Trevlyn Hold Part 58

"Perhaps he did not," retorted Mr. Chattaway. "He did not come in at all last night."

"Oh yes, he did, sir. He's in his room now."

"Who's in his room?" rejoined Mr. Chattaway, believing the girl was either mistaken or telling a wilful untruth.

"Mr. Rupert, sir. Wasn't it him you were asking about?"

"Mr. Rupert is not in his room. How dare you say so to my face?"

"But he is," said the girl. "Leastways, unless he has gone out of it this morning."

"Have you been in his room to see?" demanded Mr. Chattaway, in his ill-humour.

"No, sir, I have not; it's not likely I should presume to do such a thing. But I saw Mr. Rupert go into his room last night; so it's only natural to suppose he is there this morning."

The words confounded Mr. Chattaway. "You must have been dreaming, girl."

"No, sir, I wasn't; I'm sure I saw him. I stepped on my gown and tore it as I was going up to bed last night, and I went to the housemaid's room to borrow a needle and cotton to mend it. I was going back across the pa.s.sage when I saw Mr. Rupert at the end of the corridor turn into his chamber." So far, true. Bridget did not think it necessary to add that she had remained a good half-hour gossiping with the housemaid. Mr.

Chattaway, however, might have guessed that, for he demanded the time, and Bridget confessed it was past eleven.

Past eleven! The whole house, himself excepted, had gone upstairs at half-past ten, and Rupert was then not in. Who had admitted him?

"Which of you servants opened the door to him?" thundered Mr. Chattaway.

"I shouldn't think any of us did, sir. I can answer for me and cook and Mary. We never heard Mr. Rupert ring at all last night: and if we had, we shouldn't have dared let him in after your forbidding it."

The girl was evidently speaking the truth, and Mr. Chattaway was thrown into perplexity. Who _had_ admitted him? Could it have been Miss Diana Trevlyn? Scarcely. Miss Diana, had she taken it into her head, would have admitted him without the least reference to Mr. Chattaway; but she would not have done it in secret. Had it pleased Miss Diana to come down and admit Rupert, she would have done it openly; and what puzzled Mr.

Chattaway more than anything, was the silence with which the admission had been accomplished. He had sat with his ears open, and not the faintest sound had reached them. Was it Maude? No: he felt sure Maude would be even more chary of disobeying him than the servants. Then who was it? A half-suspicion of his wife suggested itself to him, only to be flung away the next moment. His submissive, timorous wife! She would be the last to array herself against him.

But the minutes were pa.s.sing, and Mr. Chattaway had no time to waste.

The fair commenced early, its business being generally over before mid-day. He went round to the stables, found his horse ready, and rode away, the disobedience he had just discovered filling his mind to the exclusion of every other annoyance.

He soon came up with company. Riding out of the fold-yard of Trevlyn Farm as he pa.s.sed it, came George Ryle and his brother Treve. They were bound for the same place, and the three horses fell in together.

"Are you going?" exclaimed Mr. Chattaway to Trevlyn, surprise in his tone.

"Of course I am," answered Treve. "There's always some fun at Whitterbey fair. George is going to initiate me to-day into the mysteries of buying and selling cattle."

"Against you set up for yourself?" remarked Mr. Chattaway, cynically.

"Just so," said Treve. "I hope you'll find me as good a tenant as you have found George."

George was smiling. "He is about to settle down into a steady-going farmer, Mr. Chattaway."

"When?" asked Chattaway.

George hesitated, and glanced at Trevlyn, as if waiting for the answer to come from him.

"At once," said Treve, readily. "There's no reason why it should not be known. I am home for good, Mr. Chattaway, and don't intend to leave it again."

"And Oxford?" returned Chattaway, surprised at the news. "You had another term to keep."

"Ay, but I shall not keep it. I have had enough of Oxford. One can't keep straight there, you know: there's no end of expense to be gone into; and my mother is tired of it."

"Tired of the bills?"

"Yes. Not but that paying them has been George's concern more than hers.

No one can deny that; but George is a good fellow, and _he_ has not complained."

"Are there to be two masters on Trevlyn Farm?"

"No," cried Treve. "I know my place better, I hope, than to put my incompetent self above George--whatever my mother may wish. So long as George is on Trevlyn Farm, he is sole master. But he is going to leave us, he says."

Mr. Chattaway turned to George, as if for confirmation. "Yes," answered George, quietly; "I shall try to take a farm on my own account. You have one soon to be vacant that I should like, Mr. Chattaway."

"I have?" exclaimed Mr. Chattaway. "There's no farm of mine likely to be vacant that would suit your pocket. You _can't_ mean you are turning your ambitious eyes to the Upland?" he added, after a moment's pause.

"Yes, I am," replied George. "And I must have a talk with you about it.

I should like the Upland Farm."

"Why, it would take----"

George did not wait to hear the conclusion of the sentence.

They were at that moment pa.s.sing the parsonage, and Mr. Freeman, in a velvet skull-cap and slippers, was leaning over the gate. George checked his horse.

"Well, did he get safe off last night?" asked Mr. Freeman.

"Yes, at last. The train was forty minutes behind time."

"Ah! it's a shame they don't arrange matters so as to make that ten-o'clock train more punctual. Pa.s.sengers are often kept waiting half-an-hour. Did you and Rupert remain to see him off?"

"Yes," replied George.

"Then Rupert would be late home," observed the clergyman, turning to Chattaway, who had also reined in. "I hope you excused him, Mr.

Chattaway, under the circ.u.mstances."

Chattaway answered something very indistinctly, and the clergyman took it to imply that he _had_ excused Rupert. George said good morning, and turned his horse onwards; they must make good speed, unless they would be "a day too late for the fair."

Not a syllable of the above conversation had Mr. Chattaway understood; it had been as Hebrew to him. He did not like Mr. Freeman's allusion to his "excusing the lateness of Rupert's return," for it proved that his harsh rule had become public property.

"I did not quite take Mr. Freeman," he said, turning equably to George, and speaking in careless accents. "Were you out last night with Rupert?"

"Yes. We spent the evening at the parsonage with Mr. Daw, and then went to see him off by the ten-o'clock train. It is a shame, as Mr. Freeman says, that the train is not made to keep better time. It was Mr. Daw's last night here."

"And therefore you and Rupert must spend it with him! It is a sudden friendship."

"I don't know that there's much friendship in the matter," replied George. "Rupert, I believe, was at the parsonage by appointment, but I called in accidentally. I did not know that Mr. Daw was leaving."