THE SEQUEL OF MISS BAYNARD's ADVENTURE.
It was with a bitter sense of helplessness that Miss Baynard continued
to brood over the news brought her by Andry Luce. The knowledge that,
with the exception of a certain legacy to herself and sundry small
bequests to old servants, the whole of her uncle's wealth, both in
land and money, would go to Mrs. Bullivant and her son, who were not
even cousins six times removed, cut her to the quick. The amazing
injustice of the thing, so to speak, struck her dumb. To think that a
man who knew full well his span of life had dwindled to a few brief
hours should, in cold blood, choose to perpetrate so black a sin--for
in her eyes it was nothing less--was to Nell wholly inconceivable. And
all for what? Merely because his son had married beneath him, and had
thereby brought to naught a certain ambitious scheme on which his
heart had been set. And now the innocent child was to suffer for its
father's fault, if fault it were. Oh, it was monstrous--monstrous!
Of one thing she was quite sure: she would never touch her uncle's
legacy. Every shilling of it should go to the boy. But what was such a
pittance in comparison with the income which, when he should come of
age, ought to be his of inalienable right? Yet his name was not once
mentioned in the will! The last of the Cortelyons--bone of his bone,
and flesh of his flesh--might die in a gutter or come to the gallows
for anything the old man cared. Such a revenge was more than human; it
was fiendish, and could only have been prompted by the devil. Nell
burnt from head to foot with a fine flame of indignation when she
thought of these things, and for the next forty-eight hours she could
think of nothing else.
It was in the course of the second afternoon after Andry Luce had told
her that she happened--herself unseen--to overhear the two doctors
talking together as they stood for a few moments in the corridor after
coming out of her uncle's room. "I give him three days at the
outside," one of them said. To which the other replied: "Hum! I
daresay you are right. But I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he were
to go off in his sleep between now and to-morrow."
Nell gave one quick gasp, and a shudder ran through her from head to
foot. She had known for some time what each day was bringing nearer,
but to hear from the lips of those who knew that the end was so close
came upon her with a shock, and for a moment or two made her feel as
if she had suddenly come face to face with a skeleton.
It was the day Mr. Piljoy had promised to bring the will for the
purpose of having it signed, and as she remembered this she could not
help saying to herself: "If I could only get hold of it and destroy
it, my uncle would hardly live to sign another in its stead, and Evan,
as his grandfather's heir-at-law, would succeed to everything!"
Then a little derisive laugh at her folly broke from her lips. Get
hold of the will, forsooth! Why, she would not be allowed to so much
as set eyes on it. Her brain must be softening even to imagine such a
thing.
About an hour later her uncle sent for her. It was in connection with
the errand to Mr. Delafosse that he wanted to see her. Having received
her instructions--given brokenly and in whispers--and had the precious
MS. committed to her charge, she left the room. He gazed after her, a
little wistfully as it seemed, thinking, perhaps, that she might have
kissed him before going--for in his heart he loved the girl--as at
another time she most likely would have done; but her proud, set face
had never changed while he gave her his message, and when he had done
she simply inclined her head and went. She felt that even if she were
never to see him alive again she could not forgive him; but he did not
know that.
About two o'clock Mr. Tew, in Mr. Piljoy's stead, arrived with the
will. In the absence of Mrs. Budd, who had gone into the village, he
was received by Miss Baynard, to whom he explained the nature of his
business and apologized for his employer's absence.
Nell's heart grew cold as she listened. Why did not Providence
intervene, and not allow so black a deed to be consummated? If only
Mr. Tew's arrival had been delayed for two or three days--she would
not have cared by what means--then would he have come too late, and
all would have been well. As it was, she could but wring her hands in
sheer helplessness.
She was going sadly upstairs to her own room (after seeing Mr. Tew
planted in front of a pigeon pie), when an idea flashed across her
brain which for a moment or two seemed mentally to blind her. But it
was a notion at once so wild and extravagant that, after drawing one
long breath, her hands went involuntarily to her head, and she said to
herself, "My reason must be deserting me." For all that, she could not
thrust the notion from her; indeed, it had taken such a firm grip of
her that when she reached her room she found herself under compulsion
to sit down and face it, and, however bizarre and impracticable it had
at first seemed, to consider it dispassionately from a common-sense
point of view. The idea which had so startled her, and without any
conscious leading up to it on her own part, was nothing less than, in
the guise of a highwayman, to stop Mr. Tew when on his way back to
Arkrigg and despoil him of the will.
