The Belton Estate

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'Know all what?'

'That I have been engaged to Captain Aylmer.'

'But you are not engaged to him now.'

'No I am not.'

'And there can be no renewal there, I suppose?'

'Oh, no!'

'Not even for my brother would I say a word if I thought'

'No there is nothing of that; but If you cannot understand, I do not
think that I can explain it.' It seemed to Clara that her cousin, in
her anxiety for her brother, did not conceive that a woman, even if she
could suddenly transfer her affections from one man to another, could
not bring herself to say that she had done so.

'I must write to him today,' said Mary, 'and I must give him some
answer. Shall I tell him that he had better not come here till you are
gone?'

'That will perhaps be best,' said Clara.

'Then he will never come at all.'

'I can go can go at once. I will go at once. You shall never have to
say that my presence prevented his coming to his own house. I ought not
to be here. I know it now. I will go away, and you may tell him that I
am gone.'

'No, dear; you will not go.'

'Yes I must go. I fancied things might be otherwise, because he once
told me that he would be a brother to me. And I said I would hold him
to that not only because I want a brother so badly, but because I love
him so dearly. But it cannot be like that.'

'You do not think that he will ever desert you?'

'But I will go away, so that he may come to his own house. I ought not
to be here. Of course I ought not to be at Belton either in this house
or in any other. Tell him that I will be gone before he can come, and
tell him also that I will not be too proud to accept from him what it
may be fit that he should give me. I have no one but him no one but him
no one but him.' Then she burst into tears, and throwing hack her head,
covered her face with her hands.

Miss Belton, upon this, rose slowly from the chair on which she was
sitting, and making her way painfully across to Clara, stood leaning on
the weeping girl's chair. 'You shall not go while I am here,' she said.

'Yes; I must go. He cannot come till I am gone.'

'Think of it all once again, Clara. May I not tell him to come, and
that while he is coming you will see if you cannot soften your heart
towards him?'

'Soften my heart! Oh, if I could only harden it!'

'He would wait. If you would only hid him wait, he would be so happy in
waiting.'

'Yes till tomorrow morning. I know him. Hold out your little finger to
him, and he has your whole hand and arm in a moment.'

'I want you to say that you will try to love him.'

But Clara was in truth trying not to love him. She was ashamed of
herself because she did love the one man, when, but a few weeks since,
she had confessed that she loved another. She had mistaken herself and
her own feelings, not in reference to her cousin, but in supposing that
she could really have sympathized with such a man as Captain Aylmer. It
was necessary to her self-respect that she should be punished because
of that mistake. She could not save herself from this condemnation she
would not grant herself a respite because, by doing so, she would make
another person happy. Had Captain Aylmer never crossed her path, she
would have given her whole heart to her cousin. Nay; she had so given
it had done so, although Captain Aylmer had crossed her path and come
in her way. But it was matter of shame to her to find that this had
been possible, and she could not bring herself to confess her shame.

The conversation at last ended, as such conversations always do end,
without any positive decision. Mary wrote of course to her brother, but
Clara was not told of the contents of the letter. We, however, may know
them, and may understand their nature, without learning above two lines
of the letter. 'If you can be content to wait awhile, you will
succeed,' said Mary; 'but when were you ever content to wait for
anything?' ' If there is anything I hate, it is waiting,' said Will,
when he received the letter; nevertheless the letter made him happy,
and he went about his farm with a sanguine heart, as he arranged
matters for another absence. 'Away long?' he said, in answer to a
question asked him by his head man; 'how on earth can I say how long I
shall be away? You can go on well enough without me by this time, I
should think. You will have to learn, for there is no knowing how often
I may be away, or for how long.'

When Mary said that the letter had been written, Clara again spoke
about going. 'And where will you go?' said Mary.

'I will take a lodging in Taunton.'

'He would only follow you there, and there would be more trouble. That
would be all. He must act as your guardian, and in that capacity, at
any rate, you must submit to him.' Clara, therefore, consented to
remain at Belton; but, before Will arrived, she returned from the house
to the cottage.

'Of course I understand all about it,' said Mrs Askerton; 'and let me
tell you this that if it is not all settled within a week from his
coming here, I shall think that you are without a heart. He is to be
knocked about, and cuffed, and kept from his work, and made to run up
and down between here and Norfolk, because you cannot bring yourself to
confess that you have been a fool.'

