Smouldering Fire by D.E. Stevenson

Author:D.E. Stevenson
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2018-11-07T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVIII

LINDA

It was very quiet in the little cottage, a fire burned slowly on the hearth, for the evenings are often chilly in Ardfalloch, and, besides, Iain liked a fire—it was company. Iain was busy at the table working out the accounts for the estate. He had not seen Linda for two days, but he was not really impatient—he was sure of her now.

The table was covered with books and papers and bills. Iain was trying to decide how much money he would have in hand for improvements and renovations, and to decide what was necessary and what was not. The repairs to the boat-house were absolutely necessary, he must get an estimate from Fraser for that, and Donald’s cottage must have a new roof unless the old roof could be satisfactorily repaired. He owed it to Donald and Morag to do what he could for them—they were doing so much for him and they would not accept payment in the ordinary sense. And he had promised Alec MacNeil that he would build him some pigsties—that was a promise. He would have to see what all this was going to cost before he could think of deepening the harbour, or putting wire along the road to Balnafin, or doing a hundred and one things that he wanted in the house itself. Simpson wanted some of the money put aside for the land taxes, and the overdraft at the bank must be paid off.

Iain sighed. The money had seemed so large at first, but now he began to think it would not go very far. He wondered how other landowners managed; how did people make money—Mr. Finlay, for instance. Supposing he asked Mr. Finlay for a stock exchange tip and put the thousand into that—it might double itself, and then he would not have to let Ardfalloch next year. Iain lay back and thought about it—had he the right to risk it? There was very little risk really. Mr. Finlay knew what he was doing. It wasn’t like gambling on horses—that was a mug’s game if you like! Iain thought—other men make money, but I can’t do that, partly because I haven’t been trained to make money, and partly because I haven’t time. If I had a factor—but what factor could run Ardfalloch as I can? I suppose I shall just have to make up my mind to let the place every year—but it seems hard. It seems hard that I can’t live quietly in my own home. Mr. Finlay said the estate should be self-supporting, but, instead of that, it actually costs money to run. Could a business man make it self-supporting? And if so, how?

He was still thinking about it, trying to find some way out of the difficulties of his position, when he heard light steps on the path and somebody knocked at the door.

Iain went to open the door. It was quite dark outside, dark and cloudy, a slight figure was standing on the step.

“Linda!” he exclaimed in amazement.

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