[Ill.u.s.tration: "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 ill.u.s.trating 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 n.o.body, 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 pa.s.sed 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."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"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 princ.i.p.al, 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?"

"I don't know, uncle. I had hoped to go to college, and then travel, and study abroad, and become an artist."

"Impossible!" Mr. Gregory interrupted sharply. "Where's the money to come from?"

"I don't know, uncle; I have not had time to think;" and Eddie cast an imploring glance at his Uncle Clair.

"Well, my lad," that gentleman said, laying his hand kindly on Eddie's shoulder, "if you really are determined to become an artist, I will do all I can to a.s.sist you on certain conditions, and subject to the approval of your other guardian. You can come and live with me, and I'll teach you the groundwork and details of art: inspiration, genius, success are not mine to bestow; nor shall I send you to a university. In the first place, I can't afford it; in the next, I don't think it necessary; but if I see you have a real love of and taste for art, I'll send you to study abroad for a few years, if possible; but first of all you must work. You can live with me; my house will be your home, your aunt will take care of you. Your mornings must be spent in my studio, your afternoons devoted to continuing your studies; but I want you clearly to understand, lad, that you are not coming to visit or to play, but to learn a profession--and an honourable profession. You will find many things irksome perhaps, and have to perform many unpleasant duties, but if you work with a single heart, and try to make the best of everything, you will find, taking the rough with the smooth of it, that art is a n.o.ble profession. But I cannot honestly call it the high road to fortune. Your Uncle Gregory has made his proposal; I have made mine.

Think before you decide."

"I will go with you, Uncle Clair," Eddie answered, drawing nearer to the artist. "There is no need to think; I never could be a merchant; I must be a painter. My mind is thoroughly made up."

"As you will, boy. Your Uncle Clair has made you a liberal offer; according to his means, he offers you of his best freely and kindly. I hope you may prove worthy of his trust in you, but as I do not want my sister's son to be entirely dependent on a stranger----"

"Uncle Harry said I could _work_," Eddie said, drawing still nearer to his favourite relative.

"Yes, Mr. Gregory, the boy must be independent. If I find him useful, I'll pay him a small salary," Mr. Clair replied gently, no way ruffled by Mr. Gregory's cold, scornful tones. "That matter is decided: Edward is to come to us."

"And you?" Mr. Gregory continued, turning to Bertie. "Are you also anxious to become an artist?"

"No, uncle; I want to make my fortune and get back Riversdale."

"Well spoken, my lad. Then you decide to come with me?"

"Yes, please; I should like to be a great, rich, powerful merchant, and own ships and things. But, Uncle Gregory, who's to take care of dear little Cousin Agnes?"

"I am really quite at a loss to know," Mr. Gregory said, frowning. "Has she no friends of her mother's? The child has no claim on me."

"But she has on us," Bertie replied promptly. "She's our cousin; her papa was our Uncle Frank, and we must take care of her."

Mr. Gregory frowned and looked thoughtful, but Aunt Amy had stepped forward, and taken Agnes into her arms. "We'll take care of her," she said, with a loving look at Bertie, who had spoken so bravely for his little cousin, while Eddie had entirely forgotten her. "Don't be afraid, Bertie; while your Uncle Harry and I have a home Agnes shall share it."

"Thank you, aunt; and I hope Uncle Gregory will let me come and see you often. It is so nice to think that we shall all be in London together;"

and then Bertie smothered a sigh as he remembered how he disliked cities and loved the country, how he would miss the dear delights of Riversdale, and how he dreaded the duties of an office. But he had plenty of courage, and he resolved not to begin by being unhappy or discontented; "besides, it mayn't be so bad," he said to himself; "and Dr. Mayson declares it's worth a thousand a year to be able to look at the bright side of everything."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MR. GREGORY PLACED TWO SOVEREIGNS IN BERTIE'S HAND" (_p.

98_).]