'I have never said that I have not been a fool,' said Clara.

'You have made a mistake as young women will do sometimes, even when
they are as prudent and circumspect as you are and now you don't quite
like the task of putting it right.'

It was all true, and Clara knew that it was true. The putting right of
mistakes is never pleasant; and in this case it was so unpleasant that
she could not bring herself to acknowledge that it must be done. And
yet, I think that, by this time, she was aware of the necessity.

CHAPTER XXXI

TAKING POSSESSION

'I want her to have it all,' said William Belton to Mr Green, the
lawyer, when they came to discuss the necessary arrangements for the
property.

'But that would be absurd.'

'Never mind. It is what I wish. I suppose a man may do what he likes
with his own.'

'She won't take it,' said the lawyer.

'She must take it, if you manage the matter properly,' said Will.

'I don't suppose it will make much difference,' said the lawyer 'now
that Captain Aylmer is out of the running.'

'I know nothing about that. Of course I am very glad that he should be
out of the running, as you call it. He is a bad sort of fellow, and I
didn't want him to have the property. But all that has had nothing to
do with it. I'm not doing it because I think she is ever to be my wife.'

>From this the reader will understand that Belton was still fidgeting
himself and the lawyer about the estate when he passed through London.
The matter in dispute, however, was so important that he was induced to
seek the advice of others besides Mr Green, and at last was brought to
the conclusion that it was his paramount duty to become Belton of
Belton. There seemed in the minds of all these councillors to be some
imperative and almost imperious requirement that the acres should go
back to a man of his name. Now, as there was no one else of the family
who could stand in his way, he had no alternative but to become Belton
of Belton. He would, however, sell his estate in Norfolk, and raise
money for endowing Clara with commensurate riches. Such was his own
plan but having fallen among counsellors he would not exactly follow
his own plan, and at last submitted to an arrangement in accordance
with which an annuity of eight hundred pounds a year was to be settled
upon Clara, and this was to lie as a charge upon the estate in Norfolk.

'It seems to me to be very shabby,' said William Belton.

'It seems to me to be very extravagant,' said the leader among the
counsellors. 'She is net entitled to sixpence.'

But at last the arrangement as above described was the one to which
they all assented.

When Belton reached the house which was now his own he found no one
there but his sister. Clara was at the cottage. As he had been told
that she was to return there, he had no reason to be annoyed. But,
nevertheless, he was annoyed, or rather discontented, and had not been
a quarter of an hour about the place before he declared his intention
to go and seek her.

'Do no such thing, Will; pray do not,' said his sister.

'And why not?'

'Because it will be better that you should wait. You will only injure
yourself and her by being impetuous.'

'But it is absolutely necessary that she should know her own position.
It would be cruelty to keep her in ignorance though for the matter of
that I shall be ashamed to tell her. Yes I shall be ashamed to look her
in the face. What will she think of it after I had assured her that she
should have the whole?'

'But she would not have taken it, Will. And had she done so, she would
have been very wrong. Now she will be comfortable.'

'I wish I could be comfortable,' said he.

'If you will only wait'

'I hate waiting. I do not see what good it will do. Besides, I don't
mean to say anything about that not today, at least. I don t indeed. As
for being here and not seeing her, that is out of the question. Of
course she would think that I had quarrelled with her, and that I meant
to take everything to myself, now that I have the power.'

'She won't suspect you of wishing to quarrel with her, Will'

'I should in her place. It is out of the question that I should be
here, and not go to her. It would be monstrous. I will wait till they
have done lunch, and then I will go up.'

It was at last decided that he should walk up to the cottage, call upon
Colonel Askerton, and ask to see Clara in the colonel's presence. It
was thought that he could make his statement about the money better
before a third person who could be regarded as Clara's friend, than
could possibly be done between themselves. He did, therefore, walk
across to the cottage, and was shown into Colonel Askerton's study.

'There he is,' Mrs Askerton said, as soon as she heard the sound of the
bell. 'I knew that he would come at once.'

