Trevlyn Hold Part 44

"Will you be so good as to tell me by what right you interfere?"

returned Miss Diana. "I cannot conceive what business it can be of yours."

"I think the redressing of the injustice should be made the business of everyone."

"What a great deal everyone would have to do!" exclaimed Miss Diana.

"With regard to my right of interference, Miss Trevlyn, the law might not give me any; but I a.s.sume it by the bond of friends.h.i.+p. I was with his father when he died; I was with his mother. Poor thing! it was only within the last six or seven hours of her life that danger was apprehended. They both died in the belief that their children would inherit Trevlyn Hold. Madam," quite a blaze of light flus.h.i.+ng from his dark eyes, "I have lived all the years since, believing they were in the enjoyment of it."

"You believed rightly," equably rejoined Miss Diana. "They have been in the enjoyment of it. It has been their home."

"As it may be the home of any of your servants," returned Mr. Daw; and Miss Diana did not like the comparison.

"May I ask," she continued, "if you came into this neighbourhood for the express purpose of putting this 'injustice' to rights?"

"No, madam, I did not. But it is unnecessary for you to be sarcastic with me. I wish to urge the matter upon you in a friendly rather than an adverse spirit. Business connected with my own affairs brought me to London some ten days ago, from the place where I had lived so long. As I was so near, I thought I would come down and see my former friend Freeman, before starting homewards; for I dare say I shall never again return to England. I knew Barbrook Parsonage and Trevlyn Hold were not very far apart, and I antic.i.p.ated the pleasure of meeting Joe Trevlyn's children, whom I had known as infants. I never supposed but that Rupert was in possession of Trevlyn Hold. You may judge of my surprise when I arrived yesterday and heard the true state of the case."

"You have a covert motive in this," suddenly exclaimed Miss Diana, in a voice that had turned to sharpness.

"Covert motive?" he repeated, looking at her.

"Yes. Had you been, as you state, so interested in the welfare of Rupert Trevlyn and his sister, does it stand to reason that you would never have inquired after them through all these long years?"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Trevlyn: the facts are precisely as I have stated them. Strange as it may seem, I never once wrote to inquire after them, and the neglect strikes me forcibly now. But I am naturally inert, and all correspondence with my own country had gradually ceased. I did often think of the little Trevlyns, but it was always to suppose them as being at Trevlyn Hold, sheltered by their appointed guardian."

"What appointed guardian?" cried Miss Diana.

"Yourself."

"I! I was not the appointed guardian of the Trevlyns."

"Indeed you were. You were appointed by their mother. The letter--the deed, I may say, for I believe it to have been legally worded--was written when she was dying."

Miss Trevlyn had never heard of any deed. "Who wrote it?" she asked, after a pause.

"I did. When dangerous symptoms set in, and she was told she might not live, Mrs. Trevlyn sent for me. She had her little baby baptized Rupert, for it had been her husband's wish that the child, if a boy, should be so named, and then I sat down by her bedside at her request, and wrote the doc.u.ment. She entreated Miss Diana Trevlyn--you, madam--to reside at Trevlyn Hold as its mistress, when it should lapse to Rupert, and be the guardian and protector of her children, until Rupert came of age. She besought you to love them, and be kind to them for their father's sake; for her sake; for the sake, also, of the friends.h.i.+p which had once existed between you and her. This will prove to you," he added in a different tone, "that poor Mrs. Trevlyn, at least, never supposed there was a likelihood of any other successor to the estate."

"I never heard of it," exclaimed Miss Diana, waking up as from a reverie. "Was the doc.u.ment sent to me?"

"It was enclosed in the despatch which acquainted Squire Trevlyn with Mrs. Trevlyn's death. I wrote them both, and I enclosed them together, and sent them."

"Directed to whom?"

"To Squire Trevlyn."

Miss Diana sent her thoughts into the past. It was Chattaway who had received that despatch. Could he have dared to suppress any communication intended for her? Her haughty brow grew crimson at the thought; but she suppressed all signs of annoyance.

