There was no great cause for
merriment in the information given her, but it emphasized the contrast
between the present and the careless life she had lately led when her
one thought had been how to extract the greatest pleasure from the day.
One had frequently to grapple with the problems arising from scanty
finances at Silverdale.
"It will go up again," she said. "Is there anything else?"
Barrington's face grew a trifle grim as he nodded. "There is, and
while I have not much expectation of an advance in prices, I have been
worrying over another affair lately."
His niece regarded him steadily. "You mean Lance Courthorne?"
"Yes," said Barrington, who flicked the near horse somewhat viciously
with the whip. "He is also sufficient to cause any man with my
responsibilities considerable anxiety."
Maud Barrington looked thoughtful. "You fancy he will come to
Silverdale?"
Barrington appeared to be repressing an inclination towards vigorous
speech with some difficulty, and a little glint crept into his eyes.
"If I could by any means prevent it, the answer would be, No. As it
is, you know that, while I founded it, Silverdale was one of Geoffrey
Courthorne's imperialistic schemes, and a good deal of the land was
recorded in his name. That being so, he had every right to leave the
best farm on it to the man he had disinherited, especially as Lance
will not get a penny of the English property. Still, I do not know why
he did so, because he never spoke of him without bitterness.
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