Agnes was weeping silently with joy: no other arrangement could have given her half as much pleasure as going back with her Aunt Amy and Uncle Clair; she could surely pick up some crumbs of instruction in the studio, and then she would always be at hand to help Eddie, and little Agnes did not wish for any greater happiness than that. But Eddie did not seem altogether so well pleased by the arrangement. He did not like a rival, either in affection or talent, and he knew that both his Aunt and Uncle Clair loved Agnes, and also that she was a great deal cleverer with her pencil than himself, though she was very shy and nervous, and distrusted her own powers. However, the arrangement was the only one that seemed possible, and the very next day they all returned to London, Agnes and Eddie going in a four-wheeler with their aunt and uncle to Fitzroy Square, Bertie accompanying his Uncle Gregory to a splendid house in Kensington Gardens, where he was rather coldly received by his aunt and cousins, and informed that, for a time at least, it was to be his home.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V.--BERTIE BEGINS LIFE.

It was a long time before Eddie and Bertie Rivers could realise that Riversdale was no longer their home--that they were quite poor lads, dependent on the kindness of their relatives, and that if they wished to win fame and fortune, there was nothing for it but hard work. Bertie was the first to realise the great change in his position. Mr. Gregory was not unkind, but he was stern and cold, and after introducing him to the head clerk (who showed him a corner in the office where he might sit, and explained his work), Mr. Gregory took no more notice of him than of the other lads. After the first day, he found that he would have to go to the City by himself, and return alone; his uncle gave him a second-cla.s.s season ticket, and desired him to catch the half-past eight train every morning. He also told him where he was to have his dinner, and for the first month desired one of the older clerks to see to him, and pay only a certain sum; then he was to return to Kensington at half-past five every evening, have his tea in the school-room, and read or amuse himself as best he could till bed-time. His aunt, he rarely saw; she was not up when he left in the morning, and always was either entertaining visitors at home or going out to parties in the evening.

His two cousins were quite grown-up young ladies, who seldom condescended to notice the little office-boy, as they called him, and two other cousins, about his own age and Eddie's, were away at Eton. So that poor Bertie would not have had a very lively time, had he not possessed a wonderful capacity for enjoyment, and a perfect genius for finding occupation and amus.e.m.e.nt for himself. He had undisturbed possession of the deserted school-room, and before long it was a sort of little museum. He had a number of pets; then he begged corks from the butler, and manufactured ingenious flower-pots and stands, in which he grew dainty little mosses and ferns; he made cork frames for some of Agnes' pretty little pictures, and his grandest achievement was a boat that he built and rigged entirely himself. Often in the early mornings he would go for a walk as far into the country as he could, and sometimes, before going home in the evenings, he would have a run in the park, and those were all his pleasures. Mr. Gregory scarcely ever thought of him out of the office; there he always observed every one closely, and he saw that Bertie was quiet, attentive, industrious, and, best of all, quick: he never had to be told to do anything a second time. On Sat.u.r.days and Sundays he might go and see his brother, provided he returned in good time, for he dined with the family on Sundays; but Eddie was never invited to Gore House, and Uncle Clair was never mentioned without contempt. But to Bertie, the hours spent in the dingy old house in Fitzroy Square were the pleasantest of his life. He was too happy when he got there to notice that Eddie looked gloomy sometimes, but little Agnes was always sweet and happy, and Aunt Amy's welcome was worth anything.

"How I do wish I could come and live here!" Bertie cried one wet afternoon, when they were all gathered round the fire in Mrs. Clair's old-fashioned parlour. "I should not mind being in the office a bit if I could see you all in the evenings; but it is dull at home!"

"It's dull everywhere at times, dear," Aunt Amy said gently, remembering how very gloomy Eddie often looked. "You must try and make the best of it."

"I do, auntie," Bertie replied; "and I suppose I won't have to live with Uncle Gregory always."

"Gore House is pleasanter than Fitzroy Square, I think," Eddie said, a little crossly.

"And Fitzroy Square is ever so much pleasanter than Mincing Lane,"

Bertie replied. "Why, if you were in our office, Eddie, I don't know what would become of you! You would have to sit on a high stool all day, copying things into big books, or else copying things out of them. Then you have to add up columns of figures till your eyes ache, and if you are even one wrong, Mr. Wilson seems to know just by instinct. I wonder," Bertie added suddenly, "how many columns I shall have to add up, and how many ledgers fill with entries, before I begin to grow rich?"

"I wonder how many pictures I'll have to paint before I begin to grow famous?" Eddie replied; and then, as Aunt Amy left the room, he jumped up impatiently. "I'll never be an artist, Bert, if Uncle Clair keeps me drawing lines and triangles and cubes. Any one can do them; I want to begin to paint!"

