Mr. Field finished his egg and leant back pompously in his carved oak chair.
He was a strongly built man, of medium height and with a tendency to stoutness, which did not improve his already clumsy figure. His neck was short and thick, and more than one layer of what is popularly known as a double chin lurked beneath his square and heavy jaws. Small eyes of a pale tawny brown looked out from under scarcely defined eyebrows, which twitched and frowned nervously, betokening a restless and uneasy mind. A scrubby moustache only slightly hid the thin compressed lips, at the corners of which ran deeply graven lines, as if they sought by their almost cruel hardness to counteract the weakness of the brow. It was a selfish and secretive face, and just at present it was a very self-satisfied one as it turned towards the fair scene beyond the casement.
"Julius," he said, turning to the other occupant of the room, "it's not every lad of your age who starts in life with such prospects. A house like Farncourt and enough dollars to buy up all the landowners round about! My sakes--not many boys in England can boast of that, I can tell you! Don't you forget it, Julius; and don't let others forget it either."
"I think Farncourt is a horrid old hole, father, and what use is it saying you can buy up all the landowners when you can't get the only bit of ground you really want, however much you try, even though it only belongs to a poor fisherman like Timothy Green?"
The speaker was a small boy of about ten years of age. He might have been a good-looking child if it had not been for the discontented expression upon his face, and the ill-tempered mouth and chin. From his speech, if you did not look at him, he might have been double his age.
Thomas Field's countenance darkened as he directed his gaze beyond the terrace boundary, where, in a gap between the trees, a whitewashed cottage could be seen, standing out plainly against the background of sea.
As a red rag to a bull, so was this unpretentious building to the owner of Farncourt.
"It is absurd," he exclaimed, as he had done many a time before, "to think that a beggarly old fellow with one foot in the grave should be able to defy me openly and ruin my view, when I offer him good money down, tenfold more than the ramshackle hovel is worth, if he'll only clear out to a better house and leave me in peace. When the whole of this fine place is mine, honestly bought and paid for, why should he be allowed to stick there in full sight of my windows, so that I can't look out without for ever seeing that one blot which spoils it all?"
"He says he'd rather die in his bed there than own Farncourt," replied the boy.
"Obstinate old duffer," exclaimed his father, "but I doubt he'll get his desire sooner than he thinks. The way the cliff is breaking away there is a caution, and some fine night he may find his precious roof come tumbling down upon his head; which will be a good way out of the difficulty for me, even if it does not benefit him overmuch! I'll not rest till I'm master of all the land I can see from Farncourt Tower, and have the undisputed right to prevent upstarts from loafing about the place."