'Owen Lloyd, I should tell you, is married to a very amiable, superior
sort of woman, and has one child, a daughter named Caroline, an
elegant, gentle-mannered, beautiful girl I admit, to whom my wife
was much attached, and she was consequently a frequent visitor in
Brook Street. This I always felt was very imprudent; and the result
was, that my son Arthur Smith--only about two years her senior; she
was just turned of seventeen when her father was compelled to fly
from his creditors--formed a silly, boyish attachment for her. They
have since, I gather from this letter, which I found yesterday in
Arthur's dressing-room, carried on, at long intervals, a clandestine
correspondence, waiting for the advent of more propitious times--which,
being interpreted,' added Mr Smith with a sardonic sneer, 'means of
course my death and burial.'
'You are in possession, then, if Miss Caroline Lloyd is living with her
father, of his precise place of abode?'
'Not exactly. The correspondence is, it seems, carried on without the
knowledge of Owen Lloyd; and the girl states in answer, it should seem,
to Arthur's inquiries, that her father would never forgive her if,
under present circumstances, she disclosed his place of residence--_we_
can now very well understand that--and she intreats Arthur not to
persist, at least for the present, in his attempts to discover her.
My son, you must understand, is now of age, and so far as fortune is
concerned, is, thanks to a legacy from an aunt on his mother's side,
independent of me.'
'What post-mark does the letter bear?'
'Charing-Cross. Miss Lloyd states that it will be posted in London by a
friend; that friend being, I nothing doubt, her father's confederate,
Jones. But to us the most important part of the epistle is the
following line:--"My father met with a sad accident in the forest some
time ago, but is now quite recovered." The words _in the forest_ have,
you see, been written over, but not so entirely as to prevent their
being, with a little trouble, traced. Now, coupling this expression
with the Hampshire bank-note, I am of opinion that Lloyd is concealed
somewhere in the New Forest.'
'A shrewd guess, at all events.'
'You now perceive what weighty motives I have to bring this man to
justice. The property carried off I care little comparatively about;
but the intercourse between the girl and my son must at any cost be
terminated'----
He was interrupted by a clerk, who entered to say that Mr William
Lloyd, the gentleman who had advertised as 'X. Y. Z.,' desired to
speak to him. Mr Smith directed Mr Lloyd to be shown in; and then,
snatching up the 'Police Gazette,' and thrusting it into one of the
table-drawers, said in a low voice, but marked emphasis, 'A relative,
no doubt, by the name: be silent, and be watchful.'
A minute afterwards Mr Lloyd was ushered into the room. He was a thin,
emaciated, and apparently sorrow-stricken man, on the wintry side of
middle age, but of mild, courteous, gentlemanly speech and manners.
He was evidently nervous and agitated, and after a word or two of
customary salutation, said hastily, 'I gather from this note, sir, that
you can afford me tidings of my long-lost brother Owen: where is he?'
He looked eagerly round the apartment, gazed with curious earnestness
in my face, and then again turned with tremulous anxiety to Mr Smith.
'Is he dead? Pray do not keep me in suspense.'
'Sit down, sir,' said Mr Smith, pointing to a chair. 'Your brother,
Owen Lloyd, was for many years a clerk in this establishment'----
'_Was--was!_' interrupted Mr Lloyd with greatly-increased agitation:
'not now, then--he has left you?'
'For upwards of three years. A few days ago--pray do not interrupt
me--I obtained intelligence of him, which, with such assistance as you
may possibly be able to afford, will perhaps suffice to enable this
gentleman'--pointing to me--'to discover his present residence.'
I could not stand the look which Mr Lloyd fixed upon me, and turned
hastily away to gaze out of the window, as if attracted by the noise
of a squabble between two draymen, which fortunately broke out at the
moment in the narrow, choked-up street.
'For what purpose, sir, are you instituting this eager search after my
brother? It cannot be that---- No, no--he has left you, you say, more
than three years: besides, the bare supposition is as wicked as absurd.'
