'OLD SIR DAVID'S' SECRET
At first he thought the queer-looking things he saw must be odd-shaped
pieces of stone, or petrifactions, such as you see in old-fashioned
rockeries in gardens sometimes. But when he went close up to them and
touched one, he found that the covering was soft, though whatever was
inside it was hard. He pulled the cloth off it, and saw to his surprise
that it was a heavy silver tea-urn, though so black and discoloured that
it looked more like copper or iron. He examined two or three other
things, standing by near it; they also proved to be large pieces of
plate--great heavy dinner-table centres, candelabra, and such
things,--and, child though he was, Master Francis could see they must be
of considerable value. But this was not what struck him the most. Like a
flash of lightning it darted into his mind that there must be still
more valuable things in this queer store-room.
'I do believe,' he said to himself, 'that this is old Sir David's
treasure!'
He was right. It would take too long to describe how he went on
examining into all these strange objects. Several, that looked like
well-stuffed sacks, were tied up so tightly that he couldn't undo the
cord. He made a little hole in one of them with his pocket-knife, and
out rolled, to his delight, ever so many gold pieces!
'Then,' said Master Francis to us, 'I really felt as if I could have
jumped with joy; but I thought I'd better fetch Uncle Hulbert before I
poked about any more, and I went up the short ladder again, meaning to
go back the way I'd come. I had never thought till that minute that I
couldn't manage it, but the long ladder was broken away so high above my
head that I couldn't possibly reach up to it, and the bits of it that
had fallen on to the floor were quite rotten. And the trap-door seemed
so close shut, that I was afraid no one would hear me however I
shouted.'
He did shout though, poor boy; it was the only thing he could do. The
short ladder was a fixture and he couldn't move it from its place, even
if it had been long enough to be of any use. After a while he got so
tired of calling out, that he seemed to have no voice left, and I think
he must have fallen into a sort of doze, for the next thing he
remembered was waking up to find that it was quite dark. Then he began
to feel terribly frightened, and to think that perhaps he would be left
there to die of hunger.
'And the worst of it was,' he said in his simple way, 'that nobody would
ever have known of the treasure.'
He called out again from time to time, and then a new idea struck him.
He felt about for a bit of wood on the floor and set to work, knocking
as hard as he could. Most likely he fell asleep by fits and starts,
waking up every now and then to knock and call out again, and when the
house was all shut up and silent for the night, of course the sound he
made seemed much louder, only unluckily we were all asleep and might
never have heard it except for dear little Miss Lally.
It was not till after Master Francis caught the sound of our knocking
back in reply that it came into his head to make his way close up to the
windows--luckily it was not a very dark night--and call through them,
for there was no glass in them, as I have said. If he had done that
before it is just possible we might have heard him sooner, as in our
searching we had been in and out of his room, above where he was,
several times.
There is not much more for me to tell. Master Francis was ill enough to
have to stay in bed for a day or two, and at first we were a little
afraid that the cold and the terror, and the strange excitement
altogether, might bring on another illness. But it was not so. I think
he was really too happy to fall ill again!
In a day or two Sir Hulbert was able to tell him all about the
discovery. It was kept quite secret till the family lawyer could be sent
for, and then he and my lady and Sir Hulbert all went down through the
trap-door again with Mr. Crooks, the butler, to help them, and
everything was opened out and examined. It was a real miser's hoard.
Besides the plate, which was really the least valuable, for it was so
clumsy and heavy that a good deal of it was only fit to be melted down,
there were five or six sacks filled with gold and some with silver coin.
Of course something was lost upon it with its being so old, but taking
it all in all, a very large sum was realised, for a great many of the
Penrose diamonds had been hidden away also, _some_ of which--the most
valuable, though not the most beautiful--were sold.
Altogether, though it didn't make Sir Hulbert into a millionaire, it
made him a rich man, as rich, I think, as he cared to be. And, strangely
enough, as the old proverb has it, 'it never rains but it pours,' only
two or three years after, money came to my lady which she had never
expected. So that to any one visiting Treluan, as it now is, and seeing
all that has been done by the family, not only for themselves, but for
those about them,--the church, the schools, the cottages on the estate
being perfect models of their kind--it would be difficult to believe
there had ever been want of money to be wisely and generously spent.