During the whole morning Mrs Askerton had been insisting that Belton
would make his appearance on that very day the day of his arrival at
Belton, and Clara had been asserting that he would not do so.

'Why should he come?' Clara had said.

'Simply to take you to his own house, like any other of his goods and
chattels.'

'I am not his goods or his chattels.'

'But you soon will be; and why shouldn't you accept your lot quietly?
He is Belton of Belton, and everything here belongs to him.'

'I do not belong to him.'

'What nonsense! When a man has the command of the situation, as he has,
he can do just what he pleases. If he were to come and carry you off by
violence, I have no doubt the Beltonians would assist him, and say that
he was right. And you of course would forgive him. Belton of Belton may
do anything.'

'That is nonsense, if you please.'

'Indeed if you had any of that decent feeling of feminine inferiority
which ought to belong to all women, he would have found you sitting on
the doorstep of his house waiting for him.'

That had been said early in the morning, when they first knew that he
had arrived; but they had been talking about him ever since talking
about him under pressure from Mrs Askerton, till Clara had been driven
to long that she might be spared. 'If he chooses to come, he will
come,' she said. 'Of course he will come,' Mrs Askerton had answered,
and then they heard the ring of the hell. 'There he is. I could swear
to the sound of his foot. Doesn't he step as though he were Belton of
Belton, and conscious that everything belonged to him?' Then there was
a pause. 'He has been shown in to Colonel Askerton. What on earth could
he want with him?'

'He has called to tell him something about the cottage,' said Clara,
endeavouring to speak as though she were calm through it all.

'Cottage! Fiddlestick! The idea of a man coming to look after his
trumpery cottage on the first day of his showing himself as lord of his
own property! Perhaps he is demanding that you shall be delivered up to
him. If he does I shall vote for obeying.'

'And I for disobeying and shall vote very strongly too.'

Their suspense was yet prolonged for another ten minutes, and at the
end of that time the servant came in and asked if Miss Amedroz would be
good enough to go into the master's room. 'Mr Belton is there, Fanny?'
asked Mrs Askerton. The girl confessed that Mr Belton was there, and
then Clara, without another word, got up and left the room. She had
much to do in assuming a look of composure before she opened the door;
but she made the effort, and was not unsuccessful. In another second
she found her hand in her cousin's, and his bright eye was fixed upon
her with that eager friendly glance which made his face so pleasant to
those whom he loved.

'Your cousin has been telling me of the arrangements he has been making
for you with the lawyers,' said Colonel Askerton. 'I can only say that
I wish all the ladies had cousins so liberal, and so able to be
liberal.'

'I thought I would see Colonel Askerton first, as you are staying at
his house. And as for liberality there is nothing of the kind. You must
understand, Clara, that a fellow can't do what he likes with his own in
this country. I have found myself so bullied by lawyers and that sort
of people, that I have been obliged to yield to them. I wanted that you
should have the old place, to do just what you pleased with It.'

'That was out of the question, Will.'

'Of course it was,' said Colonel Askerton. Then, as Belton himself did
not proceed to the telling of his own story, the colonel told it for
him, and explained what was the income which Clara was to receive.

'But that is as much out of the question,' said she, 'as the other. I
cannot rob you in that way. I cannot and I shall not. And why should I?
What do I want with an income? Something I ought to have, if only for
the credit of the family, and that I am willing to take from your
kindness; but'

'It's all settled now, Clara.'

'I don't think that you can lessen the weight of your obligation, Miss
Amedroz, after what has been done up in London,' said the colonel.

'If you had said a hundred a year'

'I have been allowed to say nothing,' said Belton; 'those people have
said eight and so it is settled. When are you coming over to see Mary?'

To this question he got no definite answer, and as he went away
immediately afterwards he hardly seemed to expect one. He did not even
ask for Mrs Askerton, and as that lady remarked, behaved altogether
like a bear. 'But what a munificent bear!' she said. 'Fancy eight
hundred a year of your own. One begins to doubt whether it is worth
one's while to marry at all with such an income as that to do what one
likes with! However, it all means nothing. It will all be his own again
before you have even touched it.'

'You must not say anything more about that,' said Clara gravely.

'And why must I not?'

'Because I shall hear nothing more of it. There is an end of all that
as there ought to be.'

