A Black Squire

Chapter I. Promises

Henry. A man's dying wish should be of weight. Tennyson. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house, I see as in a map the end of all. King Richard III. He had sat by the bedside for nearly two hours, silent, motionless, and chilled to the bone by cold, grief, and want of hope. The room was large, but so was the venerable four-post bed, and its heavy curtains were closely drawn on the far side to keep off the draught of the door, and so arranged on the side where Geoffrey was sitting that he could only see a long slice of window, a glimpse of snow-charged sky, and a corner of the dressing-table, on which B lay something that made him turn away with a thrill of pain whenever his eyes rested on its dull sheen. It was a small pile of silver which had been taken from the sick man's pocket when his clothes had been folded up and laid away as things of which he would never more have any need.

How long his father was sleeping ! How oppressive was the aching stillness which filled the whole house! How heavy the pall which seemed to hang over the room, separating it with such absolute completeness from life and life's activity and gladness ! Geoffrey Yorke's old nurse Alison had said to him : " Don't you be so terrible down hearted about poor master, Mr. Geoffrey, for it's my belief that if he could only get a few hours of really good, natural rest every afternoon, we should soon have him up and about again, living and life thinking ; " so, though Geoffrey had little hope of this, he had given notice to every one to keep out of sight and hearing until he rang. The fire was getting low, the day was one of January's bitterest, but he did not dare to put coals on the fire, for his father was still sleepino-.

PROMISES. 3 That was what Geoffrey thought, but after a while a faint voice said : " My dear boy, are you there ? ' "Yes, father. I hope you are better. You have had a long sleep ! " " I have had no sleep at all ! " (invalids cannot endure to be so aspersed). " I have only been lying quiet, that's all. There is something that I am anxious about, and I can't rest for thinking of it. You and I must have a little serious conversation, my boy, and then I shall be able to close my account with this world. Ah, you are ringing the bell — that will bring Amerye, or old Alison, or a woman of some kind, with beef-tea or some such nuisance ; well, they may give me what they like, for I shall want strength if I am to talk. I must defer it no longer — any day I might find that I had put it off until it was too late."

Geoffrey was afraid that he knew the subject on which his father's mind was ill at ease — it was one on which they had hitherto never been able to agree. " You have always been a dear, good B son to me," said Mr. Yorke, "and have never gone too far in your opposition, even when I did what you very much disapproved of— you must not oppose me now. I want to talk to you of money matters, though I have little to leave you that is not already arranged for by your great-grandfather's will." Geoffrey waited for what was to follow. "You are silent, and I am afraid you will end by saying that there is small reason to speak, and that I am leaving you nothing. There is this dear old house, of course, and the land, but they have been in the family for three centuries and more, and you know all about them.

The land brings in fifteen hundred a year, but thanks to my father, you will, as I hope you know already, not get more than four hundred from it when you have paid the interest on the two mortgages he made — by-the-bye, the last quarter's is due now. Then there are the four thousand pounds that I have in the Exmoor mine. You know all about that too, Geoffrey ; unhappily, you don't think so well of that investment as I do." PROMISES. 5 " I am sorry to say I do not, father.' " You need not speak in such a des perately gloomy voice about it — I can only say I wish I had had twice the money when I bought shares in that mine. I should have invested every penny of it in the same way. You have no idea how valuable those shares will be some day — very few people have ! You have once or twice been rather hard on me about them, but I know you did not mean it, and I am only reminding you of our difference of opinion now because I want to bring you round to my way of thinking."

" It was this, father," Geoffrey explained regretfully; " it was nothing but this. When the estate was so heavily mortgaged that you only got four hundred a year from it, and never knew which way to turn for money to go on with, I couldn't help thinking it a great pity that when you did have a respectable sum left you, you should invest it in a mine, and a mine, too, that every one said was never likely to turn out well for its shareholders, instead of paying off part of the mortgage — four thousand pounds would have made a very satisfactory little reduction." " I know how foolish my conduct must have appeared to you, dear boy, and to other people too — I quite understand your feeling, but I have often explained why I did it, and you ought to have had more confidence in me. It is not as if I were not fully alive to the inconvenience of having such a fearfully heavy drain on our incomings as that abominable mortgage is ; but when a man has studied a subject and thoroughly understands it, and sees a chance of doing a really excellent stroke of business, it is no good being penny wise."

