1. AUGUST THE SEVENTEENTH
The time of day was four o'clock in the afternoon. The place was the lady's study or boudoir, Knapwater House. The person was Miss Aldclyffe sitting there alone, clothed in deep mourning.
The funeral of the old Captain had taken place, and his will had been read. It was very concise, and had been executed about five years previous to his death. It was attested by his solicitors, Messrs. Nyttleton and Tayling, of Lincoln's Inn Fields. The whole of his estate, real and personal, was bequeathed to his daughter Cytherea, for her sole and absolute use, subject only to the payment of a legacy to the rector, their relative, and a few small amounts to the servants.
Miss Aldclyffe had not chosen the easiest chair of her boudoir to sit in, or even a chair of ordinary comfort, but an uncomfortable, high, narrow-backed, oak framed and seated chair, which was allowed to remain in the room only on the ground of being a companion in artistic quaintness to an old coffer beside it, and was never used except to stand in to reach for a book from the highest row of shelves. But she had sat erect in this chair for more than an hour, for the reason that she was utterly unconscious of what her actions and bodily feelings were. The chair had stood nearest her path on entering the room, and she had gone to it in a dream.
She sat in the attitude which denotes unflagging, intense, concentrated thought--as if she were cast in bronze. Her feet were together, her body bent a little forward, and quite unsupported by the back of the chair; her hands on her knees, her eyes fixed intently on the corner of a footstool.
At last she moved and tapped her fingers upon the table at her side.
Her pent-up ideas had finally found some channel to advance in.
Motions became more and more frequent as she laboured to carry further and further the problem which occupied her brain. She sat back and drew a long breath: she sat sideways and leant her forehead upon her hand. Later still she arose, walked up and down the room--at first abstractedly, with her features as firmly set as ever; but by degrees her brow relaxed, her footsteps became lighter and more leisurely; her head rode gracefully and was no longer bowed. She plumed herself like a swan after exertion.
'Yes,' she said aloud. 'To get HIM here without letting him know that I have any other object than that of getting a useful man--that's the difficulty--and that I think I can master.'
She rang for the new maid, a placid woman of forty with a few grey hairs.
'Ask Miss Graye if she can come to me.'
Cytherea was not far off, and came in.
'Do you know anything about architects and surveyors?' said Miss Aldclyffe abruptly.
'Know anything?' replied Cytherea, poising herself on her toe to consider the compass of the question.
'Yes--know anything,' said Miss Aldclyffe.
'Owen is an architect and surveyor's draughtsman,' the maiden said, and thought of somebody else who was likewise.
'Yes! that's why I asked you. What are the different kinds of work comprised in an architect's practice? They lay out estates, and superintend the various works done upon them, I should think, among other things?'
'Those are, more properly, a land or building steward's duties--at least I have always imagined so. Country architects include those things in their practice; city architects don't.'
'I know that, child. But a steward's is an indefinite fast and loose profession, it seems to me. Shouldn't you think that a man who had been brought up as an architect would do for a steward?'
Cytherea had doubts whether an architect pure would do.
The chief pleasure connected with asking an opinion lies in not adopting it. Miss Aldclyffe replied decisively--'Nonsense; of course he would. Your brother Owen makes plans for country buildings--such as cottages, stables, homesteads, and so on?'
'Yes; he does.'
'And superintends the building of them?'
'Yes; he will soon.'
'And he surveys land?'
'O yes.'
'And he knows about hedges and ditches--how wide they ought to be, boundaries, levelling, planting trees to keep away the winds, measuring timber, houses for ninety-nine years, and such things?'
'I have never heard him say that; but I think Mr. Gradfield does those things. Owen, I am afraid, is inexperienced as yet.'
'Yes; your brother is not old enough for such a post yet, of course.
And then there are rent-days, the audit and winding up of tradesmen's accounts. I am afraid, Cytherea, you don't know much more about the matter than I do myself. . . . I am going out just now,' she continued. 'I shall not want you to walk with me to-day.
Run away till dinner-time.'
Miss Aldclyffe went out of doors, and down the steps to the lawn: then turning to the left, through a shrubbery, she opened a wicket and passed into a neglected and leafy carriage-drive, leading down the hill. This she followed till she reached the point of its greatest depression, which was also the lowest ground in the whole grove.
The trees here were so interlaced, and hung their branches so near the ground, that a whole summer's day was scarcely long enough to change the air pervading the spot from its normal state of coolness to even a temporary warmth. The unvarying freshness was helped by the nearness of the ground to the level of the springs, and by the presence of a deep, sluggish stream close by, equally well shaded by bushes and a high wall. Following the road, which now ran along at the margin of the stream, she came to an opening in the wall, on the other side of the water, revealing a large rectangular nook from which the stream proceeded, covered with froth, and accompanied by a dull roar. Two more steps, and she was opposite the nook, in full view of the cascade forming its further boundary. Over the top could be seen the bright outer sky in the form of a crescent, caused by the curve of a bridge across the rapids, and the trees above.
