CHAPTER IV
About a week after the circumstances of mixed joy and embarrassment recorded in the last chapter, there came strolling through the Le Mesuriers' wood one Paul Charteris, tall, lithe, and handsome being in the thirty-first year of his age. The master of Earnscleugh was on his way to Hazelhurst with the intention of paying his respects to its mistress, whom he had not seen for some six or seven years, having for that t space of time been an attach in the British Embassy at St. Petersburg. Eight years since, on the death of his father, Vivian, his elder brother, had inherited Earnscleugh and all pertaining to it, including the great town house. Vivian was devoted to his brother, and begged that they two should continue to share the old home as heretofore. But Paul's was a restless spirit: his college career ended, he must be up and doing. The interest of influential friends soon obtained for the young man the coveted post in Russia, and Vivian, with regret, was perforce obliged to yield where he had no authority to interfere. Therefore, for six long years was Paul Charteris no more seen among his people. Yet, while the elder brother yearned for the companionship he had always known, he could not but admit that it was better so, that action was necessary to Paul. For himself it was different He was essentially a student by nature, and wished only for a retired life. A slight limp in his gait fostered and favoured this recluse propensity, and the solitary years before his death were lived almost exclusively in the library at Earnscleugh, devoted to study, at such times as his multifarious duties with steward or lawyer—faithfully and patiently performed by the young master—left him free to follow his own devices.
Then came the death of Vivian at the early age of three-and-thirty, and Paul was called to take upon his own shoulders the responsibility of the vast estates of Earnscleugh.
He did not respond at once. Indeed, it would have been difficult for him to throw up his position at short notice. Neither had the young man any great inclination to take possession of his own, for the inheritance was rendered hateful to him, that had come to him only with the loss of his brother. He dreaded the sight of the empty place, the lonely library, the disused smoking-room, with its many familiar objects: skins of animals, boyish attempts at photography that the two brothers had always kept upon the walls and mantelshelf, as relics of their happy childhood. He shuddered as he thought upon such desolation.
So that a year had elapsed since the death of Vivian, and Paul had arrived only a few days since, his trouble somewhat softened by the healing of time. Nevertheless, it was a sorrowful ordeal. He yearned inexpressibly for the sight of his brother's form, seated in the old place at the study table, as he had so often pictured to himself; for the gladness that was wont to light Vivian's features at the appearance of himself, after even a temporary separation; for the tones of his voice. However, the first dreaded days were rendered considerably less painful by the almost continuous presence of Mr. Lewis, the family solicitor, or Crawford, the steward.
Yet, the first press of affairs over, Paul found more leisure in which to indulge his sorrow, and very sorely it beset him: its tyranny at length forcing him to rouse himself and endeavour to throw off the oppression. He presently bethought him of the friends and acquaintances of years gone by, and determined upon a course of visits, that should at once renew kindly recollections and while away the tedium of hours not enlightened by work. The Le Mesuriers were naturally uppermost in his mind, for the Hazelhurst estates joined those of Earnscleugh. They were nice enough boys, he was glad to remind himself—they would be strapping young fellows by now—and for their mother he entertained affectionate memories, for she had been a good friend and counsellor to the two motherless sons of Philip Charteris. Vivian, indeed, could remember her first coming to Hazelhurst, a bright, beautiful young creature, and the boy of six had formed quite a romantic attachment. Then there was that little brown witch of a girl, Hazel. Hazel must be sixteen or seventeen, Paul reflected, and he smiled at the recollection of their last interview, seven years since.
He had taken leave of Mrs. Le Mesurier and of such Le Mesurier boys as were present, and was departing through the wood, without accomplishing a farewell to his little friend Hazel, who was nowhere to be found. Passing beneath an oak, he heard above him a suppressed exclamation, then the rending of "gathers," and the child stood beside him, holding her torn frock together with one hand and courteously tending him the other.
"You are going away, aren't you?" she had asked him gravely. "You have been to say good-bye to mother and the boys?" and she turned to accompany him to the boundary fence.
"Yes," Paul replied, "and I was afraid I should have to go without seeing you."
"It would not have mattered," she answered, "you saw me on Tuesday, only three days ago. What will it matter, when you are going away for years, whether you saw me on Tuesday or Friday?"