Geoffrey held his peace. It was no time to reproach his father with what he himself thought culpable folly. " Ah, Geoffrey," said the old man sorrowfully, "you still feel that I did wrong! I can only give you my solemn assurance that I should most certainly have paid off four thousand pounds of the mortgage with that money if I had not been confident that by taking those shares I could get rid of the encumbrance altogether." PROMISES. 7 " You were much more likely to get rid of the money," was Geoffrey's thought ; but he said : " How could you expect that?" " I did expect it and I do still. When your dear mother was alive I stayed a great deal with her relations in Devonshire ; I heard much of this mine. I have studied it and its prospects, then and since, and they are excellent ! It is a most valuable investment, but I shall never see it prove itself so, and you, Geoffrey, who might I am afraid of you, you are capable of selling out.

You must not do it ; promise me faithfully to stick to the Exmoors. Do not let any one tempt you to part with them ; fear of your doing that is what is troubling me now ! I ought to be thinking of other things, but I can't help thinking of this, and of you, and how badly you want money, and the pity it will be if you deprive yourself of the chance of great wealth, and the cruel vexation you will feel some day if you do. You must not sell — when I am gone, I mean, for as long as I live and keep my senses, I shall of course not allow it." "If 1 did sell, you know that it would only be to wipe out part of the debt on the estate ; dear father, do let me entreat you to have it done." " It's a million times better for the estate to keep them." " They only pay a nominal dividend. They have never done more ; you have told me that yourself, and you have given them a very fair trial.

Four thousand pounds would be such a good beginning towards paying off the debt altogether." " Leave the money where it is and you will soon pay off every penny of it. Sell out, and you won't get much more than six hundred for each thousand. The one pound shares are down to twelve and sixpence." " I didn't know that," said Geoffrey rue fully ; "the whole thing is such a vexation to me that I have for some time tried to forget it, and have not looked at the share lists. Down to twelve and sixpence you say, father ; but does not that fact, and their paying no dividend to speak of, show what bad property they are ? They ought PROMISES. 9 to be sold. Let us have it done quickly before they go down to nothing at all." " Geoffrey, you break my heart," moaned the sick man, " you simply break my heart.

Those shares were not purchased without the most careful thought. I never expected them to show their value at first, but they are certain to do it in time, and here am I, old, worn out, and powerless. I have said all that I can say to move you, and the only result is that you go on din, din, dinning into my unhappy ears, ' Sell, sell, sell, and sell quickly.'" " I am so sorry to seem unkind, father, but if I could but get you to see this as I do. Think of the disgrace and misery of so large a debt, and let us diminish it while we can. Even what we should get by selling now is of importance. What a pity to let four thousand pounds dwindle away to nothing at all in a bad investment ! No one will ever leave us any money again, and it is impossible to save anything towards paying off the mortgage out of what we have."

" Say no more, Geoffrey, we shall never A BLACK SQULRE. 10 agree ! I have talked much more than is good for me already, and have gone through all the thinking that is necessary years ago. I am convinced that the conclusion I arrived at then is still the true one, and that those shares would, if you would but let them, not only repair the mischief done by my father, but build up the family fortunes on a very different basis from anything that you have any conception of. It is no use to talk, for all my good work will soon be undone, because I shall be dead, and you alive. I go down to my grave a wretched and a disappointed man," and having said this, he turned away and buried his head in the pillows to hear no more. " But, my dearest father, I will undo nothing ! " exclaimed Geoffrey in much distress.

" I have not been resisting, I have only been trying to persuade you. Tell me exactly what your wishes are, and whatever my own opinion may be, they shall be obeyed." " I wish you to keep the Exmoors until they are worth twenty-five pounds a share ; or if they do not rise so far, to keep them for twelve years, after which time you may PROMISES. 11 use your own discretion about selling them. Will you promise that ? " " I will ; but at the expiration of twelve years, may I sell them for what they will bring ? " " You may, but I do not imagine that you will then have the least desire to do it ; anyhow, twelve years more will give them an amply sufficient trial. God bless you, my boy, for setting my poor mind at rest ; it was terrible to lie here knowing that, in all probability, one of the first things you would do when I was gone — in the way of business, I mean — wrould be to ruin your future !

