The wretched man sprang up erect, menacing, and, meeting Kenelm’s calm, steadfast, pitying gaze, dropped no less suddenly,--dropped on the floor, covered his face with his hands, and a great cry came forth between sob and howl. “Brother,” said Kenelm, kneeling beside him, and twining his arm round the man’s heaving breast, “it is over now; with that cry the demon that maddened you has fled forever.” CHAPTER XX. WHEN, some time after, Kenelm quitted the room and joined Mrs. Bowles below, he said cheerily, “All right; Tom and I are sworn friends. We are going together to Luscombe the day after to-morrow,--Sunday; just write a line to his uncle to prepare him for Tom’s visit, and send thither his clothes, as we shall walk, and steal forth unobserved betimes in the morning. Now go up and talk to him; he wants a mother’s soothing and petting. He is a noble fellow at heart, and we shall be all proud of him some day or other.” As he walked towards the farmhouse, Kenelm encountered Mr. Lethbridge, who said, “I have come from Mr. Saunderson’s, where I went in search of you. There is an unexpected hitch in the negotiation for Mrs. Bawtrey’s shop. After seeing you this morning I fell in with Mr. Travers’s bailiff, and he tells me that her lease does not give her the power to sublet without the Squire’s consent; and that as the premises were originally let on very low terms to a favoured and responsible tenant, Mr. Travers cannot be expected to sanction the transfer of the lease to a poor basket-marker: in fact, though he will accept Mrs. Bawtrey’s resignation, it must be in favour of an applicant whom he desires to oblige. On hearing this, I rode over to the Park and saw Mr. Travers himself. But he was obdurate to my pleadings. All I could get him to say was, ‘Let the stranger who interests himself in the matter come and talk to me. I should like to see the man who thrashed that brute Tom Bowles: if he got the better of him perhaps he may get the better of me. Bring him with you to my harvest-supper to-morrow evening.’ Now, will you come?” “Nay,” said Kenelm, reluctantly; “but if he only asks me in order to gratify a very vulgar curiosity, I don’t think I have much chance of serving Will Somers. What do you say?” “The Squire is a good man of business, and, though no one can call him unjust or grasping, still he is very little touched by sentiment; and we must own that a sickly cripple like poor Will is not a very eligible tenant. If, therefore, it depended only on your chance with the Squire, I should not be very sanguine. But we have an ally in his daughter. She is very fond of Jessie Wiles, and she has shown great kindness to Will. In fact, a sweeter, more benevolent, sympathizing nature than that of Cecilia Travers does not exist. She has great influence with her father, and through her you may win him.”