Dear, dear, how many years ago it all is now! There's not many living,
if any, to remember the ins and outs as I do, which is indeed my excuse
for having put it down in my own way.
Miss Bess,--Miss Penrose, as I should say,--Miss Lalage, and even Miss
Augusta have been married this many a day; and Lady Helen, Miss Bess's
eldest daughter, is sixteen past, and it is she that has promised to
look over my writing and correct it.
Master Bevil, Sir Bevil now, for Sir Hulbert did not live to be an old
man, has two fine boys of his own, whom I took care of from their
babyhood, as I did their father, and I'm feeling quite lost since Master
Ramsey has gone to school.
And of dear Master Francis. What words can I say that would be enough?
He is the only one of the flock that has not married, and yet who could
be happier than he is? He never thinks of himself, his whole life has
been given to the noblest work. His writings, I am told, though they're
too learned for my old head, have made him a name far and wide. And all
this he has done in spite of delicate health and frequent suffering. He
seems older than his years, and Sir Bevil is in hopes that before long
he may persuade his cousin to give up his hard London parish and make
his regular home where he is so longed for, in Treluan itself, as our
vicar, and indeed I pray that it may be so while I am still here to see
it.
Above all, for my dear lady's sake, I scarcely like to own to myself
that she is beginning to fail, for though I speak of myself as an old
woman and feel it is true, yet I can't bear to think that her years are
running near to the appointed threescore and ten, for she is nine years
older than I. She has certainly never been the same, and no wonder,
since Sir Hulbert's death, but she has had many comforts, and almost the
greatest of them has been, as I think I have said before, Master
Francis.
* * * * *
Mother and my aunts want me to add on a few words of my own to dear old
nurse's story. She gave it me to read and correct here and there, more
than a year ago, and I meant to have done so at once. But for some
months past I hardly felt as if I had the heart to undertake it,
especially as I didn't like bringing back the remembrance of their old
childish days to mother and my aunts, or to Uncle Bevil and Uncle
Francis, as we always call him, just in the first freshness of their
grief at dear grandmamma's death. And I needed to ask them a few things
to make the narrative quite clear for any who may ever care to read it.
But now that the spring has come back again, making us all feel bright
and hopeful (we have all been at Treluan together for Uncle Bevil's
birthday), I have enjoyed doing it, and they all tell me that they have
enjoyed hearing about the story and answering my questions.
Dear grandmamma loved the spring so! She was so gentle and sweet,
though she never lost her quick eager way either. And though she died
last year, just before the daffodils and primroses were coming out,
somehow this spring the sight of them again has not made us feel sad
about her, but _happy_ in the best way of all.
Perhaps I should have said before that I am 'Nelly,' 'Miss Bess's'
eldest daughter. Aunt Lalage has only one daughter, who is named after
mother, and _I_ think very like what mother must have been at her age.
There are five of _us_, and Aunt Augusta has two boys, like Uncle Bevil.
What used to be 'the secret room,' where our miser ancestor kept the
hoard so strangely discovered, has been joined, by taking down the
ceiling, to what in the old days was Uncle Francis's room, and enters
from a door lower down the tower stair, and Uncle Bevil's boys have made
it into what they call their 'Museum.' We are all very fond of showing
it to visitors, and explaining how it used to be, and telling the whole
story. Uncle Francis always maintains that Aunt Lally saved his life,
and though she gets very red when he says so, I do think it is true. She
really was very brave for such a little girl. If I heard knockings in
the night, I am afraid I should hide my head under the clothes, and put
my fingers in my ears.
Uncle Francis and Aunt Lally always do seem almost more brother and
sister to each other than any of the rest; and her husband, Uncle
Geoffrey, whom next to Uncle Francis I think I like best of all my
uncles, was one of _his_--I mean Uncle Francis's; what a confusion I'm
getting into--best friends at college.
When I began this, after correcting nurse's manuscript, I thought
nothing would be easier than to write a story in the most beautiful
language, but I find it so much harder than I expected that I am not
sorry to think that there is really nothing more of importance to tell.
And I must say my admiration for the way in which nurse has performed
_her_ task has increased exceedingly!
THE END