The Buccaneer Farmer - Harold Bindloss
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"Ah," said Kit, "I begin to see a light, although the thing's not quite
plain yet. Anyhow, your father needs money and must ask his friends."
He paused and resumed in a voice he tried to make careless: "Has he
asked Thorn?"
Grace hesitated and turned her head as she felt the blood creep into her
face. "Yes; you see, there is nobody else."
"I'm not sure about that. However, it looks as if Thorn had not sent his
answer yet and there's not much time to lose. You expect the man from
London to-night?"
Grace said they did and studied Kit while he pondered. His preoccupied
look indicated that he was working out some plan and did not understand
how bold she had been. He did not seem at all surprised that she had come
to him. She had broken the family traditions by giving him her
confidence, but she felt happier.
"I'd like to see Gerald," he said. "It's important, and I'll be at
Ashness at four o'clock. If he will not come, you must let me know."
"I'll send him if I can," said Grace, who got up. Then she hesitated and
looked away across the field. "Perhaps I ought not to have told you, but
I felt I must, and I'm glad I did."
Kit smiled and after walking to the gate with her went on with his
mowing. Her story left out much he wanted to know, but he thought he saw
where it led and would get the rest from Gerald. This might be difficult,
but he meant to insist.
When Grace reached Tarnside she met Gerald on the lawn and took him to
the bench under the copper-beech.
"Mr. Askew wants you to go to Ashness at four o'clock," she said.
"Askew wants me!" Gerald exclaimed, with a start, and Grace thought he
looked afraid. "Why?"
"I don't know. He said it was important."
Gerald looked hard at her. "Well, I suppose it is important. But how does
he know about the thing?"
"I told him," Grace answered with forced quietness.
"You told him?" Gerald gasped, and then laughed harshly. "I knew you had
pluck, but didn't expect this! You don't seem to realize what an
extravagant thing you've done."
"I don't; it doesn't matter. Will you go?"
Gerald pondered for a few moments and then looked up. "You owe me
nothing, Grace. In fact, you and mother have often had to pay for my
folly; but I want you to be honest now. I imagine you understand what
Alan expects if he helps me out?"
"Yes," said Grace in a strange hard voice.
"It would be a good marriage; the kind of marriage you ought to make.
Alan's rich and can give you the things you like and ought to have. But
with all that, I imagine you'd sooner let it go?"
"I hate it," Grace said quietly. "I don't like Alan; I never shall
like him."
"He has some drawbacks," Gerald remarked, and was silent. He had not
often a generous impulse, but he was moved by his sister's distress and
thought he saw a plan. The plan was extravagant, and risky for him.
"I wonder whether you'd sooner marry Askew?" he resumed.
Grace moved abruptly and her face got red. She had not expected the
question and was highly strung. Gerald saw her embarrassment and went on:
"Of course, he's an outsider, from our point of view, but he's a good
sort. In fact, he's much better than Alan. Besides, there's some ground
for believing you are pretty good friends."
"Stop!" Grace exclaimed. "This has nothing to do with you. It's
unthinkable that you should meddle!"
Gerald smiled. "I'm not going to give Askew a hint, if that is what you
mean. I wanted to find out if you'd shrink from him as you shrink from
Alan, and I think I know."
"You don't know," Grace declared, and then stopped and blushed as she met
his steady look. After all, there was no use in pretending; Gerald would
not be deceived. Still, when he quietly got up she asked with alarm:
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to Ashness," Gerald replied. "I've made things hard for you
and mother, but I won't bring you fresh embarrassment now. In fact, I
think you can trust me, and, indeed, it's obvious that you must." He
turned and looked back with a smile. "If Askew's the man I think, the
chief will shortly get a jar."
Grace wanted to call him back, but somehow could not, and sat still while
he crossed the lawn. So long as she could see him, he moved carelessly,
but when he went down the drive behind a clipped hedge his step got slow
and his face was hard. The thing he meant to do would need some pluck,
and might be dangerous if he had not judged Askew right.
In the meantime, Kit went back to Ashness and smoked a cigarette while he
pondered what Grace had told him. He had seen that she did not altogether
know her brother's offense, but since money was needed, Kit could guess;
Gerald had been betting or speculating and had used money that was not
his. Undoubtedly, Kit did not think he had robbed his employers, because,
if he had done so, he would not have stayed at Tarnside. He had, however,
robbed somebody, and as Kit remembered his skill with the pen he saw a
light. Gerald had used somebody else's name, on the back of a bill or
promissory note, and now the bill must be met.
