CHAPTER VII

THE WARNING

The idea that the end of the year would see him ruined and homeless was

terrible to Rupert. Even if his home had been an ordinary house, he

would have been anxious; but when he thought of the venerable mansion,

of the few acres remaining, of the once vast Ainsleigh estates, of the

ruins of the Abbey which he loved, his heart was wrung with anguish. How

could he let these things depart from him, for ever? Yet he saw no way

out of the matter, although he had frequent consultations with his

lawyers. One day, shortly before the ball at the Bristol, he returned

from town with a melancholy face. Old Petley ventured to follow his

young master into the library, and found him with his face covered with

his hands, in deep despair.

"Don't take on so, Master Rupert," said the old butler, gently, "things

have not yet come to the worst."

"They are about as bad as they can be, John," replied Ainsleigh. "I have

seen Mr. Thorp. It will take thirty thousand pounds to put matters

right. And where am I to get it? Oh," the young man started up and

walked to and fro, "why didn't I go into the law, or take to some

profession where I might make money? Forge was my guardian, he should

have seen to it."

"Master Rupert," said the old butler, "do you think that gentleman is

your friend?"

"What makes you think he isn't, John?"

Petley pinched his chin between a shaky finger and thumb. "He don't seem

like a friend," said he in his quavering voice. "He didn't tell you or

me, Master Rupert, how bad things were. When you was at college he

should have told you, and then you might have learned some way of

getting money."

"My father trusted him, John. He was appointed my guardian by the will

my father made before he left for China."

"And Dr. Forge went with the master to China," said the old man, "how

did the master die?"

"Of dysentery, so Dr. Forge says."

"And others say he was murdered."

"Who says so, John?"

"Well sir, that Mandarin gentleman sent your father's papers and luggage

back here when your mother was alive. A Chinaman brought the things. He

hinted that all was not right, and afterwards the mistress died. She

believed your father was murdered."

Rupert looked pensive. He had heard something of this, but the story had

been so vague, and was so vague as John told it, that he did not believe

in it much. "Does Dr. Forge know the truth?" he asked.

"He ought to, sir. Dr. Forge came from China with a report of this gold

mine up in Kan-su, and your father was all on fire to go there and make

money. The mistress implored him not to go but he would. He went with

Dr. Forge, and never returned. The doctor, I know, says that the master

died of dysentery, when the doctor himself was at Pekin. But I never

liked that Forge," cried the old servant vehemently, "and I believe

there's something black about the business."

"But why should Forge be an enemy of my father's?"

"Ah sir," Petley shook his old head, "I can't rightly say. Those two

were at college together and fast friends; but I never liked Forge. No,

sir, not if I was killed for it would I ever like that gentleman, though

it's not for a person in my position to speak so. I asked the doctor

again and again to let me know how bad things were, when you were at

school, Master Rupert, but he told me to mind my own business. As if it

wasn't my business to see after the family I'd been bred up in, since

fifteen years of age."

"I'll have a talk with Dr. Forge," said Rupert after a pause, "if there

is any question of my father having been murdered, I'll see if he

knows," he turned and looked on the old man quickly. "You don't suppose

John that if there was a murder, he--"

"No! no!" cried Petley hurriedly, "I don't say he had to do with it. But

that Mandarin--"

"Lo-Keong. Why Forge hates him."

"So he says. But this Mandarin, as I've heard from the Major, is high in

favour with the Chinaman's court. If the doctor was his enemy, he could

not go so often to China as he does. And since your father's death

fifteen years ago, he's been back several times."

"Well I'll speak to him, John."

"And about the money, sir?"

Rupert sat down again. "I don't know what to do," he groaned. "I can

manage to stave off many of the creditors, but if Miss Wharf forecloses

the mortgage at Christmas everyone will come down with a rush and I'll

have to give up Royabay to the creditors."

"Never--never--that will never be," said John fiercely, "why the place

has been under the Ainsleighs for over three hundred years."

"I don't think that matters to the creditors," said Rupert wincing, "if

I could only raise this thirty-thousand and get the land clear I would

be able to live fairly well. There wouldn't be much; still I could keep

the Abbey and we could live quietly."

"_We_ sir?" asked the old man raising his head.

Rupert flushed, seeing he had made a slip. He did not want to tell the

old man that he was married, as he was fearful lest the news should come

to Miss Wharf's ears and render his wife's position with that lady

unbearable. "I might get married you know," he said in an evasive way.

"Lord, sir," cried Petley in terror, "whatever you do, don't cumber

yourself with a wife, till you put things straight."

"Heaven only knows how I am to put them straight," sighed Rupert. "I

say, John, send me in some tea. I'm quite weary. Thorp is coming to see

me next week and we'll have a talk."

"With Dr. Forge I hope," said old John, as he withdrew.

