The Squire's Daughter

by Silas K. Hocking

She understood he was prospering, but his prosperity made no difference to their style of living. He was too fully occupied to think of anything but his work, and too much of a man to be spoiled by a few months of success.

He had taken Mr. Telfer's advice, and was doubling his output, but he was still of opinion that no attempt would be made to get behind the concession that had been granted to him by the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company.

As the days passed away and grew into weeks and months, and he heard nothing from the chairman or any of the directors, or of any investigation, he was more than ever convinced that Mr. Telfer's fears were entirely without foundation.

It might be quite true that individual shareholders rather resented his making money out of stuff that they threw away as waste. But, on the whole, as far as he was able to judge, people appeared rather to rejoice that the tide had turned in his favour. He had thought rather hard things of some of his neighbours at one time, and it was still true that they were more friendly disposed towards him in his prosperity than in his adversity, but, on the whole, they were genuine, good-hearted people, and none of them appeared to envy him his little bit of success.

Sometimes William Menire took himself to task for not rejoicing as heartily in Ralph's success as he felt he ought to do. But William had a feeling that the more the Penlogans prospered the farther they would get away from him. He pictured to himself, almost with a shudder, a time when they would go to live in a big house and keep servants, and perhaps drive their own carriage; while he, as a village shopkeeper, might be allowed to call round at their back door for orders.

If they remained poor, he might still help them in trifling things and in unnoticeable ways; might continue on visiting terms with them; might have the pleasure now and then of looking into Ruth's honest eyes; might even reckon himself among their friends.

But if they prospered, the whole world might be changed for him. Not that he ever cherished any foolish hopes, or indulged in impossible dreams. Had he been ten years younger, without a mother to keep, dreams of love and matrimony might have floated before his vision. But now——Well, such dreams were not for him.

This is what he told himself constantly, and yet the dreams came back in spite of everything.

So the weeks and months slipped rapidly and imperceptibly away, and everybody said that Ralph Penlogan was a lucky fellow, and that he had struck a vein that was bound to lead on to fortune.

But, meanwhile, directors had been arguing, and almost fighting, and lawyers had been putting their heads together, and counsel's opinion had been taken, and the power of the purse had been measured and discussed, and even religious people had debated the question as to how far a promise should be allowed to stand in the way of their material interests, and whether even a legal obligation might not be evaded if there was a chance of doing it.