Presently he heard steps in the passage and looking up as Gerald came in
indicated a chair. Gerald sat down and for a few moments Kit studied him
quietly. It was obvious that he felt some strain, but his look was
resolute and Kit owned that he had more pluck than he had thought. The
room was very quiet and the shadow of a big ash tree fell across the open
window. The musical tinkle of a binder working among the corn came
faintly down the dale.
"Well?" said Gerald, conscious of a sense of relief in Askew's presence.
"You sent for me."
"I did. Your sister told me something; all she knew, perhaps, but not
enough. Anyhow, you are in trouble about money and I promised to help."
"For my sake?" Gerald asked.
Kit frowned. "Not altogether, but we'll let that go. If I am to be
of use, you had better state the trouble plainly. I must know how
things are."
"I suppose if you find the money I need, it will give you a claim on us,"
Gerald remarked meaningly.
"Yes," said Kit, with a steady look. "But that won't make any difference.
I don't mean to urge my claim. I expect this clears the ground?"
"It does; it's some relief. As a matter of fact, nobody can help quite as
much as you."
"Ah," said Kit, "I think I see! You used _my_ name. What was the sum for
which you made me responsible?"
Gerald told him and waited anxiously when Kit knitted his brows. The sum
was not so large as the latter had thought and Osborn's inability to
raise it indicated that he was seriously embarrassed.
"I understand your father applied to Thorn," said Kit. "Does he know you
have come to me?"
"He does not; nobody knows but Grace. I'd better state that I did
come because I thought you'd take a generous line, and I'm doubtful
about Thorn."
Kit made a sign of understanding. "Thorn hasn't arrived yet?" he said.
"He sent a note he'd come across, but when I left he hadn't arrived. My
notion is he's waiting until the last moment, with the object of making
us realize we must have his help."
"It's possible," said Kit, who approved Gerald's handling of the matter.
The lad was a wastrel, but he had run some risk in order to save his
sister from being forced to pay for his fault. "We won't bother about
Thorn's object," he resumed. "Tell me about your difficulties. I don't
want a half confidence."
Gerald hesitated and then began his tale. He had used the bank's money
to speculate with and had lost. Plunging again, in the hope of getting
straight, he had got alarmed when the margin shrank, and had gone to
Hallam, the money-lender. The latter had insisted on a guarantee for the
bill and Gerald had used Kit's name. He replaced the bank's money and had
hoped the shares would go up before the bill fell due, but they had not.
"Well," said Kit quietly, "I expected something like this, and when the
fellow brings the bill to your father it must be met." He stopped and
picking up a newspaper studied the steamship advertisements. Then he
turned to Gerald.
"There's another thing. You can't get a post in England, and for your
mother's and sister's sakes, had better leave the country. A fast New
York boat sails from Liverpool to-morrow. You must get off by
to-night's train."
Gerald looked at him with surprise. "But I'm not going to New York. I've
no money and don't know what to do when I get there."
"I'll fix that," Kit said dryly. "You are going, anyhow. If you deliver
the letter I'll give you to some people in Mobile, they'll find you a
job. The rest will depend upon yourself."
For a few moments Gerald hesitated, and then got up. "Very well!
Perhaps it's the best chance I'll get, and I'll take it. But I must go
back and pack."
"I think not," said Kit. "There's not much time. I must see the bank
manager at his house first of all, and start soon. You'll come with me to
the town. Sit down and write to your mother; I'll see she gets the note."
Gerald did as he was told and not long afterwards Kit and he drove out of
the Ashness lonning and took the road to the town.
CHAPTER IX
KIT GOES TO THE RESCUE
As the sun got lower an apathetic gloom began to replace the anxiety that
had kept the Osborns highly strung. Mrs. Osborn went dejectedly about the
house, sometimes moving an ornament and putting away a book, for her
brain was dull and she felt incapable of the effort to rouse herself for
her daughter's sake. Thorn had not arrived and if he did not come soon he
would be too late. On the whole, this was some relief, although it meant
that there was no escape from the disaster that threatened her home.
Torn by conflicting emotions, she had since morning struggled against
the binding force of her traditions. In a sense, it was Grace's duty to
save the family honor, but the duty would cost the girl too much. Yet,
if Grace failed them, Gerald must suffer, and she doubted if her
husband could bear the shame that must fall on all. Now, however, she
was conscious of a numbing resignation that blunted feeling and dulled
her brain.
