hat he did
not feel quite fixed in the tenure--that possibly the case might, under
certain circumstances, be heard of again--since it was noticed that he did
not plant trees, or make improvements, or in any way proceed to increase
the permanent attractions of the estate. It seemed as if he felt he was
only lodging there. He appeared to try and get all he could off the
place--without absolute damage--and to invest or spend nothing. After all
these payments had been made the squire's income was much reduced, and
thus, with all these broad acres, these extensive woods, and park, and
mansion, pleasure grounds, game, and so forth, he was really a poor man.
Not poor in the sense of actual want, but a man in his position had, of
course, a certain appearance to keep up. Horses, carriages--even
cooks--are not to be had for nothing, and are absolutely essential to
those who are compelled to maintain any kind of dignity. Sons with liberal
ideas are expensive; a daughter is expensive; a wife who insists on
dressing in the fashion is expensive.

Now, taking all those things into consideration, and remembering, too,
that the squire as a good father (which he was admittedly) wished to make
provision for the future of his children, it may perhaps, after all, be
questioned whether he really was so mean and little of spirit as appeared.
Under the circumstances, if he wished to save, the only way open to him
was to be careful in little things. Even his hobby--the pre-Raphaelite
pictures--was not without its advantage in this sense; the collection was
certainly worth more than he gave for it, for he got it all by careful
bargaining, and it could be sold again at a profit. The careful
superintendence of the Alderney cow, the cucumber frames, and the rabbits,
might all be carried out for the very best of objects, the good of his
children.

Now, the squire was, of course, very well aware of the troubles of
agriculture, the wetness of the seasons--which played havoc with the
game--the low prices, and the loud talk that was going on around him. But
he made no sign. He might have been deaf, dumb, and blind. He walked by
the wheat, but did not see the deficiency of the crop, nor the
extraordinary growth of weeds. There were voices in the air like the
mutterings of a coming storm, but he did not hear them. There were
paragraphs in the papers--how So-and-So had liberally reduced the rents or
returned a percentage; but he did not read them, or did