Part 73 (1/2)

The Rector answered the question in a tone of rebuke. ”When he shall be of an age to choose, should he evince liking and fitness for the Church, then he is to be allowed to enter it. Not otherwise, Maria.”

”How is the property left?” asked George.

”It is to be invested, and the interest devoted to the education and maintenance of the three, the boy being allowed a larger share of the interest than the girls. When the youngest, the boy, shall be of age, the princ.i.p.al is to be divided equally between them. Such are the terms of the will.”

”What is it to be invested in?”

”The funds, I suppose. It is left to the discretion of myself and Mr.

Harknar. I shall let him decide: he is more of a man of business than I am.”

So they talked on. When Mr. Hastings, a short while before, had found himself left guardian and co-trustee to the children of a friend just deceased, his first impulse had been to decline the trust. Eventually he had accepted it. The other gentleman named, Mr. Harknar, had gone on business to one of the Ionian Islands, but he was now shortly expected home.

An hour the Rector sat with them, talking of the orphaned Chisholms, and of other matters. When he took his departure, George went again into the Bank, and sat down to work at his books by the light of the shaded lamp.

He was certainly more attentive to business by night than by day.

CHAPTER XI.

THOSE BONDS AGAIN!

Once more--it was the afternoon of the day following that evening visit of All Souls' Rector to the Bank--Isaac Hastings entered the manager's room to announce a visitor to Mr. George G.o.dolphin. Lord Averil.

George looked up: a startled expression crossing his face. It was instantly suppressed: but, not for his very life could he have helped its appearance in the first moment.

”When did _he_ come to Prior's Ash?”

”I don't know,” replied Isaac. ”I told him I was not sure but you were engaged, sir. I had thought Mr. Arkwright was with you. Lord Averil asked me to come and see: he particularly wishes to see you, he says.”

”I am engaged,” replied George, catching at the excuse as a drowning man catching at a straw. ”That is”--taking out his watch--”I have not time now to see him. Tell Lord Averil I am particularly engaged.”

”Very well, sir.”

Isaac went out with the message, and Lord Averil departed, merely saying that he would call again. The reappearance of Charlotte Pain's husband could not have brought more dire dismay to that lady, than did this reappearance of Lord Averil's at Prior's Ash, bring to George G.o.dolphin.

Did he think Lord Averil would never favour Prior's Ash with his presence again? It is hard to say what foolish thing he thought. Lord Averil had been in town for the last month. Once during that time, he had written to have those deposited deeds sent up to him, about which he had spoken to Mr. George G.o.dolphin. George had answered the letter with some well-framed excuse. But now here was Lord Averil again at Prior's Ash--and at the Bank! Doubtless once more in quest of his deeds.

George G.o.dolphin put his hand to his weary brow. His ever-constant belief was, that he should get straight in time. In time. To his sanguine temperament, time would prove the panacea for all his ills. If he could only avert present difficulties, time would do the rest. That terrible difficulties were upon him, none knew better than he: but the worst difficulty of all would be this of Lord Averil's, should exposure come. Short as George was of ready cash--it may seem a paradox to say it of a banker, but so it was--he would have sc.r.a.ped together every s.h.i.+lling from every available corner and parted with it, to have ensured the absence of Lord Averil from Prior's Ash for an indefinite period.

He pressed his hand upon his weary brow, his brain within working tumultuously. If he must see Lord Averil--and there could be no escape--what should be his plea for the non-production of those deeds?

It must be a plausible one. His thoughts were interrupted by a rap at the door.

”Come in,” cried George, in a sadly hopeless tone. Was it Lord Averil again?

It was only a note. A three-cornered miniature thing fastened with a silver wafer. No business communication that. George knew the writing well.

”DEAR MR. GEORGE,

”Will you ride with me to-day at half-past three instead of four? I will tell you my reason then. Lord A. is back again.