CHAPTER IV.
It was a bleak east-wind day towards the end of March. Aldous was atwork in the library at the Court, writing at his grandfather's table,where in general he got through his estate and county affairs, keepinghis old sitting-room upstairs for the pursuits that were moreparticularly his own.
All the morning he had been occupied with a tedious piece of localbusiness, wading through endless documents concerning a dispute betweenthe head-master of a neighbouring grammar-school and his governing body,of which Aldous was one. The affair was difficult, personal, odious. Tohave wasted nearly three hours upon it was, to a man of Aldous's type,to have lost a day. Besides he had not his grandfather's knack in suchthings, and was abundantly conscious of it.
However, there it was, a duty which none but he apparently could orwould do, and he had been wrestling with it. With more philosophy thanusual, too, since every tick of the clock behind him bore him nearer toan appointment which, whatever it might be, would not be tedious.
At last he got up and went to the window to look at the weather. Acutting wind, clearly, but no rain. Then he walked into thedrawing-room, calling for his aunt. No one was to be seen, either thereor in the conservatory, and he came back to the library and rang.
"Roberts, has Miss Raeburn gone out?"
"Yes, my lord," said the old butler addressed. "She and Miss Macdonaldhave gone out driving, and I was to tell your lordship that Miss Raeburnwould drop Miss Macdonald at Mellor on her way home."
"Is Sir Frank anywhere about?"
"He was in the smoking-room a little while ago, my lord."
"Will you please try and find him?"
"Yes, my lord."
Aldous's mouth twitched with impatience as the old servant shut thedoor.
"How many times did Roberts manage to be-lord me in a minute?" he askedhimself; "yet if I were to remonstrate, I suppose I should only make himunhappy."
And walking again to the window, he thrust his hands into his pocketsand stood looking out with a far from cheerful countenance.
One of the things that most tormented him indeed in this recentexistence was a perpetual pricking sense of the contrast between thissmall world of his ancestral possessions and traditions, with all itsceremonial and feudal usage, and the great rushing world outside it ofaction and of thought. Do what he would, he could not un-king himselfwithin the limits of the Maxwell estate. To the people living upon it hewas the man of most importance within their ken, was inevitably theirpotentate and earthly providence. He confessed that there was a realneed of him, if he did his duty. But on this need the class-practice ofgenerations had built up a deference, a sharpness of class-distinction,which any modern must find more and more irksome in proportion to hismodernness. What was in Aldous's mind, as he stood with drawn browslooking out over the view which showed him most of his domain, was asort of hot impatience of being made day by day, in a hundred foolishways, to play at greatness.
Yet, as we know, he was no democrat by conviction, had no comfortingfaith in what seemed to him the rule of a multitudinous ignorance. Stillevery sane man of to-day knows, at any rate, that the world has takenthe road of democracy, and that the key to the future, for good or ill,lies not in the revolts and speculations of the cultivated few, but inthe men and movements that can seize the many. Aldous's temper wasdespondently critical towards the majority of these, perhaps; he had,constitutionally, little of that poet's sympathy with the crowd, assuch, which had given Hallin his power. But, at any rate, they filledthe human stage--these men and movements--and his mind as a beholder.Beside the great world-spectacle perpetually in his eye and thought, thesmall old-world pomps and feudalisms of his own existence had a way oflooking ridiculous to him. He constantly felt himself absurd. It wasludicrously clear to him, for instance, that in this kingdom he hadinherited it would be thought a huge condescension on his part if hewere to ask the secretary of a trades union to dine with him at theCourt. Whereas, in his own honest opinion, the secretary had a far moreimportant and interesting post in the universe than he.
So that, in spite of a strong love of family, rigidly kept to himself,he had very few of the illusions which make rank and wealth delightful.On the other hand, he had a tyrannous sense of obligation, which kepthim tied to his place and his work--to such work as he had been spendingthe morning on. This sense of obligation had for the present withdrawnhim from any very active share in politics. He had come to theconclusion early in the year, just about the time when, owing to somerearrangements in the _personnel_ of the Government, the Premier hadmade him some extremely flattering overtures, that he must for thepresent devote himself to the Court. There were extensive changes andreforms going on in different parts of the estate: some of the schoolswhich he owned and mainly supported were being rebuilt and enlarged; andhe had a somewhat original scheme for the extension of adult educationthroughout the property very much on his mind--a scheme which must beorganised and carried through by himself apparently, if it was to thriveat all.
