The Master of Greylands: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"On account of what went on in the Friar's Keep," explained Mr. Castlemaine. "It would not do, unless I gave up that, for me to quit this place, or for a stranger to live at it. I knew Basil of old: he would just as soon have denounced it to the world as not. And, as I was not then inclined to give up anything so profitable, I wished to have Greylands' Rest. There is no other residence within miles of the place that would have been suitable for me and my family."

"And would my grandfather not leave it to you, Uncle James?"

"He refused absolutely. He would not listen to me. Greylands' Rest must descend to Basil after him, he said, and to Basil's son--if Basil had a son--after him. I begged him to let me purchase Greylands' Rest at a fair valuation, and pay over the money to him or invest it for Basil. I said I was attached to the place, having lived in it all my life; whereas Basil had been away from it years and years. I offered to add on to the purchase money any premium that might be named; but the old man laughed, and asked where I was to get all the money from. Of course he did not know of my private resources, and I did not dare to allude to them. I brought up Peter's name, saying he would assist me. Peter was rolling in riches then. But it was all of no use: Basil was the eldest, my father said, the rightful heir, and the estate should never pass over him for one of us. He drew up, himself, a sort of deed of gift, not a will, giving the estate to Basil then; then, during his own lifetime; and he charged me, should Basil not have appeared at the time of his demise, to remain in possession and keep it up for him. But he never charged me--mark you, George, he never charged me to seek Basil out. And, for the matter of that, we did not know where to seek him."

Mr. Castlemaine paused to take his hat off and wipe his brow. This confession must be costing him some pain. But for the greater pain at his heart, the hopeless despair that seemed to have fallen on the future, it had never been made.

"My father died. I, according to his pleasure, remained on, the Master of Greylands' Rest. People took it for granted it was left to me; I never gave a hint to the contrary, even to my brother Peter. Peter was getting into embarrassment then with his undertakings of magnitude, and came to me for money to help him. The time went on; each month as it passed and brought no sign of Basil, no tidings of him, seeming to confirm me more securely in possession of the property. My father had said to me, 'Should Basil never reappear to claim it, nor any son of Basil's, then it will be yours, James.' Before the first year came to an end, I thought it was mine; as the second year advanced, it seemed so securely my own that I never gave a thought or a fear to its being taken from me. You may judge, then, what I felt when some young fellow presented himself one day at Greylands' Rest, without warning of any kind, saying Basil was dead, that he was Basil's son, and had come to claim the property."

Again the Master of Greylands paused. But this time he remained quite still. George did not interrupt him.

"When I recall the shame connected with that period, and would fain plead an excuse for myself, I feel tempted to say that the excuse lay in the suddenness of the blow. You must not think me covetous, George Castlemaine: love of money had nothing whatever to do with the assertion to Anthony that Greylands' Rest was mine. I dreaded to be turned from it. I wanted, at any cost (that of honour you will say), to stay in it. At one of the interviews I had with your brother, I hinted to him that compensation might be made to him for his disappointment, even to the value of the estate, for I was rich and did not heed money. But Anthony was a true Castlemaine, I found, Basil's own son: for he at once replied that he required only justice: if the estate was his, he must have it; if not his, he did not want to be recompensed for what he had no claim to. I was angry, mortified, vexed: he kept asking me to show the Deed, or the Will, by which I held it: I could not do that, for it would have been seen at once that the property was his, not mine."

"Perhaps you have destroyed the Deed," said George.

"No, I kept it. I have it still. It was always my intention to make restitution some time, and I kept the Deed. My poor son would never have succeeded to Greylands' Rest."

"Who would then?" exclaimed George involuntarily.