I was thinking of you when I bought Exmoor con sols, and it is for your sake that I want them kept. They will ere long bring you untold wealth. I have no desire to burden you with more promises, so I will only express a hope that when that good time comes, you will not pull about this poor old house, where our forefathers have lived, too much. If you find that you must have a grand new one, build it on the other side of the road, half way up the hill, and keep this as it is, and let it be the dower-house." Geoffrey was not able to answer quickly, for to him this seemed such bitter mockery. His dear old father's judgment was weakened by illness — it had shown signs of being in that condition for some time. No dower house would ever be needed at Rookhope — no new house ever built. He had given the promise required of him, and it was hence forth his doom and duty to stand by and let this money be lost.

Exmoor consols were low now, but there was a lower depth still, and to that they would doubtless rapidly descend. He had promised to let this happen, and not to clutch at any remnant that remained to save it until twelve more years of poverty and struggle had gone by. But he must do more than that — he must not embitter his father's last days by refraining from sharing in the hope that was now making him so happy. " So far as I am concerned," he said, therefore, " I shall never like any house half so much as this, but supposing that circum stances should arise which really did make another and a larger one desirable, it would be well for me to know the exact spot you PROMISES. 13 have fixed on in your mind as the best site — it would be such a pleasure to me to think that you had chosen it."

" A house will certainly have to be built, and the best place for it is on the hillside just below the clump of beech-trees. I have often gone over the whole property in search of the most advantageous site, and that is indisputably the best. That is where my house was to have been built when my fortune came. I meant to have handed this house over to you, and some sweet girl whom you had chosen to be your wife. This fortune of mine has not come so soon as I thought it would, but as it is so many years nearer to coming by those that I have had to wait for it, I think, if I were you, dear boy, I would begin in an easy-going, leisurely way, when the men are not too busy, to mark out the gardens and shrubberies, and put in some flowering shrubs and fruit trees. They take so long to grow to a respectable size that a house looks bare and unsightly for years if they are not planted lons: beforehand."

" What a good idea ! I will begin as soon as possible, and I will do some of the work with my own hands for your sake, and for the pleasure of thinking that I am carrying out your wishes ; but, father, my hope is that you will get well enough to enjoy seeing things of this kind done your self." Without taking any notice of this, Mr. Yorke said : "It is such a delight to me to think that sooner or later you will be far better off than any Yorke of our family has ever been, and able to live here in the same style and comfort as the St. Ives, Tredegars, and Elemores do." Geoffrey could not buoy himself up with any such hope. " There is another thing I want to say, Geoffrey, and that is, when your wealth has come to you, I should be very sorry if you enjoyed it less than you might do because you fancied that you had perhaps distressed me occasionally by not believing in my ex pectations of what the mine would do for us.

You must never let that occur. You have never said one word to me that PROMISES. 15 was not perfectly right and natural under the circumstances, and though I may sometimes have seemed hurt at not being able to convince you, I have always known it was natural that you should have your doubts. You have never really given me any pain, and now by your promise you have given me the greatest comfort and happiness." Tears rose to Geoffrey's eyes at this proof of his father's generous forethought ; he was shocked to find how narrowly he had escaped committing an act of cruelty, for he had long ago firmly resolved that if ever his father spoke to him about those mining shares, he would all but insist on their being sold as an act of duty to the estate. For some time longer Mr. Yorke con tinued to talk of the bright future that lay before his son, and never seemed to observe that his son had little heart to dwell on it.

Geoffrey was afraid that his father was talking too much, but soon saw that he was not now fatiguing himself by any effort to speak urgently or to the point, but simply babbling forth his contentment and hopeful antici pations. At one time it was some hint about the new house and gardens, at another a few words about his daughter Amerye. " She will live here with you until she marries," he said. " I hope your wealth will have come before that happens, so that you may be able to give her a suitable marriage portion. I should not like her to have less than twenty thousand pounds, but if she marry before you are in a position to give her the whole sum, you can promise that the rest shall follow. I have made no provision for her in my will, but that is because it is so difficult for me to do it while our affairs are still so unsettled ; but I wish her to have the sum I have named, and I leave the care of her interests to you, for I am well aware that I leave an upright and honourable son behind it me.

