A Harvest of Weeds ... New edition, etc

Chapter I

Pillars of the State ! The expression describes to a nicety the Graysbrook family. Ever since the day when sturdy Alfred, thane of Graysbrook, stood by valiant Harold at Hastings, and did his share of cutting and hewing at the Norman invaders, down almost to the present time, in any great or unusual emergency, the Sovereign had invariably thrust a Graysbrook into the breach. " It is not that they are more brilliant or better fitted out wardly for the undertaking than dozens I see around me," Charles II. had said once, when some one ventured to remon strate with him on his choice of an envoy for a delicate mission ; " but the Graysbrooks are reliable men, and though they do not often accomplish splendid things, on the other hand they never do anything undignified or foolish." And this was in great part the secret of the favour they undoubtedly enjoyed at Court.

They could be trusted. Their honour was as stainless as their birth, and their honesty as direct as their descent. They did not understand the accepted meaning of the word diplomacy, and therefore was it that, when State affairs got into a tangle, and outspoken honesty and directness of purpose were needed for its unravelment, the cry was always for a Graysbrook. They were proud of their reputation, too — as proud of being known as " the honest Graysbrooks " as other families of old descent are of their more splendid sounding bye-titles. Indeed, this pleasant little pride of theirs was the stumbling block in their road to the peerage. When Charles returned from exile, in the impulsive fulness of his heart he would gladly have conferred an earldom on the Graysbrook of that day • but the conservative Saxon blood chose rather to preserve the good old name than to hide it under a brand-new title, and held to the plain style of "Sir" bestowed on the house a reign or two earlier.

So plain " Sir " it remains down to the present time. Of course, in the long string of descendants who had carried the family on in an unbroken line from father to son through more than eight hundred years, there had been occasional ex ceptions to the rule of rigidly honest, sober men ; but these exceptions were rare enough to make one believe they were only introduced for the sake of proving the rule ; and, even at that, they were but half-hearted exceptions, for though now and then — say, once in two centuries — there would appear a Graysbrook who was less reliable, less circumspect, less strictly temperate than the accepted standard of the family, still even then it was only by comparison with the members of his own family that he appeared disreputable. Judged by the ordinary type of mankind, these black sheep of the Graysbrook line were decent men enough.

In the earlier years of her present Majesty's reign the repre sentative of the house was called Eric — Sir Eric Graysbrook of Graysbrook. He was a widower — a fine, handsome man — a little on the wrong side of fifty. He had one only son — also named Eric — and they lived together on their grand old estate in Cheshire. This estate had belonged to the Graysbrooks ever since the first Edward's successful wars with the "Welsh, and tradition had it that the old stone tower, which still formed one of the corners of the house, was part of the ancient castle which had existed in the days of the Cymri, and that it was more than a thousand years old. But this cannot be asserted with authority. This Sir Eric and his son were inseparable. They were hardly ever apart, and seemed to live only for each other, until the lad, by the rector's advice, was sent to finish his education at one of the universities.

This turned out unluckily in the end, for the baronet, getting sick of the loneliness of the place after his boy's departure, went off to Eath for six weeks to kill the time until Eric's return. The bright vivacity of the place — more lively then than now — quite attracted the elderly gentleman, and he went again the next year, and the year after, which was Eric's last year at the university. There is an old saying that " the third time pays for all." It proved so in this case, for on his return from A HARVEST OF WEED?. 7 this third visit Sir Eric Graysbrook brought back with him a young wife. The astonishment of Eric the younger, when he came home and found this addition to the family circle, can be better imagined than described. However, he was a good specimen of his race — kindly, con siderate, just, and possessing plenty of self-control — so, though no doubt he questioned the wisdom of his father's second marriage in his own mind, he never expressed an opinion on the subject, and never made any inquiries about Lady Graysbrook's antecedents, for fear of hurting his father's feelings.

She was a pretty, vivacious little woman, this new step mother, with black hair and eyes, a clear skin, and charming petite figure. Eric was kind and pleasant to her, and she told him in confidence that she had been a widow when his father married her ; but, as her elderly husband did not care to remember the fact, it was not alluded to openly. By-and-by, to the baronet's great delight, a baby boy came. The joy this event occasioned was quickly chauged to grief, by tho suc ceeding news that the youDg mother had not many hours to live. When they told her she was to die, she sent for Eric the younger, and asked him to always be a friend to her help less baby, and to treat him really like a brother; aud ihe young man of twenty-two vowed solemnly that he would be as a father to it, should it ever need one.

