LITMIR.BIZ

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Esq., J.P., D.L., a former High Sheriff of the County, married, in the first place, Prudence, daughter of Herbert Knight, Esq., and had issue Walter of Montreal, Canada, who married Josephine, daughter of Henry Perleux of Les Rapides, Esq., and has issue, in addition to a daughter, Julia, one son, Hector.'"

      "That was the young man who helped me home. Go on, Sibyll."

      "'Hector Beaudessart married secondly Elizabeth, daughter of Joseph Francis, Esq., and widow of Samuel Frobisher, Esq., and had no issue by his second wife. The estate passed by his will to Martin Frobisher, eldest son of the said Samuel and his wife Elizabeth.'"

      "That is our father, and this shows that we are interlopers."

      "Interlopers or not, we are jolly comfortable here," said Sibyl!. "A blessed thing that old Hector quarrelled with his son, and left Pendabury to papa. I could kiss the old man for doing so."

      "But it was very hard on his son and grandson."

      "That is no concern of ours. Old Squire Hector had a right, I suppose, to do with the property as he would."

      "As things stand, papa did not relish young Mr. Beaudessart coming to see the place."

      "It was natural that the fellow should like to take a peep at what his father lost. Not so bad a lot, Joan, that of the cuckoo. Lucky job for us, anyhow. It is an ill wind that does not blow good to someone. Blessed be the east wind that touched up old Hector's liver when he made his testament."

      "But Pendabury is left to our father for his life only."

      "What, are not we to be co-heiresses?"

      "No."

      "I call that mean. I could box old Hector's ears for that."

      Sibylla threw the parts of the County History on the carpet.

      "Joan," said she, leaning back in the cushioned easy chair, "we shall have rare fun to-morrow. You know there will be a shooting party and a beat of the Bradstreet coverts. We are to lunch in the wood, and then, in the evening, have a dinner. No old fogies and young half-baked lumps of fellows, but really nice people, full—brimming with chaff."

      "Yes. I am aware. But, Sibyll, do not leave those numbers of the County History on the floor."

      "Why not?"

      "Joseph is so thoughtless. When he comes to put coals on the fire he may tread on them as waste paper. Put them back on the stand whence you took them."

      "Not I—I am stiff and tired. I will tell Joseph to mind where he treads, and to collect them."

      Joan stooped and gathered together half a dozen dispersed separate issues of the volume, and after arranging them in their proper sequence, replaced them on the shelf whence her sister had taken them, in a stand at the farther end of the room.

      This done she turned round, and saw something that startled and annoyed her.

      "Sibyll, for shame! what are you doing?"

      "Only looking at the telegram, Joan. Papa had dropped it under the table."

      "Put it down. You have no right whatever to look at it."

      "If it had been so particular and private, he would have burnt it or carried it away."

      "He was unnerved, and perhaps forgot what he did with it. You have acted very wrongly in touching it."

      "I have done more than touch it; I have read it," said Sibyll. "It is from London: 'Willjoens Reef smashed up. J. F. absconded.' J. F. may stand for Uncle James."

      At that moment the butler threw open the door and Mr. Frobisher entered in hat, greatcoat, and muffler, and with a whip in one hand.

      "Did chance to leave an orange envelope?" he asked." Oh!" Sibyll had hastily laid the telegram on pink paper upon the table. "That is what I want, not the envelope."

      He took it up with a hand that shook, as Joan observed

      The without giving final instructions to his daughters, he was about to leave, when Joan said—

      "Father, you will try to be back in time for dinner."

      "If possible—can't say. Very serious news."

      Then he left the room.

      Joan went to one of the long windows and looked out. Next moment she saw her father ride past.

      "I wish," said she, "that he had not decided on Fashion. Papa is much troubled in mind, and should have had a steadier horse to ride." Then, leaving the window, she picked up the telegram envelope and threw it into the fire, saying, "Sibyll, I am vexed with you. You know that you did wrong in reading the telegram."

      "I don't care," retorted the younger. "Willjoens Reef smashed up. Dynamite, I suppose. J. F. absconded into space, blown up into the clouds, maybe. But no, dynamite strikes downwards. I wonder if J.F. stands for Uncle James. If so, perhaps this telegram promises us relief from his rather tiresome presence and tedious commercial talk. I loathe all that smacks and savours of trade and money-making. It is vulgar."

      Chapter 4

       Table of Contents

      WITH THE DESSERT

      Joan Frobisher, having lost her mother when still a child, had been called upon by her father to take that mother's place in social functions, to entertain visitors, to occupy the head of the table at dinners, and act generally as hostess. She was consequently able to discharge her duties with easy confidence. Possessed of good feeling and the tact that springs out of it, she had united in her every requisite that goes to make up a perfect hostess. She was skilful in starting topics upon which she knew that her guests could talk, in maintaining conversation in flow, and by delicate intervention to draw every member of the circle into it.

      But on the occasion of the evening after the opening hunt, when the party sat down and her father was still absent, the burden of her task was felt by her as oppressive and irksome; it was with an effort that she discharged even the ordinary formalities.

      The obligation under which she lay of apologizing for the lack of the presence of the host, and explaining it, was in itself embarrassing and a damper to conviviality. But in addition there was much that occupied her mind, and there were cares that distracted it. She could not shake off the painful impression produced on her by her father's treatment of Mr. Beaudessart. Not only was his behaviour unjust towards him, but it was humiliating to herself. The mortification was the more poignant because she could not but perceive that it was Mr. Beaudessart and his father who were the injured parties, and that her father, her sister, and herself were occupying a position to which they had attained solely through 'the caprice of a masterful and resentful old tyrant.

      She recalled the smile that had played about the ,young man's lips when she had spoken such bold words about the Frobishers maintaining themselves in Pendabury against all attempts that might be made to dislodge them. He was aware at the time how empty the boast was. She coloured at the recollection that she had made it.

      But if thoughts associated with this passage in the day's proceedings were painful, those that concerned the telegram were disquieting. The initials J. F. probably did serve to indicate her uncle, James Frobisher, as her sister had surmised. She knew that he was interested in a gold mine in the Transvaal.

      She had not made her uncle's acquaintance till recently—a year ago—as he had been all his time in South Africa, Australia, Brazil, and California. He had been a wanderer, picking up a good deal of information in his wanderings, but shedding a good deal of the finer qualities of an Englishman at the same time.

      He was full of schemes for making money, but none of these schemes as yet had enriched himself; the reason being, as he insisted, that you must have gold to make gold—as you must sow grain to reap a wheaten harvest. As he had been unprovided with capital he had seen others spring into the position of millionaires, and been himself incapable of following

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