Mortomley's Estate.

Vol. II.

by Charlotte Elizabeth Lawson Cowan Riddell.

CHAPTER I.

MR. FORDE AT HOMEWOOD.

Said Mrs. Mortomley to Lenore,

"Run away, love, I do not want you here. I am busy."

"Shall I take her?" asked Rupert, seeing a little trouble in the child's eyes, a pucker about the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you, yes," answered Dolly; and so, without leave-taking of any kind, the little girl and Rupert departed through one of the French windows already mentioned.

"Should you like to go to the Forest with me?" he asked, when they turned the gable of the house and were sauntering across the side lawn where the great walnut-tree, which was the talk of all that part of the country, grew.

As they walked under the spreading branches, Rupert looked up and sighed. He had a prevision that no Mortomley for ever should eat of the fruit again.

There is an instinct which is as far beyond knowledge as omnipresence is beyond sight, and from the moment Mortomley succumbed to Mr. Forde, and adopted his tactics, Rupert felt his uncle's days of prosperity were at an end.

Personally, he, Rupert Halling, could do no more good for any one by intermeddling in his uncle's affairs.

And it was quite time he considered his own more fully, even than had been the case latterly.

In his selfishness, however, he was good-natured, and offered to allow Lenore to accompany him, while he pursued his meditations and perfected his plans; at which offer Lenore, who had latterly been somewhat neglected by every one about the house, delightedly clapped her hands and shouted for joy.

There had been a time when Mrs. Mortomley would have dreaded taking upon herself the responsibility of an interview with Messrs. Forde and Kleinwort. But that dread was over now.

She was in the middle of the battle, and the Gerace nature knew no faltering when the trumpet sounded, and every man (or in default of man, woman) was called to do his best.

After Lenore's departure there ensued a moment's silence.

Mr. Forde was so lost in astonishment at the audacity of the whole family that he lacked power to give expression to his feelings.

Mr. Kleinwort, having spoken, was thinking what he should say next, and Mrs. Mortomley was struggling between her repulsion against the man and her desire to offer some apology for a rudeness which had been as involuntary as irresistible.

"I beg you to pardon my incivility," she began at last, bringing out her words with a slow reluctance which was almost perceptible. "Trouble does not tend to increase politeness."

"That is indeed true," agreed Mr. Kleinwort, "but you must remember, madam, other people also are troubled with your troubles."

"What is the use of talking in that way," interrupted Mr. Forde. "Do you suppose they care for anything or person but themselves? Do you imagine if Mr. Mortomley had the smallest consideration for us, he would be laid up at such a time as this?"

"Do you think he is not really ill, then?" inquired Mrs. Mortomley.

"I neither know nor care what he is," was the answer. "It is enough for us to be told we cannot see him,--and he will find it more than enough for him,--and you can tell him with my compliments that I say so."

"Yes, bankruptcy is not all pleasure," remarked Mr. Kleinwort with a solemn shake of his round head.

"At least it must be freedom," suggested Dolly.

"You think so?" said Mr. Forde with a nasty laugh. "They'll know more about that in six months' time. Eh! Kleinwort?"

"Most like," agreed the German. "No, madame, a man had better by much be dead than bankrupt. I, Kleinwort, tell you no lie. You do not understand; how should you? Mr. Mortomley does not understand neither; how should he? You talk to him. You say, it is best we should use our two brains to avoid so great disgrace; you think over all the good friends who you own; you see what money can be found. That will be better than bankruptcy; that word so ugly, bankruptcy--bad--bad."

"Let us go into the works, Kleinwort," suggested Mr. Forde at this juncture, and he walked out into the garden followed by his friend.

"I will fetch the key," said Mrs. Mortomley, and having done so, she would have given it to them, but Mr. Forde asked,

"Is there no person who can go with us?"

"I--I will go with you myself," she hesitated, not liking to confess Rupert was not about the grounds, which fact she had learned during her absence from the room; "I thought perhaps you wished to be alone."

Up the laurel walk they paced, Mr. Kleinwort going into ecstasies over the flowers; Mr. Forde muttering, "Pretty penny it must cost to keep up this place;" while the scent of heliotrope and late mignonette pervading the air, made Dolly feel faint and sick as did the very peace and beauty of the scene.

"Where are all the men?" asked Mr. Forde, as he beheld the deserted buildings.

"They have gone for the evening," Mrs. Mortomley answered. "Excepting at very busy times, they never work later than half-past five."

"Nice management!" commented Mr. Forde.

"I believe that is the usual hour in most factories," she ventured.

He did not contradict her, but contented himself with shaking his head as though he would imply that it was useless further to comment on the bad management of Homewood, and walked about the premises, peering into this vat and that cask, as if he expected to come suddenly upon a mine of silver, or a heap of gold dust.

Anything funnier to an uninterested spectator than Mr. Forde looking about the colour works, to see what Mortomley had done with his money, could not possibly be conceived; but, then, there chanced to be no uninterested spectator,--not even Messrs Lang and Hankins, who happened to be making up some goods accounts in a little sentry-box of an office that stood near the outer gates.

"Who are they?" asked Hankins of his companion, who, while thrusting his arms into his coat which he had thrown off for greater convenience during his arithmetical calculations, answered,

"One of them, the biggest, is Forde. Let me get away before they see us!

he asks as many questions as an Old Bailey lawyer and about as civilly, and I am afraid his being here means no good to our governor!"

"Oh! that's the chap, is it?" replied Mr. Hankins. "Well, he may ask me as many questions as he likes;" and as one who smelleth the battle afar off, Mr. Hankins stepped out of his sentry-box, and walked in a _debonnaire_ manner across the yard to meet the visitors.

"Who was that went out just now?" inquired Mr. Forde.

"Our manager, sir."

"Fetch him back. I want him."

Mr. Hankins went rapidly enough to the outer gate, and passed into the road, where he saw Lang turning a not remote corner.

Hearing the gate slam, Lang looked round and would have paused, but Hankins made him a sign to proceed. Then Hankins, having hurried to the corner, took up a position which commanded a good view of his friend's retreating figure; and it was only when Lang was out of sight that he retraced his steps to the door where, as he expected, Mr. Forde was waiting for him.