The death of the pretty, bright little wom.n was a terrible blow to the baronet. He refused to go outside the house, and sat moping day after day in the rooms she had occupied. Before she had been under the ground three months he followed her, struck down in the full prime of his mature manhood by apoplexy. Then Eric the grave, the steadfast, faced his position boldly. He remembered his promise to his young stepmother, and he meant to keep it. But an infant of three months could scarcely reap any present benefit from a young man's personal superintendence. All his inclinations, too, just now led him to desire a change. Graysbrook seemed soddened with grief. He decided, finally, that there could be no breach of trust in leaving the baba to the care of servants now, but that he would not be able to do so a few years hence, if he carried oat his promise to the boy's mother.

He had a great desire to travel and see the world thoroughly, so, after making his will unconditionally in favour of his little half-brother, after seeiug tbe child christened, and giving him the name of Eustace, in accordance with the mother's wish, Eric set out on his long voyage. Years came and went. Sometimes the people of Graysbrook heard of Sir Eric, and sometimes for a whole year together they did not. Little Eustace, watched over and guarded with as much care as if he had been a king's son, throve amazingly. But, fine lad as he was, there were those among the servants and tenantry who were prejudiced against the boy, because he so entirely favoured his mother in point of looks. "I've seen three generations of Graysbrooks in my time," said Farmer Blossom to Mr. Cookson, the land steward, "but never a one with black eyes did I see before this youngster.

I can stand 'em gray or brown — though blue is the regular family colour — but never a black-eyed Graysbrook was heard of before. It's against all reason." Be that as it may, young Eustace was as fine a boy on his tenth birthday as could be found anywhere on the country-side. A little overbearing maybe, rather inclined to overdo the authoritative in his small way, but the servants were more to blame than the child for this, for they all looked upon Sir Eric — now turned thirty — as a confirmed bachelor, and treated Eustace with the exaggerated deference which they considered only the due of the heir of Graysbrook. Things were just like this. The word of Eustace was the law of the household. The only person he would stand a word of remonstrance from was the rector, with whom he studied four days a week, and there seemed every chance of the boy being ruined by the subserviency of his inferiors, when affairs at Graysbrook received such a violent wrench that, for a time, it seemed as though they would never settle down again.

In plain words, after ten years' absence Sir Eric returned to the home of his fathers, and brought with him a wife, already past her first girlish bloom, and a son two years old. Oh, the commotion of the long-unused-to-any-bustle house hold ! Oh, the never-ending gossip and delight of the tenantry at having their much-loved landlord among them again ! Oh, the boundless conjectures as to Lady Graysbrook's antecedents among the bigger people of the county ! And last — but by no means least — oh, the bitter humiliation that young Eustace experienced, when he suddenly found himself dethroned in favour of this golden-haired, blue-eyed, pink-and-white toddlin" mite of two years ! The boy was old in mind for his age, the natural result of the false importance thrust on him by his surroundings, and consequently felt his loss of position so much the more.

Every one was kind to him. Sir Eric made much of him, took great interest in his studies, selected a new horse for his private use, and even asked him questions about this or that which had happened on the estate during the proprietor's absence. But the lad could not for some time be comforted. He grew pale and wizen-faced, moped in quiet corners, got out of visitors' ways studiously, and made his young misery so con spicuous — not to speak of his openly-expressed hatred of little baby Hubert, the heir — that at last Sir Eric decided to send him to Eton. The boy snatched eagerly at the idea, and to Eton he went. This was the end of the trouble to all outward appearance. When Eustace came home at the end of his first term he was much changed for the better. Whatever his feelings were he made no show of them ; he was attentive to Lady Graysbrook in his schoolboy fashion, grateful to Sir Eric for his kindness, and, above all, intensely devoted to baby Hubert.

Not that that was much to be wondered at, for the wee laddie was so loving, so bright and winning in his ways, that every one who had to do with him worshipped him. Eustace taught the little creature to call him "Nunky," and ruled him strictly. The baby, spoiled by every one else, was always obedient to his young uncle's slightest word, until it came to be a recognised rule that, in any difficulty with the youngster, Mr. Eustace should be sent for. Even when the lad was away at school, mention of his name would make baby Hubert amenable when all other means had failed. When the little one was four years old his mother died. Lady Graysbrook had not been very popular, on account of a certain shyness or reserve in her manner, which she had never thoroughly shaken off except when alone with her husband and the children.

