Rupert obeyed in silence. They stole upstairs, one after the other. Mrs. Chattaway turned into her room, and Rupert went on to his.
And the master of Trevlyn Hold, bending over his account-books, knew nothing of the disobedience enacted towards him, but sat expecting and expecting to hear Rupert's ring echoing through the house. Better, far better that he had heard it!
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE NEXT MORNING
The full light of day had not come, and the autumn night's gentle frost lingered yet upon the grass, when the master of Trevlyn Hold rose from his uneasy couch. Things were troubling him; and when the mind is uneasy, the night's rest is apt to be disturbed.
That business of the mine explosion was not over, neither were its consequences to Mr. Chattaway's pocket. The old far regarding the succession, which for some days had been comparatively quiet, had broken out again in his mind, he could not tell why or wherefore; and the disobedience of Rupert, not only in remaining out too late the previous night, but in not coming in at all, angered him beyond measure. Altogether, his bed had not been an easy one, and he arose with the dawn unrefreshed.
It was not the fact of having slept little which got him up at that unusually early hour; but necessity has no law, and he was obliged to rise. A famous autumn fair, held at some fifteen miles' distance, and which he never failed to attend, was the moving power. His horse was to be ready for him, and he would ride there to breakfast; according to his annual custom. Down he went; sleepy, cross, gaping; and the first thing he did was to stumble over a pair of boots at the back-door.
The slightest thing would put Mr. Chattaway out when in his present temper. For the matter of that, a slight thing would put him out at any time. What business had the servants to leave boots about in his way? They knew he would be going out by the back-door the first thing in the morning, on his way to the stables. Mr. Chattaway gave the things a kick, unbolted the door, and drew it open. Whose were they?
Now that the light was admitted, he saw at a glance that they were a gentleman's boots, not a servant's. Had Cris stolen in by the back-door last night and left his there? No; Cris came in openly at the front, came in early, before Mr. Chattaway went to bed. And—now that he looked more closely—those boots were too small for Cris.