Ainsleigh frowned, when the door closed. Petley certainly seemed

possessed by the idea that Forge was an enemy of the Ainsleighs, yet

Rupert could think of no reason why he should be. He had been an

excellent guardian to the boy, and if he had not told him the full

extent of the ruin till it was too late to prevent it, he might have

done so out of pity, so that the lad's young years might be unclouded.

"Still it would have been better had he been less tender of my feelings

and more considerate for my position," thought Rupert as he paced the

long room.

While he was sadly looking out of the window and thinking of the wrench

it would be to leave the old place, he saw a tall woman walking up the

avenue. The eyes of love are keen, and Rupert with a thrill of joy

recognised the stately gait of Olivia. With an ejaculation of delight,

he ran out, nearly upsetting Mrs. Petley who was coming into the Library

with a dainty tea. Disregarding her exclamation of astonishment, Rupert

sprang out of the door and down the steps. He met Olivia half way near

the ruins of the Abbey. "My dearest," he said stretching out both hands,

"how good of you to come!" Olivia, who looked pale, allowed him to take

her hands passively. "I want to speak to you," she said quickly, "come

into the Abbey," and she drew him towards the ruins.

"No! No," said her husband, "enter your own house and have a cup of tea.

It is just ready and will do you good."

"Not just now, Rupert," she replied, laying a detaining hand on his arm.

"I can wait only for a quarter of an hour. I must get back."

Rupert grumbled at the short time, but, resolved to make the most of it,

he walked with her into the cloisters. These were small but the ruins

were very beautiful. Rows of delicately carved pillars surrounded a

grassy sward. At the far end were the ruins of the church stretching

into the pines. The roofless fane looked venerable even in the bright

sunshine. The walls were overgrown with ivy, and some of the images over

the door, still remained, though much defaced by Time. The windows were

without the painted glass which had once filled them, but were rich with

elaborate stone work. This was especially fine in the round window over

the altar. As in the cloisters, the body of the church was overgrown

with grass and some of the pillars had fallen. The lovers did not

venture into the ruined church itself but walked round the pavement of

the cloisters under the arches. Doubtless in days of old, many a

venerable father walked on that paved way. But the monks were gone, the

shrine was in ruins, and these lovers of a younger generation paced the

quiet cloisters talking of love.

"My darling," said the young husband fondly, "how pale you are. I hope

nothing is wrong."

"My aunt is ill. Oh it's nothing--only a feverish cold. She hopes to be

well enough to attend the ball to-morrow night."

"I did not hear of it," said Rupert, "though Tidman generally tells me

the news. I have been in London for the last few days."

"So I see," said Olivia, and glanced at her fair stalwart husband in his

frock coat and smart Bond street kit, "how well you look."

Rupert appreciated the compliment and taking her hands kissed both

several times. Olivia bent forward and pressed a kiss on his smooth

hair. Then she withdrew her hands. "We must talk sense," she said

severely.

"Oh," said Rupert making a wry face, "not about your aunt?"

"Yes. I can't understand her. She has shut herself up in her room and

refuses to see me. She will admit no one but Miss Pewsey."

Ainsleigh shrugged his shoulders. "What does it matter," he said, "you

know Miss Wharf never liked you. You are much too handsome, my own. And

that is the reason also, for Miss Pewsey's dislike."

"Oh, Miss Pewsey is more amiable," said Olivia, "indeed I never knew her

to be so amiable. She is always chatting to me at such times as she can

be spared from my aunt's room."

"Well, what is worrying you?"

"This exclusion from Aunt Sophia's room," said Olivia with tears of

vexation in her dark eyes. "I am her only relative--or at all events I

am her nearest. It seems hard that she should exclude me, and admit Miss

Pewsey who is only a paid companion."

"I don't think it matters a bit," said Rupert, "hasn't your aunt seen

anyone lately?"

"No,--yes, by the way. She has seen her lawyer several times."

"I expect she is altering her will."

Olivia laughed. "She threatens to do so in favour of Miss Pewsey, unless

by the end of the month I give you up, and engage myself either to Mr.

Walker or to Mr. Burgh."

Rupert grew very angry. "What a detestable woman," he exclaimed. "I beg

your pardon, dear, I forgot she's your aunt. But what right has she to

order you about like this? You are of age."

"And I am married, though she doesn't know it. But I'll tell you the

real reason, I am vexed I can't see my aunt. Can't we sit down?"

"Over there," said Ainsleigh, pointing to a secluded seat.

It was placed at the far end of the cloisters under a large oak. There

were four oaks here, or to be more correct, three oaks and the stump of

one. "That was destroyed by lightning when I was born," said Rupert,

seeing Olivia's eyes fixed on this. "Mrs. Petley saw in it an omen that

I would be unlucky. But am I?" and he fell to kissing his wife's hands

again.

"Really, Rupert, you must be more sensible," she said, in pretended

vexation. "What a pretty tree that copper-beech is."

