Mr. McIntyre, sen., was pale and furtive-looking, with a thin straggling
red beard shot with grey, and a sunken downcast face. Ill-fortune
and ill-health had both left their marks upon him. Ten years before he
had been one of the largest and richest gunmakers in Birmingham, but a
long run of commercial bad luck had sapped his great fortune, and had
finally driven him into the Bankruptcy Court. The death of his wife on
the very day of his insolvency had filled his cup of sorrow, and he had
gone about since with a stunned, half-dazed expression upon his weak
pallid face which spoke of a mind unhinged. So complete had been his
downfall that the family would have been reduced to absolute poverty
were it not for a small legacy of two-hundred a year which both the
children had received from one of their uncles upon the mother's side
who had amassed a fortune in Australia. By combining their incomes, and
by taking a house in the quiet country district of Tamfield, some
fourteen miles from the great Midland city, they were still able
to live with some approach to comfort. The change, however, was a
bitter one to all--to Robert, who had to forego the luxuries dear to his
artistic temperament, and to think of turning what had been merely an
overruling hobby into a means of earning a living; and even more to
Laura, who winced before the pity of her old friends, and found the
lanes and fields of Tamfield intolerably dull after the life and bustle
of Edgbaston.
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