The Squire's Daughter Part 51

"Well, no," he answered. "I'm afraid farming is not exactly my forte; but let us drop the subject. As I told Sir John Liskeard, I might as well think of buying the moon."

"But you are fond of the old place?" William questioned.

"In a sense, yes; but I do not look at it with such longing eyes as Ruth does."

"She would like to live there again?" William questioned eagerly.

"She would dance for joy at the most distant hope of it."

"Then it is for your sister's sake you would like to turn farmer?"

William questioned, after a pause.

"I have no wish to turn farmer at all," Ralph answered. "No, no, my dreams and ambitions don't lie in that direction; but why talk about impossibilities? You came across to discuss some other matter?"

"Yes, that is true," William said absently; and then a ripple of laughter from the adjoining room touched his heart with a curious sense of pain.

"They are on friendly terms already," he said to himself. "And in a little while he will make love to her, and what will Hillside Farm be to her then? I would do anything for her sake--anything." And he sighed unconsciously.

Ralph heard the sigh, and looked at him searchingly.

"I'm in an awful hole myself," William blurted out, after a long pause.

"In an awful hole?" Ralph questioned, with raised eyebrows.

"It's always the unexpected that happens, they say," William went on, "but I confess I never expected to be flung on my beam-ends as I have been. If it were not for mother, I'd sell up and clear out of the country."

"Why, what is the matter?" Ralph questioned in alarm.

"You know the part I took in the County Council election?"

"Very well."

"Of course, I knew that Lord St. Goram didn't quite like it. He expects every tenant and lease-holder to vote just as he wishes them. Poor people are not supposed to have any rights or opinions, but I thought the day had gone by when a man was to be punished for thinking for himself."

"But what has happened?" Ralph asked eagerly.

"I'm to be turned out of my shop."

"No!"

"It's the solemn truth. I had a seven years' lease, which expires next March, and Lord St. Goram refuses to renew it."

"For what reason?"

"He gives no reason at all. But it is easy to guess. I opposed him at the election, you know. I had a perfect right to do it, but rights go for nothing. Now he is taking his revenge. I've not only to clear out in March, but I've to restore the premises to the exact condition they were in when I took them."

"But you've improved the place in every way."

"No doubt I have, but I did it at my own risk, and at my own expense. He never gave his formal consent to my taking out the side of the house and putting in that big window. His steward a.s.sured me it was all right, though he hinted that in case I left his lordship might feel under no obligation to grant compensation."

"But why should he want you to restore the house to its original condition?"

"Just to be revenged, that's all. To show his power over me and to give his tenants an object-lesson as to what will happen if they are unwise enough to think for themselves."

"It's tyranny," Ralph said indignantly. "It's a piece of mean, contemptible tyranny."

"You can call it by any name you like," William answered sadly, "and there's no name too bad for it; but the point to be recollected is, I've got to submit."

"There's no redress for you?"

"Not a bit. I've consulted Doubleday, who's the best lawyer about here, and he says it would be sheer madness to contest it."

"Then what will you do?"

"I've not the remotest idea. There's no other place in St. Goram I can get. His lordship professes that he would far rather have twenty small shops and twenty small shopkeepers all living from hand to mouth than one prosperous tradesman selling the best and the freshest and at the lowest possible price."

"Well, I can sympathise with him in that," Ralph answered, with a smile.

"And yet you are no more fond of buying stale things than other people."

"That may be true. And yet the way the big concerns are crushing out the small men is not a pleasant spectacle."

"But no shopkeeper compels people to buy his goods," William said, with a troubled expression in his eyes. "And when they come to his shop, is he to say he won't supply them? And when his business shows signs of expansion, is he to say it shall not expand?"

"No, no. I don't mean that at all. I like to see an honest business man prospering. And a man who attends to his business and his customers deserves to prosper. But I confess I don't like to see these huge combines and trusts deliberately pushing out the smaller men--not by fair compet.i.tion, mind you, but by unfair--selling things below cost price until their compet.i.tors are in the bankruptcy court, and then reaping a big harvest."

"I like that as little as you do," William said mildly. "Every honest, industrious man ought to have a chance of life, but the chances appear to be becoming fewer every day." And he sighed again.

For several minutes neither of them spoke, then William said--

"I thought I would like to tell you all about it at the earliest opportunity. I knew I should have your sympathy."

"I wish I could help you," Ralph answered. "You helped me when I hadn't a friend in the world."

"I have your sympathy," William answered, "and that's a great thing; for the rest we must trust in G.o.d." And he rose to his feet and looked towards the door.

William and Sam did not say much on their way back to St. Goram. They talked more freely when they got into the house.

"It's awfully good of you to introduce me," Sam said, when Mrs. Menire had retired to her room. "I'm more in love with her than ever."

William's heart gave a painful thump, but he answered mildly enough--

"You seemed to get on very well together."

"She was delightfully friendly, but I owe that all to you. She said that any friend of yours was welcome at their house."

"It was very kind of her," William answered slowly. "Did she give you permission to call again?"