Trevlyn Hold. Henry Wood

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СКАЧАТЬ School, and the additional cost was light. Treve, once at Oxford, did not get on quite so fast as he might have done. Treve spent; Treve seemed to have plenty of wild-oats to sow; Treve thought he should like a life of idleness better than farming. His mother had foolishly whispered the fond hope that he might some time be owner of Trevlyn Hold, and Treve reckoned upon its fulfilment more confidently than was good for him. Meanwhile, until the lucky chance arrived which should give him the inheritance (though by what miracle the chance was to fall was at present hidden in the womb of mystery), Treve, upon leaving college, was to assume the mastership of Trevlyn Farm, in accordance with the plan originally decided upon by Mrs. Ryle. He would not be altogether unqualified for this: having been about the farm since he was a child, and seen how it should be worked. Whether he would give sufficient personal attention to it was another matter.

      Mrs. Ryle expressed herself as not being too confident of him—whether of his industry or qualifications she did not state. George had given one or two hints that when Treve came home for good, he must look out for something else; but Mrs. Ryle had waived away the hints as if they were unpleasant to her. Treve must prove what metal he was made of, before assuming the management, she briefly said. And George suffered the subject to drop.

      Treve had now but one more term to keep at the university. At the conclusion of the previous term he had not returned home: remaining on a visit to a friend, who had an appointment in one of the colleges. But Treve's demand for money had become somewhat inconvenient to Mrs. Ryle, and she had begged George to pay Oxford a few days' visit, that he might see how Treve was really going on. George complied, and proceeded to Oxford, where he found Treve absent—as in the last chapter you heard him say to Maude Trevlyn.

      Mrs. Trevlyn sat by the drawing-room fire, enveloped in her shawl, and supported by her pillows. The thought of these things was bringing a severe look to her proud face. She had scarcely seen George since his return; had not exchanged more than ten words with him. But those ten words had not been of a cheering nature; and she feared things were not going on satisfactorily with Treve. With that hard look on her features, how wonderfully her face resembled that of her dead father!

      Presently George came in. Mrs. Ryle looked up eagerly at his entrance.

      "Are you better?" he asked, advancing, and bending with a kindly smile. "It is long since you had such a cold as this."

      "I shall be all right in a day or two," she answered. "Yesterday I thought I was going to have a long illness, my chest was so painful. Sit down, George. What about Treve?"

      "Treve was not at Oxford. He had gone to London."

      "You told me so. What had he gone there for?"

      "A little change, Ferrars said. He had been gone a week."

      "A little change? In plain English, a little pleasure, I suppose. Call it what you will, it costs money."

      George had seated himself opposite to her, his arm resting on the centre table, and the red blaze lighting up his frank, pleasant face. In figure he was tall and slight; his father, at his age, had been so before him.

      "Why did you not follow him to London?" resumed Mrs. Ryle. "It would have been less than a two hours' journey from Oxford."

      George turned his large dark eyes upon her, some surprise in them. "How was I to know where to look for him, if I had gone?"

      "Could Mr. Ferrars not give you his address?"

      "No. I asked him. Treve had not told him where he should put up. In fact, Ferrars did not think Treve knew himself. Under these circumstances, my going to town would have been only waste of time and money."

      "It is of no use your keeping things from me," resumed Mrs. Ryle, after a pause. "Has Treve contracted fresh debts at Oxford?"

      "I fancy he has. A few."

      "A 'few'—and you 'fancy!' George, tell me the truth. That you know he has, and that they are not a few."

      "That he has, I believe to be true: I gathered as much from Ferrars. But I do not think they are serious; I do not indeed."

      "Why did you not inquire? I would have gone to every shop in the town, in order to ascertain. If he is contracting more debts, who is to pay them?"

      George was silent.

      "When shall we be clear of Chattaway?" she abruptly resumed. "When will the last payment be due?"

      "In a month or two's time. Principal and interest will all be paid off then."

      "It will take all your efforts to make up the sum."

      "It will be ready, mother. It shall be."

      "I don't doubt it. But it will not be ready, George, if a portion is to be taken from it for Treve."

      George knit his brow. He was falling into thought.

      "I must get rid of Chattaway," she resumed. "He has been weighing us down all these years like an incubus; and now that emancipation has nearly come, were anything to delay it, I should—I think I should go mad."

      "I hope and trust nothing will delay it," answered George. "I am more anxious to get rid of Chattaway than, I think, even you can be. As to Treve, his debts must wait."

      "But it would be more desirable that he should not contract them."

      "Of course. But how are we to prevent his contracting them?"

      "He ought to prevent it himself. You did not contract debts."

      "I!" he rejoined, in surprise. "I had no opportunity of doing so. Work and responsibility were thrown upon me before I was old enough to think of pleasure: and they kept me steady."

      "You were not naturally inclined to spend, George."

      "There's no knowing what I might have acquired, had I been sent out into the world, as Treve has," he rejoined.

      "It was necessary that Treve should go to college," said Mrs. Ryle, quite sharply.

      "I am not saying anything to the contrary," George quietly answered. "It was right that he should go—as you wished it."

      "I shall live—I hope I shall live—I pray that I may live—to see Trevlyn lawful possessor of the Hold. A gentleman's education was essential to him: hence I sent him to Oxford."

      George made no reply. Mrs. Ryle felt vexed. She knew George disapproved her policy in regard to Trevlyn, and charged him with it now. George would not deny it.

      "What I think unwise is your having led Treve to build hopes upon succeeding to Trevlyn Hold," he said.

      "Why?" she haughtily asked. "He will come into it."

      "I do not see how."

      "He has far more right to it than he who is looked upon as its successor—Cris Chattaway," she said, with flashing eyes. "You know that."

      George could have answered that neither of them had a just right to it, whilst Rupert Trevlyn lived; but Rupert and his claims had been so completely ignored by Mrs. Ryle, as by others, that his advancing them would have been waived away as idle talk. Mrs. Ryle resumed, her voice unsteady. It was most rare that she suffered herself to speak of these past grievances; but when she did, her vehemence mounted to agitation.

      "When my boy was born, the news СКАЧАТЬ