THE FADED PARCHMENT.
The days rolled on in the little fishing village, and the terrible
drama which had convulsed it was still talked of and remembered, but
with less vividness every day.
Up at the Cedars two sorrowful human beings, clad in black, were
learning that bitter lesson which all must learn, to suffer and to bear.
Violet was their sole comfort in the hour of darkness.
She had given them the only explanation of the tragedy they would
accept, namely that Leicester had slain Starling in self-defense and
had himself fallen over the cliff into the sea.
Violet's plump roundness gradually toned down to a spareness which was
grace itself, but, alas! strangely different to her old healthful vigor.
One other person beside the relations of Leicester mourned for him, and
that was little, lame Jemmie, Willie Sanderson's brother.
To the poor, afflicted lad Leicester had seemed to be a beneficent god.
The child adored the man who had, in so kindly and true a fashion,
ministered to his wants, and no one shed more tears than little Jemmie.
In his little chair, which he could propel himself, he would haunt the
Cedars, and the walks which had been favorite resorts of Leicester, and
there weep over the memory of his great friend and hero.
One evening, the lad set off in his quiet, sad way for a walk, or,
rather, ride on the cliff.
Impelled by an awful curiosity, the boy drove close to the edge of the
cliff, and looked down.
He drew back, with a sob of grief and was about to return, but, as
he made the movement, his tear-dimmed eyes caught the glimmer of
some object lying under the edge of the cliff, half hidden by the
overhanging tufts of grass.
With a mechanical curiosity, he drew near to it, and saw, with a
beating heart, that it was a knife.
Instantly it flashed upon him that it was the very knife with which
Leicester had, in self-defense, slain Jem Starling.
With the knife hidden in his bosom he returned home, determined to
destroy the weapon, with its telltale rust of blood, on the first
opportunity.
Of course, the doctor was not at all satisfied with the outward calm
and serenity with which Violet bore her grief.
"It is all very well," he said to Mr. Thaxton, as he and that gentleman
were smoking a cigar on the lawn and conferring together as to the
state of Violet's health, "it is all very well to say that she is
resigned, but I must confess that I do not like the word when it is
applied to the numbed stillness of a young girl. Could you not get up
a little difficulty of some sort? Anything would answer the purpose to
divert her mind from this terrible subject."
"Hem!" said Mr. Thaxton. "I have always avoided business, though, as
you are aware, I was summoned to go into some matter. Every day I offer
to touch upon the subject with Mrs. Mildmay she entreats me to wait a
little and to remain."
"Yes," said the doctor, "and I am very glad you are here, but still I
think I would attempt to interest her. Cannot Captain Murpoint assist
us? He seems to have taken the management of affairs."
"Yes," said Mr. Thaxton, and his brow clouded slightly. "Captain
Murpoint is invaluable; he is extremely clever, and seems to obtain
implicit obedience here."
At that moment Captain Murpoint came on to the lawn.
"Good-morning," said Mr. Thaxton. "We were talking of you, captain.
Mr. Boner was suggesting that it would be as well to attempt a little
diversion for Miss Mildmay."
"With all my heart," said the captain, gravely.
"In the shape of business," continued Mr. Thaxton. "You have never
informed me yet why my presence was wanted at the Park."
The captain's face flushed slightly. He had been waiting for this
moment, and now it had come he braved it boldly.
"I wrote to you at the request of Miss Mildmay," he said. "It was a
matter connected with a locket of her father's--mine it would have been
had he lived longer. But let us come in; we will find the ladies, and
go into it--that is, if Violet is well enough. You, Mr. Boner, must
come and ascertain that for us."
So, with his usual artfulness, he secured another witness for the
business which he had on hand.
The three gentlemen went into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Mildmay and
Violet were seated, the elder lady knitting, the younger, not reading,
with a book open before her.
Mr. Thaxton crossed over to her, and, seating himself by her side,
said, in the gentle voice with which he always addressed her:
"My dear young lady, do you feel well enough to go into business this
morning?"
Violet smiled, faintly.
"I am quite well," she said. "I always am. It is only your kind heart
which fears otherwise. What business is it?"
"The business upon which you sent for me," said Mr. Thaxton.
Violet started slightly, and a dim look of pain shadowed her eyes.
"I forgot," she said. "I forget so many things." Then she looked over
at the captain. "Captain Murpoint sent for you; he will tell you."