"Yes! But do you see the blackened square?"

"It is not so very black," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, pausing to dig the point

of her umbrella into the ground, "there's hardly any grass on it, and

the earth is dark and hard. Curious it should be so, seeing the grass is

thick and green all round, I suppose this is where Abbot Raoul was

burnt."

"Yes. I've told you the story and shown you the spot many times," said

Rupert, slipping his arm round her waist.

"Dearest," she whispered, "I was too much in love, to hear what you said

on that point. And remember, all my visits to the Abbey have been secret

ones. My aunt would be furious did she know that I had been here, and I

often wonder that Pewsey, who is always watching me, has not followed me

here."

"If she does I'll duck her in the pond for a witch," said Rupert, and

drew his wife to the seat under the oak, "well, go on."

"About my aunt. Oh, it's what Major Tidman told me. He's been trying to

see Aunt Sophia also. Have you heard what Mr. Burgh told the Major about

that horrid fan?"

"No. You forget, I have just returned from town. What is it?"

Olivia related to Rupert the story which Clarence had told the Major.

"So you see," she ended, "this man Hwei wants to kill any one who has

the fan, and Tung-yu desires to reward the person who brings it back."

"It seems contradictory," said Ainsleigh thoughtfully, "and if Hwei put

in the advertisement it is strange that Tung-yu should have received me

in the joss-house mentioned in the paper. Well?"

"Well," said Olivia rather vexed, "can't you see. I want my aunt to know

that she is in danger and get rid of that horrid fan."

"Pooh," said her husband laughing, "there's no danger. Hwei can't kill

an old lady like that for the sake of a fan she would probably sell for

five shillings."

"She wouldn't," said Olivia with conviction. "Aunt Sophia has taken

quite a fancy to that fan. But she ought to be told how dangerous it is,

Rupert."

"Or how lucky," said Ainsleigh, "let her sell the fan to Tung-yu for

five thousand pounds and then she can let Hwei kill Tung-yu."

"But would he do so."

"I can't say. On the face of it, it looks as though these two were

working against one another, seeing they propose to reward the owner of

the fan in such different ways. Yet Hwei, according to Burgh, put the

advertisement in and Tung-yu received me. I don't understand."

"Well, don't you think I should tell the whole story to my aunt?"

"Yes. Go in and see her."

"Miss Pewsey won't let me, and my aunt refuses to admit me. I sent in a

note the other day saying that I wished to speak very particularly, and

she sent out another note to say that she would not see anyone till she

was well. The note was kind enough in Aunt Sophia's cold way, but you

see----"

"Yes! Yes! Well then let Tidman see her."

"Rupert, how annoying you are. She won't see anyone but Miss----"

"Miss Pewsey. Well then, tell her the story, and she can repeat it to

your aunt. Though, by the way," added Ainsleigh, "Burgh may have told

Miss Pewsey about it already."

"Yes," said Olivia, her face brightening, and rising to go away, "but

I'll ask Miss Pewsey to tell Aunt Sophia herself."

As they walked towards the ruined entrance, Mrs. Petley's bulky form

appeared in the archway. She threw up her hands. "Sakes alive, Master

Rupert, come off Abbot Raoul's burning-place."

Ainsleigh, who was standing on the square of blackened ground, obeyed at

once, and drew Olivia away also. "I forgot," he murmured.

"Forgot what?" asked Olivia.

"Why miss," said the old housekeeper, "don't you know it's said that if

an Ainsleigh stands there, some trouble will befall him before the

year's end, You're not an Ainsleigh miss, but Master Rupert--well

there--oh sir, how can you be so foolish. The tea's ready sir," and Mrs.

Petley, with this prosaic ending trotted away.

"She doesn't know that you are an Ainsleigh," said Rupert kissing his

wife, "pah, Don't think of that foolish superstition. Come to--"

"No, Rupert," said Olivia, planting herself firmly against the wall,

"you know I said a quarter of an hour. It's half an hour we have been

talking. I must get back."

The young husband urged, implored, scolded, cajoled, but all to no

effect. Olivia made up her mind to go, and go she did, Rupert escorting

her to the gates. "You are very unkind," he said.

"I am very sensible," she replied, "I don't want to disturb my new

relations with Miss Pewsey. She has such power over my aunt that it is

necessary I should keep on good terms with her. Now, Rupert, you must

not come any further."

"Just along the road."

"Certainly not. All the gossips of Marport would talk. Good-bye. I won't

be kissed again. Someone may be looking."

Ainsleigh muttered a blessing on anyone who might be about, and shook

hands with his wife just as though they were strangers. Then he remained

at the gate till she turned the corner. There, she looked back and

Rupert threw her a kiss. Olivia shook a furious sunshade at him for the

indiscretion.

"The silly boy," she said to herself as she went along, "if anyone saw

him, there would be a fine story all over Marport."