Chapter 5

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 illustrating 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 nobody, 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 passed 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."

"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 principal, 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 assist 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 noble 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."

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.