Much of this business was very dreary to him, some of it altogetherdistasteful. Since the day of his parting with Marcella Boyce his onlyreal _pleasures_ had lain in politics or books. Politics, just as theywere growing absorbing to him, must, for a while at any rate, be putaside; and even books had not fared as well as they might have beenexpected to do in the country quiet. Day after day he walked or rodeabout the muddy lanes of the estate, doing the work that seemed to himto be his, as best he could, yet never very certain of its value;rather, spending his thoughts more and more, with regard to his ownplace and function in the world, on a sort of mental apologetic whichwas far from stimulating; sorely conscious the while of the unmatchedcharm and effectiveness with which his grandfather had gone about thesame business; and as lonely at heart as a man can well be--the wound oflove unhealed, the wound of friendship still deep and unconsoled. Tobring social peace and progress, as he understood them, to this bit ofMidland England a man of first-rate capacities was perhaps sacrificingwhat ambition would have called his opportunities. Yet neither was he ahero to himself nor to the Buckinghamshire farmers and yokels whodepended on him. They had liked the grandfather better, and had becomestolidly accustomed to the grandson's virtues.
The only gleam in the grey of his life since he had determined aboutChristmas-time to settle down at the Court had come from Mr. French'sletter. That letter, together with Mr. Boyce's posthumous note, whichcontained nothing, indeed, but a skilful appeal to neighbourliness andold family friendship, written in the best style of the ex-BalkanCommissioner, had naturally astonished him greatly. He saw at once what_she_ would perceive in it, and turned impatiently from speculation asto what Mr. Boyce might actually have meant, to the infinitely moreimportant matter, how she would take her father's act. Never had hewritten anything with greater anxiety than he devoted to his letter toMrs. Boyce. There was in him now a craving he could not stay, to bebrought near to her again, to know how her life was going. It had firstraised its head in him since he knew that her existence and Wharton'swere finally parted, and had but gathered strength from theself-critical loneliness and tedium of these later months.
Mrs. Boyce's reply couched in terms at once stately and grateful, whichaccepted his offer of service on her own and her daughter's behalf, hadgiven him extraordinary pleasure. He turned it over again and again,wondering what part or lot Marcella might have had in it, attributing toher this cordiality or that reticence; picturing the two women togetherin their black dresses--the hotel, the _pergola_, the cliff--all ofwhich he himself knew well. Finally, he went up to town, saw Mr. French,and acquainted himself with the position and prospects of the Mellorestate, feeling himself a sort of intruder, yet curiously happy in thebusiness. It was wonderful what that poor sickly fellow had been able todo in the last two years; yet his thoughts fell rather into amusedsurmise as to what _she_ would find it in her restless mind to do in the_next_ two years.
Nevertheless, all the time, the resolution of which he had spoken toHallin seem
ed to himself unshaken. He recognised and adored the womanlygrowth and deepening which had taken place in her; he saw that shewished to show him kindness. But he thought he could trust himself nowand henceforward not to force upon her a renewed suit for which therewas in his eyes no real or abiding promise of happiness.
Marcella and her mother had now been at home some three or four days,and he was just about to walk over to Mellor for his first interviewwith them. A great deal of the merely formal business consequent on Mr.Boyce's death had been already arranged by himself and Mr. French. Yethe had to consult Marcella as to certain investments, and in a pleasantthough quite formal little note he had that morning received from hershe had spoken of asking his advice as to some new plans for the estate.It was the first letter she herself had as yet written to him; hithertoall his correspondence had been carried on with Mrs. Boyce. It hadstruck him, by the way, as remarkable that there was no mention of thewife in the will. He could only suppose that she was otherwise providedfor. But there had been some curious expressions in her letters.
Where was Frank? Aldous looked impatiently at the clock, as Roberts didnot reappear. He had invited Leven to walk with him to Mellor, and thetiresome boy was apparently not to be found. Aldous vowed he would notwait a minute, and going into the hall, put on coat and hat with mostbusiness-like rapidity.
He was just equipped when Roberts, somewhat breathless with longsearching, arrived in time to say that Sir Frank was on the frontterrace.
And there Aldous caught sight of the straight though somewhat heavilybuilt figure, in its grey suit with the broad band of black across thearm.