'The truth is, Mr Lloyd,' rejoined Mr Smith after a few moments'
reflection, 'there is great danger that my son may disadvantageously
connect himself with your--with your brother's family--may, in fact,
marry his daughter Caroline. Now I could easily convince Owen'----
'Caroline!' interjected Mr Lloyd with a tremulous accent, and his dim
eyes suffused with tears--'Caroline!--ay, truly _her_ daughter would be
named Caroline.' An instant after, he added, drawing himself up with an
air of pride and some sternness: 'Caroline Lloyd, sir, is a person who,
by birth, and, I doubt not, character and attainments, is a fitting
match for the son of the proudest merchant of this proud city.'
'Very likely,' rejoined Mr Smith dryly; 'but you must excuse me for
saying that, as regards _my_ son, it is one which I will at any cost
prevent.'
'How am I to know,' observed Mr Lloyd, whose glance of pride had
quickly passed away, 'that you are dealing fairly and candidly with me
in the matter?'
In reply to this home-thrust, Mr Smith placed the letter addressed by
Miss Lloyd to his son in the hands of the questioner, at the same time
explaining how he had obtained it.
Mr Lloyd's hands trembled, and his tears fell fast over the letter
as he hurriedly perused it. It seemed by his broken, involuntary
ejaculations, that old thoughts and memories were deeply stirred
within him. 'Poor girl!--so young, so gentle, and so sorely tried!
Her mother's very turn of thought and phrase. Owen, too, artless,
honourable, just as he was ever, except when the dupe of knaves and
villains.'
He seemed buried in thought for some time after the perusal of the
letter; and Mr Smith, whose cue it was to avoid exciting suspicion
by too great eagerness of speech, was growing fidgetty. At length,
suddenly looking up, he said in a dejected tone, 'If this is all you
have ascertained, we seem as far off as ever. I can afford you no help.'
'I am not sure of that,' replied Mr Smith. 'Let us look calmly at
the matter. Your brother is evidently not living in London, and that
accounts for your advertisements not being answered.'
'Truly.'
'If you look at the letter attentively, you will perceive that three
important words, "in the forest," have been partially erased.'
'Yes, it is indeed so; but what'----
'Now, is there no particular locality in the country to which your
brother would be likely to betake himself in preference to another?
Gentlemen of fancy and sentiment,' added Mr Smith, 'usually fall back,
I have heard, upon some favourite haunt of early days when pressed by
adversity.'
'It is natural they should,' replied Mr Lloyd, heedless of the sneer.
'I have felt that longing for old haunts and old faces in intensest
force, even when I was what the world calls prospering in strange
lands; and how much more---- But no; he would not return to Wales--to
Caermarthen--to be looked down upon by those amongst whom our family
for so many generations stood equal with the highest. Besides, I have
personally sought him there--in vain.'
'But his wife--_she_ is not a native of the principality?'
'No. Ah! I remember. The forest! It must be so! Caroline Heyworth, whom
we first met in the Isle of Wight, is a native of Beaulieu, a village
in the New Forest, Hampshire. A small, very small property there,
bequeathed by an uncle, belonged to her, and perhaps has not been
disposed of. How came I not to think of this before? I will set out at
once--and yet pressing business requires my stay here for a day or two.'
'This gentleman, Mr Waters, can proceed to Beaulieu immediately.'
'That must do then. You will call on me, Mr Waters--here is my
address--before you leave town. Thank you. And God bless you, sir,' he
added, suddenly seizing Mr Smith's hand, 'for the light you have thrown
upon this wearying, and, I feared, hopeless search. You need not be
so anxious, sir, to send a special messenger to release your son from
his promise of marriage to my niece. None of us, be assured, will be
desirous of forcing her upon a reluctant family.' He then bowed, and
withdrew.
'Mr Waters,' said Mr Smith with a good deal of sternness, as soon as we
were alone, 'I expect that no sentimental crotchet will prevent your
doing your duty in this matter?'
'What right,' I answered with some heat, 'have you, sir, to make such
an insinuation?'
'Because I perceived, by your manner, that you disapproved my
questioning Mr Lloyd as to the likeliest mode of securing his brother.'
'My manner but interpreted my thoughts: still, sir, I know what belongs
to my duty, and shall perform it.'
'Enough: I have nothing more to say.'
I drew on my gloves, took up my hat, and was leaving the room, when Mr
Smith exclaimed, 'Stay one moment, Mr Waters: you see that my great
object is to break off the connection between my son and Miss Lloyd?'
