Part 3 (1/2)

The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad, was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now, at last, ”of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Ess.e.x, Esquire.”

In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon upon the day when Mrs. G.o.ddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the whole of the Billingsfield society.

He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman.

The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. G.o.ddard seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as possible.

”There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival,” said the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. ”I fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day the people would have turned out to meet you at the station.”

”The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing,” said the squire, smiling. ”I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible.”

”It is much better for the people, too,” remarked Mrs. Ambrose. ”Their idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer.”

”I daresay that would not hurt them much,” answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully.

”By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before.

My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such a bore that I would not have him.”

”There is not much to tell, really,” said Mr. Ambrose. ”The society of Billingsfield is all here,” he added with a smile, ”including one of your tenants.”

”Are you my tenant?” asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs.

G.o.ddard.

”Yes,” said she, ”I have taken the cottage.”

”The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the cottage?”

”Such a pretty place,” answered Mrs. Ambrose, ”just opposite the park gate. You must have seen it as you came down.”

”Oh, is that it?” said the squire. ”Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall is a perfect wilderness.”

Mrs. G.o.ddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance, and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her embarra.s.sment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the cottage himself.

”Do not be afraid, Mrs. G.o.ddard,” he said quickly, ”I am not going to do anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it would be too small, you know.”

”Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?” inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs.

Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room.

”I have a very large family,” answered the squire, and after enjoying for a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a laugh, ”I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family indeed. Otherwise I have no enc.u.mbrances, thank heaven.”

”You are a scholar?” asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly.

”A book fancier, only a book fancier,” returned the squire modestly. ”But I am very fond of the fancy.”

”What is a book fancier, mamma?” asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But Mr. Juxon heard the child's question.

”If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss G.o.ddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read half of them before he dies.”

Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear.

”Mamma, he called me Miss G.o.ddard!”

”Run out and play in the garden, darling,” said her mother with a smile.