IT

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSIVE

T was a little annoying to Mr. Trenchard to be cheerfully hailed by Lord Lannowe when he stepped on to the platform of the railway station at an early hour the next morning. But it was, after all, only a little annoying, and he knew better than to make any secret of the destination for which he was bound.

"A final remonstrance?" asked Lord Lannowe. "It has a poor prospect of success, I am afraid, from what Nolan tells me. Well, a genuine vocation is not a thing to be refused, you know. Or perhaps I ought rather to say that we know it, although you may not. At the same time it does seem rather a pity that such a fine property should be going a-begging. Have you any idea who is to get it?"

Mr. Trenchard shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "That is precisely one of the points upon which I hope that my visit to Lew Abbey may throw some light," he answered; "I cannot say that I am very sanguine of persuading Nigel to come back to this world's cares and responsibilities. You are travelling up to London, I presume?"

"Oh, I am not travelling anywhere, I am glad to say," answered Lord Lannowe; "I am only here to see the last of our visitor Miss Dallison, who is obliged to return to her people and who is exchanging embraces

with Monica a few yards away. She will be your fellowpassenger as far as York, where your route and hers diverge."

Mr. Trenchard amiably declared that he should consider himself fortunate to be Miss Dallison's fellowpassenger even for a short distance; but perhaps she entertained other sentiments, for when the train came in, she selected a compartment remote from that into which he was assisted. What old Humphry, of course, could not see, and what Bailey, who did see it, omitted to mention to him, was that Miss Dallison changed into the Bristol train at York, instead of continuing her journey by the London express. Bailey did not feel obliged or inclined to tell everything to his master, who had sundry concealments from him; so, being of a somewhat cynical temperament, he kept to himself a circumstance which appeared to hold out promise of subsequent sport. And the promise became converted into a practical certainty late in the day, when Miss Dallison took her place, at Bristol, in the train bound for the sleepy little western town near which Lew Abbey is situated.

"She is a cool hand, dashed if she isn't!" said Bailey admiringly to himself. "Must know that I've spotted her, too, and that she'll have to fight the governor presently. It's six to four against her, I should say, or a shade more than that; but there ought to be a very pretty turn-up, all the same."

Bailey, thoroughly cognizant of all the issues at stake, was upon the whole an impartial looker-on. There was the probability of his wages being raised (he had, indeed, decided to ask for a rise) on his master's impending access of fortune; but then again he would greatly enjoy seeing his master get a nasty fall. For he had that animosity against old Humphry which it is

human to harbour towards those who are at once dependent upon us, generous to us and capable of cracking the whip over our heads. Consequently, he chuckled, as he seated himself in the hired vehicle which had been ordered by telegram to await the arrival of the train at the small country town aforesaid, and it was a rather foolish thing to chuckle within earshot of old Humphry, who at once said:

"Kindly tell me what the joke is, Bailey."

"Most singular, antiquated trap, sir," answered the man, with commendable promptitude. "Queer old scarecrow of a driver, too."

"I have no doubt that both are exquisitely comical," returned Mr. Trenchard; "but I doubt whether you were laughing at either, Bailey. Probably you were laughing at me-which indeed you have some excuse for doing. I am here on a vain mission, I shall hardly prevail upon Mr. Nigel to quit the monastery a second time. Nevertheless, it is my duty to try."

Although he knew that his servant's merriment was not due to the cause that he had named, he felt no great curiosity to ascertain what had provoked it. He himself would have been more amused than alarmed, had he been made acquainted with the strange circumstance that Ethel Dallison was at that moment searching for a vehicle in which to follow on his track. Ethel had for a short time been a help to him and for a shorter time something of a hindrance; but she had shot her bolt; she was no longer worthy of being taken into account, one way or the other.

How much more highly the young lady estimated her own powers may be gathered from her having not only decided upon the audacious step of journeying down to the west in order to obtain speech of Nigel Scarth but persevered with her project even after she

had been dismayed by the sight of her fellow-traveller. In for a penny in for a pound, she thought. She must either succeed or fail. In the former event she would be able to snap her fingers at old Humphry; in the latter nothing that he could say or do would be likely to add much to her discomfiture. Meanwhile, she had to transport herself and her belongings to a small hotel and wait until a fly could be got ready for her.

As for Mr. Trenchard, he reached his goal in the misty twilight of a soft winter evening and was, after some delay, shown into the presence of the Lord Abbot, who was courteous, but not communicative. His telegram had been received, he was told, and he could certainly see Brother Anselm. Oh, yes; news of Mr. Robert Scarth's death had reached the Abbey, and its consequences in their relation to his nephew were quite understood. The Abbot, however, must beg to be excused from offering any opinion or advice upon the subject, inasmuch as he did not feel qualified to do so.

"I may perhaps consider myself so far qualified,” observed old Humphry pensively, "that my poor friend confided his wishes and intentions to me on the very day of his death."

"Yes?" said the Abbot, with a politely detached air.

"Yes. I may tell you that they surprised me and that I deprecated them; yet it seems almost a duty to impart them to Nigel, who is so very suddenly and unexpectedly called upon to replace his uncle. His uncle's wishes are in no way binding upon him, of course; only he ought perhaps to be told what they were."

"He is waiting to be told anything that you may have to tell him, sir," answered the Abbot, touching a hand-bell which stood upon the table before him.

In a few minutes Brother Anselm, arrayed in his black habit, appeared, and as he entered, the Abbot

noiselessly left the room. Not so noiselessly, however, but that his exit was detected by the sharp ears of old Humphry, who exclaimed:

"My dear boy, you can't think how this decision of yours has grieved me! But it is quite irrevocable, I suppose?"

"Absolutely," answered Brother Anselm, who was standing, with folded hands, in front of his blind friend and was surveying him with an expression of countenance partly wondering, partly pained, not in the least respectful. He had, as a matter of fact, received an enlightening letter from Mr. Linklater.

"Ah!" sighed old Humphry. "And you are really happy in this life ?-happier than you would have been had remained at Rixmouth, as I so earnestly hoped that you would?"

if you

"So infinitely happier," replied the other, "that I should despair of making you or any Protestant understand what I mean. But I don't think that you came here with a view to shaking my determination, did you?"

Mr. Trenchard shook his head and smiled rather sadly. "Alas! no; if I am not acquainted with the Scarth character and temperament, who should be? Frankly, my motives for undertaking the journey were those at which I hinted in my telegram, and which you have doubtless guessed. Poor, dear Robert's death casts a responsibility of choice upon you which neither you nor I anticipated, and I am in fear of your exercising it hastily-perhaps unwisely."

"I thought very likely you would be."

"I confess that I am, dear boy. Are you sitting down? I feel, somehow, as if you were a long way off. Draw your chair up, and let us talk it all over quietly. Now, I need not tell you that I have a peculiar sentiment-a fad, if you like about the Rixmouth property.