Even her confidential maid, who had been engaged in Italy immediately after her marriage to Sir Eric, knew nothing of her mistress's past, except that she had been a widow some years when she first met her present husband, and that her past was evidently an unhappy one, since she never voluntarily spoke of it. That she was a lady no one could for a moment doubt. Her manners to equals and inferiors alike were perfect j but at times there was a trace of absent-mindedness in her bearing, which gave rise to the belief that Ruth Graysbrook was a woman with a history. As she chose to keep this history to herself, ill natured people jumped to the conclusion that there must be something discreditable in it ; otherwise, they argued, she would not have made a secret of it ; and this belief created a rather strong, though unacknowledged, prejudice against her in the county.

Consequently, when she died she was not much mourned nor missed outside the family circle. Time passed on. Sir Eric did not marry again. He had loved his gentle little Euth too dearly to allow another woman to occupy her place. His half-brother Eustace grew a fine, handsome man — very grave and reticent, but with all the old Graysbrook steadfastness and resolution strongly developed. Hubert, on the other hand, seemed to threaten to become one of those exceptional Graysbrooks — a little inclined to be generous before he was just; there was just the slightest leaning towards impetuosity, the least notion of recklessness, the smallest inclination to act first and think afterwards. Sir Eric, watching the two boys grow up — his half-brother and his son — almost wished they could change dispositions.

Though Eustace was never half so much loved as was his more impulsive nephew, Sir Eric thought the elder boy's temperament was the more fitted for the proper carrying out of the high duties which might fall to the lot of a Graysbrook of Graysbrook. Bearing in mind his solemn promise to his father's wife, Sir Eric behaved very well to Eustace. When he was eighteen years old the baronet sent for him, and put matters plainly before him. " You see, Eustace," he said, " our father died so suddenly that there was no will made. Until he married your mother there was no necessity for a will, as I was the only child ; now, however, things are different, and I have done for you what I think our father would have done had he made a will. I have settled twelve thousand pounds on you and your heirs for ever.

My dear lad, don't, pray, say anything about thanks— it is your right. You will not have to wait for my death to enjoy your income; your possession of the money is to date from your majority. But I did not send for you to tell you this so much as to talk about your future. What do you mean to do with your life, Eustace . There is too much ability about you to be wasted. I should not like you to settle down into a mere time-killer on your few hundreds a year. You are more reflective than brilliant by nature, or I should suggest the Bar. As it is, what do you say to the Church 1 " The young man looked startled, but said nothing. Sir Eric went on : "The reason I mention this to you is that the parish living is in the family gift, as you know, and if you liked the notion — not unless — you would of course have the living when the fitting time came.

You look startled. Think it over. Never do things in a hurry. Now for the other matter I wanted to speak about. In my newly-executed will I have made you my boy's guardian." The blood rushed into Eustace's face, and he half rose in the extremity of his surprise. " I am so young " he began. " That is a fault that time will remedy," answered Sir Eric, cordially, "I hope I am not going to die just yet, you know. You think me an old man because I am twenty-three years older than you ; but, after all, I am only forty-one, and the chances are that I shall live until Hubert attains his majority, in which case you will not be called on to exercise your guardianship at all. But it is always better to be on the safe side. The reason I have chosen you for this post is that I know you possess all those qualities which Hubert lacks — self-control, calm judgment, and decision.

Another thing, you have more love for the dear old place than a stranger would have, and, if it should please God to take me before my boy is old enough to manage things for himself, you would take more interest in the estate than any one else. I must say one more thing, Eustace, and then you may go. Bearing in mind Hubert's reckless disposition and want of thought, I have decided that he shall not have full control of the revenues of the estate until he is twenty-five. I have arranged that, in the event of my death, he shall come into an income of five thousand a year at twenty-one, but beyond that he has no power whatever until his twenty-fifth birthday. I have hoped by these means to give him a chance of sowing his wild oats before he comes into uncontrolled possession, and so, perhaps, save the estate from sacrifice."

Eleven years afterwards, when grave Eustace was twenty nine and Hubert the impetuous twenty-one, this will came into operation at Sir Eric's death. Hubert at first felt he had been rather hardly done by. He did not enjoy the prospect of being under his uncle's thumb at all, for, although they were firm friends, the younger man was uncomfortably conscious of the other's mental superiority, and knew he was likely to do many things in the next four years that might not meet with the sedate young parson's approval. " However," he grunted to himself, disconsolately, " it is only for four years. They will soon pass, thank goodness ! " Yes, my buoyant young friend, the years themselves will pass quickly enough, but how about the actions performed in them, and their after consequences .