In the meantime, Grace stood at the lodge gate, watching the road to
Ashness while the shadows crept across the dale. Gerald had not come
back and she had not told her mother where he had gone. The delay was
worrying, particularly since Kit had sent no message. He had said he
could help and one could trust him, but he did not come and the
confidence she had felt was vanishing. If it was not well placed,
there was no escape for her, and she shrank with horror from meeting
Thorn's demand.
The shadows got longer, but nothing moved on the road that ran like a
white riband across the fields until it vanished among the trees at
Ashness. Presently, however, she heard the throb of a car coming up the
valley and a cloud of dust rolled up behind a hedge. It was Thorn's car;
she knew its hum and as she watched the dust get nearer her face went
white. Then, as the hum became loud and menacing, she clenched her hand
and ran in nervous panic up the drive. She was breathless when she
reached the house, but pulled herself together and went to a quiet room
where she would be alone.
Osborn, sitting in the library, heard the car, and got up with a sense of
relief and shrinking. He had been afraid that Thorn would fail him, and
now he almost wished that the fellow had not come. He was not in the mood
to be logical, and although it was obvious that Thorn alone could save
him from disaster, knowing what Grace must pay hurt him more than he had
thought. Yet she must pay; he could find no other plan. Now he was
acquiescent but not resigned, and his hopelessness gave him calm.
Thorn's face was hot when he came in, and he glanced at Osborn with an
effort for carelessness when the latter indicated a chair. Osborn looked
old and broken, but he had a touch of dignity that was new.
"I'm sorry if I'm late," Thorn remarked. "I had to go to Swinset and had
trouble with the car."
Osborn wondered dully whether this was the real ground for his delay, but
he said, "Oh, well, it does not matter now you have arrived. I gave you a
hint about my object in sending for you, but you don't know all yet."
"I imagine I know enough. Gerald's in trouble; he or you must meet the
bill Hallam will bring. You see, the fellow belongs to my club and I had
a talk with him when I was in town."
"So you knew what threatened us?" Osborn remarked, rather sharply. "If
so, it's curious you waited until I sent for you."
Thorn hesitated. He had meant to be tactful, but it looked as if he had
been rash. Osborn's suspicions were obviously excited.
"The matter is delicate, and I knew you would send for me if you thought
I could be of use."
"You can be of use. Unless I take up the fellow's bill, Gerald will
go to jail."
Thorn made a sign of sympathy. He was surprised by Osborn's bluntness,
which implied that the latter was desperate. "That must be prevented.
I'll give you a cheque."
He took out his cheque book, and then stopped, and Osborn asked: "Is this
a free loan, Alan? I mean, is it made without conditions?"
"A gift, if you like. Anyhow, I won't bother you about repayment. We
can't talk about _conditions_; but I have something to ask."
"Grace?" said Osborn, rather hoarsely.
"Yes," said Thorn, with a hint of embarrassment. "I want Grace. It's an
awkward situation. I don't want to urge that I deserve my reward, but
I've waited a long time and thought you approved."
"I did approve. I hoped she'd marry you, but I imagined she could be
persuaded and would do so willingly. However, it looks as if I was
mistaken."
Thorn leaned forward, fixing his eyes on Osborn.
"Grace is young, and perhaps I don't make a strong appeal to her
romantic feelings, but I belong to her rank and her views and tastes
are mine. That is much. Also, I can indulge and give her all she likes;
the refinements and comforts to which she is, in a sense, entitled.
After all, they count for something. I'm trying to be practical, but I
love her."
"If you really love her, I think you would do well not to urge her just
now," Osborn remarked quietly.
"Ah," said Thorn, "I can't wait. Waiting has gained me nothing and there
is a risk. If I were young, I'd use all the patience I could control, but
I'm getting old and farther away from Grace. In another year or two I
shall be bald and fat. Perhaps the argument's humorous, but it has a
cruel force for me."
"There are other girls, brought up as we have brought up Grace. They
might be flattered--"
Thorn spread out his hands. "You don't understand. I'm not looking for a
wife! I love her, and if she cannot be persuaded, will never marry
anybody else." He paused and resumed with some emotion: "I know the
shabbiness of using this opportunity; but it's the last I'll get. I don't
want to work on her gratitude, but I see no other plan. I would like to
be generous--but I can't let her go."
"Yet you seem to realize that she does not like you."
"She will get over that. Her likes and dislikes haven't yet hardened into
their final mold. She's impulsive and generous; I can win her by patience
and kindness."
"It is a rash experiment. If you are disappointed, Grace would
have to pay."
