by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XXI.--WHAT THE HEIR OUGHT TO BE.
A few days after these exciting events the Marmadukes went away. Unlessa sense of relief, they left no particular impression behind them. Thegrown-up people had not made themselves interesting to the old ladies;the lady's-maid and the parrot alike had disturbed Newbolt's equanimity;and the children of Avonsyde had certainly not learned to love theMarmaduke children. Clementina had been humbled and improved by heraccident, but even an improved Clementina could not help snubbing Rachelevery hour of the day, and Rachel did not care to be snubbed. On the daythey left Phil did remark, looking wistfully round him: "It seems ratherlonely without the Marmadukes." But no one else echoed the sentiment,and in a day or two these people, who were so important in their owneyes, were almost forgotten at Avonsyde.
On one person, however, this visit had made a permanent impression: thatperson was poor Mrs. Lovel. She was made terribly uneasy by Clementina'swords. If Clementina, an ignorant and decidedly selfish girl, couldnotice that Phil was not strong, could assure her, in that positive,unpleasant way she had, that Phil was very far from strong, surely MissGriselda, who noticed him so closely and watched all he did and saidwith such solicitude, could not fail to observe this fact also. PoorMrs. Lovel trembled and feared and wondered, now that the tankard waslost and now that Phil's delicacy was becoming day by day more apparent,if there was any hope of that great passionate desire of hers beingfulfilled.
Just at present, as far as Miss Griselda was concerned, she had no realcause for alarm.
Miss Griselda had quite made up her mind, and where she led MissKatharine was sure to follow. Miss Griselda was certain that Phil wasthe heir. Slowly the conviction grew upon her that this littlewhite-faced, fragile boy was indeed the lineal descendant of RupertLovel. She had looked so often at his face that she even imagined shesaw a likeness to the dark-eyed, dark-browed, stern-looking man whoseportrait hung in the picture-gallery. This disinherited Rupert hadbecome more or less of a hero in Miss Griselda's eyes. From her earliestyears she had taken his part; from her earliest years she had despisedthat sickly younger line from which she herself had sprung. Like mostwomen, Miss Griselda invested her long-dead hero with many imaginarycharms. He was brave and great in soul. He was as strong in mind as hewas in physique. When she began to see a likeness between Phil's faceand the face of her old-time hero, and when she began also to discoverthat the little boy was generous and brave, that he was one of thoseplucky little creatures who shrink from neither pain nor hardship, hadPhil's mother but known it, his cause was won. Miss Griselda began tolove the boy. It was beginning to be delightful to her to feel thatafter she was dead and gone little Phil would have the old house and thelands, that he should reign as a worthy squire of Avonsyde. Already shebegan to drill the little boy with regard to his future duties, andoften when he and she took walks together she spoke to him about what hewas to do.
"All this portion of the forest belongs to us, Phil," she said to himone day. "My father often talked of having a roadway made through it,but he never did so, nor will Katharine and I. We leave that as part ofyour work."
"Would the poor people like it?" asked Phil, raising his eyes with theirqueer expression to her face. "That's the principal thing to thinkabout, isn't it--if the poor people would like it?"
Miss Griselda frowned.
"I don't agree with you," she said. "The first and principal thing toconsider is what is best for the lord of Avonsyde. A private road justthrough these lands would be a great acquisition, and therefore for thatreason you will have to undertake the work by and by."
Phil's eyes still looked grave and anxious.
"Do you think, then--are you quite sure that I am really the heir, AuntGriselda?" he said.
Miss Griselda smiled and patted his cheek.
"Well, my boy, you ought to know best," she said. "Your mother assuresme that you are."
"Oh, yes--poor mother!" answered Phil. "Aunt Griselda," he continuedsuddenly, "if you were picturing an heir to yourself, you wouldn't thinkof a boy like me, would you?"
"I don't know, Phil. I do picture you in that position very often. YourAunt Katharine and I have had a weary search, but at last you have come,and I may say that, on the whole, I am satisfied. My dear boy, we havebeen employed for six years over this search, and sometimes I will ownthat I have almost despaired. Katharine never did; but then she isromantic and believes in the old rhyme."
"What old rhyme?" asked Phil.
"Have you not heard it? It is part and parcel of our house and runs indifferent couplets, but the meaning is always the same:
"'Come what may come, tyde what may tyde, Lovel shall dwell at Avonsyde.'"
"Is that really true?" asked Phil, his eyes shining. "I like the wordsvery much. They sound like a kind of speech that the beautiful greenlady of the forest would have made; but, Aunt Griselda, I must say it--Iam sorry."
"What about, dear?"
"That you are satisfied with me as an heir."
"My dear little Phil, what a queer speech to make. Why should not I besatisfied with a nice, good little boy like you?"
"Oh, yes, you might like me for myself," said Phil; "but as theheir--that is quite a different thing. I'd never picture myself as anheir--never!"
"What do you mean, Phil?"
"I know what I mean, Aunt Griselda, but it's a secret, and I mustn'tsay. I have a lovely picture in my mind of what the heir ought to be.Perhaps there is no harm in telling you what my picture is like. Oh, ifyou only could see him!"
"See whom, Philip?"
"My picture. He is tall and strong and very broad, and he has a look ofRachel, and his cheeks are brown, and his hair is black, and his armsare full of muscle, and his shoulders are perfectly square, and he holdshimself up so erect, just as if he was drilled. He is strong beyondanybody else I know, and yet he is kind; he wouldn't hurt even a fly.Oh, if you only knew him. He's my picture of an heir!"
Phil's face flushed and his lovely eyes shone. Aunt Griselda stoopeddown and kissed him.
"You are a queer boy," she said. "You have described your ancestor,Rupert Lovel, to the life. Well, child, may you too have the brave andkindly soul. Phil, after the summer, when all is decided, you are to goto a preparatory school for Eton and then to Eton itself. All the men ofour house have been educated there. Afterward I suppose you must go toOxford. Your responsibilities will be great, little man, and you must beeducated to take them up properly."
"Mother will be pleased with all this," said Phil; "only I do wish--yes,I can't help saying it--that my picture was the heir. Oh, Aunt Grizel,do, do look at that lovely spider!"
"I believe the boy is more interested in those wretched spiders andcaterpillars than he is in all the position and wealth which lies beforehim," thought Miss Griselda.
Late on that same day she said to Miss Katharine:
"Phil this morning drew a perfect picture, both mental and physical, ofour ancestor, Katharine."
"Oh," said Miss Katharine; "I suppose he was studying the portrait.Griselda, I see plainly that you mean to give the boy the place."
"Provided his mother can prove his descent," answered Miss Griselda in agentle, satisfied tone. "But of that," she added, "I have not, ofcourse, the smallest doubt."
"Does it occur to you, Griselda, to remember that on the 5th of MayRachel's and Kitty's mother comes here to claim her children?"
"If she is alive," said Miss Griselda. "I have my doubts on that head.We have not had a line from her all these years."
"You told her she was not to write."
"Yes, but is it likely a woman of that class would keep her word?"
"Griselda, you will be shocked with me for saying so, but the youngwoman who came here on the day our father died was a lady."
"Katharine! she served in a shop."
"No matter, she was a lady; her word to her would be sacred. I don'tbelieve she is dead. I am sure she will come here on the 5th of May."
