The Buccaneer Farmer Part 51

"Oh," said Grace, "I liked you! I was young and felt I was ent.i.tled to love a man who loved me, if I wanted, but couldn't use my right. Then, not long since, when you were so grave and just, I felt I had been cheated worse."

"I see," said Kit and came nearer the bench. "I was cheated, too. But look at me, dear, and I'll try to tell you all I think."

He told her with fire and pa.s.sion and when he stopped, bending down to her, she put her arm round his neck.

"Now you're ridiculously romantic, but you're very charming, Kit," she said.

CHAPTER XI

OSBORN'S SURRENDER

By degrees...o...b..rn accepted his daughter's choice philosophically. Kit was not the son-in-law he had wanted, but he was forced to admit that the fellow jarred less than he had thought. For one thing, he never reminded Osborn of the benefit he had conferred, and the latter noted that his country-house neighbors opened their doors to him. They could not, of course, altogether ignore the man Grace had promised to marry, but Osborn soon had grounds for imagining that they liked Kit for himself. The wedding had been fixed and Osborn, although not satisfied, was resigned.

In the meantime, it began to look as if the gloom that had long ruled at Tarnside was banished. Mrs. Osborn's reserve was less marked, she smiled, and her step was lighter. Grace, too, had changed, and developed. She had often been impatient but now was marked by a happy calm. Osborn found her gentler and sometimes strangely compliant, although he felt he must make no rash demands. The girl indulged him, but she could be firm. Her new serenity had a charm. Moreover, Gerald wrote cheerful letters and declared that he was making better progress than would have been possible for him at home.

Osborn had seldom thought much about the happiness of his family, but he felt a dull satisfaction because things were going well with the others.

It was a set-off against his troubles, which were getting worse. The improvements his tenants and Hayes had forced him to make cost more than he calculated and he met stubborn resistance when he talked about putting up the rents. The money he had got by the last mortgage had gone; he could not borrow more, and his creditors demanded payment of his debts.

He put off the reckoning, however, until, one day when he drove to the market town to consult his agent, he got a rude jar.

In the first place, Hayes kept him waiting in a cold room, and he stood for a time by the window, looking out drearily at the old-fas.h.i.+oned square. The day was bleak and wet, and the high moors that shut in the little town loomed, blurred and forbidding, through drifting mist. The square was empty, the fronts of the tall old houses were dark with rain, and the drops from a clump of bare trees fell in a steady shower on the gra.s.s behind the iron rails. The gloom reacted upon Osborn's disturbed mood, and he frowned when Hayes came in.

"I sent you word that I would call," he said.

"You did," Hayes agreed. "I was occupied when my clerk told me you were here."

Osborn looked at him with some surprise. Hayes was very cool and not apologetic. "Well," he said, "you know what I want to talk about. I suppose you have seen Forsyth and Langdon about the renewal of their leases?"

"Yes. Both state they'll go sooner than pay you extra rent."

"Then they must go," Osborn rejoined, trying to hide his disappointment, since he had spent some money on the steadings in the hope of raising the rent. Now he came to think of it, Hayes had held this out as an inducement when he urged the expenditure. "It looks as if your judgment wasn't very good, but by comparison with other things the matter's not important," he resumed. "You know the sum I'll need between now and the end of the term?"

"I do know. In fact, I imagine you will need more than you suspect,"

Hayes rejoined. "You'll find it impossible to borrow the money on satisfactory terms."

Osborn looked hard at him. The fellow's manner was rather abrupt than sympathetic; but Hayes went on: "Before we advertise for new tenants, there is something I want to suggest. Although the farms are mortgaged, I might be able to find a buyer--at a price."

"No," said Osborn firmly. "The buyer would have to undertake the debt and the sum he would be willing to pay would not last me long. When it was spent I'd have practically nothing left."

"The situation's awkward; but there it is! Of course, if you were able to carry on until your rents come in--"

"You know I can't carry on. I came to you, hoping you might suggest a workable plan. Who is the buyer?"

"I am," said Hayes.

Osborn's face got red and he struggled for self-control. The fellow was his servant, but it looked as if he had cunningly involved him in entanglements an honest agent would have avoided. Osborn remembered that he had sometimes vaguely suspected Hayes. Now he knew him, it was too late.

"I may be forced to sell, but not to you," he said haughtily.

Hayes shrugged. "That must be as you like, but I'm able to give you a better price than anybody else. I have an object for buying the farms and, if necessary, would pay something near their proper value, without taking off much for the debt. Anyhow, you had better look at this statement of your liabilities."

Osborn studied the doc.u.ment with a hopeless feeling. Things were worse than he had feared and it cost him an effort to pull himself together when he looked up.

"Why do you want to buy?" he asked.

"Well, you see, the land between Forsyth's and the dale-head is heavily mortgaged, and, taking the two farms with the others, would make a compact block that could be economically worked. The new estate would run down to Tarnside, and since you may find it needful to sell the house, I might make you an offer."

"But the consolidation wouldn't help _you_," Osborn remarked with a puzzled look. "It would, perhaps, be an advantage for the mortgage holders."

"I hold the mortgages," Hayes said quietly.

Osborn started. "But," he stammered, "I got the money from somebody else."

"That is so. I bought the other debts, and supplied the funds when you raised new loans."

"You bought the debts with my money!" Osborn exclaimed. "You used your post to rob me of my estate!"

"I suppose one must make allowances, but you are unjust. You got the proper value for the land you p.a.w.ned, and squandered the money. The consequence was inevitable and it's futile to complain. For that matter, it is not altogether unusual for a landlord and his steward to change places."

"I trusted you and you cheated me," Osborn resumed with poignant bitterness.

"You lived in false security and refused to think. You knew the reckoning must come, but were satisfied if you could put it off. Now you must bear the consequences, it is not my fault. However, this is not important.

Will you sell?"

"No," said Osborn hoa.r.s.ely. "I will not sell to _you_."

Hayes smiled. "You must sell to somebody and will not get as good a price."

Osborn got up and went out with a dragging step. The blow had left him numb, but as he drove home in the rain he had a hazy notion that Hayes'

statements were to some extent justified. He had lived in false security; seeing how things were going and yet refusing to believe. Somehow, it had looked impossible for him to lose Tarnside. The estate was his by the sacred right of inheritance; for a hundred years there had been an Osborn at the Hall. Yet the estate had gone, and he was to blame. It had, so to speak, melted in his careless hands. He felt old and broken when he told his wife and daughter about the interview.

Mrs. Osborn did not look as much surprised as he had thought and Grace, although sympathetic, was calm. They had known the blow was coming and were ready for the shock. After a time, Osborn left them and Grace looked at her mother.

"I must tell Kit."

"Yes," said Mrs. Osborn. "I think he ought to know, though this is not a matter in which he can help."

"It looks like that," Grace agreed and then paused with a confident smile. "But Kit's rather wonderful; you don't really know him yet. He always finds a way when there is something hard to be done."

"Ah," said Mrs. Osborn, "there is comfort in our troubles since they have given you a man you can trust."

Grace went to Ashness and found Kit studying some accounts in the room she called his museum.

"Put the books away, come to the fire and talk to me," said Grace, and stopped him when he moved a chair. "I think I'll take the low stool. It's wretchedly cold and I really came to be comforted."