fellow. If Mr. Buswell is a good fellow, I suppose I don't know the meaning of words, that's all." "Well, I think he is honest." "Honest! Upon my word, you are very charitable! However, we will give him the benefit of the doubt. We'll call him honest, since you insist upon it; but I think I am keeping well within the limits of moderation when I say that he is an infernal, insolent blackguard." "Dear me, what has he been doing?" "Oh, nothing new. I have had these applications before, of course, but he hasn't had the impertinence to address himself to me personally until to-day; and really I think it is getting a little beyond a joke when a man actually has plans drawn up disposing of your property to suit his convenience. Would you believe that he handed me a paper with the whole precious scheme in black and white? A winter-garden, an aquarium, and I don't know what else, and then a row of houses to be called Segrave Crescent, if you please! He said he was sure I should consent to sell when I had thought things over; and upon my life, I can't feel certain whether the fellow was laughing at me or not." "I shouldn't think he was laughing at you. What land was it that he wanted?" "Oh, the fields on this side of Kingscliff of course, and the land below the Manor House. In fact, he said he should like to have the Manor House itself. I suppose he doesn't know that I couldn't part with that, if I would." "It's poor land," remarked the young man meditatively. "What the deuce has that to do with it ?" "Nothing, if you are determined to eschew Buswell and all his works." Sir Brian sprang back from the gate, stood erect, and struck his stick sharply against the ground. "I thought you were aware that if there is anything in the world about which I am determined it is that." "Yes; I have often heard you say so; but I have also heard you say very often that you were so hard up you didn't know which way to turn for a five-pound note. Upon the face of the thing, it looks as if it might be worth your while to sell a few acres of bad land. Of course I don't know what your reasons may be for refusing to sell; I have never heard you mention them." "My reasons!" cried Sir Brian, in great perturbation. "Must I give reasons for everything that I do or leave undone ? I have reasons, and I could give them if I chose; but surely, surely for you it ought to be sufficient to know that I would rather cut off my right hand than act as you suggest.' The young man raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled. " "For me? oh, yes, that's sufficient for me," he answered. "Personally, I don't much mind being hard up; it's my normal condition. Only it seems a pity that you should have money worries if they can be avoided. If they can't be avoided, they can't." The old gentleman was about to make some rejoinder; but the keeper, who, during this conversation, had been standing apart, coughing discreetly at intervals to attract attention, here lost patience and came forward to ask whether Mr. Brian was going to try the stubbles or not, because the light wouldn't hold out much longer. The interruption was not altogether unwelcome to Sir Brian; for he had a curious dread of coming to a direct conflict of opinion with his heir upon this subject. He was not prepared to decide what course he should adopt in the event of such a conflict arising. So they scrambled through the hedge into the adjoining field and tramped silently on, the dog ranging ahead; and presently, with a sudden whirr of wings, a covey got up on their extreme right. It was a long shot, but the young man fired, and missed. At the same instant a piercing shriek arose from the lane over which the birds had taken flight. "By Jove!" exclaimed Sir Brian, aghast; "you've hit somebody!" And he started off running in the direction whence the cry had proceeded, followed by his son, who was not less alarmed than he. It did not diminish their consternation, when they had plunged down into the lane, to find themselves confronted with two ladies, though, to be sure, both of them appeared to be perfectly safe and sound. Sir Brian, hat in hand, began to pour forth profuse apologies, until the elder of the pair, who was stout and good-humoured-looking, stopped him. "It is I who should beg pardon for having startled you," she said. Indeed, I dare say we ought to beg pardon for being here at all, only we thought it was a public road." "It is a public road, you are quite right," returned Sir Brian; " and it was inexcusably careless of my son to fire as he did.” "I am very sorry that I frightened you," said Brian a little resentfully; "but I can assure you that you frightened me too. Why did you scream if you were not hurt ?” "Because I couldn't help it," answered the stout lady, laughing. "I ought to be ashamed of myself, and I am ashamed of myself, but the report of firearms always produces that effect upon me. If you were to let off the other barrel now-only I hope you won't-I should do just the same thing again." "Miss Joy is gun-shy," observed the younger lady gravely; "she ought not to be taken out for country walks after the 1st of September." Nothing can excuse firing across a road," said he. "If you have escaped with a fright we have only Providence to thank for it." "I should be sorry to deprive Providence of any thanks that may be due in that quarter, and I confess that I am very ignorant about guns," answered the young lady; "but it seems to me that anyone who was trying to shoot those birds could not possibly have succeeded in shooting us. They must have been quite thirty feet above our heads." "Oh, no, excuse me, not nearly so much. And I dare