Chapter II

Yes ; Eustace had taken his half-brother's advice and entered the Church, and at the time of Sir Eric's death he was in the enjoyment of the living promised him. But he did not inhabit the comfortable rectory which stood just outside the park gates; he let that to his curate, the Rev. Adam Cheston, at a merely nominal rent, while he made his home with his nephew and ward in the splendid old mansion-house at Graysbrook. It was a bright morning in April in the year 18 — . Uncle and nephew were idling over their breakfast. Good Sir Eric had been dead nearly a year, and Eustace was remonstrating with Hubert against any further waste of time. He was very much in earnest. One hand, closed with nervous strength, lay on the table in front of him. His broad shoulders were bent slightly forward, his keen dark eyes were fixed on the other's face, the arched nostrils were slightly inflated, and when he was not speaking his handsome mouth set itself firmly, almost sternly.

The man's dominant expression was one of power — suppressed, it is true, but still it was there ; power as well as beauty lay in every curve of the fine features, every line of the grand physique. Every now and again he put his hand up and passed it impatiently through his black wavy hair, with the action of a man who feels he is writing on sand, who knows he is wasting his time, but who yet is compelled by his sense of duty to go on with the unsatisfactory task. Hubert was rather a contrast. Pleasant indolence and idle enjoyment seemed to be his ultimatum, as he leant back in his chair with the morning sunlight flickering across his sunburnt face. He was not so handsome as Eustace — not half so handsome ! His nose was not so faultless, nor were his lips so finely formed, neither had he so grand and massive a forehead.

But bright kindliness had a home in his blue eyes, and though his nose was quite indescribable by any of the known rules for noses, and though the curve of his lips was of doubtful purity, there was such a wealth of warmth and love in his smile, such a store of tenderness in his sympathy, that people when judging his looks forgot to be severe in the matter of features, and took him as he was, for one of the brightest and hand somest young men in Cheshire. There was only one point of similarity in the young men : they were both veritable sons of Anak. Eustace stood six feet, and Hubert was a good inch taller, and they both owned shoulders and chests which made them the envy of half their male acquaintances. "I don't see why you should worry yourself so much about it, old fellow," said Hubert — the title of uncle had been dropped years ago—" I am very satisfied to remain as I am.

I am not absolutely a Goth, you know. I have quite enough education to take me through life creditably ; what more do I want ? AVhy should I waste two or three years of my life in fighting for a degree that will be of no earthly use to me when I have got itl I shall never have to earn my living; I shall never be younger than I am ; two most excellent reasons against doing as you wish. I want to see life while I have the zest to enjoy it." " My dear lad, you have done nothing but see life for the last four years," answered Eustace. " You call travelling over Europe with a tutor seeing life ! " — very indignantly. "My dear Eustace, what a notion !" " Well, I don't fancy you allowed Wigram to be much of a drag on your inclinations." "There you are mistaken. Of course, within a certain radius, I did as I liked, but I drew the line at things which I thought were likely to worry the old chap. And there was the governor to think of, too.

I would not have annoyed him for a ransom." Eustace fixed him with a look as he asked : " Then, do you mean me to understand that it is your definite intention now to do just those things which would have worried Wigram and annoyed your father, if they were still here ? " Hubert fidgeted on his chair a little, and laughed uncom foitably as he replied : " What an awful fellow you are to talk to, Eustace ! Of course, I don't mean you to understand that such is my ' definite intention.' What an expression ! No one ever does anything of that sort with a ' definite intention.' What I mean is this : I have been under guardianship of some sort — I dare say it's been good for me, you know — all my life, and I am nearly twenty-two. I begin to feel a watchful eye rather irksome." Eustace looked hurt.

"I don't mean anything personal, you know, old fellow," Hubert said, hastily, noticing the change in the other's face ; "and you've always been a regular trump to me. But I suppose a time comes in every man's life when he feels he should like to strike out independently for himself, instead of following another's lead. That's just how I am feeling now. I dare say I shan't find it half so pleasant as I imagine, and shall come back at the end of a year, glad to follow where you lead again. But I've a longing for freedom on me, and I shall chafe at ever so light a bit until I have satisfied it." Eustace sighed. "I am sorry," he said. "Our men have invariably done something in their time — have nearly always set tlieir maik on the age they have lived in. It is a new departure for the heir of the house to make a profession of his personal pleasure."