" What can I do for dear little Amerye, father, but give her a home ? I am afraid I shall never be able to do more." The actual condition of the family affairs was so pitiable, that to listen to his father's golden dreams was to hold forth a bleeding wound to be stabbed again. PROMISES. 17 " Of course you can't now ! You can give her nothing till the mine does its duty, but then you will remember my words." " Yes, I will share with her whatever it brings in," and as he spoke, he fervently wished that his dear sister's prospects were brighter. Mr. Yorke started up in bed — Geoffrey had no idea that he had strength enough to do it — and exclaimed : " Indeed, you must not ! Promise me on your word of honour to do nothing of the kind ! You can't be aware of what you are saying ! If you gave Amerye half of what that mine will bring you, you would give her far more than any woman has a right to possess.

It would never do to alienate the family wealth in that way. Let her have twenty-five thousand pounds, or even a thousand or so more if you are bent on making an heiress of her, but as for all the rest, I wish you to keep it. I want my family to hold its head high, and take the place it ought ; it never can do that if you send half your fortune out of it ! " " Lie down, my dear father ; your orders c shali be obeyed. She shall have twenty-five thousand pounds if ever I have it to give her." " Oh, but she is not to have it until you have an equal sum from the same source to keep for yourself. I should have said the same if she had been a boy, for I have always intended you to be an eldest son. Don't protest against it — it is perfectly just, and any one who gets Amerye and twenty-five thousand pounds will have reason to con gratulate himself."

There was silence. Geoffrey saw the fine clearly-cut profile lying in repose on the smoothed pillow, and again began to fear that this long conversation had done his father a great deal of harm, and to wish that Amerye would come in again with some more of what old Alison called " kitchen physic." But Mr. Yorke was only thinking, and after some time he said : " I have more than once fancied that you were inclined to fall in love with Gulielma Thorpe." He spoke tentatively, as if there were certain objections to that young lady that he PROMISES. 19 would like to bring forward, supposing that his son were to answer as if his mind were not fully made up, and there was still time for them to have weight. " You need not be afraid of my marrying her," said Geoffrey, after a pause. " Oh, I am so glad !

She is not at all the kind of wife I should like you to have." " I don't see that I can have any wife. I might get engaged, and do my best to earn something somehow, but I could not marry until I succeeded." " I don't see why not. The house is our own — you would have no rent to pay, and almost all you ate would come from the farm, or from the gardens. A prudent wife who did not want to throw away money on fine dress, and visiting, and entertaining, could live here as we have lived, and by the time that expenses began to increase, the family living might fall in, or the mine money would be coming in satisfactorily. Oh, yes, you can marry well enough, but for heaven's sake, don't let it be Gulielma ! " " Be easy, father. She will never be my wife — she has refused me." c " You made an offer of marriage to Gulielma Thorpe, and she refused it !

" exclaimed Mr. Yorke, in angry amazement. " The daughter of a little, common, petti fogging country lawyer and electioneering agent, had the insolence to refuse you — a man of birth and breeding — a Yorke of Rook hope ! I never heard of such a thing in the whole course of my life, but I must say that I never liked that girl, and I am heartily glad. I am sorry for your disappointment, of course, but you will do a thousand times better." Mr. Yorke had had many opportunities of studying Miss Gulielma's character, for she had of late sought out his little Amerye, and tried to make a friend of her, but though un willing to impute low motives for the young lady's advances, he had always felt convinced that there could be no affinity between his ladylike daughter and the rather flippant and vulgar girl who came so much more often than she was wanted.

