CHAPTER SIX.
Claud Wilton, aged twenty, with his thin pimply face, long narrow jaw,and closely-cropped hair, which was very suggestive of brain fever orimprisonment, stood leering at his father, his appearance in no wisesupporting his mother's high encomiums as he indulged in a feeble smile,one which he smoothed off directly with his thin right hand, whichlingered about his lips to pat tenderly the remains of certaindecapitated pimples which redly resented the passage over them thatmorning of an unnecessary razor, which laid no stubble low.
The Vicar of the Parish had said one word to his lady re Claud Wilton--avery short but highly expressive word that he had learned at college.It was "cad,"--and anyone who had heard it repeated would not haveventured to protest against its suitability, for his face alonesuggested it, though he did all he could to emphasise the idea byadopting a horsey, collary, cuffy style of dress, every article of whichwas unsuited to his physique.
"Has Henry Dasent gone?"
"Yes, guvnor, and precious glad to go. You were awfully cool to him, Imust say. He said if it wasn't for his aunt he'd never darken the doorsagain."
"And I hope he will not, sir. He is no credit to your mother."
"But I think he means well, my dear," said Mrs Wilton, plaintively."It is not his fault. My poor dear sister did spoil him so."
"Humph! And she was not alone. Look here, Claud, I will not have himhere. I have reasons for it, and he, with his gambling and racingpropensities, is no proper companion for you."
"P'raps old Garstang says the same about me," said the young man,sulkily.
"Claud, my dear, for shame," said Mrs Wilton. "You should not say suchthings."
"I don't care what John Garstang says; I will not have his boy here.Insolent, priggish, wanting in respect to me, and--and--he was a dealtoo attentive to Kate."
"Oh, my dear, did you think so?" cried Mrs Wilton.
"Yes, madam, I did think so," said her husband with asperity, "and, whatwas ten times worse, you were always leaving them together in yourblundering way."
"Don't say such things to me, dear, before Claud."
"Then don't spend your time making mistakes. Just come, have you, sir?"
"Oh, yes, father, just come," said the young man, with an offensivegrin.
"You heard more than you said, sir," said the Squire, "so we may as wellhave a few words at once."
"No, no, no, my dear; pray, pray don't quarrel with Claud now; I'm surehe wants to do everything that is right."
"Be quiet, Maria," cried the Squire, angrily.
"All right, mother; I'm not going to quarrel," said the son.
"Of course not I only want Claud to understand his position. Look here,sir, you are at an age when a bo--, when a man doesn't understand thevalue of money."
"Oh, I say, guv'nor! Come, I like that."
"It's quite true, sir. You boys only look upon money as something tospend."
"Right you are, this time."
"But it means more, sir--power, position, the respect of your fellows--everything."
"Needn't tell me, guv'nor; I think I know a thing or two about tin."
"Now, suppose we leave slang out of the matter and talk sensibly, sir,about a very important matter."
"Go on ahead then, dad; I'm listening."
"Sit down then, Claud."
"Rather stand, guv'nor; stand and grow good, ma."
"Yes, my dear, do then," said Mrs Wilton, smiling at her son fondly."But listen now to what papa says; it really is very important."
"All right, mother; but cut it short, father, my horse is waiting and Idon't want him to take cold."
"Of course not, my boy; always take care of your horse. I will be verybrief and to the point, then. Look here, Claud, your cousin,Katherine--"
"Oh! Ah, yes; I heard she was ill. What does the Doctor say?"
"Never mind what the Doctor says. It is merely a fit of depression andlow spirits. Now this is a serious matter. I did drop hints to youbefore. I must be plain now about my ideas respecting your future. Youunderstand?"
"Quite fly, dad. You want me to marry her."
"Exactly. Of course in good time."
"But ain't I `owre young to marry yet,' as the song says?"
"Years do not count, my boy," said his father, majestically. "If youwere ten years older and a weak, foolish fellow, it would be bad; butwhen it is a case of a young man who is bright, clever, and who has hadsome experience of the world, it is different."
Mrs Wilton, who was listening intently to her husband's words, bowedher head, smiled approval, and looked with the pride of a mother at herunlicked cub.
But Claud's face wrinkled up, and he looked inquiringly at his elder.
"I say, guv'nor," he said, "does this mean chaff?"
"Chaff? Certainly not, sir," said the father sternly. "Do I look likea man who would descend to--to--to chaff, as you slangly term it, my ownson?"
"Not a bit of it, dad; but last week you told me I was the somethingestidiot you ever set eyes on."