" I think you're rather hard on me," said Hubert, de jectedly. " There's plenty of time for me to ' do something ' by-and-by. Don't begrudge me my little bit of play first. AVe can't all be as perfect as you, you know. I wish you had been the heir instead of me, old man." Eustace started as if he had been stung, and a dusky red crept up under his skin. He rose and pushed his chair back against the wall with a crash. His reply was curious : " AVhat is to be will be," he said. " Always remember, if you by-and-by repent wasting your best days in a vain search after pleasure, that I did my best to dissuade you from it." Then, with the dusky red still darkening his face, he left the room, and Hubert muttered, penitently : "Put my foot in it somehow, though I'm dashed if I understand how."

Chapter III

Eob two whole years the seasons came and went, and Graysbrook was left to the sole care of the heir's guardian. Occasional letters came from Sir Hubert, who seemed to be having such a good time of it, to be so thoroughly occupied in enjoying himself, as to have no spare weeks to spend at his own place. And the Rev. Eustace sighed a little when he read these hurried accounts from his nephew, and thought how unfortunate it was that such a heritage as Graysbrook should fall to one who valued it so lightly. Meantime he managed the estate admirably, and made unto himself an abiding name throughout the county, and was universally respected and reverenced in his triple character of clergyman, magistrate, and aristocrat. Two years later, and again the two men were alone in the breakfast-room at Graysbrook ; again Eustace was speaking in a tone of rebuke, and again Hubert listened quietly and patiently.

But this time the expression of anxiety on the young clergyman's face was reflected on Hubert's ; he did not look so pleasantly unconcerned about the matter under dis cussion as when they were last here together, and though he was trying hard not to show it, he was too young to success fully hide a certain air of uneasiness. " I know there is no good to be done by saying ' I told you so' after the mischief is an accomplished fact," said Eustace, gravely; "yet I think it is due to my position, as your appointed guardian, to remind you that I warned you no good would come of a life devoted entirely to pleasure." Hubert writhed, but answered nothing. Eustace went on: "What do you say is the sum total of this shameful debt . " • From four thousand to four thousand five hundred pounds." " And you lost that amount in one week at play 1 " There was a world of shocked surprise in the tone of the question.

" I was mad, Eustace," answered Hubert, humbly. " I never played high before Baskerville took me down to that den in Blank Street. I had dined at his rooms with a lot of fellows, and the wine, and smoke, and heat sent me a little off my head. Then some one suggested that we should finish the night at Carlotti's. I never knew who or what Carlotti was — I dare say I should have gone just the same if I had known ; I don't want to sneak out of it — and of course I went with the others. AVell, I lost all I had on me, and then I began giving I 0 U's. I lost seven hundred that night." He paused, but Eustace kept silence, sitting opposite, with his head on his hand. Hubeit flushed and went on : " The next morning I was mad with myself for being led into such folly. I was as seedy as I culd hang t' pether, and as miserable as if I had committed a murder.

Well, while I was iu that state, one of the men I had met overnight came in and laughed at me, said beginners alwa, s felt that way ut first, and gave me a brandy-and-soda to set me. on my legs again." Eustace made a movement of disgu-t. Without seeming to notice it, Hubert went on : "I didn't know the man; I couldn't even remember his name ; but I allowed myself to drift along with him. He took it quite as a matter of course that I should go to Carlotti's again ; so I went every night that week. On the Friday, Baskerville was there. He looked horrified when he saw this man with me, made up some story about an appointment that I had made to go somewhere with him, and dragged me away early in the night. Then he told me that the man I was with was one of the biggest hawks about town, asked me how much I'd lost, and begged me, as a personal favour, to cut him the next time I met him. ' It was through me you went to Carlotti's at all,' he said, 'so I feel a bit thin-skinned about your coming to grief thr Migh it."

"And did you cut him!" "Yes. it wasn't verv difficult. I'd only to tell Gregson to say 'Not ut home,' wh'-n he called. As for acknowledging him in the street, we had never seen each other by daylight, bar that first morning, when I was so seedy that I don't think you B would have known me if you Lad met me accidentally ; and if T had met him I don't believe I should have known him, until he spoke ; so cutting him wasn't much trouble." "Why didn't you come home at once after seeing Baskerville V " I was rather ashamed of myself, 'Stace, lo speak the honest truth. I knew I had behaved shabbily by keeping away from you for more than a year at a stretch, and it seemed so abominably mean to come creeping back the moment I'd got into a mess." " Yes, it does strike one rather that way," Eustace said, quietly, and the quick blood flew into Hubert's face at the tone.