Thorn was silent for a few moments. He had talked with sincere passion,
but now began to think. Osborn's firmness was something of a surprise;
Thorn had not expected he would weigh his daughter's feelings against the
danger that threatened his house. His opposition must be broken down.
"I had hoped for your consent," he said and his face got hard. "To some
extent, I took it for granted."
Osborn's head sunk forward. He had struggled, but saw that he was beaten.
To beg would be useless and he could not fight. Pulling himself together
with an effort, he looked up.
"You mean you knew I could not refuse?"
"Yes," said Thorn, awkwardly, "I suppose I do mean something like that."
Osborn gave him a long, steady look. Thorn's face was set and his mouth
was firm. There was no hint of yielding and Osborn got up. "Very well; I
must tell my wife."
He rang a bell and a minute or two afterwards Mrs. Osborn came in. She
sat down and Osborn stood opposite.
"Alan has done us the honor of asking my consent to his marrying Grace,"
he said, with ironical formality. "If we approve, he is willing to help
Gerald." He turned to Thorn. "I think I have stated your terms?"
Thorn colored as he saw that Mrs. Osborn's eyes were fixed on him. "You
exaggerate. I am willing to do you a service that nobody else can render
and think I'm justified in counting on your gratitude."
"Very well," said Osborn. "I don't see much difference, except that you
want to save our pride." He paused and looked at his wife. "You know
Grace best. Will she consent?"
Something in his manner moved Mrs. Osborn. It was long since he had asked
what she thought, and she felt encouraged. Besides, now the crisis had
come, her irresolution had vanished. She had thrown off her reserve and
meant to defend her daughter.
"No," she said, with a determined note in her quiet voice. "Even if
she were willing, I should protest. The fault is Gerald's and he
must suffer."
Osborn felt some surprise, but his humiliation had made him gentle.
"Gerald cannot suffer alone. His disgrace will reflect upon us all and if
he has a son it will follow him. We have been reckless and extravagant,
but we have kept our good name and now, when it is all that is left us,
it must be protected."
"That was Gerald's duty," Mrs. Osborn rejoined and was silent for a few
moments. To some extent, her husband's point of view was hers and she
knew his finest quality was his exaggerated family pride. But she would
not force her daughter to marry Thorn.
"I will not consent," she resumed. "Grace has long suffered for her
brother's extravagance, but she shall not pay for his folly now. It is
unjust; the price is too high!" Then she gave Thorn an appealing glance.
"Alan, can you not be generous?"
"I'm not brave enough; it might cost me too much," Thorn answered in a
strained voice. "I cannot let Grace go. She would be happy with me
after a time."
Mrs. Osborn made a scornful gesture and there was silence. Osborn moved
irresolutely and it looked as if he were hesitating; then steps echoed
along the landing and he started as Kit came in. Thorn's face got very
dark, but Mrs. Osborn looked up with a strange sense of relief.
"I didn't stop to ask if you were at home," Kit remarked. "As you know,
time is getting short. I understand a man from London will bring you a
document about a loan."
"That is so," said Osborn, hoarsely. "What are you going to do about the
document?"
"Take it up," Kit answered, with a look of surprise. "My name's on the
back." He paused and glanced at Thorn. "Still, this is a matter I'd
sooner talk about with you alone."
Thorn got up, making an effort for self-control. "Since Mr. Askew has
arrived I needn't stay." He bowed to Mrs. Osborn. "It looks as if I had
not understood things. You won't need my help."
He went out with a curious heavy step, and when the door shut, Osborn sat
down and looked at Kit as if he had got a shock.
"Then, you haven't come to humble me?"
"Certainly not," said Kit. "I should have come before, but had to find my
bank manager, who had left his office."
"Where is Gerald? What have you done with him?" Mrs. Osborn asked, for
she began to see a light.
"Gerald's at the station hotel, waiting for the train to Liverpool. He
sails for New York to-morrow and takes a letter to some friends of mine
who will give him a good start. He sent a note."
Mrs. Osborn read the note and her eyes shone as she turned them on Kit.
"It is perhaps the best plan. I would have liked to see him; but I
thank you."
"What I have done cost me nothing, and I imagine Gerald will have as good
as chance of making progress as he had at the bank, while the excitement
he'll probably get will suit him better. But Hallam will be here soon if
the train is punctual, and before he comes I want to know--"
At this moment they heard a car come up the drive, a servant knocked at
the door, and Hallam was shown in. He sat down in front of the table
where Osborn told him, and glanced at Kit.
"This is Mr. Askew," Osborn said. "Mrs. Osborn will stay; she knows your
business."
