in its modest way, alton lee, which stands upon the south devonshire coast, was quite a show place. there the rents had held their sway for the best part of three centuries, since the founder of the family first came west and built the old house, which his successors had altered out of all recognition. the history of the family had been fairly uneventful. they had married with their neighbours, and more than one heiress had come along to swell their fortunes. for the most part they had been people of moderate ideas, clean-living, healthy-minded men and women, not endowed with too much intellect, and perfectly contented with their lot. at present the rents were represented by arnold himself and his mother, an elderly lady, who was exceedingly popular with all who knew her.
ever since arnold rent had left school his mother had been more or less afraid of him. that she was passionately devoted to her only son goes without saying; but she herself had been brought up in the simple, narrow way. she had an almost morbid horror of anything that was in the least unconventional and a mighty regard for her neighbours.
and her boy was totally different in every respect. the knowledge that he had an inclination for work had filled her with tranquil happiness and a sense of security, which, however, was not destined to last. there being several livings in the family gift, there had been no reason why arnold rent should not settle down to the career of a country parson. but from the first he had other plans which in mrs. rent's opinion were almost revolutionary. the limited field did not appeal to a man of his views and restless energy, and with many misgivings his mother had seen him start an entirely different career of his own choosing in london. that he was squandering money on this did not matter. the past three or four generations of rents had not spent anything like half their income, so there was money enough and to spare. there was no anxiety on that score.
from time to time mrs. rent had reports of her son's progress. she was convinced that knighthood was within his grasp if he could only control some of his advanced ideas and bow to the voice of authority. at any rate he was strong and good and in earnest. on the whole, it seemed to mrs. rent that providence had been more than kind to her.
she was in the garden now busy among her roses. the rose gardens at alton lee were famous. even in that well-favoured spot there was nothing like them. and the lady of the house fitted well in with the picture. she walked with a slight stoop; one long, slender hand was closed upon an ebony crutch-stick; her delicate features were half hidden by a large, shady hat. for the rest, her hair was grey and abundant, and her blue eyes beamed with a kindly expression. she was the embodiment of an elderly lady of the old school, which is fast becoming extinct. with all beneath her she had the widest sympathy. no tale of distress found her unmoved, but she had undemonstrative pride, for all that. there were people in the neighbourhood who said that mrs. rent was haughty and distant, but most of these were newcomers whose money had been derived from trade. as to the wealthy financiers who play so prominent a part in society to-day, not one of them would have been permitted to cross the threshold of alton lee, though mrs. rent was always pleased to see the little curate's wife to dinner.
she cut the last of a basketful of large, dark, red-hearted roses and dropped into a garden seat with a sigh of placid satisfaction. it was a perfect afternoon, with just the suspicion of a breeze rustling the great oaks in the park. across the middle distance a herd of deer moved slowly and gracefully. away to the west the blue sea lay placid in the sunshine. from one of the side paths a girl came along, carrying a huge mass of sprays of maidenhair fern in her hand. she was not particularly tall or strikingly beautiful, but there was a rare attraction about ethel margrave's face that grew upon one the more her features were studied. but the eyes of deep blue were the chief attraction. no one ever failed to notice these liquid azure lakes which drew to her every man and woman of her acquaintance. she came gaily along and dropped into the seat by mrs. rent's side.
"my dear auntie, how busy you have been!" she exclaimed. "i thought i should have been in time to cut at least half those roses for you; but i suppose i stayed too long in the greenhouses admiring the orchids. i won't get the drawing-room flowers done before tea-time, at this rate."
mrs. rent smiled indulgently at the speaker. next to her son, there was nobody in the world whom she loved as deeply and sincerely as her niece, ethel hargrave. if she had one wish left ungratified, it was that arnold and ethel might some day be master and mistress of the old house. the dream had gradually deepened till it had become almost a passion, but it looked now as if the elderly lady was going to be disappointed. perhaps the young people had been too much together to fall in love with one another. at any rate, arnold rent had always looked upon ethel as a sister. and there was something in mrs. rent's disappointment that had a touch of pain in it. those kindly blue eyes could look keenly enough at human nature sometimes, and mrs. rent had more than a suspicion that ethel cared deeply for her son. there were moments when this knowledge filled her with anxiety.
"let us sit here and talk a little longer," she said. "there will be plenty of time for your drawing-room flowers. did i tell you that i had a letter from your father this morning? he hopes that he will be able to get away from australia for a long holiday at the beginning of next year. what a long time it is since you saw him! and what a pity it is that you photograph so badly! i have been thinking it over lately and i am going to give my brother a surprise. i have been in communication with one of the most famous artists of the day, and he is coming here to paint your portrait."
"what a distinguished honour!" the girl laughed. "my dear, you are making quite a society woman of me. will the picture be exhibited in next year's academy and be reproduced in the ladies' papers? really, i ought to be quite angry with you for such extravagance."
"oh, i am glad to find you don't mind," mrs. rent replied. "besides, i want a proper picture of you myself. we were only talking about it the last time arnold was here. by the way, have you heard from him lately?"
the girl flushed at the mention of rent's name.
"oh, dear, no," she said. "arnold is much too busy to trouble about a simple country girl like myself. the last time i heard from him his letter was one of tirade and abuse of the doings of society. i understood he was moving in it himself, so that he would be able to speak from personal knowledge. do you know, my dear aunt, i wish arnold wouldn't be so dreadfully serious. one feels a poor creature by comparison. i should like to see him do something foolish. you know what i mean."
"oh, i think i do," mrs. rent smiled. "it would be nice if he made a mistake or two and came down here for us to sympathise with him. but one never feels sure of arnold. i expect to hear every day that he has gone over to the rationalists, or taken monastic vows, or some equally dreadful thing. but you may be sure that arnold would never do anything to make one blush for him."
the mother spoke with a serene pride that brought an answering smile to ethel's face. attached as she was to arnold rent, she would have preferred him to be a little more human. like most girls who live a good deal alone, she had her imaginative moods, and was fond of picturing arnold as wounded in a conflict and coming home for her support and sympathy. she dismissed the mental picture now with a sigh of impatience. there was not the least likelihood of arnold stepping from the straight path. he would go to high honours in the world. he would marry some noble woman of great intellectual attainments to help him in his work.
"i think we spoil him," she said. "however, it is no use talking about it. but, surely, my eyes don't deceive me. that must be mr. westlake coming down the drive. what brings him here? something dreadful must have happened to induce him to leave his beloved london."
mrs. rent rose with a sudden feeling of approaching trouble. it was rare, indeed, for the old family solicitor to come to devonshire, especially without warning. the elderly man approached the garden-seat and raised his hat. nothing could be gathered from his austere features except a trace of anxiety on his brow. he murmured something in reply to mrs. rent's question, then glanced significantly at ethel.
"very well," the girl said. "i see you have come on affairs of state, so i'll run away and finish my flowers. don't forget that it is very nearly tea-time."
