Never was a little village in greater commotion than Innisfield after
Mark's departure. The succession of events had been such as to engage
the attention of the most indifferent. The mysterious exile of
Mildred, the failing health and spirits of the blacksmith, the new
rumors respecting the fate of Lucy, the sudden and unaccountable
marriage of Mrs. Kinloch, and her fruitless attempt to bring her
daughter back, were all discussed in every house, as well as in places
of public resort. Hugh Branning was soon convinced that the village
was no place for him. He had bravely horsewhipped a cripple, but he
could not stop the tongues of the whole parish, even if he could
protect himself from swift and extempore justice. He gathered his
clothes, and, after a long private conference with his mother, started
before daylight for the railway-station. As he does not appear on the
stage again, we may say here, that, not long after, during a financial
panic in New York, he made a fortune of nearly half a million dollars
by speculating in stocks. He used to tell his friends in after years
that he had "only five thousand to begin with,--the sole property left
him by his lamented parents." He has now a handsome mansion in the
Fifth Avenue, is a conspicuous member of the Rev. Dr. Holdfast's
church, and most zealous against the ill-timed discussions and
philanthropic vagaries of the day. What would he not give to forget
that slowly-moving figure, with swimming eyes, carrying a flaring
candle? How far along the years that feeble light was thrown! He never
went through the hall of his house at night without a shudder,
dreading to catch a glimpse of that sorrowing face.
It was on Tuesday evening, the night preceding the Probate Court to
which Squire Clamp had been cited. Nothing had been heard from Mark,
and his friends were much depressed. Mildred sat by Mr. Hardwick's
bedside, during the long hours, and read to him from his favorite
authors. About ten o'clock, just as the family were preparing to go to
bed, Mark drove up to the door. He was warmly welcomed, and at once
overwhelmed with questions. "Did he find Lucy?" "What did she know?"
"Why did she secrete herself?" To all these Mark merely replied, "I
found Lucy; how much I have accomplished I dare not say. But do you,
James, come with me. We will go up to old Mrs. Ransom's."
"Why, she's not there; she's gone to the poor-house."
"Broken down with old age and sorrow, I suppose. But I don't care to
see her now. Let us go to the old house; and meantime, you girls, go
to bed."
But they protested they should wait till he returned,--that they could
not sleep a wink until they knew the result.
Provided with a lantern, the young men set out. They found the hovel
nearly in ruins; for pilferers had taken such pieces as they could
strip off for firewood. Mark eagerly ripped up the floor near the
hearth. At the first flash of the light he saw a paper, dusty and
discolored. He seized and opened it. _It was the will of Mr. Kinloch,
duly signed and attested_. Lucy had not deceived him.
With hurried pace they returned to the village, scarcely stopping to
take breath until they reached Mr. Hardwick's house. It was no vain
hope, then! It was true! The schemes of the step-mother would be
frustrated. The odious control of Squire Clamp would end. Mark began
to read the will, then stopped, embraced his cousins and Mildred by
turns, then read again. He was beside himself with joy.
All were too much excited to sleep; and when the first transports of
surprise were over, they naturally inquired after the unfortunate
girl. He had found her, after great difficulty, in a miserable garret.
The surmises of the villagers were correct. She was ruined,
heart-broken. Dissipation, exposure, and all the frightful influences
of her wretched life had brought on a fever, and now, destitute and
forsaken, she was left by those who had made merchandise of her
beauty, to die. He learned from Lucy what she knew of the affair of
the will. She became satisfied, soon after Mr. Kinloch's death, that
some wrong was intended, and she watched her mistress. Then Squire
Clamp had induced her by threats and bribes to get for him the papers.
As she took them out of the desk, one, larger than the rest, and with
several seals, attracted her attention. She felt quite sure it was Mr.
Kinloch's will; so she secreted it and gave the lawyer the rest. The
Monday afternoon following, she took the will to her grandmother's and
put it under a plank in the floor. Squire Clamp, strangely enough,
chanced to stop just as she had hidden it. He gave her back the
papers, as she supposed, and she replaced them in the secretary. On
her way home she fell in with Hugh,--a day neither of them would ever
forget.
The lawyer, who had counted on an easy victory over Mr. Alford, was
greatly surprised, the next day, to see him accompanied by Mark, as he
came into court; he had not heard of the young man's return. Besides,
their unmistakable air of confidence and exultation caused him some
misgivings. But he was boldness itself, compared with his wife. Her
face was bloodless, her hands tremulous, and her expression like that
of one ready to faint. Imagine the horror with which she saw the
production of the will, and then the proof by the only surviving
witness, brought to court from his residence in a neighboring town!
The letters of administration were revoked, and Mr. Alford, one of the
executors, was appointed Mildred's guardian. Completely baffled, dumb
and despairing, Squire Clamp and his bride left the room and drove
homeward. A pleasant topic for conversation they had by the way, each
accusing the other of duplicity, treachery, and folly! The will
provided that she should receive an annuity of one thousand dollars
_during her widowhood_; so that the Squire, by wedding her, had a new
incumbrance without any addition to his resources; a bad bargain,
decidedly, he thought. She, on the other hand, had thrown away her
sure dependence, in the hope of retaining the control of the whole
estate; for when she consented to marry Clamp, she had no doubt that
he had possession of the will and would, of course, keep it concealed.
Seldom it is that _both_ parties to a transaction are so overreached.
The successful party stopped at Mr. Hardwick's that evening to
exchange congratulations. He, as well as Mildred and Mark, was
interested in the lost will; for Mr. Kinloch had mentioned the fact of
the unsettled boundary-line, and directed his executors to make a
clear title of the disputed tract to the blacksmith. The shop was his;
the boys, at all events, would be undisturbed. One provision in the
will greatly excited Mark's curiosity. The notes which he owed to the
estate were to be cancelled, and there was an unexplained reference to
his uncle Hardwick and to some occurrences of long ago. Mildred at
once recalled to mind her father's dying words,--his calling for Mr.
Hardwick, and his mention of the cabinet. She had often thought of her
search in its drawers, and of her finding the lock of sunny hair and
the dried flower. And the blacksmith now, when asked, shook his head
mournfully, and said, (as he had before,) "Sus-some time; nun-not
now!"