The captain, thus adjured, crossed over to them, and explained.
Mr. Thaxton listened.
"And this locket," he said; "you are anxious to get, my dear?"
"Yes," said Violet, sadly. "I would like to have it. I had forgotten
it. Yes, I would like to have it; I must have it."
"Then," said Mr. Thaxton, cheerily, hoping to rouse her to something
like interest, "suppose we venture boldly into the ghost's quarters,
and find it? What do you say, Mr. Boner? Are you courageous enough to
accompany us?"
The doctor smiled an assent.
"Miss Mildmay must come, too," he said, hoping to rouse her, or to
awaken some feeling in place of the dull lethargy which had taken hold
of her.
"Yes, I will come. Auntie!" and she called to Mrs. Mildmay; "we will go
together."
The whole plan, as far as this, had worked admirably, and the captain,
offering his arm to Violet, led the way to the closed chamber.
Arrived at the door, Mr. Thaxton tried the handle.
"Have you the key?" he asked.
"Yes," said Violet, and she went to fetch it.
While she was gone, Mr. Boner examined the door.
"We shall want a screwdriver," he said; "the door is screwed up."
A servant was dispatched for the tool, and Mr. Thaxton himself
unscrewed the door.
"The screws are quite rusty," he said; "the door has not been opened
since the day on which it was first closed thus."
"No," said Violet, "it has never been opened," and, as she spoke, she
unlocked it.
There was a few moments of silence, during which the lawyer's acute
eyes had taken an inventory of the room and its contents.
"Yes," he said, "the room has evidently not been entered for years.
Have you the keys, Miss Mildmay?"
Violet handed him a bunch of keys.
The doctor followed the lawyer into the room, and, drawing forward
chairs, dusted them and requested Violet and Mrs. Mildmay to be seated.
"I suppose," said Mr. Thaxton, "that we had better try this old bureau
first."
Mr. Thaxton slowly tried a key, and opened a drawer.
It was full of papers, which he merely glanced at and laid aside.
Then he opened the writing-desk portion of the bureau, and found a
drawer full of trinkets.
"Here it must be," he said, pointing to the drawer. "Will you look?"
Violet rose, and, with trembling fingers, turned over the jewelry.
"These were my mother's jewels," she said.
"Is the locket in there?" asked Mrs. Mildmay.
"No," said Violet, after a pause, and with evident disappointment. "No,
there is no locket here."
"Let us search another drawer," said the lawyer, and he unlocked the
next in succession.
This, also, was full of papers, but nothing in the shape of a locket
could be found there.
Mr. Boner came forward.
"I am rather familiar with the oddities of this sort of furniture," he
said. "Indeed, I have a taste for old bookcases and secretaries. May I
see if I can find a secret drawer?"
He passed his hand upon the beading running round the writing desk.
"No," said the doctor; "I am disappointed."
Violet rose.
"I will try," she said, and she passed her white, slender fingers over
the ornamental part of the bureau.
As she did so, there was a sudden click, and before them all the secret
drawer glided out.
Violet started, then bent down and examined it.
There was only an old, faded piece of parchment.
"There is no locket here," she said. "Only this," and she laid the
paper on the table. "Will you please put the papers where they
were--and--and--close the room again?"
And she shuddered.
"You are chilled," said the doctor. "There is a draught here from that
broken window," and he pointed to the window, in which a pane was
broken.
The captain started.
He had quite forgotten that slight evidence of his dark deed.
"A bat or an owl has flown against it," he said. "Let me take you
downstairs, Miss Mildmay."
Violet placed her hand upon his arm.
"One moment," said Mr. Thaxton. "With your permission, I will glance at
this document; it should be of some importance, so carefully preserved."
Violet made a gesture of assent.
"A lease, or something of the sort," muttered the lawyer, putting
on his spectacles and taking up the parchment. "Ah!" he exclaimed,
suddenly, looking up and scanning the faces all round with a look of
surprise.
"What is the matter?" said Mrs. Mildmay, nervously.
"Have you any idea as to what this paper may be?" he asked Violet.
She shook her head, wearily.
"No," she said. "What is it?"
"This," said the lawyer, tapping the document, "is a codicil to your
father's will, signed"--here he glanced at the last page--"by him,
legally and in due form."
Violet remained silent.
