CHAPTER V.

COMING TO THE POINT.

LEFT an orphan to the care of his vigorous but very unsentimental brother Jehoshaphat, who was many years his senior, Griffith Williams had at first tried the hard labour of the pit, but given it up, to his brother's great offence, and become a farm-labourer.

And so he remained, till the brother's more fortunate career began to make the contrast unpleasant to the successful man, who then gave Griffith a small but sufficient income-helped him to his great desire, a thoroughly good education, and when that was attained, showed a sort of pride in his recognition of the clever, gentlemanly fellow he had, as he thought, at last created out of a great hulking ploughman.

What else he might have done for him never came to the test; happily, perhaps, for Griffith; who married a farmer's daughter, a notable, bustling, domesticated woman, with good looks, an excellent temper, and a considerable fortune. Her father had concealed from her alike his power and his will to enrich her; fearing she might otherwise become the victim of some marriageable bird of prey. He was pleased with her choice, and left them when he died The Farm,' and everything in the world he possessed.

Griffith was now a gentleman. He read much, travelled occasionally, spent money freely whenever appealed to in behalf of any good cause, and then, after all, began, at the age of forty, to find his life a burden, without knowing why.

His wife was an excellent woman, and he devotedly attached to her in spite of her deficiencies in the character of a lady. His three children were of striking beauty, and revelling in good health; what, then, was the secret cloud that ever veiled from him the true value of all his advantages?

It was this: Griffith was at once sensitive and proud, and had discovered that others, in knowing these traits of his character, took a malignant pleasure in making the worst use of them.

He had fallen, he found, between two stools. The gentry with whose tastes and means his own were most in accord took no notice of him, but seemed to think the poor farm-labourer of yesterday was essentially the same man still, only grown rich. The little farmers on their side, men of hard laborious life and unrefined habits, ever fighting against poverty, or the fear of it, looked upon him as an upstart, even while they were obliged to acknowledge he was no discredit to their order. At every local agricultural show and contest, Griffith and his labourers were always foremost in showing what good farming meant by practical examples, and by winning a large proportion of the prizes offered; incidents that scarcely improved the temper of those whose inferiority they illustrated.

Thus baffled in his very natural aspirations, and resenting the injustice of his neighbours, he grew restless, solitary, reserved in his habits, took depressing views of things, became morbidly suspicious. And, to make matters worse, he cultivated that troublesome thing, conscience, till it became, according to its custom, a power formidable to its owner, since he did not attempt to make it formidable in a more legitimate way, that is, in using it for the conquest of the many evils he saw about him.

There was one exception to this. He did once attempt to open Jehoshaphat's eyes to the condition of the children in his mine; and that gentleman made the interference so extremely unpleasant to the offender, that not only was the offence never repeated, but from that time the brothers ceased to hold any but the most formal and necessary communications with each other.

Thus Griffith's impulsive goodness and conscientiousness came to nothing, or very little; and at the same time he found men looked upon him, on the whole, as having a keen eye to his own advantage, and as ready to take deep offence against insults or injuries, real or supposed.

Such was Griffith Williams, the man who now owned the colliery, and who lives in the very loveliest neighbourhood, and the most picturesque old manor house, perhaps, that could be found in half-a-dozen shires- The Farm' -distinguishingly so called, in reference to its superior dignity to all the other and smaller farms of the neighbourhood.

The most striking feature of the range of mountains that here for so many miles face the sea is the undulations of their sky line. A mountain rises to a considerable height, with a rounded central crown; the slopes, right and left, forming valleys, which reascend to other and similarly-crowned mountains-thus valley and mountain succeed at near intervals, each after each; but with such infinite changes in the general form and direction of their intervening double slopes, and of their lovely and wild. streams of water, that it is an unending pleasure to go from one to another, finding ever fresh beauty the further you go.

And what a world of sweet solitude awaits you if you go right up some of these valleys till you reach their highest points; what a world of picturesque splendour if you then also ascend the heights near, and gaze over the interminable panorama of mountains and valleys, and the all-encircling sea!

On the very edge of one of these wild streams, and near the bottom of one of these exquisite valleys, Griffith's house and farm was situated.

All their beauty and grandeur, however, are nonexistent for Israel, as he approaches the Farm through fields and by footpaths; but for all that he looks keenly around him, taking note of every object that may help him to understand better the habits and views of the owner.

He meets people hurrying past in unusual silence and gravity, but he knows them and asks no questions. One is an undertaker, another the sexton of the church, another a woman, a dress-maker, all illustrating, to Israel's cynical mind, the notion what new life death puts into many people.

A high bank encircles the Farm on the side by which the Overman approaches, and not being deep in the mystery of the preservation of mangold wurzel, he wonders what can be the meaning of the bulging slope stretching nearly to the top of the bank, and why it is thatched so beautifully across the whole breadth of the field. Suddenly a light step is heard behind; he turns and sees David.

The boy advances to meet him, and show the way, laughingly, yet also a little excitedly; and explaining that he had seen the squire (for so people began to call Mr. Griffith Williams) while he was seeking wild flowers, and that he asked him about his father, and was pleased to hear he was coming up to the Farm.

Israel looked at the lad so long and fixedly that David changed colour, and wondered if he was suspected of lying ; but his father's thoughts were far away, travelling slowly but firmly towards the promised land he had so long made the goal of his life.

'Do you know,' at last he said, "if Mr. Barrett, the manager, has been here?'

'Oh, yes sure! He's in there now with Mr. Griffith Williams.'

'I meant to have been first. I ought to have been,' Israel muttered to himself. Go on, David.'

6

David went on before him, through the long but narrow hall: the father seeing nothing of the pictures between which he passed, or of the busts over the doors, or of the painted glass window that admitted a dim, rich light from the conservatory, while his son not only saw all these, but much more (for which he must have been indebted to his fancy), if we may judge from his subsequent report to his mother of this, to him, wonderful day.

At the further end David felt obliged to point out to his father the noble stag-horns that were suspended over the door through which they were about to enter.

'He killed the stag, father, and saved the life of the huntsman,' cried David, enthusiastically.

'Oh!' responded Israel, and invited no further particulars; so David, obliged to be silent, opened the door and went in first, as if already he felt at home, until he remembered this was his last holiday; then he went out again.

The place dazzled the Overman. Spending the greater part of all the daylight that life afforded him in the mine, the blaze of illumination that now burst upon his eyes dazed him,' as he said, when he got home again, and found somebody to speak to. The room seemed all window, and to bring the glowing valley, the dancing wild stream, the broad marsh, and the double and vying splendour of the sea and sky into startling closeness.

He found then the builder of the house had known what he was about, and had only left the view closed from one spot that it might not interfere with a still finer view from another.

Mr. Griffith Williams was a stout, handsome man, with light curling hair and beard. He wore a short brown velvet shooting-coat, and had a gun lying across his knee, as though he had been interrupted while examining it.

He sat at a large round table, on which were writing materials, and a big tin box, labelled outside Jehoshaphat Williams, Esquire.' This had evidently just come from the deceased gentleman's lawyers; and from it had been taken a number of papers and bulky documents by a person who stood by as its custodian, and handed them as. required by the heir.

'Our firm, sir,'—so the gentleman was saying as Israel was introduced, and sat down immediately in the most unobservable corner he could find-thought, as you are sole heir, and as some of these things may demand immediate attention, we ought not to wait for the customary occasion of handing everything over, but see you at once, and take your instructions.'

6

Quite right. Many thanks. You will, of course, continue to act for me as you did for my brother.'

The gentleman gave a most profound bow, breathed as

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