"AUNT AMY HAD STEPPED FORWARD" (p. [95]).
CHAPTER IV.—A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.
Mr. Gregory and Mr. Clair arrived at Riversdale early the next day, and Mr. Gregory at once took the management of everything into his own hands. The greater part of the afternoon he was shut up in the library with the lawyer, and when he found the boys in the dining-room, he looked very grave and anxious, and even reproved Mr. Clair for amusing the children by making caricatures, and illustrating some of their story-books. No two people could be more unlike than those two uncles, who would probably be the guardians of Edward and Bertie Rivers. Mr. Gregory was a tall, portly gentleman, with grey hair and keen eager eyes; his voice was loud, his manner always stern and abrupt. People usually feared and respected him more than they loved him; he was always very busy and fussy and important, and had an idea that nothing in London would go on quite right without him. However, Mrs. Rivers had been his only sister; the boys were her children, and he was their nearest relative and natural protector. On his way down he had arranged all his plans: the boys should go to school, and he would let Riversdale till Edward came of age; he knew some one in the City who was just in want of such a place. Mr. Clair, on the other hand, thought very little of the future; he was sorry to see the children look so sad, and did his best to cheer them up; but then, every one said Mr. Clair was the most unpractical person in the world. He was an artist by profession, and had married Mr. Rivers' sister Amy, an offence for which he was never pardoned, either by Mr. Rivers or Mr. Gregory. However, as the marriage proved a very happy one, Mr. Clair did not fret about that, neither was he in the least offended at the coldness and neglect of his wife's relatives. He loved his profession, he loved his wife, he loved his shabby roomy old house in Fitzroy Square: in fact, the chief characteristic of Mr. Harry Clair was that he loved everything and everybody, and now he was quite willing to take to his heart his wife's orphan nephews and niece. But Uncle Gregory was made of sterner stuff, and the young heir of Riversdale, he thought, was a person to be reverenced and treated with deference; besides, he was not either very affectionate or very demonstrative in his manner, therefore the children, who were hungry for love and sympathy, turned to Uncle Clair. The next day Aunt Amy arrived, and both the boys felt they had found a true and loving friend, while Agnes clung to her, trembling and sobbing, for since her uncle's death she had felt strangely alone in the house, just as if she belonged to nobody, and until it was known what provision had been made for her, no one could say what was to become of her. As the days passed Mr. Gregory looked more anxious and worried. A strange gentleman from London remained in the house, and spent several hours every day in the library examining letters and papers; lawyers were constantly coming and going, and at last it became clear, even to the boys, that something was wrong; the gloom deepened on every face, even the servants stood in little groups and talked in whispers; only Uncle Clair seemed unconcerned, though Aunt Amy's eyes often filled with tears as she looked at the boys. But none of them seemed quite prepared for the terrible tidings Mr. Gregory had to unfold. Mr. Rivers had been buried in the family vault at Riversdale very quietly, as his wish had always been. The boys, their uncles, the doctor and lawyer and the strange gentleman, whose name and real business no one seemed to know, attended as mourners, and when they returned to the house Mr. Gregory led the way to the library, and the family lawyer read the will. It was very simple: Riversdale to Edward; five thousand pounds to Bertie when he came of age, and the choice of a profession, the expenses of which were to be paid for out of the estate; and a few legacies to faithful servants and deserving charities; not a word of poor little Agnes, for the simple reason that the will was made several years before she came to Riversdale; not a single word of any person else, except that Mr. Frank Rivers, his brother, Mr. Gregory, his brother-in-law, and Mr. Harry Clair, his brother-in-law, were appointed executors and guardians. The boys' minority was to be spent according to their direction. Every one breathed a sigh of relief: they had all expected much worse; but Bertie, happening to glance at his Uncle Gregory's face, started, and cried suddenly, "There's something else, sir. I'm sure there's something you are keeping from us."
"Yes, my lad, unfortunately there is. When your father made this will his property was his own to bequeath how he liked; since then he has been unfortunate. He has speculated largely in mines that he hoped would prove a success: they have failed; a few days since the utter failure of a bank in which his whole private fortune was invested gave him a shock from which he never recovered. Riversdale is fully mortgaged; the income of the estate will barely pay the interest now, for your father has parted with most of his property. In a word, this is the state of affairs: you must either sell Riversdale, then this gentleman tells me there may be a few thousands to spare for you boys; or you may let the place stand, put your shoulders to the wheel, and work both of you to redeem your home. You are only boys, but some boys with energy, patience, perseverance, and, above all, a cherished object in view, can achieve much. This gentleman tells me that by careful management there may be a trifle saved every year, which should go towards lessening the principal, then every year will be making the interest less too. But the grave question is, what in the meantime is to become of you boys?"
"And Agnes?" Bertie cried; "we must not forget Agnes?"
Mr. Gregory looked rather coldly at the shrinking, timid little girl; she had not entered into his calculations at all. She was not his sister's child, and he really saw no way of helping her.
"I am, as you know, only a London merchant," Mr. Gregory continued, ignoring Bertie's earnest remark, "and I cannot do much for you, but this I can offer: you may both have a place in my office, and, believe me, many lads have found the humblest seat in a London counting-house the road to fortune. Once started in business under my protection, everything will depend on yourselves. Merit, industry, integrity must make their own way. What do you say, Edward? Mind, as your guardian, I have a right to command, but I want to hear what you think."
"I—I don't care for business, Uncle Gregory; I have no taste, no talent for it," Eddie replied humbly, though his eyes flashed. "I always wished to be an artist, and papa promised I should be one day."
"Unfortunately, many of your papa's promises are not easily fulfilled now," Mr. Gregory said coldly. "If you will not enter my office, may I ask what you intend to do, Edward?"