"I don't think you believe anything of the sort," returned George, good-humouredly. "If you have any great wish to try it, you can do so: but the loss would be yours."
Probably Mr. Chattaway knew that it would be. He said no more, but proceeded to count the other money. It was all there, both principal and interest. In vain Mr. Chattaway opened his books of the days gone by, and went over old figures; he could not claim another fraction. The long-pending two thousand pounds, the disputed loan, which had caused so much heart-burning, and had led in a remote degree to Mr. Ryle's violent death, was at length paid off.
"As I have paid former sums under the same protest that my father did, so I now pay this last and final one," said George, in a civil but straightforward and business-like tone. "I believe that Squire Trevlyn cancelled the debt on his death-bed; I and my mother have lived in that belief; but there was no document to prove it, and we have had to bear the consequences. It is all, however, honourably paid now."
Mr. Chattaway could not demur to this, and gave a receipt—in full, as George expressed it—for that and the year's rent. As George put the former safely in his pocket-book, he felt like a bird released from a long and cruel imprisonment. He was a free man and a joyous one.
"That farm of yours has turned out well of late years," observed Mr. Chattaway.
"Very well: there's the proof," pointing to the money. "To tell you the truth, I gave myself two more years to pay it off in, and Mrs. Ryle thought it would take longer. But I have prospered in my bargains with stock. Would you be afraid to try me on a farm on my own account?"
Had it been any eligible person except George Ryle, Mr. Chattaway would probably have said he should not be afraid; but Chattaway did not like George Ryle. He disliked him, as a mean, ill-principled man will dislike and shun an honourable one.
"I should think that when you are making Trevlyn Farm answer so well, you would be loth to leave it," he remarked ungraciously.
"So I might be, were Trevlyn Farm mine alone. Of all the returns which have accrued from my care and labour, not a shilling has found its way to me: I have worked entirely for others. But for the heavy costs which have been upon us, the chief of which were Treve's expenses and this old debt of Squire Trevlyn's, there would have been a fair sum to put by yearly, and I imagine my mother would have allowed me to take my portion. I believe she intends to do so by Treve, and I hope Treve will make as good a thing of the farm as I have made."
"That's not likely," slightingly spoke Mr. Chattaway.