'I do.'
'I am not anxious, you will remember, to press the prosecution _if,
by a frank written confession of his guilt_, Owen Lloyd places an
insuperable bar between his child and mine. You understand?'
'Perfectly. But permit me to observe, that the _duty_ you just now
hinted I might hesitate to perform, will not permit me to be a party to
any such transaction. Good-day.'
I waited on Mr William Lloyd soon afterwards, and listened with
painful interest to the brief history which he, with childlike
simplicity, narrated of his own and brother's fortunes. It was a sad,
oft-told tale. They had been early left orphans; and deprived of
judicious guidance, had run--William more especially--a wild career
of dissipation, till _all_ was gone. Just before the crash came,
they had both fallen in love with the same woman, Caroline Heyworth,
who had preferred the meeker, more gentle-hearted Owen, to his elder
brother. They parted in anger. William obtained a situation as bailiff
and overseer of an estate in Jamaica, where, by many years of toil,
good fortune, and economy, he at length ruined his health and restored
his fortunes; and was now returned to die rich in his native country;
and, as he had till an hour before feared, unlamented and untended
save by hirelings. I promised to write immediately I had seen his
brother; and with a sorrowful heart took leave of the vainly-rejoicing,
prematurely-aged man.
I arrived at Southampton by the night-coach--the railway was but just
begun, I remember--and was informed that the best mode of reaching
Beaulieu--Bewley, they pronounced it--was by crossing the Southampton
river to the village of Hythe, which was but a few miles distance from
Beaulieu. As soon as I had breakfasted, I hastened to the quay, and was
soon speeding across the tranquil waters in one of the sharp-stemmed
wherries which plied constantly between the shores. My attention was
soon arrested by two figures in the stern of the boat, a man and woman.
A slight examination of their features sufficed to convince me that
they were Jones and his wife. They evidently entertained no suspicion
of pursuit; and as I heard them tell the boatmen they were going on to
_Bewley_, I determined for the present not to disturb their fancied
security. It was fortunate I did so. As soon as we had landed, they
passed into a mean-looking dwelling, which, from some nets, and a boat
under repair, in a small yard in front of it, I concluded to be a
fisherman's. As no vehicle could be readily procured, I determined on
walking on, and easily reached Beaulieu, which is charmingly situated
just within the skirts of the New Forest, about twelve o'clock. After
partaking of a slight repast at the principal inn of the place--I
forget its name; but it was, I remember, within a stone's-throw of the
celebrated Beaulieu Abbey ruins--I easily contrived, by a few careless,
indirect questions, to elicit all the information I required of the
loquacious waiting-maid. Mr Lloyd, who seemed to bear an excellent
character, lived, I was informed, at a cottage about half a mile
distant from the inn, and chiefly supported himself as a measurer
of timber--beech and ash: a small stock--the oak was reserved for
government purposes--he usually kept on hand. Miss Caroline, the girl
said, did beautiful fancy-work; and a group of flowers painted by her,
as natural as life, was framed and glazed in the bar, if I would like
to see it. Upon the right track sure enough! Mr Lloyd, there could be
no longer a doubt, had unconsciously betrayed his unfortunate, guilty
brother into the hands of justice, and I, an agent of the iron law,
was already upon the threshold of his hiding-place! I felt no pleasure
at the success of the scheme. To have bravely and honestly stood up
against an adverse fate for so many years, only to fall into crime just
as fortune had grown weary of persecuting him, and a long-estranged
brother had returned to raise him and his to their former position in
society, was melancholy indeed! And the young woman too, whose letter
breathed so pure, so gentle, so patient a spirit!--it would not bear
thinking about--and I resolutely strove to look upon the affair as one
of everyday routine. It would not, do, however; and I was about to quit
the room in no very enviable frame of mind, when my boat companions, Mr
and Mrs Jones, entered, and seated themselves at one of the tables. The
apartment was rather a large one, and as I was seated in the corner of
a box at some distance from the entrance, they did not at first observe
me; and several words caught my ear which awakened a strong desire to
hear more. That I might do so, I instantly adopted a very common, but
not the less often very successful device. As soon as the new-comers
perceived me, their whispered colloquy stopped abruptly; and after a
minute or so, the man said, looking hard at me, 'Good-day, sir; you
have had rather a long walk?' and he glanced at my dusty boots.
