When he had been told early on Monday morning of the imminent destruction awaiting the five noble beeches which, in their venerable and broadly-branching beauty, were one of the many glories of the woods surrounding Abbot's Manor, he was inclined to set it down to some capricious command issued by the home-coming mistress of the estate; and, in order to satisfy himself whether this was, or was not the case, he had done what was sorely against his own sense of dignity to do,--he had gone at once to interview Oliver Leach personally on the subject. But he had found that individual in the worst of all possible moods for argument, having been, as he stated, passed over' by Miss Vancourt. That lady had not, he said, written to inform him of her intended return, therefore,--so he argued,--it was not his business to be aware of it.
"Miss Vancourt hasn't told me anything, and of course I don't know anything," he said carelessly, standing in his doorway and keeping his hat on in the minister's presence; "My work is on the land, and when timber has to be felled it's my affair and nobody else's. I've been agent on these estates since the Squire's death, and I don't want to be taught my duty by any man."
"But surely your duty does not compel you to cut down five of the finest old trees in England," said Walden, hotly,--"They have been famous for centuries in this neighbourhood. Have you any right to fell them without special orders?"
"Special orders?" echoed Leach with a sneer; "I've had no 'special order' for ten years at least! My employers trust me to do what I think best, and I've every right to act accordingly. The trees will begin to rot in another eighteen months or so,--just now they're in good condition and will fetch a fair price. You stick to your church, Parson Walden,--you know all about that, no doubt!--but don't come preaching to me about the felling of timber. That's my business,--not yours!"
Walden flushed, and bit his lip. His blood grew warm with indignation, and he involuntarily clenched his fist. But he suppressed his rising wrath with an effort.
"You may as well keep a civil tongue in your head, Mr. Leach--it will do you no harm!" he said quietly; "I have no wish to interfere with what you conceive to be your particular mode of duty, but I think that before you destroy what can never be replaced, you should consult the owner of the trees, Miss Vancourt, especially as her return is fixed for to-morrow."