"Hullo, Frank! I thought you were to look me up in the library. Robertshas been searching the house for you."
"You said nothing about the library," said the boy, rather sulkily, "andRoberts hadn't far to search. I have been in the smoking-room till thisminute."
Aldous did not argue the point, and they set out. It was presentlyclear to the elder man that his companion was not in the best oftempers. The widowed Lady Leven had sent her firstborn over to the Courtfor a few days that Aldous might have some discussion as to hisimmediate future with the young man. She was a silly, frivolous woman;but it was clear, even to her, that Frank was not doing very well forhimself in the world; and advice she would not have taken from her son'sOxford tutor seemed cogent to her when it came from a Raeburn. "Do atleast, for goodness' sake, get him to give up his absurd plan of goingto America!" she wrote to Aldous; "if he can't take his degree atOxford, I suppose he must get on without it, and certainly his dons seemvery unpleasant. But at least he might stay at home and do his duty tome and his sisters till he marries, instead of going off to the'Rockies' or some other ridiculous place. He really never seems to thinkof Fanny and Rachel, or what he might do to help me to get them settlednow that his poor father is gone."
No; certainly the young man was not much occupied with "Fanny andRachel!" He spoke with ill-concealed impatience, indeed, of both hissisters and his mother. If his people would get in the way of everythinghe wanted to do, they needn't wonder if he cut up rough at home. For thepresent it was settled that he should at any rate go back to Oxford tillthe end of the summer term--Aldous heartily pitying the unfortunate donswho might have to do with him--but after that he entirely declined to bebound. He swore he would not be tied at home like a girl; he must andwould see the world. This in itself, from a lad who had been accustomedto regard his home as the centre of all delights, and had on twooccasions stoutly refused to go with his family to Rome, lest he shouldmiss the best month for his father's trout-stream, was sufficientlysurprising.
However, of late some tardy light had been dawning upon Aldous! Thenight after Frank's arrival at the Court Betty Macdonald came down tospend a few weeks with Miss Raeburn, being for the moment that lady'sparticular pet and _protegee_. Frank, whose sulkiness during thetwenty-four hours before she appeared had been the despair of both hishost and hostess, brightened up spasmodically when he heard she wasexpected, and went fishing with one of the keepers, on the morningbefore her arrival, with a fair imitation of his usual spirits. Butsomehow, since that first evening, though Betty had chattered, anddanced, and frolicked her best, though her little figure running up anddown the big house gave a new zest to life in it, Frank's manners hadgone from bad to worse. And at last Aldous, who had not as yet seen thetwo much together, and was never an observant man in such matters, hadbegun to have an inkling. Was it _possible_ that the boy was in love,and with Betty? He sounded Miss Raeburn; found that she did not rise tohis suggestion at all--was, in fact, annoyed by it--and with the usualstupidity of the clever man failed to draw any reasonable inference fromthe queerness of his aunt's looks and sighs.
As to the little minx herself, she was inscrutable. She teased them allin turns, Frank, perhaps, less than the others. Aldous, as usual, foundher a delightful companion. She would walk all over the estate with himin the most mannish garments and boots conceivable, which only made herchildish grace more feminine and more provocative than ever. She took aninterest in all his tenants; she dived into all his affairs; sheinsisted on copying his letters. And meanwhile, on either side were MissRaeburn, visibly recovering day by day her old cheeriness and bustle,and Frank--Frank, who ate nothing, or nothing commensurate to his bulk,and, if possible, said less.
Aldous had begun to feel that the situation must be probed somehow, andhad devised this walk, indeed, with some vague intention of plyingremonstrances and enquiries. He had an old affection for the boy, whichLady Leven had reckoned upon.
The first difficulty, of course, was to make him talk at all. Aldoustried various sporting "gambits" with very small success. At last, bygood-luck, the boy rose to something like animation in describing anencounter he had had the week before with a piebald weasel in the courseof a morning's ferreting.
"All at once we saw the creature's head poke out of the hole--_purewhite_, with a brown patch on it. When it saw us, back it scooted!--andwe sent in another ferret after the one that was there already. Mygoodness! there _was_ a shindy down in the earth--you could hear themrolling and kicking like anything. We had our guns ready,--but all of asudden everything stopped--not a sound or a sign of anything! We threwdown our guns and dug away like blazes. Presently we came on the twoferrets gorging away at a dead rabbit,--nasty little beasts!--thataccounted for _them_; but where on earth was the weasel? I really beganto think we had imagined the creature, when, whish! came a flash ofwhite lightning, and out the thing bolted--pure white with a splash ofbrown--its winter coat, of course. I shot at it, but it was no go. IfI'd only put a bag over the hole, and not been an idiot, I should havecaught it."
