At the door of the hotel of the Great Northern Railway Station they met Captain Aylmer. Rooms had been taken there because they were to start by an early train on that line in the morning, and Captain Aylmer had undertaken to order dinner. There was nothing particular in the meeting to make it unpleasant to our friend Will. The fortunate rival could do no more in the hall of the inn than give his hand to his affianced bride, as he might do to any other lady, and then suggest to her that she should go upstairs and see her room. When he had done this, he also offered his hand to Belton; and Will, though he would almost sooner have out off his own, was obliged to take it. In a few minutes the two men were standing alone together in the sitting-room.

‘I suppose you found it cold coming up?’ said the captain.

‘Not particularly,’ said Will.

‘It’s rather a long journey from Belton.’

‘Not very long,’ said Will.

‘Not for you, perhaps; but Miss Amedroz must be tired.’

Belton was angry at having his cousin called Miss Amedroz feeling that the reserve of the name was intended to keep him at a distance. But he would have been equally angry had Aylmer called her Clara.

‘My cousin,’ said Will, stoutly, ‘is able to bear slight fatigue of that kind without suffering.’

‘I didn’t suppose she suffered; but journeys are always tedious, especially where there is so much roadwork. I believe you are twenty miles from the station?’

‘Belton Castle is something over twenty miles from Taunton.’

‘We are seven from our station at Aylmer Park, and we think that a great deal.’

‘I’m more than that at Plaistow,’ said Will.

‘Oh, indeed. Plaistow is in Norfolk, I believe?’

‘Yes Plaistow is in Norfolk.’

‘I suppose you’ll leave it now and go into Somersetshire,’ suggested Captain Aylmer.

‘Certainly not. Why should I leave it?’

‘I thought, perhaps as Belton Castle is now your own’

‘Plaistow Hall is more my own than Belton Castle, if that signifies anything which it doesn’t.’ This he said in an angry tone, which, as he became conscious of it, he tried to rectify. ‘I’ve a deal of stock and all that sort of thing at Plaistow, and couldn’t very well leave it, even if I wished it,’ he said.

‘You’ve pretty good shooting too, I suppose,’ said Aylmer.

‘As far as partridges go I’ll back it against most properties of the same extent in any county.’

‘I’m too busy a man myself,’ said the captain, ‘to do much at partridges. We think more of pheasants down with us.’

‘I dare say.’

‘But a Norfolk man like you is of course keen about birds.’

‘We are obliged to put up with what we’ve got, you know not but what I believe there is a better general head of game in Norfolk than in any other county in England.’

‘That’s what makes your hunting rather poor.’

‘Our hunting poor! Why do you say it’s poor?’

‘So many of you are against preserving foxes.’

‘I’ll tell you what, Captain Aylmer; I don’t know what pack you hunt with, but I’ll bet you a five — pound note that we killed more foxes last year than you did that is, taking three days a week. Nine-and-twenty brace and a half in a short season I don’t call poor at all.’

Captain Aylmer saw that the man was waxing angry, and made no further allusion either to the glories or deficiencies of Norfolk. As he could think of no other subject on which to speak at the spur of the moment, he sat himself down and took up a paper; Belton took up another, and so they remained till Clara made her appearance. That Captain Aylmer read his paper is probable enough. He was not a man easily disconcerted, and there was nothing in his present position to disconcert him. But I feel sure that Will Belton did not read a word. He was angry with this rival, whom he hated, and was angry with himself for showing his anger. He would have wished to appear to the best advantage before this man, or rather before Clara in this man’s presence; and he knew that in Clara’s absence be was making such a fool of himself that he would be unable to recover his prestige. He had serious thoughts within his own breast whether it would not be as well for him to get up from his seat and give Captain Aylmer a thoroughly good thrashing: ‘Drop into him and punch his head,’ as he himself would have expressed it. For the moment such an exercise would give him immense gratification. The final results would, no doubt, be disastrous; but then, all future results, as far as he could see them, were laden with disaster. He was still thinking of this, eyeing the man from under the newspaper, and telling himself that the feat would probably be too easy to afford much enjoyment, when Clara re-entered the room. Then he got up, acting on the spur of the moment got up quickly and suddenly, and began to bid her adieu.

‘But you are going to dine here, Will?’ she said.

‘No; I think not.’

‘You promised you would. You told me you had nothing to do to-night.’ Then she turned to Captain Aylmer. ‘You expect my cousin to dine with us today?’

‘I ordered dinner for three,’ said Captain Aylmer.

‘Oh, very well; it’s all the same thing to me,’ said Will.

‘And to me,’ said Captain Aylmer.

‘It’s not all the same thing to me,’ said Clara. ‘I don’t know when I may see my cousin again. I should think it very bad of you, Will, if you went away this evening.’

‘I’ll go out just for half an hour,’ said he, ‘and be back to dinner.’

‘We dine at seven,’ said the captain. Then Belton took his hat and left the two lovers together.