Hallam bowed and tried not to look surprised. "Very well. I have brought
the document about which you wrote. I am sorry I find it impossible to
renew the loan."
"Let me see the bill," said Kit, who took it from him and afterwards
nodded. "Yes; that's all right! Cancel the thing and I'll give you a
cheque."
"You admit your liability, then?" Hallam asked.
"Of course! What did you expect? My name's here. It's not my habit to
disown my debts."
Hallam did not state what he had expected. He was tactful and was
satisfied to get his money. Pulling out a fountain pen, he cancelled the
bill and put Kit's cheque in his pocket.
"That is all, I think, and I can get a train if I start at once," he
said. "If you should require help to extend your farm or improve your
stock, I should be glad if you would apply to me."
"I'm afraid your interest is too high," Kit rejoined with a smile, and
Hallam bowed to the others and went out.
When he had gone, Osborn turned to Kit, who gave Mrs. Osborn the
cancelled bill.
"I don't understand," he said dully. "Why have you come to my rescue?"
"To some extent, it was for Miss Osborn's sake."
"Ah!" said Osborn. "I suppose you have a demand to make now I am in
your power?"
"You are not in my power. Mrs. Osborn has the bill, and if you cannot
repay me, I won't urge the debt. But there is, so to speak, a
stipulation. You must use no pressure to persuade Miss Osborn to marry
Mr. Thorn."
"I am not likely to do so," Osborn remarked, dryly. He paused and his
face got red as he struggled with his deep-rooted dislike for Kit.
"You have taken a very generous line, Mr. Askew," he resumed. "We have
not been friends, but I must confess it looks as if I had been unjust."
Kit smiled. "Luck made us antagonists. However, I hope the antagonism has
gone for good, because after all I have something to ask. I must go to
London on some business to-morrow, but with your leave I will again call
in a week."
"You will find us at home when you do come," Osborn answered with grave
politeness, and when Kit got up Mrs. Osborn gave him her hand.
He went out and Osborn, who felt limp now the strain had slackened,
leaned back heavily in his chair and looked at his wife.
"The fellow is a working farmer, but he struck just the right note. Well,
he has beaten me, and it's easier to be beaten by him than I thought. But
he states he's coming back--"
"Yes," said Mrs. Osborn. "I think he means to ask for Grace."
Osborn knitted his brows. "I imagined that was done with. It is one thing
to take his help and another to give him Grace. After all, there is not
much difference between his plan and Thorn's."
"I expect you will find the difference important," Mrs. Osborn replied
with a smile. "He has broken down your unjustified prejudice, and if he
is the man I think, he will leave Grace free to refuse--if she likes."
Then she went out, for the strain had been hard to bear, and Osborn sat
at the table with his hand tightly closed. He admitted that he had from
the beginning been wrong about Kit, but his prejudices were not
altogether banished yet.
CHAPTER X
GRACE'S CHOICE
A week after Hallam's visit, Kit, one afternoon, started for Tarnside. He
had been forced to go to London about some American business, but this
was a relief, since it gave him an excuse for delay. At his interview
with Osborn he had left the most important thing unsaid, because it might
have jarred Mrs. Osborn, whom he thought his friend, had he asked for
Grace at the moment he had put her father in his debt. In fact, he saw it
would be tactful if he waited for some time, but he did not mean to do
so. To some extent, he distrusted Osborn and resolved to make his request
before the latter's gratitude began to cool. Grace must have full liberty
to refuse, but he did not owe her father much.
He wondered how she would choose and his step got slower until he stopped
and, sitting on a broken wall, looked up the valley. The day was calm and
the sun shone on smooth pasture and yellow corn. The becks had shrunk in
the shady ghylls and a thin white line was all that marked the fall where
the main stream leaped down the Force Crag. On the steep slopes the
heather made purple patches among the bent-grass and Malton moor shone
red. Kit loved the quiet hills; he had known intrigue and adventure and
now saw his work waiting in his native dale. The soil called him; his job
was to extend the plow-land and improve his flocks.
This was important, because he could not tell how far Grace would
sympathize. Her father liked the leading place; an effort for display
and such luxury as could be cheaply got were the rule at Tarnside. It was
possible that Grace had unconsciously accepted a false standard of
values. Kit might, for her sake, have changed his mode of life, had he
thought it good for her, but he did not. She must have inherited
something of Osborn's tastes and to copy the Tarnside customs might
encourage their development. It was better to remove her from insidious
influences to fresh surroundings where she would, so to speak, breath a
bracing air. But this could not be done unless she were willing to go.