He could free Gerald from his entanglements and, using no pressure, leave her parents’ gratitude to work on Grace.  This was the proper line and would enable him to play a generous part; had he been younger, he would not have hesitated, but he saw a risk.  He was beginning to look old and unless Grace married him soon, must give her up.  The other line, although not attractive, promised greater security.  Before he helped he must state his terms and force Osborn to agree.  Grace could not struggle, because her refusal would involve the family in Gerald’s disgrace.  Thorn saw the plan had drawbacks, but Grace was young and, if he indulged and petted her, she would, no doubt, get to like him and forget his hardness.  He had heard of marriages made like this that turned out happily.

For a time he sat with his brows knitted and his mouth set.  He would have liked to be generous, but he loved the girl and could not force himself to run the risk of losing her.  Nevertheless, he honestly tried, and afterwards remembered with strange distinctness the soft rattle of the electric fan and the dull roll of traffic that throbbed in the quiet room while he fought the losing fight.  The sunbeam the waiter had shut out crept on to another window and shone on the fluted pillars before he got up.  His face was very hard, for he had chosen his line and knew he must take it without doubt or pity.

Going down to the hall, he called up Gerald’s branch bank.  A clerk who was working late replied that Mr. Osborn had gone.

“I know,” said Thorn, giving his name.  “Make a note to tell him he need not call on me to-morrow.  I find I am unable to do what he requires.”

“Very well,” said the clerk.  “I’ll give him the message in the morning.”

Thorn rang the bell and, leaving the box, asked for a railway guide.  There was nothing to be gained by stopping in London and he looked up the best train for the north.

CHAPTER VII

GERALD’S RETURN

Thorn went home and waited, confident that Osborn would presently send for him.  The estate was heavily mortgaged, Osborn had no rich friends, and when the blow fell would look to Thorn for the aid nobody else could give.  In the meantime, Osborn, enjoying a short relief from financial strain, squandered in personal extravagance part of the sum he had borrowed, and then set drainers, carpenters, and builders to work.  He liked spending and now tried to persuade himself that the money he was laying out would give him some return.  It ought to last until he had finished the renovations his tenants demanded, and although difficulties might arise afterwards, he would wait until they did.  Indeed, his wife and daughter found him better humored than he had been for long.

Then, one evening when the hay was harvested and the corn was ripening, his satisfaction was rudely banished.  Grace had gone to the lodge with a message and stopped for a few minutes by the gate.  The evening was calm and one side of the placid tarn glittered in the light; the other was dark, and soft blue shadows covered the fells behind.  She heard the languid splash of ripples on the stones and the murmur of a beck in a distant ghyll.  A strange restful tranquillity brooded over the dale.