'Sir,' I replied, enclosing my left ear with my hand in the manner of a
natural ear-trumpet, 'did you speak?'
'A dusty walk,' he rejoined in a voice that might have been heard in a
hurricane or across Fleet Street.
'One o'clock!' I replied, pulling out my watch. 'No: it wants a quarter
yet.'
'Deaf as the Monument,' said Jones to his companion. 'All right.'
The suspended dialogue was but partially resumed.
'Do you think,' said the woman, after the lapse of about five
minutes--'do you think Owen and his family will go with us? I hope not.'
'Not he: I only asked him just for the say-so of the thing. He is too
chicken-hearted for that, or for anything else that requires pluck.'
Finishing the spirits and water they had ordered, they soon afterwards
went out. I followed.
As soon as we had gone about a hundred paces from the house, I said,
'Pray can you tell me which is Mr Lloyd the beech-merchant's house?'
'Yes,' replied the man, taking hold of my arm, and hallooing into my
ear with a power sufficient to really deafen one for life: 'we are
going there to dine.'
I nodded comprehension, and on we journeyed. We were met at the door
by Owen Lloyd himself--a man in whose countenance guilelessness, even
to simplicity, seemed stamped by nature's own true hand. So much,
thought I, for the reliance to be placed on physiognomy! 'I have
brought you a customer,' said Mr Jones; 'but he is as deaf as a stone.'
I was courteously invited in by signs; and with much hallooing and
shouting, it was finally settled that, after dinner, I should look
over Mr Lloyd's stock of wood. Dinner had just been placed on the
table by Mrs Lloyd and her daughter. A still very comely, interesting
woman was Mrs Lloyd, though time and sorrow had long since set their
unmistakeable seals upon her. Her daughter was, I thought, one of the
most charming, graceful young women I had ever seen, spite of the tinge
of sadness which dwelt upon her sweet face, deepening its interest
if it somewhat diminished its beauty. My heart ached to think of the
misery the announcement of my errand must presently bring on such
gentle beings--innocent, I felt confident, even of the knowledge of the
crime that had been committed. I dreaded to begin--not, Heaven knows,
from any fear of the men, who, compared with me, were poor, feeble
creatures, and I could easily have mastered half-a-dozen such; but the
females--that young girl especially--how encounter _their_ despair? I
mutely declined dinner, but accepted a glass of ale, and sat down till
I could muster sufficient resolution for the performance of my task;
for I felt this was an opportunity of quietly effecting the capture of
both the suspected criminals which _must_ not be neglected.
Dinner was just over when Mrs Lloyd said, 'Oh, Mr Jones, have you seen
anything of my husband's pocket-book? It was on a shelf in the room
where you slept--not the last time, but when you were here about three
weeks ago. We can find it nowhere; and I thought you might possibly
have taken it by mistake.'
'A black, common-looking thing?' said Jones.
'Yes.'
'I _did_ take it by mistake. I found it in one of my parcels, and put
it in my pocket, intending of course to return it when I came back;
but I remember, when wanting to open a lock of which I had lost the
key, taking it out to see if it contained a pencil-case which I thought
might answer the purpose; and finding none, tossing it away in a pet, I
could not afterwards find it.'
'Then it is lost?'
'Yes; but what of that? There was nothing in it.'
'You are mistaken,' rejoined Owen; 'there was a five-pound country note
in it, and the loss will---- What is the matter, friend?'
I had sprung upon my feet with uncontrollable emotion: Mr Lloyd's
observation recalled me to myself, and I sat down again, muttering
something about a sudden pain in the side.
'Oh, if that's the case,' said Jones, 'I'll make it up willingly. I am
pretty rich, you know, just now.'
'We shall be much obliged to you,' said Mrs Lloyd; 'its loss would be a
sad blow to us.'
'How came you to send those heavy boxes here, Jones?' said Owen Lloyd.
'Would it not have been better to have sent them direct to Portsmouth,
where the vessel calls?'
'I had not quite made up my mind to return to America then; and I knew
they would be safer here than anywhere else.'
'When do you mean to take them away? We are so badly off for room, that
they terribly hamper us.'
