Only One Love; or, Who Was the Heir. Garvice Charles

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      “Yes. I have never been out of Warden since we came into it.”

      “But – why not?” he demanded.

      “I do not know,” she replied, simply.

      “But there must be some reason for it? Haven’t you been to Arkdale or Wermesley?”

      “No,” she said, smiling. “Tell me what they are like. Are they gay and full of people, with theaters and parks, and ladies riding and driving, and crowds in the streets?”

      “Oh, this is too much!” under his breath. “No, no – a thousand times no!” he exclaimed; “they are the two most miserable holes in creation! There are no parks, no theaters in Arkdale or Wermesley. You might see a lady on horseback – one lady in a week! They are two county towns, and nothing of that kind ever goes on in them. You mean London, and – and places like that when you speak of theaters and that sort of thing!”

      “Yes, London,” she says, quietly. “Tell me all about that – I have read about it in books.”

      “Books!” said the Savage, in undisguised contempt; “what’s the use of them! You must see life for yourself – books are no use. They give it to you all wrong; at least, I expect so; don’t know much about them myself.”

      “Tell me,” she repeated, “tell me of the world outside the forest; tell me about yourself.”

      “About myself? Oh, that wouldn’t interest you.”

      “Yes,” she said, simply, “I would rather hear about yourself than about anything else.”

      “Look here, I don’t know what to tell you.”

      “Tell me all you can think of,” she said, calmly; “about your father and mother.”

      “Haven’t got any,” he said; “they’re both dead.”

      “I am sorry,” she said.

      “Yes, they’re dead,” he said; “they died long ago.”

      “And have you any brothers and sisters?”

      “No; I have a cousin, though,” and he groaned.

      “I am so glad,” she said, in a low voice.

      “Don’t be. I’m not. He’s a – I don’t like him; we don’t get on together, you know.”

      “You quarrel, do you mean?”

      “Like Kilkenny cats,” assented the Savage.

      “Then he must be a bad man,” she said, simply.

      “No,” he said, quietly; “everybody says that I am the bad one. I’m a regular bad lot, you know.”

      “I don’t think that you are bad,” she said.

      “You don’t; really not! By George! I like to hear you say that; but,” with a slow shake of the head, “I’m afraid it’s true. Yes, I am a regular bad lot.”

      “Tell me what you have done that is so wrong,” she said.

      “Oh – I’ve – I’ve spent all my money.”

      “That’s not so very wrong; you have hurt only yourself.”

      “Jove, that’s a new way of looking at it,” he muttered. “And” – aloud – “and I’ve run into debt, and I’ve – oh, I can’t tell you any more; I don’t want you to hate me!”

      “Hate you? I could not do that.”

      He sprang to his feet, paced up and down, and then dropped at her side again.

      “Well, that’s all about myself,” he said; “now tell me about yourself.”

      “No,” she said; “not yet. Tell me why you are going to Arkdale?”

      “I’m going to Arkdale to take a train to Hurst Leigh to see my uncle, cousin, or whatever he is – Squire Davenant.”

      “Is he an old man?”

      “Yes, a very old man, and a bad one, too. All our family are a bad lot, excepting my cousin, Stephen Davenant.”

      “The one you do not like?”

      “The same. He is quite an angel.”

      “An angel?”

      “One of those men too good to live. He’s the only steady one we’ve got, and we make the most of him. He is Squire Davenant’s heir – at least he will come into his money. The old man is very rich, you know.”

      “I see,” she said, musingly; then she looked down at him and added, suddenly: “You were to have been the heir?”

      “Yes, that’s right! How did you guess that? Yes, I was the old man’s favorite, but we quarreled. He wanted it all his own way, and, oh – we couldn’t get on. Then Cousin Stephen stepped in, and I am out in the cold now.”

      “Then why are you going there now?” she asked.

      “Because the squire sent for me,” he replied.

      “And you have been all this time going?”

      “You see, I thought I’d walk through the forest,” he said, apologetically.

      “You should be there now – you should not have waited on the road! Is your Cousin Stephen – is that his name? – there?”

      “I don’t know,” he said, carelessly.

      “Ah, you should be there,” she said. “Squire Davenant would be friendly with you again.”

      “I’m afraid you haven’t hit the right nail on the head there,” he said. “I rather think he wants to give me a good rowing about a scrape I’ve got into.”

      “Tell me about that.”

      “Oh, it’s about money – the usual thing. I got into a mess, and had to borrow some money of a Jew, and he got me to sign a paper, promising to pay after Squire Davenant’s death; he called it a post obit– I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now; for the squire got to hear of it, but how, hanged if I can make out; and he wrote to me and to the Jew, saying that he shouldn’t leave me a brass farthing. Of course the Jew was wild; but I gave him another sort of bill, and it’s all right.”

      “Excepting that you will lose your fortune,” said Una, with a little sigh. “What will you do?”

      “That’s a conundrum which I’ve long ago given up. By Jove! I’ll come and be a woodman in the forest!”

      “Will you?” she said. “Do you really mean it? – no, you were not in earnest!”

      “I – why shouldn’t I be in earnest?” he says, almost to himself. “Would you like me to? I mean shall СКАЧАТЬ