"Then why don't you do just as Uncle Harry says; he knows best!" Bertie replied gravely. "I always do exactly as Uncle Gregory says, no matter what it is; and now it's time for me to go back. Oh, I forgot to tell you something: our cousins, d.i.c.k and Harry, are coming home in a few weeks; I'll bring them to see you. It won't be so bad when they come, but it is dull at home these long evenings."

"It does me good to see Bertie: he's always so happy and cheerful," Aunt Amy said, after she had kissed him, and watched him a little way down the street. "I wish, Eddie dear, you would try to be contented and happy."

"I do try, Aunt Amy, but I can't while I have to do so many unpleasant things," Eddie replied, drawing near her. One comfort was, he was always sure of ready sympathy from her, while Uncle Harry sometimes laughed at his fretful impatience. "If uncle would only let me begin a picture!"

"All in good time, dear. Be patient, Eddie: that's the alphabet of art, and you must learn it; besides, Uncle Harry knows best, and remember, the sooner you master the alphabet the sooner you can begin to work.

Just see how Agnes gets on!"

Eddie flushed and hurried away. He would not for the world acknowledge it, but his cousin's success was the secret of Eddie's discontent. He could not bear to see Agnes do everything better than he did himself, and he was ashamed of his jealousy, instead of trying to overcome it. He had been just three months with his uncle, and every day he complained that he had done nothing; his uncle complained too, in a very kind, gentle way, that Eddie did not try, but he was far too easy-tempered and good-natured to be severe on Eddie, for he thought the poor lad had not become quite accustomed to his altered fortune. And in truth, Eddie did miss Riversdale, and his pony, and the other luxuries he had been accustomed to all his life; he had not the same happy temper as Bertie, and he often grieved his Aunt Amy by lamenting over his loss of fortune, and the gloomy view he took of the future. It was in vain that Agnes begged of him to do just the work that came to his hand, to listen attentively to Uncle Clair's instructions and explanations; in vain Aunt Amy entreated him fondly to be patient, and despise not the day of small things; Eddie sulked, grumbled, worst of all, idled, or worked indifferently, and kept on telling himself that he was misunderstood and undervalued, and would not be even allowed to show what he could do; for on that point at least Uncle Clair was firm: Eddie must learn to draw before he began to paint. But in spite of the mortifications of the studio, life was not all dull for Eddie. There were many pleasant mornings spent with his uncle in the National Gallery, where Mr. Clair pointed out the master-pieces of art, and spoke eloquently on their particular merits and beauties; and Eddie almost forgot himself and his own ambitious dreams in gazing on the wonderful productions of t.i.tian, Sebastian, and Guido, for those three masters were his great favourites.

Then there were pleasant hours in the British Museum, studying rare old prints and illuminations; visits to the numerous other picture galleries; and, best of all, pleasant hours in other artists' studios, where Eddie heard a good deal of discussion and criticism, and thought himself a very important person. Then there were pleasant evenings at home, when friends dropped in, and the conversation was still of art and artists, of "studies," "designs," "models," and other matters of absorbing interest to painters; and Uncle Clair would sit in his big easy-chair by the fire, and talk in his soft, pleasant voice of the picture he was going to paint for the Academy some day, when he got tired of portrait-painting. He would dwell upon his subject lovingly, describing it in minute detail, and then forget all about it, while some one else went and painted it, and won money and fame thereby. Being of an easy temper, and entirely devoid of ambition, Mr. Clair was unable to sympathise with Eddie's impatience; but though not enthusiastic about art, he had a thorough knowledge of its technicalities, and Eddie might have learned much from him if he would. Meantime, Agnes was studying hard and making wonderful progress, but her aunt one day observed that she was growing thin and pale again, and her sight becoming weaker; so the drawing-materials had to be laid aside, except for one hour a day, and then Agnes and Aunt Amy began visiting the picture-galleries too, and walking through the parks, and enjoying the bright, cold, frosty mornings out of doors, while Uncle Clair worked at his portraits, and Eddie too often sulked in the studio; and Bertie went to his office every day, and in spite of all his efforts, felt very dull and dispirited in the cold school-room during the long winter evenings, cheered only by the thought that his cousins would soon be home, and then he nothing doubted they would spend a great deal of their time with him; for of course he would have a good long holiday too.