say you are not aware that shot is apt to scatter." "I see. Of course, then, if you had happened to have a gun with you, you would not have dreamt of firing.” Sir Brian, who was a strictly truthful man, remained silent and looked a little foolish, while Brian the younger ventured to throw a grateful glance at his champion. She laughed, displaying a row of beautifully white and even teeth. "At any rate," said she, "we must not keep you any longer from your sport. Perhaps you can tell us whether this lane leads to Kingscliff." Brian turned round and beheld the girl who (if he had known it) had been pronounced by all London a few months back, to be the beauty of the season. Possibly her exquisite complexion, her rippling hair of a bronze tinge, her straight brows and the clear brown eyes that looked out from beneath them, might not of themselves have sufficed to obtain that proud distinction for her, had she not possessed other claims upon the admiration of mankind which have always been found very potent. She was a "Well, not exactly," replied Sir Brian; great heiress; she had a certain imperious" but, if you will allow us, we will go a little way with her; and either instinct or expe- distance with you and show you a short rience, or both, had dowered her with a won-cut." derfully precise knowledge of the foibles of the opposite sex. Therefore the men of London, young and old, married and single, had with one consent fallen down and worshipped Miss Huntley; and Brian, gazing at her as she stood there in her well-fitting dark cloth costume, her head slightly thrown back and the dawning of a smile upon her lips, felt very much inclined to do likewise. Brian did not know a great deal about young women. As a rule, they rather frightened him; he avoided them when he could, and was wont to assure his brother, who had quite other tastes, that he was not susceptible. Yet in after days, when his love for Beatrice Huntley had become a passion as deep and lasting as it was hopeless, he felt convinced that he had lost his heart to her at the very moment of their first encounter. Perhaps, however, he was not strictly accurate in this impression; perhaps it was not until a few seconds later that the catastrophe in question actually occurred. For Sir Brian, who seemed quite eager to prove his son open to a charge of manslaughter, now turned away from the lady who had been spoken of as Miss Joy, and addressed himself to her companion. After a few conventional protests, this offer was graciously accepted, and the group set itself in motion, the two elder members of it walking first, while the remaining couple followed. During the ensuing five minutes Brian heard Miss Huntley's name, learnt that she had taken a house at Kingscliff for a few months for the sake of her companion Miss Joy, who suffered from bronchitis, and was informed that she had already met his brother Gilbert at a dance. "Why were you not there?" she inquired. "Do you despise dances?" "No," answered Brian; "but I am not a good dancer; and besides--" "What besides ?" "Well, I am not very fond of society. In fact, I don't shine in it.' "It is easier to shine in society than to dance well; but both accomplishments can be learnt, if you think them worth the trouble." "Where can one get lessons?" asked the young man. "I believe," replied Miss Huntley, "that I may describe myself as a well-qualified teacher. Bear me in mind, if you decide upon going through a course of instruction." Then, before he could say anything more, she joined the others, who had come to a standstill. "I suppose," said she, "that our paths diverge here. Thank you very much. Good evening." So the two ladies departed; not, however, before Brian, somewhat to his father's surprise, had requested and obtained permission to send them two brace of partridges. "That is a good-looking girl," the old gentleman remarked presently. "I don't think it is necessary to offer strangers game, though. The next thing will be that we shall have her calling at Beckton." "I hope she will," said Brian; "I thought her charming." "Well, I don't know about that. It seems that she is a daughter of Huntley's, the great contractor, you know, who left a couple of millions, they say." "She is none the worse for that, is she?" Probably not; but I think I remember to have heard that there was a son-or sons." "I meant that she is none the worse for being the daughter of a contractor." "Oh, you wouldn't think so, of course; your friend Mr. Buswell is by way of being a sort of contractor, isn't he? In one sense nobody is the worse for being of low origin, and if one is thrown with such people one ought to be civil to them. But I don't feel called upon to seek them out." CHAPTER III.-MINOR. THERE are men-most of us are acquainted with some of them-whose prosperity appears to be constant and unfailing. In what soever they undertake they thrive; they fall into no misfortune, like other folk; they have many friends and few enemies; and we cannot but envy them their luck, while wondering what in the world they have done to deserve it. But in the generality of cases it will be found that these are men of fair and flcrid complexion, the whites of whose eyes are clear, and their joints supple; and although, no doubt, it is a piece of luck in itself, and a great one, to be so constituted, yet it is perhaps that alone which distinguishes them from the herd of their fellowcreatures. They may lose those nearest and dearest to them; they may invest their money badly; they may tumble down and break their bones, like the rest of us, but they bear these disasters cheerfully, and nobody thinks of them as