There was a general expression of surprise.
Mr. Thaxton thought for a moment, with the document in his hand.
Then he said:
"I am glad there were so many present at the finding of the deed, and I
think I will take the precaution of sealing it in your presence. May I
ring for sealing-wax and paper?"
He rang the long silent bell, and a servant, at his request, brought
the required articles.
Then, with due formality, the man of law folded the document and sealed
it, using a seal of Violet's for the purpose.
"Now," he said, looking at his watch, "as it is important and only
reasonable that we should learn the contents, I should recommend that
Mr. Beal, the solicitor at Tenby, be telegraphed for. I would rather
that another legal adviser as well as myself were present at the
reading.
"I will telegraph at once," said the captain, gravely, as the party
passed out of the room, which was locked and screwed up as it had been
before.
In a very short time Mr. Beal, the Tenby solicitor, arrived.
Mr. Beal was the exact opposite to Mr. Thaxton in appearance and
demeanor. He was astute, but a gentleman of the old legal school, and
he had risen from a heavy dinner at the special summons with not a
little of ill-humor.
"This is a singular discovery," said Mr. Beal. "Of course, it has
considerably surprised you, madam."
Mrs. Mildmay murmured "Yes," and the lawyer, after conferring for a
moment, broke the seal.
"It is very short," said Mrs. Beal. "Will you read it, or shall I?"
"You," said Mr. Thaxton.
Mr. Beal opened the parchment, and continued:
"'I, John Mildmay, being in sound bodily and mental health, do
declare this to be my true codicil to my last will and testament. I
do hereby bequeath to my dear and beloved daughter, Violet Mildmay,
the whole of my real and personal estates, with the exception of the
legacies mentioned in my will, to hold and to have on these terms;
that is to say: That I hereby appoint Howard Murpoint, captain in Her
Majesty's army, sole guardian and trustee of my moneys and estates,
in trust for Violet Mildmay, who shall have and hold them so long as
she remains unmarried or marries with the consent of the said Howard
Murpoint; and I hereby will that, in case of Violet Mildmay's death
unwedded or her marriage without the consent of the said Howard
Murpoint, that all moneys and properties held under my will shall
revert to the said Howard Murpoint, with the exception of the bequests
and legacies contained in my will; and I bequeath the sum of five
thousand pounds, to be raised from the estate, or from my personal
assets, to the said Howard Murpoint, to have and to hold for his own
use. And I do assign to him the sole charge and care of my beloved
daughter, Violet Mildmay, and do beseech him to hold her as his own
daughter, and to guard and cherish her as such. The aforesaid are my
last bequests and wishes, subject, so far as legacies to servants and
relations are contained in my last will and testament. Dated the --
day of ----, 18--. As witness my hand.
"'(Signed) JOHN MILDMAY.'
"'Witnesses: Henry Matthews, Mary Matthews.'"
Mr. Thaxton looked gravely from one to the other, and examined the
document.
"Is it in my brother's handwriting?" asked Mrs. Mildmay.
"Yes, madam," said Mr. Beal. "The late Mr. Mildmay's handwriting, I
should say, undoubtedly."
"It is only my duty to state," said Mr. Thaxton, after a moment's
silence, "that this document is singularly informal, and that it
could be set aside--I do not say that there exists any wish to set it
aside--but I say that it would not, in my opinion, hold good in a court
of equity."
"Just so," said Mr. Beal, with legal solemnity.
"You say that it is my father's handwriting?" asked Violet.
"I should say so. Yes, certainly," said Mr. Beal.
Mr. Thaxton remained silent.
"What is your opinion, Mr. Thaxton?" asked the captain.
"I have formed none at present," said the lawyer, quietly. "I have not
examined the document sufficiently to do so. I know that it was an
oft-expressed wish of the late Mr. Mildmay that his daughter should be
placed under your guardianship."
"And it is so set down," said Violet, rising with her usual decision.
"My father's will is mine!" She held out her hand to the captain,
with a sad, gentle smile. "He has assigned me to your charge, and I
resign myself. Will you undertake that responsibility? Will you be the
guardian of the daughter of your dead friend?"
The captain took the little thin hand and bent over it while his
tears--by some miraculous effort--dropped on it.
"I will," he breathed, struggling with his emotion. "I will cherish
you, as he says, as if you were my own!"