"Claud!"
"Well, he did, mother, and he used that favourite word of his before it.You know," said the youth, with a grin.
"Claud, my dear, you shouldn't."
"I didn't, mother; it was the dad. I never do use it except in thestables or to the dogs."
"Claud, my boy, be serious. Yes, I did say so, but you had made me veryangry, and--er--I spoke for your good."
"Yes, I'm sure he did, my dear," said Mrs Wilton.
"Oh, all right, then, so long as he didn't mean it. Well, then, to cutit short, you both want me to marry Kate?"
"Exactly."
"Not much of a catch. Talk about a man's wife being a clinging vine;she'll be a regular weeping willow."
"Ha! ha! very good, my boy," said Wilton, senior; "but no fear of that.Poor girl, look at her losses."
"But she keeps going on getting into deeper misery. Look at her."
"It only shows the sweet tenderness of her disposition, Claud, my dear,"said his mother.
"Yes, of course," said his father, "but you'll soon make her dry hereyes."
"And she really is a very sweet, lovable, and beautiful girl, my dear,"said Mrs Wilton.
"Tidy, mother; only her eyes always look as red as a ferret's."
"Claud, my dear, you shouldn't--such comparisons are shocking."
"Oh, all right, mother. Very well; as I am such a clever,man-of-the-world sort of a chap, I'll sacrifice myself for the familygood. But I say, dad, she really has that hundred and fifty thou--?"
"Every shilling of it, my boy, and--er--really that must not go out ofthe family."
"Well, it would be a pity. Only you will have enough to leave me tokeep up the old place."
"Well--er--I--that is--I have been obliged to mortgage pretty heavily."
"I say, guv'nor," cried the young man, looking aghast; "you don't meanto say you've been hit?"
"Hit? No, my dear, certainly not," cried Mrs Wilton.
"Oh, do be quiet, ma. Father knows what I mean."
"Well, er--yes, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I have during the pastfew years made a--er--two or three rather unfortunate speculations, but,as John Garstang says--"
"Oh, hang old Garstang! This is horrible, father; just now, too, when Iwanted to bleed you rather heavily."
"Claud, my darling, don't, pray don't use such dreadful language."
"Will you be quiet, ma! It's enough to make a fellow swear. Are youquite up a tree, guv'nor?"
"Oh, no, no, my boy, not so bad as that. Things can go oh for yearsjust as before, and, er--in reason, you know--you can have what moneyyou require; but I want you to understand that you must not look forwardto having this place, and er--to see the necessity for thinkingseriously about a wealthy marriage. You grasp the position now?"
"Dad, it was a regular smeller, and you nearly knocked me out of time.I saw stars for the moment."
"My dearest boy, what are you talking about?" asked
Mrs Wilton,appealingly.
"Oh, bother! But, I say, guv'nor, I'm glad you spoke out to me--like aman."
"To a man, my boy," said the father, holding out his hand, which the soneagerly grasped. "Then now we understand each other?"
"And no mistake, guv'nor."
"You mustn't let her slip through your fingers, my boy."
"Likely, dad!"
"You must be careful; no more scandals--no more escapades--no follies ofany kind."
"I'll be a regular saint, dad. I say, think I ought to read for thechurch?"
"Good gracious me, Claud, my dear, what do you mean?"
"White choker, flopping felt, five o'clock tea, and tennis, mother.Kate would like that sort of thing."
Wilton, senior, smiled grimly.
"No, no, my boy, be the quiet English gentleman, and let her see thatyou really care for her and want to make her happy. Poor girl, shewants love and sympathy."
"And she shall have 'em, dad, hot and strong. A hundred and fiftythou--!"
"Would clear off every lien on the property, my boy, and it would be agrand thing for my poor deceased brother's child."
"You do think so, don't, you, my dear?" said Mrs Wilton, mentallyextending a tendril, to cling to her husband, "because I--"
"Decidedly, decidedly, my dear," said the Squire, quickly. "Thank you,Claud, my boy," he continued. "I shall rely upon your strong commonsense and judgment."
"All right, guv'nor. You give me my head. I'll make it all right.I'll win the stakes with hands down."
"I do trust you, my boy; but you must be gentle, and not too hasty."
"I know," said the young man with a cunning look. "You leave me alone."
"Hah! That's right, then," said the Squire, drawing a deep breath as hesmiled at his son; but all the same his eyes did not look the confidenceexpressed by his words.
Cursed by a Fortune Page 6