‘Your cousin seems to be a rather surly sort of gentleman.’ Those were the first words which Captain Aylmer spoke when he was alone with the lady of his love. Nor was he demonstrative of his affection by any of the usual signs of regard which are permitted to accepted lovers. He did not offer to kiss her, nor did he attempt to take her hand with a warmer pressure now that he was alone with her. He probably might have gone through some such ceremony had he first met Clara in a position propitious to such purposes; but, as it was, he had been a little ruffled by Will Belton’s want of good breeding, and had probably forgotten that any such privileges might have been his. I wonder whether any remembrance flashed across Clara’s mind at this moment of her Cousin Will’s great iniquity in the sitting-room at Belton Castle. She thought of it very often, and may possibly have thought of it now.

‘I don’t believe that he is surly, Frederic,’ she said. ‘He may, perhaps, be out of humour.’

‘And why should he be out of humour with me? I only suggested to him that it might suit him to live at Belton instead of at that farm of his, down in Norfolk.’

‘He is very fond of Plaistow, I fancy.’

‘But that’s no reason why he should be cross with me. I don’t envy him his taste, that’s all. If he can’t understand that he, with his name, ought to live on the family property which belongs to him, it isn’t likely that anything that I can say will open his eyes upon the subject.’

‘The truth is, Frederic, he has some romantic notion about the Belton estate.’

‘What romantic notion?’

‘He thinks it should not be his at all.’

‘Whose then? Who does he think should have it?’

‘Of course there can be nothing in it, you know; of course, it’s all nonsense.’

‘But what is his idea? Who does he think should be the owner?

‘He means that it should be mine. But of course, Frederic, it is all nonsense; we know that.’

It did not seem to be quite clear at the moment that Frederic had altogether made up his mind upon the subject. As he heard those tidings from Clara there came across his face a puzzled, dubious look, as though he did not quite understand the proposition which had been suggested to him as though some consideration were wanted before he could take the idea home to himself and digest it, so as to enable himself to express an opinion upon it. There might be something in it some show of reason which did not make itself clear to Clara’s feminine mind. ‘I have never known what was the precise nature of your father’s marriage settlement,’ said he.

Then Clara began to explain with exceeding eagerness that there was no question as to the accuracy of the settlement, or the legality of the entail that indeed there was no question as to anything. Her Cousin Will was romantic, and that was the end of it. Of course quite as a matter of course, this romance would lead to nothing; and she had only mentioned the subject now to show that her cousin’s mind might possibly be disturbed when the question of his future residence was raised. ‘I quite feel with you,’ she said, ‘that it will be much nicer that he should live at the old family place; but just at present I do not speak about it.’

‘If he is thinking of not claiming Belton, it is quite another thing,’ said Aylmer.

‘It is his without any claiming,’ said Clara.

‘Ah, well; it will all be settled before long,’ said Aylmer.

‘It is settled already,’ said Clara.

At seven the three met again, and when the dinner was on the table there was some little trouble as to the helping of the fish. Which of the two men should take the lead on the occasion? But Clara decided the question by asking her cousin to make himself useful. There can be little doubt but that Captain Aylmer would have distributed the mutton chops with much more grace, and have carved the roast fowl with much more skill; but it suited Clara that Will should have the employment, and Will did the work. Captain Aylmer, throughout the dinner, endeavoured to be complaisant, and Clara exerted herself to talk as though all matters around them were easy. Will, too, made his effort, every now and then speaking a word, and restraining himself from snapping at his rival; but the restraint was in itself evident, and there were symptoms throughout the dinner that the untamed man was longing to fly at the throat of the man that was tamed.

‘Is it supposed that I ought to go away for a little while?’ said Clara, as soon as she had drunk her own glass of wine.

‘Oh dear, no,’ said the captain. ‘We’ll have a cup of coffee that is, if Mr Belton likes it.’

‘It’s all the same to me,’ said Will.

‘But won’t you have some more wine?’ Clara asked.

‘No more for me,’ said Captain Aylmer. ‘Perhaps Mr Belton’

‘Who; I? No; I don’t want any more wine,’ said Will; and then they were all silent.

It was very hard upon Clara. After a while the coffee came, and even that was felt to be a comfort. Though there was no pouring out to be done, no actual employment enacted, still the manoeuvring of the cups created a diversion. ‘If either of you like to smoke,’ she said, ‘I shan’t mind it in the least.’ But neither of them would smoke. ‘At what hour shall we get to Aylmer Park tomorrow?’ Clara asked.

‘At half-past four,’ said the captain.

‘Oh, indeed so early as that.’ What was she to say next? Will, who had not touched his coffee, and who was sitting stiffly at the table as though he were bound in duty not to move, was becoming more and more grim every moment. She almost repented that she had asked him to remain with them. Certainly there was no comfort in his company, either to them or to himself. ‘How long shall you remain in town, Will, before you go down to Plaistow?’ she asked.

‘One day,’ he replied.

‘Give my kind love my very kindest love to Mary. I wish I knew her. I wish I could think that I might soon know her.’

‘You’ll never know her,’ said Belton. The tone of his voice was actually savage as he spoke so much so that Aylmer turned in his chair to look at him, and Clara did not dare to answer him. But now that he had been made to speak, it seemed that he was determined to persevere. ‘How should you ever know her? Nothing will ever bring you into Norfolk, and nothing will ever take her out of it.’

‘I don’t quite see why either of those ............