'Why an end? I don't see an end. There will be no end till Belton of
Belton has got you and your eight hundred a year as well as everything
else.'

'You will find that he does not mean anything more,' said Clara.

'You think not?'

'I am sure of it.' Then there was a little sound in her throat as
though she were in some danger of being choked; but she soon recovered
herself, and was able to express herself clearly. 'I have only one
favour to ask you now, Mrs Askerton, and that is that you will never
say anything more about him. He has changed his mind. Of course he has,
or he would not come here like that and have gone away without saying a
word.'

'Not a word! A man gives you eight hundred a year and that is not
saying a word!'

'Not a word except about money! But of course he is right. I know that
he is right. Alter what has passed he would be very wrong to to think
about it any more. You joke about his being Belton of Belton. But it
does make a difference.'

'It does does it?'

'It has made a difference. I see and feel it now. I shall never hear
him ask me that question any more.'

'And if you did hear him, what answer would you make him?'

'I don't know.'

'That is just it. Women are so cross-grained that it is a wonder to me
that men should ever have any. thing to do with them. They have about
them some madness of a phantasy which they dignify with the name of
feminine pride, and under the cloak of this they believe themselves to
be justified in tormenting their lovers' lives out. The only
consolation is that they torment themselves as much. Can anything be
more cross-grained than you are at this moment? You were resolved just
now that it would be the most unbecoming thing in the world if he spoke
a word more about his love for the next twelve months'

'Mrs Askerton, I said nothing about twelve months.'

'And now you are broken-hearted because he did not blurt it all out
before Colonel Askerton in a business interview, which was very
properly had at once, and in which he has had the exceeding good taste
to confine himself altogether to the one subject.'

'I am not complaining.'

'It was good taste; though if he had not been a bear he might have
asked after me, who am fighting his battles for him night and day.'

'But what will he do next?'

'Eat his dinner, I should think, as it is now nearly five o'clock. Your
father used always to dine at five.'

'I can't go to see Mary,' she said, 'till he comes here again.'

'He will be here fast enough. I shouldn't wonder if he was to come here
tonight.' And he did come again that night.

When Belton's interview was over in the colonel's study, he left the
house without even asking after the mistress, as that mistress had
taken care to find out and went off, rambling about the estate which
was now his own. It was a beautiful place, and he was not insensible to
the gratification of being its owner. There is much in the glory of
ownership of the ownership of land and houses, of beeves and woolly
flocks, of wide fields and thick-growing woods, even when that
ownership is of late date, when it conveys to the owner nothing but the
realization of a property on the soil; but there is much more in it
when it contains the memories of old years; when the glory is the glory
of race as well as the glory of power and property. There had been
Beltons of Belton living there for many centuries, and now he was the
Belton of the day, standing on his own ground the descendant and
representative of the Beltons of old Belton of Belton without a flaw in
his pedigree! He felt himself to be proud of his position prouder than
he could have been of any other that might have been vouchsafed to him.
And yet amidst it all he was somewhat ashamed of his pride. 'The man
who can do it for himself is the real man after all,' he said. 'But I
have got it by a fluke and by such a sad chance too!' Then he wandered
on, thinking of the circumstances under which the property had fallen
into his hands, and remembering how and when and where the first idea
had occurred to him of making Clara Amedroz his wife. He had then felt
that if he could only do that he could reconcile himself to the
heirship. And the idea had grown upon him instantly, and had become a
passion by the eagerness with which he had welcomed it. From that day
to this he had continued to tell himself that he could not enjoy his
good fortune unless he could enjoy it with her. There had come to be a
horrid impediment in his way a barrier which had seemed to have been
placed there by his evil fortune, to compensate the gifts given to him
by his good fortune, and that barrier had been Captain Aylmer. He had
not, in fact, seen much of his rival, but he had seen enough to make it
matter of wonder to him that Clara could be attached to such a man. He
had thoroughly despised Captain Aylmer, and had longed to show his
contempt of the man by kicking him out of the hotel at the London
railway station. At that moment all the world had seemed to him to be
wrong and wretched.

