Demos | Page 7

to them. And then he was passionately devoted to his daughter; if only for her sake, he would have done his utmost for the family.'
'I understand that Mr. Mutimer purchased the Manor from them?'
'That was before the marriage. Godfrey Eldon sold it; he had his father's taste for speculation, I fancy, and wanted capital. Then Mr. Mutimer begged them to remain in the house. He certainly was a wonderfully kind old--old gentleman; his behaviour to Mrs. Eldon was always the perfection of courtesy. A stranger would find it difficult to understand how she could get on so well with him, but their sorrows brought them together, and Mr. Mutimer's generosity was really noble. If I had not known his origin, I should certainly have taken him for a county gentleman.'
'Yet he proposed to mine in the valley,' observed Mr. Wyvern, half to himself, casting a glance at the window.
Mrs. Waltham did not at first see the connection between this and what she had been saying. Then it occurred to her that Mr. Wyvern was aristocratic in his views.
'To be sure,' she said, 'one expects to find a little of the original--of the money-making spirit. Of course such a thing would never have suggested itself to the Eldons. And in fact very little of the lands remained to them. Mr. Mutimer bought a great deal from other people.'
As Mr. Wyvern sat brooding, Mrs. Waltham asked--
'You have seen Mrs. Eldon?'
' Not yet. She is too unwell to receive visits.'
'Yes, poor thing, she is a great invalid. I thought, perhaps, you--. But I know she likes to be very quiet. What a strange thing about Mr. Eldon, is it not? You know that he has never come yet; not even to the funeral.'
'Singular!'
'An inexplicable thing! There has never been a shadow of disagreement between them.'
'Mr. Eldon is abroad, I believe?' said the clergyman musingly.
'Abroad? Oh dear, no! At least, I--. Is there news of his being abroad?'
Mr. Wyvern merely shook his head.
'As far as we know,' Mrs. Waltham continued, rather disturbed by the suggestion, 'he is at Oxford.'
'A student?'
'Yes. He is quite a youth--only two-and-twenty.'
There was a knock at the door, and a maid-servant entered to ask if she should lay the table for tea. Mrs. Waltham assented; then, to her visitor--
'You will do us the pleasure of drinking a cup of tea, Mr. Wyvern? we make a meal of it, in the country way. My boy and girl are sure to be in directly.'
'I should like to make their acquaintance,' was the grave response.
'Alfred, my son,' the lady proceeded, 'is with us for his Easter holiday. Belwick is so short a distance away, and yet too far to allow of his living here, unfortunately.'
'His age?'
'Just one-and-twenty.'
'The same age as my own boy.'
'Oh, you have a son?'
'A youngster, studying music in Germany. I have just been spending a fortnight with him.'
'How delightful! If only poor Alfred could have pursued some more--more liberal occupation! Unhappily, we had small choice. Friends were good enough to offer him exceptional advantages not long after his father's death, and I was only too glad to accept the opening. I believe he is a clever boy; only such a dreadful Radical.' She laughed, with a deprecatory motion of the hands. 'Poor Adela and he are at daggers drawn; no doubt it is some terrible argument that detains them now on the road. I can't think how he got his views; certainly his father never inculcated them.'
'The air, Mrs. Waltham, the air,' murmured the clergyman.
The lady was not quite sure that she understood the remark, but the necessity of reply was obviated by the entrance of the young man in question. Alfred was somewhat undergrown, but of solid build. He walked in a sturdy and rather aggressive way, and his plump face seemed to indicate an intelligence, bright, indeed, but of the less refined order. His head was held stiffly, and his whole bearing betrayed a desire to make the most of his defective stature. His shake of the hand was an abrupt downward jerk, like a pull at a bell-rope. In the smile with which he met Mr. Wyvern a supercilious frame of mind was not altogether concealed; he seemed anxious to have it understood that in him the clerical attire inspired nothing whatever of superstitious reverence. Reverence, in truth, was not Mr. Waltham's failing.
Mr. Wyvern, as his habit was at introductions, spoke no words, but held the youth's hand for a few moments and looked him in the eyes. Alfred turned his head aside uneasily, and was a trifle ruddy in the cheeks when at length he regained his liberty.
'By-the-by,' he remarked to his mother when he had seated himself, with crossed legs, 'Eldon has turned up at last. He passed us in a cab, or so Adela