Was it to see Geoffrey, or was she only trying to effect an entrance into county society ? " I thought you liked her, father," said Geoffrey mournfully. PROMISES. 21 " I liked her for being so pretty and lively, and she is young, and I like all young creatures ; but if you will forgive me for saying it, she will never really love any one but herself, and she is not a lady any more than her father is a gentleman, so you would never have been happy with her." " Perhaps not, though I think I should ; anyhow, I am not happy without her." " Don't marry her, Geoffrey. I don't want you to do that." " I shall marry no one. I shall strenu ously devote myself to paying off the mortgage, and I can do it better if I keep single." " That is true, but as soon as your wealth begins to come in Miss Gulielma will per haps change her mind, and you will marry her, and have to spend your money as she likes."

" She is not mercenary. What does a girl of her age care for money ? Besides, that affair is at an end." " It will come on again." " It never will. When she refused me she quite knew her own mind. Even if it did come on again, I would not marry her for years. If you had asked me to make two promises when I made one, and the second had been neither to marry her nor any one else until I had paid off a large part of the mortgage, I should have made it without the slightest hesitation." " Make it, then," said Mr. Yorke, who, keen man of business that he was, saw a chance of saving his son for some years, perhaps for ever, from a marriage which he himself regarded with repugnance. " Don't marry for some years — promise me you won't. Come, you are only twenty-six, and you offered to do it. Make it three if you like, for I am sure that by that time money will be pouring in at such a rate that you will want a wife to help you to spend it."

" All right, father, I won't marry for three years. I promise it." " And, Geoffrey, I don't want a promise this time, but I do wish you would not let any one in Barford know that you have these shares — unless, of course, you are obliged. That is what I have done — I have kept my own counsel. Barford people are ill-natured PROMISES. 23 — they would infallibly say that I had been led into a bad investment by my wife's family, and in every way that is untrue. Keep silence, dear boy, keep silence until Exmoors are so high that Barford has no justification for anything but wonder." At this moment Amerye came in. " Father is much better," said Geoffrey, for she looked as if she had been crying. " He is ! " she said joyously. " I see it ! Geoffrey, Gulielma is here. It is getting dark, and I think she would like you to walk home with her."

Chapter II. Her Great News

Give me one word ; nay, lady, for love's sake. Here, come this way; I will not keep you — no. O my sweet soul, why do you wrong me thus? Swinburne. Coals are cheap in the north of England, but stern economy had to be practised at Rookhope, so the Yorkes frequently con tented themselves with one sitting-room fire, and lived in the library, which was a long room almost entirely lined with valuable old books. These had been collected byGeoffrey's spendthrift grandfather — a man of fine taste, and unlimited appetite for all that was pleasant to the eye and good for mental food. The firelight shone cheerfully on their rich bindings, but Geoffrey did not look at them, for Gulielma was standing at the far end of the room with one elbow restingon the mantelpiece, and face half buried in her hand. He paused to take in the charm of the picture before him.

Her slight figure was bewitchingly graceful, but her attitude touchingly suggestive of a sorrow in need of present comfort. What a tender and sympathetic nature she had ; their sorrow was no doubt her sorrow, and her life was being darkened by it. There were people who said that Gulielma had no heart. They ought to see her now. She had known that he was there all the time, and when she heard him coming nearer she raised her small shapely head, and turned slowly round, but seemed much too downcast to lift her eyes from the hearth rug. " I can't bear to see you so unhappy — on our account," he was going to add, but it seemed unkind to speak as if she had not some feeling of sorrow for what would be a loss to her too. " I suppose she came and told you all about it," remarked Miss Thorpe. " Do you think she ought to have treated me as she did ?

" " I am afraid I don't quite understand," he answered. " She" was no doubt Amerye, but Amerye was never unkind to any one. " Then she hasn't told you. I wish she had, for it does seem so foolish for me to tell you. She was vexed with me and cried, and went on very disagreeably indeed, because I took up that card on the mantelpiece and said, ' Aren't you sorry you can't go ? ' ' " That card," when Geoffrey looked to see what Miss Thorpe meant, was an in vitation from Lady St. Ives to a fancy ball, which had arrived a month ao-o. He looked at Gulielma, but found nothing to say. " It was so hard. She treated me as if I were an unfeeling girl who could not under stand what loving a father was. I love my father as much as any one can." " Long may you have him to love — we are very anxious about ours."