The boy swung along, busily ruminating for a minute or two, andforgetting his trouble.
"I've seen one something like it before," he went on--"ages ago, when Iwas a little chap, and Harry Wharton and I were out rabbiting. By theway--" he stopped short--"do you see that that fellow's come back?"
"I saw the paragraph in the _Times_ this morning," said Aldous, drily.
"And I've got a letter from Fanny this morning, to say that he and LadySelina are to be married in July, and that she's going about making amartyr and a saint of him, talking of the 'persecution' he's had to putup with, and the vulgar fellows who couldn't appreciate him, andgenerally making an ass of herself. Oh! he won't ask any of us to hiswedding--trust him. It is a rum business. You know Willie Ffolliot--thatqueer dark fellow--that used to be in the 10th Hussars--did all thosewild things in the Soudan?"
"Yes--slightly."
"I heard all about it from him. He was one of that gambling set atHarry's club there's been all that talk about you know, since Harry cameto grief. Well!--he was going along Piccadilly one night last summer,quite late, between eleven and twelve, when Harry caught hold of himfrom behind. Willie thought he was out of his mind, or drunk. He told mehe never saw anybody in such a queer state in his life. 'You come alongwith me,' said Harry, 'come and talk to me, or I shall shoot myself!' SoWillie asked him w
hat was up. 'I'm engaged to be married,' said Harry.Whereupon Willie remarked that, considering his manner and hisappearance, he was sorry for the young lady. '_Young_!' said Harry asthough he would have knocked him down. And then it came out that he hadjust--that moment!--engaged himself to Lady Selina. And it was the verysame day that he got into that precious mess in the House--the _verysame night_! I suppose he went to her to be comforted, and thought he'dpull something off, anyway! Why she took him! But of course she's nochicken, and old Alresford may die any day. And about the briberybusiness--I suppose he made her think him an injured innocent. Anyway,he talked to Willie, when they got to his rooms, like a raving lunatic,and you know he was always such a cool hand. 'Ffolliot,' he said, 'canyou come with me to Siam next week?' 'How much?' said Will. 'I thoughtyou were engaged to Lady Selina.' Then he swore little oaths, and vowedhe had told her he must have a year. 'We'll go and explore those templesin Siam,' he said, and then he muttered something about 'Why should Iever come back?' Presently he began to talk of the strike--and thepaper--and the bribe, and all the rest of it, making out a longrigmarole story. Oh! of course he'd done everything for the best--trusthim!--and everybody else was a cur and a slanderer. And Ffolliotdeclared he felt quite pulpy--the man was such a wreck; and he said he'dgo with him to Siam, or anywhere else, if he'd only cheer up. And theygot out the maps, and Harry began to quiet down, and at last Will gothim to bed. Fanny says Ffolliot reports he had great difficulty indragging him home. However, Lady Selina has no luck!--there he is."
"Oh! he will be one of the shining lights of our side before long," saidAldous, with resignation. "Since he gave up his seat here, there hasbeen some talk of finding him one in the Alresfords' neighbourhood, Ibelieve. But I don't suppose anybody's very anxious for him. He is toaddress a meeting, I see, on the Tory Labour Programme next week. The_Clarion_, I suppose, will go round with him."
"Beastly rag!" said Frank, fervently. "It's rather a queer thing, isn'tit, that such a clever chap as that should have made such a mess of hischances. It almost makes one not mind being a fool."
He laughed, but bitterly, and at the same moment the cloud that for sometwenty minutes or so seemed to have completely rolled away descendedagain on eye and expression.
"Well, there are worse things than being a fool," said Aldous, withinsidious emphasis--"sulking, and shutting up with your best friends,for instance."
Frank flushed deeply, and turned upon him with a sort of uncertain fury.
"I don't know what you mean."
Whereupon Aldous slipped his arm inside the boy's, and prepared himselfwith resignation for the scene that had to be got through somehow, whenFrank suddenly exclaimed:
"I say, there's Miss Boyce!"
