When Charles Aston returned that night he found Aymer in a very irritable mood. Nevil, in his gentle, patient way, had been doing his best to soothe him, but in vain. When Aymer was not irritated, he was bitter and sarcastic, even his greeting to his father was short and cold. It was clear some event in the day had upset his mental equilibrium, and Christopher’s absence (he did not even appear to say “good-night”) gave Mr. Aston a clue to the situation.
Nevil was wading through a book on farm management, which bored him considerably. His part was to read long extracts which Aymer was comparing with some letters in the “Field.” They continued their employment and Mr. Aston sat down to write a letter. From time to time he paused and heard Aymer’s sharp, unreasonable remarks to his brother. A memory of the old bad days came so forcibly to Mr. Aston that he laid aside his pen at last and sat listening with an aching heart. He knew those quick flashes of temper were a sign of irritation brought to a white heat. Presently, after one remark more unjustifiable than ever, Nevil looked across at his father with a little rueful grimace, and seeing how grave was Mr. Aston’s expression he made another valiant effort to keep peace and ignore the abuse, and went on reading. The subject under discussion was the draining of a piece of waste land, and when the long article came to an end, Nevil in his dreamy way summed up the matter by saying it was a very picturesque corner of the estate and a pity to spoil it.
Aymer flung the papers down violently. 87
“That’s all you care for, or are likely to care for,” he said brutally. “I know I might as well let the estate go to the dogs as try and improve it. Once my father and I are dead, you’ll turn it into a damned garden for your own use.”
For one second Nevil’s face was a study in suppression. He got up and walked across the room, his hands shaking.
Mr. Aston spoke sharply and suddenly.
“Aymer, pull yourself together. You are taking advantage of your position. What circumstances do you imagine give you the right to trample on other people’s feelings like this, whenever something or other has put you out? It’s outrageous! Keep your temper better in hand, man.”
It was so obviously deserved, so terribly direct, and at the same time so calculated to hurt, that Nevil turned on his father with reproachful eyes, and then perceiving his face, said no more.
Aymer became suddenly rigid, and lay still with waves of colour rising to and dying from his face, and his hands clenched.
Mr. Aston waited a moment and then said apologetically and hurriedly, “I’m awfully sorry, Aymer.”