the
easy-chair opposite to that from which the Squire had risen. He was a
big man, with a big face, clean shaven except for a pair of abbreviated
side whiskers. He had light-blue eyes and a mobile, sensitive mouth. His
clothes were rather shabby, and except for a white tie under a
turned-down collar, not clerical. His voice, coming from so massive a
frame, seemed thin, but it was of a pleasant tenor quality, and went
well with the mild and attractive expression of his face. All the
parishioners of Kencote liked the Rector, though he was not at all
diligent in visiting them. Perhaps they liked him the better on that
account.

The Rector was the Squire's half-brother. Colonel Thomas Clinton, the
Squire's grandfather, had followed, amongst other traditions of his
family, that of marrying early, and marrying money. His wife was a city
lady, daughter of Alderman Sir James Banket, and brought him forty
thousand pounds. Besides his six daughters, he had one son, who was
delicate and could not support the fatigue of his own arduous pursuit of
sport. He was sent to Eton and to Trinity College, and a cornetcy was
bought for him in the Grenadier Guards. He also married early, and
married, following an alternative tradition, not money, but blood. His
wife was a sister of a brother officer, the Marquis of Nottingham, and
they were happy together for a year. He died of a low fever immediately
after the birth of his son, Edward, that Squire of Kencote with whom we
have to do.

Colonel Thomas took a great deal more pride in his sturdy grandson than
ever he had been able to take in his weakly son. He taught him to ride
and to shoot, and to tyrannise over his six maiden aunts, who all took a
hand in bringing him up. His own placid, uncomplaining wife had died
years before, and Lady Susan Clinton, tired of living in a house where
women seemed to exist on sufferance, had married again, but had not been
allowed to take her child to her new home. She had the legal right to do
so, of course, but was far too frightened of the weather-beaten,
keen-eyed old man, who could say such cutting things with such a sweet
smile upon his lips, to insist upon it. Her second husband was the
Rector of a neighbouring parish, who grew hot to the end of his days
when he thought of what he had undergone to gain possession of his
bride. He did not keep her long, for she died a year later in giving him
a son. That son was now the Reverend Thomas Beach, Rector of