Never was a man more quickly and completely recalled from altruism tohis own affairs. Aldous dropped his companion's arm, straightenedhimself with a thrill of the whole being, and saw Marcella some distanceahead of them in the Mellor drive, which they had just entered. She wasstooping over something on the ground, and was not apparently aware oftheir approach. A ray of cold sun came out at the moment, touched thebending figure and the grass at her feet--grass starred with primroses,which she was gathering.
"I didn't know you were going to call," said Frank, bewildered. "Isn'tit too soon?"
And he looked at his companion in astonishment.
"I came to speak to Miss Boyce and her mother on business," said Aldous,with all his habitual reserve. "I thought you wouldn't mind the walkback by yourself."
"Business?" the boy echoed involuntarily.
Aldous hesitated, then said quietly:
"Mr. Boyce appointed me executor under his will."
Frank lifted his eyebrows, and allowed himself at least an inward "ByJove!"
By this time Marcella had caught sight of them, and was advancing. Shewas in deep mourning, but her hands were full of primroses, which shoneagainst the black; and the sun, penetrating the thin green of somelarches to her left, danced in her eyes and on a face full of sensitiveand beautiful expression.
They had not met since they stood together beside Hallin's grave. Thisfact was in both their minds. Aldous felt it, as it were, in the touchof her hand. What he could not know was, that she was thinking quite asmuch of his letter to her mother and its phrases.
They stood talking a little in the sunshine. Then, as Frank was takinghis leave, Marcella said:
"Won't you wait for--for Lord Maxwell, in the old library? We can get atit from the garden, and I have made it quite habitable. My mother, ofcourse, does not wish to see anybody."
Frank hesitated, then, pushed by a certain boyish curiosity, and by theangry belief that Betty had been carried off by Miss Raeburn, and wasout of his reach till luncheon-time, said he would wait. Marcella ledthe way, opened the garden-door of the lower corridor, close to the spotwhere she had seen Wharton standing in the moonlight on anever-to-be-forgotten night, and then ushered them into the library. Thebeautiful old place had been decently repaired, though in no sensemodernised. The roof had no holes, and its delicate stucco-work,formerly stained and defaced by damp, had been whitened, so that thebrown and golden tones of the books in the latticed cases told againstit with delightful effect. The floor was covered with a cheap matting,and there were a few simple chairs and tables. A wood fire burnt on theold hearth. Marcella's books and work lay about, and some shallowearthenware pans filled with home-grown hyacinths scented the air. Whatwith the lovely architecture of the room itself, its size, its booksand old portraits, and the signs it bore of simple yet refined use, itwould have been difficult to find a gentler, mellower place. Aldouslooked round him with delight.
"I hope to make a village drawing-room of it in time," she said casuallyto Frank as she stooped to put a log on the fire. "I think we shall getthem to come, as it has a separate door, and scraper, and mat all toitself."
"Goodness!" said Frank, "they won't come. It's too far from thevillage."
"Don't you be so sure," said Marcella, laughing. "Mr. Craven has allsorts of ideas."
"Who's Mr. Craven?"
"Didn't you meet him at my rooms?"
"Oh! I remember," ejaculated the boy--"a frightful Socialist!"
"And his wife's worse," said Marcella, merrily. "They've come down tosettle here. They're going to help me."
"Then for mercy's sake keep them to yourself," cried Frank, "and don'tlet them go loose over the county. We don't want them at our place."
"Oh! your turn will come. Lord Maxwell"--her tone changed--became shyand a little grave. "Shall we go into the Stone Parlour? My mother willcome down if you wish to see her, but she thought that--that--perhaps wecould settle things."
Aldous had been standing by, hat in hand, watching her as she chatteredto Frank. As she addressed him he gave a little start.
"Oh! I think we can settle everything," he said.
"Well, this is rum!" said Frank to himself, as the door closed behindthem, and instead of betaking himself to the chair and the newspaperwith which Marcella had provided him, he began to walk excitedly up anddown. "Her father makes him executor--he manages her property forher--and they behave nicely to each other, as though nothing had everhappened at all. What the deuce does it mean? And all the timeBetty--why, Betty's devoted to him!--and it's as plain as a pikestaffwhat that old cat, Miss Raeburn, is thinking of from morning till night!Well, I'm beat!"
And throwing himself down on a stool by the fire, his chin between hishands, he stared dejectedly at the burning logs.