“Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Treverton,” said Thomas Sampson, folding up the will, and coming to the fireplace by which John Treverton was seated: “you will find yourself a very rich man.”
“A twelvemonth hence, Mr. Sampson,” the other answered doubtfully, “always provided that Miss Malcolm is willing to accept me for her husband, which she may not be.”
“She will scarcely fly in the face of her adopted father’s desire, Mr. Treverton.”
“I don’t know about that. A woman seldom cares for a husband of anyone else’s choosing. I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, or to seem ungrateful to my cousin Jasper, from whom I entertained no expectations whatever a week or so ago; but I cannot help thinking he would have done better by dividing his property between Miss Malcolm and myself, leaving us both free.”
He spoke in a slow, meditative way, and he was pale to the very lips. There was no appearance of triumph or gladness—only an anxious, disappointed expression, which made his handsome face look strangely worn and haggard.
“There are not many men who would think Laura Malcolm an encumbrance to any fortune, Mr. Treverton,” said Mr. Clare. “I think you will be happier in the possession of such a wife than in the enjoyment of your cousin’s wealth, large as it is.”
“In the event of the lady’s accepting me as her husband,” John Treverton again interposed doubtfully.
“You have an interval of a twelvemonth in which to win her,” replied the vicar, “and things will go hard with you if you fail. I think I can answer for the fact that Miss Malcolm’s affections are disengaged. Of course she, like yourself, is a little startled by the eccentricity of this condition. The position is much more embarrassing for her than for you.”
John Treverton did not reply to this remark, but there was a very blank look in his face as he stood by the fire listening to the vicar’s and the lawyer’s praises of his departed kinsman.
“Will Miss Malcolm continue to occupy this house?” he asked presently.
“I scarcely know what her wishes may be,” replied Mr. Clare, “but I think it would be well if the house were placed at her disposal. I suppose that we as trustees would have power to make her such an offer, Mr. Sampson, with Mr. Treverton’s concurrence.”
“Of course.”
“I concur most heartily in any arrangement that may be agreeable to the young lady,” John Treverton said, in rather a mechanical way. “I suppose there is nothing further to detain me here. I can go back to town tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go over the estate before you return to London, Mr. Treverton?” asked Thomas Sampson. “It would be just as well for you to see the extent of a property that is pretty sure to be your own. If you don’t mind taking things in a plain way, I should be very much pleased by your spending a week or so at my house. There’s no one knows the estate better than I do, and I can show you every rood of it.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Sampson. I shall be glad to accept your hospitality.”
“That’s what I call friendly. When will you come over to us? This evening? We are all to-dine together, I believe. Why shouldn’t you go home with me after dinner? Your presence here can only embarrass Miss Malcolm.”
Having accepted the lawyer’s invitation, John Treverton did not care how soon his visit took place, so it was agreed that he should walk over to “The Laurels” with Mr. Sampson that evening after dinner. But before he went it would be necessary to take some kind of farewell of Laura Malcolm, and the idea of this was now painfully embarrassing to him, It was a thing that must be done, however, and it would be well that it should be done at a seasonable hour; so in the twilight, before dinner, he went up to the study, which he knew was Miss Malcolm’s favourite room, and found her there with an open book lying on her lap and a small tea-tray on the table by her side.
She looked up at him without any appearance of confusion, but with a very pale, sad face. He seated himself opposite her, and it was some moments before he could find words for the simple announcement he had to make. That calm, beautiful face, turned towards him with a grave expectant look, embarrassed him more than he could have imagined possible.
“I have accepted an invitation from Mr. Sampson to spend a few days with him before I go back to town, and I have come to bid you goodbye, Miss Malcolm,” he said at last. “I fancied that at such a time as this it would be pleasanter for you to feel yourself quite alone.”
“You are very good. I do not suppose I shall stay here many days.”
“I hope you will stay here altogether. Mr. Sampson and Mr. Clare, the trustees, wish it very much. I do not think that I have much power in the affair; but believe me it is my earnest desire that you should not be in a hurry to leave your old home.”
“You are very good. I do not think I could stay here alone in this dear old house, where I have been so happy. I know some respectable people in the village who let lodgings. I think I would rather remove to their house as soon as my trunks are packed. I have plenty to live upon, you know, Mr. Treverton. The six thousand pounds your cousin gave me yields an income of over two hundred a year.”
“You must consult your