'This evening, about nine o'clock. I have hired a smack at Hythe to
take us, bag and baggage, down the river to meet the liner which calls
off Portsmouth to-morrow. I wish we could persuade you to go with us.'
'Thank you, Jones,' replied Owen in a dejected tone. 'I have very
little to hope for here; still my heart clings to the old country.'
I had heard enough; and hastily rising, intimated a wish to look at the
timber at once. Mr Lloyd immediately rose, and Jones and his wife left
the cottage to return to Hythe at the same time that we did. I marked
a few pieces of timber, and promising to send for them in the morning,
hastened away.
A mountain seemed removed from off my breast: I felt as if I had
achieved a great personal deliverance. Truly a wonderful interposition
of Providence, I thought, that has so signally averted the fatal
consequences likely to have resulted from the thoughtless imprudence
of Owen Lloyd, in allowing his house to be made, however innocently, a
receptacle for stolen goods, at the solicitations, too, of a man whose
character he knew to be none of the purest. He had had a narrow escape,
and might with perfect truth exclaim--
'There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.'
The warrants of which I was the bearer the London police authorities
had taken care to get indorsed by a magistrate of the county of
Hampshire, who happened to be in London, so that I found no difficulty
in arranging effectually for the capture and safe custody of Jones and
his assistants when he came to fetch his booty.
I had just returned to the Beaulieu inn, after completing my
arrangements, when a carriage drove furiously up to the door, and who
should, to my utter astonishment, alight, but Mr William Lloyd, and
Messrs Smith, father and son. I hastened out, and briefly enjoining
caution and silence, begged them to step with me into a private room.
The agitation of Mr Lloyd and of Mr Arthur Smith was extreme, but
Mr Smith appeared cold and impassive as ever. I soon ascertained
that Arthur Smith, by his mother's assistance, I suspect, had early
penetrated his father's schemes and secrets, and had, in consequence,
caused Mr William Lloyd to be watched home, with whom, immediately
after I had left, he had a long conference. Later in the evening an
_éclaircissement_ with the father took place; and after a long and
stormy discussion, it was resolved that all three should the next
morning post down to Beaulieu, and act as circumstances might suggest.
My story was soon told. It was received of course with unbounded joy
by the brother and the lover; and even through the father's apparent
indifference I could perceive that his refusal to participate in the
general joy would not be of long duration. The large fortune which Mr
William Lloyd intimated his intention to bestow upon his niece was a
new and softening element in the affair.
Mr Smith, senior, ordered his dinner; and Mr Lloyd and Arthur
Smith--but why need I attempt to relate what _they_ did? I only know
that when, a long time afterwards, I ventured to look in at Mr Owen
Lloyd's cottage, all the five inmates--brother, uncle, lover, niece,
and wife--were talking, laughing, weeping, smiling, like distracted
creatures, and seemed utterly incapable of reasonable discourse. An
hour after that, as I stood screened by a belt of forest-trees in
wait for Mr Jones and company, I noticed, as they all strolled past
me in the clear moonlight, that the tears, the agitation had passed
away, leaving only smiles and grateful joy on the glad faces so lately
clouded by anxiety and sorrow. A mighty change in so brief a space!
Mr Jones arrived with his cart and helpers in due time. A man who
sometimes assisted in the timber-yard was deputed, with an apology for
the absence of Mr Lloyd, to deliver the goods. The boxes, full of plate
and other valuables, were soon hoisted in, and the cart moved off. I
let it proceed about a mile, and then, with the help I had placed in
readiness, easily secured the astounded burglar and his assistants; and
early the next morning Jones was on his road to London. He was tried at
the ensuing Old-Bailey sessions, convicted, and transported for life;
and the discretion I had exercised in not executing the warrant against
Owen Lloyd was decidedly approved of by the authorities.
It was about two months after my first interview with Mr Smith that,
on returning home one evening, my wife placed before me a piece of
bride-cake, and two beautifully-engraved cards united with white satin
ribbon, bearing the names of Sir and Mrs Arthur Smith. I was more
gratified by this little act of courtesy for Emily's sake, as those who
have temporarily fallen from a certain position in society will easily
understand, than I should have been by the costliest present. The
service I had rendered was purely accidental: it has nevertheless been
always kindly remembered by all parties whom it so critically served.