afflicted, because their digestions are sound, and their systems free from latent gout. The redundancy of their health will not suffer them to do otherwise than make the best of things; to which cause also may generally be traced their success in life, as well as the circumstance that they are for the most part confirmed optimists, prone to the assertion that all their geese are swans. Terque quaterque beati ! Not only do they obtain their desires, they are conscious of having obtained them. Admiral Greenwood, that deservedly popular personage, was quite conscious of being a happy man, and was wont to describe himself as such with the utmost emphasis to all and sundry who would listen to him. In truth he was able, at the age of sixty or thereabouts, to point to very substantial reasons for his satisfaction with his lot; for he had a wife who adored him, a daughter who was both pretty and sweet-tempered, a comfortable home, a comfortable income, and the best of good consciences. He had not always been equally prosperous, though it is likely enough that he had always been equally joyous. In the days before the advent of Sir Guy Bartholomew and Mr. Buswell, Morden Court had been let or had stood empty, waiting for a tenant, while its owner, whose means were not then large enough to permit of his setting up his household gods there, had either been at sea or dwelling with his family at some temporary marine residence where the necessaries of life were cheap. But when the fortunes of Kingscliff began to rise, the fortunes of the gallant admiral followed suit. He sold a good slice of his property (being deterred by no such fanciful scruples as hampered his neighbour at Beckton), realised a handsome profit thereby, returned to the home of his ancestors upon the strength of it, and when he attended divine service on the first Sunday after his arrival, followed up the reading of the general thanksgiving with such a tremendous amen that he made the whole congregation jump like one man. The heartiness of the Admiral's responses was a little disturbing at first to nervous people, and indeed his voice was at all times calculated to recall memories of stormy weather at sea; but Kingscliff soon became accustomed to him, and nobody could help liking him. Even Sir Brian Segrave, who regarded him as a renegade to his order, and told him so, could not hold out against his indomitable good humour. His hospitality was boundless and perfectly indiscriminate; and a fortunate thing it was for him that his wife was as good-natured as himself, for he sometimes brought some queer-looking people home to dinner. they sprinkled with holy water before they die?" she asked. "There, my dear, you know I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, and I am sure Mr. Monckton is a must excellent man; though personally I don't admire a cassock, because I am so old Now, mamma, you can't really mean that you like to see a pair of black legs below a surplice!" Morden Court, as has been said, was a comfortable, roomy house, though not a grand one. Built by Admiral Greenwood's father to replace a former structure which had been burnt down, it had the charac-fashioned." teristics of an inartistic period and, with its bow-windows and coat of white paint, was no great addition to the beauty of the landscape; at the same time, it could not be called ugly, and doubtless many people would have preferred it as a residence to Beckton. Its garden, too, in which Mrs. Greenwood took some pride, was well laid out and could display as fine a show of roses in the summertime as any in the neighbourhood. When the season of roses was over, there was no lack of dahlias, china-asters, belladonna lilies, and other flowers to take their place, and these, as the year declined, were succeeded by chrysanthemums of all shapes, sizes, and hues. On that same fine autumn afternoon which was treated of in the last chapter, Mrs. Greenwood, armed with a large pair of gardening-scissors, was pottering about among the beds, snipping off the very best blooms, with an occasional sigh and murmur, and handing them to her daughter, who held out a capacious basket to receive them. "You know, Kitty," she was saying, "I do think it is a sad waste. If at least you were going to put them into vases it would be some consolation; but to twist the poor things into wreaths or crosses, or whatever it is that you make of them, knowing that they must die in a few hours, is very much like wanton destruction, to my mind. And I can't see why St. Michael's should want this perpetual dressing up, when our own church goes bare from Easter to Christmas, and is none the worse." "But if we had picked double the number they would never have been missed from these crowded beds," Miss Kitty declared; "and surely it is better that the flowers should die at St. Michael's than wither away on their stems without having been noticed by anybody." Mrs. Greenwood straightened up her back and laughed. She was a little roundabout woman, who had evidently been pretty some thirty years back, and whose abundant grey hair and rosy complexion still conferred upon her such a measure of good looks as old age can pretend to. "Do you think they make a more edifying end in the bosom of the Church, and are "I do indeed, though; I think petticoats should be reserved for women. A man ought to display his legs-especially if he has well-shaped ones, like Gilbert Segrave, whom I see coming out of the house." Miss Greenwood looked up, and the delicate rose-pink of her cheeks deepened ever so slightly. There were people who said that Kitty Greenwood was like a wax doll; but these were ill-natured