The Hall and the Grange: A Novel

by Archibald Marshall

Fred's speech had been unconcerned enough until it had come to that last word. He had not been used to calling Pamela "Pam," and there was just a something in his voice to lead Mrs. Comfrey a little farther in her investigations. "Pamela has grown into a very pretty girl," she said. "I wonder if there is anything in what they say about her and Lord Horsham."

"It's not at all unlikely," said Fred, in such a tone as to remove the last traces of suspicion from her, though for his own comfort he allowed himself to add: "I don't think she has any idea of it yet though."

"It would be a good match for her," said Mrs. Comfrey; which ended the conversation.

Half an hour later, Fred made his way to the Hall. It had been hard work for him to conduct himself thus unconcernedly with his parents, for something exciting was before him, on which all his mind had been working ever since he had last seen Pamela the evening before.

It was not true that he had not talked over the current affair with her. He had borne himself in such a way, with a mixture of reticence and sympathy, that she had first of all mentioned openly to him the fact of the dispute, which she had not intended to do, and had then discussed it with him in all its bearings. What he had told his mother of his being on the side of the Hall was entirely true, for he had shown himself such an ardent partisan that Pamela preferred him as a receptacle for her confidences to anybody else. So far, Colonel and Mrs. Eldridge had held to their custom of keeping their children out of such discussions. Their hold on it was already weakening, for it was becoming impossible to ignore the dispute altogether. Pamela and her mother had talked about it, but not yet without many reticences on Mrs. Eldridge's side. Pamela and Judith had agreed that it was a nuisance. The children were supposed to know nothing. Miss Baldwin didn't count.

There remained Norman. Norman had behaved well about it, Pamela thought. At the very outset he had said to her that it was impossible for him and her to get at the rights of it, and that he didn't particularly want to. He looked up to his uncle almost as much as to his own father, and hated to think of either of them being discovered in the wrong. They, too, had better leave it out of account, and go on being pals as before. Then Norman had gone away on a visit, and had written to Pam, a long letter from a country house in which Lady Margaret Joliffe was also staying. He had written a good deal about her, but the most important of his statements was that there was another fellow there whose attritions she seemed to prefer to his. "My proud spirit won't brook rivalry," was his comment upon the situation. "I must be all or nothing. By the time I come home I shall be able to tell you whether I'm all or nothing." He had come home two days before, and had told her with a grin that his fate still hung in the balance; and she divined that that affair had passed its zenith, and would soon fade away like the rest.

Oh, if only this unhappy cleavage could have been mended, how pleased she would have been to have Norman back at Hayslope for the full month he now intended to stay there! His letter had been very grateful to her. No mention had been made of the trouble at home. He had written with his old-time affection, as if she were the one person in the world to whom he could go with everything, and to whom he wanted to go with everything. At that distance away, what he omitted from his letters may have seemed of small importance, but when he returned it could not be so. It was bound to come up between them sooner or later, and when it did come up they could no longer be absolutely frank and outspoken together. Each of them must be very careful not to say anything that could arouse opposition in the other.

For a fortnight had passed since the brothers had met and quarrelled, and nothing had been mended yet, though attempts had been made.

Sir William had written to Colonel Eldridge the next day, telling him first of all of the honour that was to be conferred on him, which he said he had intended to do the evening before. He regretted exceedingly what had passed between them, and if he had said anything in the heat of the moment that had offended his brother he regretted that too, and apologized for it. He had given careful consideration to his brother's demand that he should dismiss his head gardener, and, as he understood the demand, without giving the man the chance of defending himself against the accusation brought against him, and had decided not to act in a way that he thought would be arbitrary and unjust. But he had examined Coombe upon what he was reported to have said and had no doubt that it had been much exaggerated. Something Coombe had admitted to have said that was not respectful to Colonel Eldridge, after he had come down to where he was working and expressed his annoyance at what was being done. Sir William hoped very much that his brother would take into consideration the fact, of which he seemed to have lost sight, that the slight put upon him, Sir William, in this expression of annoyance at what he was doing was considerable. He had not allowed Coombe to repeat to him what had actually been said to him, but had given him a pretty stiff rebuke for the disrespect he had admitted to. Might not this be allowed now to close the account? It was a most disagreeable thing for them to be at loggerheads in this way, after all the years of close intimacy that had existed between them and their families. For his part he was ready to forget all about it, the moment his brother gave him the chance.

To which Colonel Eldridge had replied shortly that he congratulated his brother upon the honour he was about to receive, and that he must abide by the stipulation he had made before they could return to their old terms with one another.