Part 7 (2/2)

But this new idea troubled Sandal. He was a man of super-sensitive honor with regard to money matters. If there were really any obligation of that kind between the two houses, he hardly felt grateful to Latrigg for being silent about it. And still more the transfer of these papers vexed him. Ducie might know what he might never know. Steve might have it in his power to trouble Harry when he was at rest with his fore-elders. The subject haunted and worried him; and as worries are never complete worries till they have an individuality, Steve very soon became the personal embodiment of mortifying uncertainty, and wounded _amour propre_. For if Mrs. Sandal's suspicion were true, or even if it were not true, she was not likely to be the only one in Sandal-Side who would construe Latrigg's singular disposition of his papers in the same way.

Certainly Squire William did not feel as if the dead man had 'done well to Sandal.'

Stephen was equally annoyed. His grandfather had belonged to a dead century, and retained until the last his almost feudal idea of the bond between his family and the Sandals. But the present squire had stepped outside the shadows of the past, and Stephen was fully abreast of his own times. He understood very well, that, whatever these papers related to, they would be a constant thorn in Sandal's side; and he saw them lying between Charlotte and himself, a barrier unknown, and insurmountable because unknown.

From Ducie he could obtain neither information nor a.s.sistance. ”Mother,”

he asked, ”do you know what those papers are about?”

”Ratherly.”

”When can you tell me?”

”There must be a deal of sorrow before I can tell you.”

”Do you want to tell me?”

”If I should dare to want it one minute, I should ask G.o.d's pardon the next. When I unlock that box, Steve, there is like to be trouble in Sandal. I think your grandfather would rather the key rusted away.”

”Does the squire know any thing about them?”

”Not he.”

”If he asks, will you tell him?”

”Not yet. I--hope never.”

”I wish they were in the fire.”

”Perhaps some day you may put them there. You will have the right when I am gone.”

Then Steve silently kissed her, and went into the garden; and Ducie watched him through the window, and whispered to herself, ”It is a bit hard, but it might be harder; and right always gets the over-hand at the long end.”

The first interview between the squire and Stephen after Barf Latrigg's funeral was not a pleasanter one than this misunderstanding promised.

Sandal was walking on Sandal Scree-top one morning, and met Steve.

”Good-morning, Mr. Latrigg,” he said; ”you are a statesman now, and we must give you your due respect.” He did not say it unkindly; but Steve somehow felt the difference between Mr. Latrigg and Squire Sandal as he had never felt it when the greeting had only been, ”Good-morning, Steve. How do all at home do?”

Still, he was anxious to keep Sandal's good-will, and he hastened to ask his opinion upon several matters relating to the estate which had just come into his hands. Ordinarily this concession would have been a piece of subtle flattery quite irresistible to the elder man, but just at that time it was the most imprudent thing Steve could have done.

”I had an offer this morning from Squire Methley. He wants to rent the Skelwith 'walk' from me. What do you think of him, sir?”

”As how?”

”As a tenant. I suppose he has money. There are about a thousand sheep on it.”

”He lives on the other side of the range, and I know him not; but our sheep have mingled on the mountain for thirty years. I count not after him, and he counts not after me;” and Sandal spoke coldly, like a man defending his own order. ”Are you going to rent your 'walks' so soon?

Eh? What?”

”As soon as I can advantageously.”

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