The Master of Greylands. Mrs. Henry Wood
of business! By heaven, I have a great mind to give you into custody!"
"Do not let us quarrel, Uncle James; suffer me to say what little I have to say quietly. I did not go to Mr. Knivett otherwise than openly. He said he could tell me nothing; and I recognized the weight of his objection--that he is your attorney. Being so, he of course cannot act for me."
"Perhaps you tried to bribe him to act for you," scoffed Mr. Castlemaine, who was foolishly beginning to lose his temper.
"I would not do any mean or dishonourable thing, Uncle James; I am a Castlemaine, and my father's son. But what I have to say to you is this, that matters cannot rest as they are: and I wish you fully to understand what my course will be if you do not give me the satisfaction I require, as to who is the true owner of Greylands' Rest. Only show me that it is yours, and I make my bow of departure from Greylands."
"You are pretty insolent for a young man!" retorted Mr. Castlemaine, looking down on him with scorn. "Do you suppose such an application was ever made to a gentleman before? You speak of your father, my brother Basil: had some impudent stranger presented himself before him, and demanded to see title-deeds of his, what would his answer have been, think you?"
"Circumstances alter cases, Uncle James. My case is different from the imaginary one that you put. Only satisfy me that the place is yours, and I ask no more. I have a right to know so much."
"You never shall know it: for your insolence, you shall never know more than you know now. Do your best and worst."
"Then you will leave me no resource but to proceed," returned the young man, who maintained his temper and his courtesy in a notable degree. "I shall employ the best lawyer I can call to my aid, and act on his advice."
"Tush!" was the contemptuous answer. "Go and put in a claim to Parson Marston's church--to the Dolphin Inn,--to the beach itself! Claim all, and see how far a lawyer will advance you in it."
"I wish you had met me temperately, Uncle James. I only ask what's fair--to be satisfied. It is the talk of the neighbours now: they say you ought to satisfy me; they think you would do it if it were in your power."
"What?" roared Mr. Castlemaine.
Had Anthony seen the storm he was provoking, he had surely not continued. He did not wish to irritate Mr. Castlemaine: all he wanted was to show him the reasons of his proposed attempted investigation--to prove to him that he was justified in what he meant to do. The truth was, the young man, who was by nature just, honourable, and kindly, who had never in his life attempted to take a mean advantage of friend or enemy, felt half ashamed and deeply grieved to be thus thrown into adverse contact with his newly-found relatives; and he sought to show that he had justifiable excuse for it.
"It is not my fault, uncle, if the people thus give their opinion: I did not ask for it, or provoke them to it. What they say has reason in it, as it seems to me. When the popular belief prevailed that my grandfather would not leave his estate away from his eldest son, Basil, and when it was never known how he did leave it, or to whom, or anything about it, save that his second son remained in possession, why, they talked. That is what I am told. It would be a satisfaction to the public as well as to me, Uncle James, if you would suffer the truth to be known."
It was not often that the Master of Greylands allowed anger to overpower him. In his younger days he had been subject to fits of intemperate passion, but time and self-control had well-nigh stamped the failing out. Perhaps until this moment he had believed it had left him for ever. His passion rose now: his face was scarlet; his clenched hands were kept by force down to his side, lest they should deal a blow at Anthony. Them, so far, he controlled, but not his tongue: and he poured forth a torrent of abuse.
"Go back to where you came from, insolent, upstart braggart!" were the words he finished up with. "You are no true son of my brother Basil. Ill-doing though he was, he was not a fire-brand, striving to spread malignant dissension amid a peaceable community."
"Uncle James, I shall never go back until I have come to the bottom of this matter," spoke the young man, firmly: and it may be that his unruffled temper, his very calmness of bearing, only served to irritate all the more Mr. Castlemaine. "The best man of law that London will afford I shall summon to my aid: he must force you to show the title by which you hold possession of the estate; and we shall then see which has the most right to it, you or I."
The words inflamed Mr. Castlemaine almost to madness. With a fierce oath--and bad language, though common enough then, was what he was rarely, if ever, betrayed to use--he lifted his hand to strike. Anthony, startled, got away.
"What have I done to merit this treatment, Uncle James?" he remonstrated. "Is it because I am a relative? You would not, for shame, so treat a stranger."
But the Master of Greylands, flinging back a word and look of utter contempt, went striding on his way, leaving his nephew alone.
Now it happened that this contest was witnessed by the superintendent of the coastguard, Mr. Nettleby, who was walking along the path of the neighbouring field behind the far-off intervening hedge, bare at that season. He could not hear the words that passed--the whole field was between--but he saw they were angry ones, and that the Master of Greylands was in a foaming passion. Calling in at the Dolphin Inn, he related before one or two people what he had seen: and Anthony, when he returned soon after, gave the history of the interview.
"I'm sure I thought Mr. Castlemaine struck you, sir," resumed the officer.
"No, but he would have liked to strike me," said Anthony. "I stepped back from his hand. It is very foolish of him."
"I think he would like to kill Mr. Anthony, for my part, by the way he treats him," said John Bent. But the words were only spoken in the heat of partisanship, without actual meaning: just as we are all given to hasty assertions on occasion. However, they were destined to be remembered afterwards by Greylands.
Somewhat later John Bent and his guest were standing at the front door, talking together of the general perplexity of things. The sun was setting in the west in beautiful clouds of rose-colour and amber, showing the advance of evening John began to think he had better be laying the cloth for the parlour dinner, unless he wanted his wife about him. And--here she was! her cherry-coloured ribbons right over his shoulder.
At that moment, careering down the road from Greylands' Rest, came Harry Castlemaine on his spirited horse. His overcoat was rolled up and strapped on the saddle, and he looked as though mounted for a journey. On the road he was bent the Chapel Lane would have been the nearest way; but when on horseback Harry always took the front way from his house, though it might involve a round through the village.
"Going out a pleasuring, Mr. Harry?" cried the landlady, as he reined-in.
"Going out a businessing," corrected the young man, in his free and careless manner, as he nodded and smiled at Anthony--for he did not share in his father's discourteous behaviour to their new relative, though he had not yet made advances to any intimacy. "A beautiful sunset, is it not?"
"Quite very beautiful," replied Anthony.
"I am bound for Newerton, Mrs. Bent," resumed Harry. "Can I do anything for you there?"
"Nothing, thank you, sir."
"What, not even choose you some cap ribbons? Newerton ribbons, you know, take the conceit out of those at Stilborough."
"You must always have your joke, Mr. Harry! As if a fine young gentleman like you would trouble himself to choose an old woman's ribbons!"
"See if I don't bring you some! Meanwhile, John, suppose you give me a glass of ale, to speed me on my journey."
The landlord brought the ale, handing it up on a waiter; somewhat to his own discomfort, for the horse was prancing and rearing. Harry Castlemaine drank it; and with a general nod, an intimation that he should return on the morrow, and a wave of the hand to his cousin, he rode away.
Anthony went round the corner of the house to look after him. Not being anything great in horsemanship himself, he admired those who were. He admired also