But now it seemed that all the world might so easily be made right
again! The impediment had got itself removed. Belton did not even yet
altogether comprehend by what means Clara had escaped from the meshes
of the Aylmer Park people, but he did know that she had escaped. Her
eyes had been opened before it was too late, and she was a free woman
to be compassed if only a man might compass her. While she had been
engaged to Captain Aylmer, Will had felt that she was not assailable.
Though he had not been quite able to restrain himself as on that fatal
occasion when he had taken her in his arms and kissed her still he had
known that as she was an engaged woman, he could not, without insulting
her, press his own suit upon her. But now all that was over. Let him
say what he liked on that head, she would have no proper plea for
anger. She was assailable and, as this was so, why the mischief should
he not set about the work at once? His sister bade him wait. Why should
he wait when one fortunate word might do it? Wait! He could not wait.
How are you to bid a starving man to wait when you put him down at a
well-covered board? Here was he, walking about Belton Park just where
she used to walk with him and there was she at Belton Cottage, within
half an hour of him at this moment, if he were to go quickly; and yet
Mary was telling him to wait! No; he would not wait. There could be no
reason for waiting. Wait, indeed, till some other Captain Aylmer should
come in the way and give him more trouble!

So he wandered on, resolving that he would see his cousin again that
very day. Such an interview as that which had just taken place between
two such dear friends was not natural was not to be endured. What might
not Clara think of it! To meet her for the first time after her escape
from Aylmer Park, and to speak to her only on matters concerning money!
He would certainly go to her again on that afternoon. In his walking he
came to the bottom of the rising ground on the top of which stood the
rock on which he and Clara had twice sat. But he turned away, and would
not go up to it. He hoped that he might go up to it very soon but,
except under certain dream. stances, he would never go up to it again.

'I am going across to the cottage immediately after dinner,' he said to
his sister.

'Have you an appointment?'

'No; I have no appointment. I suppose a man doesn't want an appointment
to go and see his own cousin down in the country.'

'I don't know what their habits are.'

'I shan't ask to go in; but I want to see her.'

Mary looked at him with loving, sorrowing eyes, but she said no more.
She loved him so well that she would have given her right hand to get
for him what he wanted but she sorrowed to think that he should want
such a thing so sorely. Immediately after his dinner, he took his hat
and went out without saying a word further, and made his way once more
across to the gate of the cottage. It was a lovely summer evening, at
that period of the year in which our summer evenings just begin, when
the air is sweeter and the flowers more fragrant, and the forms of the
foliage more lovely than at any other time. it was now eight o'clock,
but it was hardly as yet evening; none at least of the gloom of evening
had come, though the sun was low in the heavens. At the cottage they
were all sitting out on the lawn; and as Belton came near he was seen
by them, and he saw them.

'I told you so,' said Mrs Askerton, to Clara, in a whisper.

'He is not coming in,' Clara answered. 'He is going on.'

But when he had come nearer, Colonel Askerton called to him over the
garden paling, and asked him to join them. He was now standing within
ten or fifteen yards of them, though the fence divided them. 'I have
come to ask my Cousin Clara to take a walk with me,' he said. 'She can
be back by your tea time.' He made his request very placidly, and did
not in any way look like a lover.

'I am sure she will be glad to go,' said Mrs Askerton. But Clara said
nothing.

'Do take a turn with me, if you are not tired,' said he.

'She has not been out all day, and cannot be tired,' said Mrs Askerton,
who had now walked up to the paling. 'Clara, get your hat. But, Mr
Belton, what have I done that I am to be treated in this way? Perhaps
you don't remember that you have not spoken to me since your arrival.'

'Upon my word, I beg your pardon,' said he, endeavouring to stretch his
hand across the bushes.

'I forgot I didn't see you this morning.'

'I suppose I musn't be angry, as this is your day of taking possession;
but it is exactly on such days as this that one likes to be remembered.'

'I didn't mean to forget you, Mrs Askerton; I didn't, indeed. And as
for the special day, that's all bosh, you know. I haven't taken
particular possession of anything that I know of.'

'I hope you will, Mr Belton, before the day is over,' said she. Clara
had at length arisen, and had gone into the house to fetch her hat. She
had not spoken a word, and even yet her cousin did not know whether she
was coming. 'I hope you will take possession of a great deal that is
very valuable. Clara has gone to get her hat.'

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