appreciating the scant courtesy with which he was treated by hermistress, it is not surprising the old woman regarded him merely as adependent and left him mostly to his own devices.
Kenneth, even in his first days at Elmhurst, knew that his presencewas disagreeable to Miss Jane, and as the years dragged on he grew shyand retiring, longing to break away from his unpleasant surroundings,but knowing of no other place where he would be more welcome. His onlyreal friend was the lawyer, who neglected no opportunity to visit theboy and chat with him, in his cheery manner. Mr. Watson also arrangedwith the son of the village curate to tutor Kenneth and prepare himfor college; but either the tutor was incompetent or the pupil did notapply himself, for at twenty Kenneth Forbes was very ignorant, indeed,and seemed not to apply himself properly to his books.
He was short of stature and thin, with a sad drawn face and mannersthat even his staunch friend, Silas Watson, admitted were awkward andunprepossessing. What he might have been under different conditions orwith different treatment, could only be imagined. Slowly climbing thestairs to the little room Kenneth inhabited, Mr. Watson was forced toconclude, with a sigh of regret, that he could not blame Miss Janefor wishing to find a more desirable heir to her estate than thisgraceless, sullen youth who had been thrust upon her by a thoughtlessrequest contained in the will of her dead lover--a request that sheseemed determined to fulfil literally, as it only required her to"look after" Tom's relatives and did not oblige her to leave Kennethher property.
Yet, strange as it may seem, the old lawyer was exceedingly fond ofthe boy, and longed to see him the master of Elmhurst. Sometimes, whenthey were alone, Kenneth forgot his sense of injury and dependence,and spoke so well and with such animation that Mr. Watson wasastonished, and believed that hidden underneath the mask of reservewas another entirely different personality, that in the years to comemight change the entire nature of the neglected youth and win for himthe respect and admiration of the world. But these fits of brightnessand geniality were rare. Only the lawyer had as yet discovered them.
Today he found the boy lying listlessly upon the window-seat, an openbook in his hand, but his eyes fixed dreamily upon the grove of hugeelm trees that covered the distant hills.
"Morning, Ken," said he, briefly, sitting beside his young friend andtaking the book in his own hand. The margins of the printed pages werefairly covered with drawings of every description. The far away treeswere there and the near-by rose gardens. There was a cat spitting atan angry dog, caricatures of old Misery and James, the gardener, andof Aunt Jane and even Silas Watson himself--all so clearly depictedthat the lawyer suddenly wondered if they were not clever, and anevidence of genius. But the boy turned to look at him, and the nextmoment seized the book from his grasp and sent it flying throughthe open window, uttering at the same time a rude exclamation ofimpatience.
The lawyer quietly lighted his pipe.
"Why did you do that, Kenneth?" he asked. "The pictures are cleverenough to be preserved. I did not know you have a talent for drawing."
The boy glanced at him, but answered nothing, and the lawyer thoughtbest not to pursue the subject After smoking a moment in silence heremarked:
"Your aunt is failing fast." Although no relative, Kenneth had beenaccustomed to speak of Jane Merrick as his aunt.
Getting neither word nor look in reply the lawyer presently continued:
"I do not think she will live much longer."
The boy stared from the window and drummed on the sill with hisfingers.
"When she dies," said Mr. Watson, in a musing tone, "there will be anew mistress at Elmhurst and you will have to move out."
The boy now turned to look at him, enquiringly.
"You are twenty, and you are not ready for college. You would be of nouse in the commercial world. You have not even the capacity to becomea clerk. What will you do, Kenneth? Where will you go?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders.
"When will Aunt Jane die?" he asked.
"I hope she will live many days yet. She may die tomorrow."
"When she does, I'll answer your question." said the boy, roughly."When I'm turned out of this place--which is part prison and partparadise--I'll do something. I don't know what, and I won't botherabout it till the time comes. But I'll do something."
"Could you earn a living?" asked the old lawyer.
"Perhaps not; but I'll get one. Will I be a beggar?"
"I don't know. It depends on whether Aunt Jane leaves you anything inher will."
"I hope she won't leave me a cent!" cried the boy, with suddenfierceness. "I hate her, and will be glad when she is dead and out ofmy way!"
"Kenneth--Kenneth, lad!"
"I hate her!" he persisted, with blazing eyes. "She has insulted me,scorned me, humiliated me every moment since I have known her. I'll beglad to have her die, and I don't want a cent of her miserable money."
"Money," remarked the old man, knocking the ashes from his pipe, "isvery necessary to one who is incompetent to earn his salt. And themoney she leaves you--if she really does leave you any--won't beher's, remember, but your Uncle Tom's."
"Uncle Tom was good to my father," said the boy, softening.
"Well, Uncle Tom gave his money to Aunt Jane, whom he had expectedto marry; but he asked her to care for his relatives, and she'lldoubtless give you enough to live on. But the place will go to someone else, and that means you must move on."
"Who will have Elmhurst?" asked the boy.
"One of your aunt's nieces, probably. She has three, it seems, all ofthem young girls, and she has invited them to come here to visit her."
"Girls! Girls at Elmhurst?" cried the boy, shrinking back with a lookof terror in his eyes.
"To be sure. One of the nieces, it seems, refuses to come; but therewill be two of them to scramble for your aunt's affection."
"She has none," declared the boy.
"Or her money, which is the same thing. The one she likes the bestwill get the estate."
Kenneth smiled, and with the change of expression his face lightedwonderfully.
"Poor Aunt!" he said. "Almost I am tempted to be sorry for her. Twogirls--fighting one against the other for Elmhurst--and both fawningbefore a cruel and malicious old woman who could never love anyone butherself."
"And her flowers," suggested the lawyer.
"Oh, yes; and perhaps James. Tell me, why should she love James, whois a mere gardener, and hate me?"
"James tends the flowers, and the flowers are Jane Merrick's verylife. Isn't that the explanation?"
"I don't know."
"The girls need not wo
rry you, Kenneth. It will be easy for you tokeep out of their way."
"When will they come?"
"Next week, I believe."
The boy looked around helplessly, with the air of a caged tiger.
"Perhaps they won't know I'm here," he said.
"Perhaps not. I'll tell Misery to bring all your meals to this room,and no one ever comes to this end of the garden. But if they find you,Kenneth, and scare you out of your den, run over to me, and I'll keepyou safe until the girls are gone."
"Thank you, Mr. Watson," more graciously than was his wont. "It isn'tthat I'm afraid of girls, you know; but they may want to insult me,just as their aunt does, and I couldn't bear any more cruelty."
"I know nothing about them," said the lawyer, "so I can't vouch in anyway for Aunt Jane's nieces. But they are young, and it is probablethey'll be as shy and uncomfortable here at Elmhurst as you areyourself. And after all, Kenneth boy, the most important thing justnow is your own future. What in the world is to become of you?"
"Oh, _that_," answered the boy, relapsing into his sullen mood; "Ican't see that it matters much one way or another. Anyhow, I'll notbother my head about it until the time comes and as far as you'reconcerned, it's none of your business."