people, who perhaps would not have been sorry if the same description could have been given of themselves with truth. Certainly she was a very small person, and her hair was of that glossy texture and pale golden colour which we are accustomed to see displayed in the windows of the toy-shops, and her mouth was shaped like a Cupid's bow, and her blue eyes were round and wide open; but any unprejudiced critic must allow that these things form a decidedly pretty combination; and if Miss Kitty neither looked nor was profoundly wise, that did not prevent her from possessing a warm heart and a very fair share of accomplishments. The young man who was advancing across the lawn was both like and unlike Brian Segrave. The resemblance struck you at the first glance, while the dissimilarity became more and more patent upon closer inspection. He was cast in a smaller and more refined mould than his brother; his features were more delicately cut, and although he was the younger by more than a year, he had far less of the appearance of youth about him. Perhaps the short, reddish-brown beard and moustache which he wore had something to do with this. His hair was of the same tinge, as were also his eyes. To many people there is something a little repellent in red-brown eyes; but that there was anything repellent, either inwardly or outwardly, about Gilbert Segrave would have been an unsafe criticism to utter in Kingscliff, where he was greatly liked and admired by all classes of the community. For the rest, he was a very carefully turnedout young man, his grey velveteen costume fitting him to perfection, and the legs to which Mrs. Greenwood had made allusion being clad in unwrinkled box-cloth gaiters, terminated by a pair of shooting-boots, which, though serviceable, were small, well made, and did not turn up at the toes, as the shooting-boots of some folks are apt to do. He carried his gun under his arm, and on his head he wore a highly becoming steeple-crowned hat of soft grey felt, which he lifted as he approached the ladies. "I have come to beg for a cup of tea and a little consolation," he said, after he had shaken hands with them. "I have been shooting with my big brother, who, for once in a way, has been shooting well, whereas I couldn't touch a feather. My nerves must be upset by the unwonted dissipation of a Kingscliff ball. I hope you are not the worse for it." "Oh, dear no; all the better," Mrs. Greenwood replied briskly. "We must try to get up a little more dancing; it brings the young people together. And now tell me what you thought of the beauty." "The beauty?" echoed Gilbert vaguely; and he sent a swift sidelong glance at Kitty, which may have been intended to signify that he had had eyes only for the beauty of one person on the occasion referred to. "Now, don't pretend not to know what I mean," cried Mrs. Greenwood. "Of course, we have nobody here who can be compared in point of looks with Miss Huntley." (But in her heart of hearts she thought that her own daughter had no cause to dread the comparison.) "Oh, Miss Huntley!" said Gilbert. "Yes, she is handsome, certainly. On rather too large a scale, don't you think? I didn't notice her particularly." "I saw you dancing with her, at all events," remarked Mrs. Greenwood. For years after I married I was very poor and perfectly happy-except, of course, when it blew a gale and Tom was afloat in command of a leaky gunboat-and I would a thousand times rather see any child of mine happy than rich." She really meant what she said, the excellent woman; and the suddenness with which she discovered that she must go indoors and make the tea was, perhaps, some proof of her sincerity. If Gilbert Segrave ever became a rich man, it certainly could not be for many years to come; and Gilbert Segrave, as this fond mother had not failed to notice, had been very attentive to Kitty of late. She left the young people to wander about the garden together and went into the house, where she was presently joined by her husband. The Admiral, a hale, broad-shouldered, weather-beaten old gentleman, with short grey whiskers and a true sailor's mouth, expressive alike of good-humour and determination, strolled to the window, with his hands in his pockets, and ejaculated, "Hah!" "What do you mean by 'Hah!' Tom?" inquired Mrs. Greenwood, filling the teapot. "What do I mean by 'Hah!' Mary? Why, I mean that that young spark who is walking up and down with your only daughter hasn't a sixpence; and I mean that he has been walking and talking and dancing a deuced deal too much with her these last few weeks. That's what I mean.” 66 'Well, you needn't swear about it, Tom," said Mrs. Greenwood. 66 'Mary, you know very well that I never swear, except under the strongest provocation, and when I am speaking to people who wouldn't understand me unless I did it. Are you prepared to see Kitty either married to a pauper or bound down to a long engagement? Answer me that, you foolish woman." "You are always so ready to jump to conclusions, Tom: very likely neither of them is dreaming of an engagement. And he is such a dear, good fellow, he is sure to get on." "How do I know that he will get on? Or that he is a dear, good fellow either, for the matter of that? I like Brian better myself." "I can't imagine why. Besides, Brian has never taken the least notice of Kitty." "That's against him, I admit. But seriously, Mary, I think Kitty might do better. Some day or other she will be comfortably off, no doubt; but you and I are tolerably healthy people, and the chances are that her husband, whoever he may be, will have to support her until they are both getting on in life." |