"Will you allow me to renew my acquaintance with little Maude?" resumed Mr. Daw. "Little Maude then, and a lovely child; a beautiful girl, as I hear, now."

Miss Diana hesitated--a very uncommon thing for her to do. It is strange what trifles turn the current of feelings: and this last item of intelligence had wonderfully softened her towards this stranger. But she remembered the interests at stake, and thought it best to be prudent.

"You must pardon the refusal," she said. "I quite appreciate your wish to serve Rupert Trevlyn, but it can only fail, and further intercourse will not be agreeable to either party. You will allow me to wish you good morning, and to thank you."

She rang the bell, and bowed him out, with all the grand courtesy belonging to the Trevlyns. As he pa.s.sed through the hall, he caught a glimpse of a lovely girl with a delicate bloom on her cheeks and large blue eyes. Instinct told him it was Maude; and he likewise thought he traced some resemblance to her mother. He took a step forward involuntarily, to accost her, but recollecting himself, drew back again.

It was scarcely the thing to do: in defiance of Miss Diana Trevlyn's recent refusal.

CHAPTER XXVI

AN IMPROMPTU JOURNEY

The dew was lying upon the gra.s.s in the autumn morning as the Squire of Trevlyn Hold rode from his door. He had hurried over his breakfast, his horse waiting for him, and he spurred him impatiently along the avenue.

Ann Canham had not yet opened the gate. Upon hearing a horse's hoofs, she ran out to do so; and stood holding it back, dropping her humble curtsey as Mr. Chattaway rode past. He vouchsafed not the slightest notice: neither by glance nor nod did he appear conscious of her presence. It was his usual way.

"He's off to Blackstone early," thought Ann, as she fastened back the gate.

But Mr. Chattaway did not turn towards Blackstone. He turned in the opposite direction and urged his horse to a gallop. Ann Canham looked after him.

"He has business at Barmester, maybe," was the conclusion to which she came.

Nothing more sure. He rode briskly to the town, and pulled up his horse almost at the same spot where you once saw him pull it up before--the house of Messrs. Wall and Barnes.

Not that he was about to visit that flouris.h.i.+ng establishment this morning. Next to it was a private house, on the door-plate of which might be read, "Mr. Flood, Solicitor": and he was the gentleman Mr.

Chattaway had come to see.

Attracted probably by the clatter of the horse--for Chattaway had pulled up suddenly, and with more noise than he need have done, there came one to the shop-door and looked out. It was Mr. Wall, and he stepped forth to shake hands with Chattaway.

"Good morning, Chattaway. You are in Barmester betimes. What lovely weather we are having for the conclusion of the harvest!"

"Very; it has been a fine harvest altogether," replied Chattaway; and from his composure no one could have dreamt of the terrible care and perplexity running riot in his heart. "I want to say a word to Flood about a lease that is falling in, so I thought I'd start early and make a round of it on my way to Blackstone."

"An accident occurred yesterday to your son and Madam Chattaway, did it not?" asked Mr. Wall. "News of it was flying about last night. I hope they are not much hurt."

"Not at all. Cris was so stupid as to attempt to drive a horse unbroken for driving--a vicious temper, too. The dog-cart is half smashed. Here, you! come here."

The last words were addressed to a boy in a tattered jacket, who was racing after a pa.s.sing carriage. Mr. Chattaway wanted him to hold his horse; and the boy quickly changed his course, believing the office would be good for sixpence at least.

The lawyer's outer door was open. There was a second door in the pa.s.sage, furnished with a knocker: the office opened on the left. Mr.

Chattaway tried the office-door; more as a matter of form than anything else. It was locked, as he expected, and would be until nine o'clock. So he gave an imposing knock at the other.

"I shall just catch him after breakfast," soliloquised he, "and can have a quiet quarter-of-an-hour with him, undisturbed by----Is Mr. Flood at home?"

He had tried the door as a matter of form, and in like manner put the question, pa.s.sing in without ceremony: the servant arrested him.

"Mr. Flood's out, sir. He is gone to London."