When a young spark of nineteen or twenty, Dick Cortelyon, on the
occasion of one of his brief visits at home, had attended a fancy ball
in the neighborhood in the character of a gentleman of the road. In
the wardrobe in his room upstairs--a room left untouched since the
date of his quarrel with his father--the dress, wig, mask, pistols,
and other items of his make-up on that occasion were stored to the
present day, a fact which was within Nell's cognizance. The picture of
her cousin, masked and ready to set out for the ball, had impressed
her girlish imagination very vividly at the time, and had often
recurred to her memory since; and this recollection it must have been,
acting through some sub-conscious channel, which, while asking herself
despairingly how she could get possession of the will, had inspired
her with the idea of turning highwayman in reality--for one night
only.
We know at what decision she arrived. Instead of scouting the idea and
casting it from her, as ninety-nine young women out of every hundred
would have done, she determined, _coûte que coûte_, to put it to a
practical issue. Whatever risks might be connected with, or follow on,
the affair she was prepared to face, if only she could thereby insure
the destruction of her uncle's iniquitous will.
Fortunately for her, when she came to consider, several things seemed
to work in favor of her scheme, desperate as at first sight it had
appeared.
In the first place, everything in the way of dress and accessories
needful for the part she had made up her mind to play were there ready
to her hand. In the second, John Dyce, who was to act as her escort,
had known her from childhood, was devoted to her, and could be
thoroughly depended upon to keep any secret she might think well to
entrust him with. In point of fact, John had originally been one of
her father's servants, and he it was who had brought her, a girl of
twelve, to Stanbrook, where he had remained ever since, filling the
part of man-of-all-work in the Squire's establishment. Then, again, it
was a good thing, so far as her purpose was concerned, that a married
cousin of John should be keeper of the first toll-bar on the
Whinbarrow road, which was the road she would have to journey by on
her errand to Mr. Delafosse.
For the last time she asked herself, "Shall I adventure it, or shall I
not?" knowing all the while what the answer would be. By now the
afternoon was so far advanced that she must no longer delay her
preparations. She knew already that Mr. Tew would not set off on his
return journey till dinner should be well over. She herself would
start in the early dusk about an hour in advance of him.
She made it her first business to see John Dyce and have a little
private talk with him. Next she invented an errand for her maid to a
neighboring village which would keep that elderly damsel out of the
way till after her own departure. Next came one of the most essential
features of the programme she was bent on carrying out: the
transformation of Miss Baynard into the guise of a young man.
The change was affected in due course, and a very handsome and dashing
young blade she looked. She took a long survey of herself in the
cheval glass, blushing and smiling as she did so. Nell was a tall,
Juno-like young woman, and as her cousin Dick had been a somewhat
slender, medium-sized young fellow, his clothes fitted her almost as
if they had been made for her.
But servants have prying eyes, and not thus would it do for her to be
seen leaving the house; besides, there was the risk of encountering
some one in the village to whom her face was known. So, over her man's
dress she now proceeded to put on certain articles of feminine attire,
to wit, a long riding-skirt, and a mantle with a hood to it, the
latter of which she drew over her head. It was a common enough costume
for ladies travelling on horseback.
Into a couple of saddle-bags, which John Dyce had supplied her with,
she had already stowed away a number of things. Then, when all was
ready, she went down by way of the back staircase, and so out of the
house, unseen by any one save a gaping kitchen wench. In the court
near the stables were two horses in readiness, one of them being her
mare Peggy, a birthday gift, two years before, from her godmother,
Lady Carradine. John helped her into the saddle, then mounted his own
horse, and two minutes later they were cantering down the avenue.
They rode through the village, and so on their way for a couple of
miles or more till they reached a little wooded hollow somewhat
removed from the high-road. There Nell, having doffed her riding skirt
and hooded mantle (her hair having been previously brushed back from
her forehead and fashioned into a queue), substituted for them the
three-cornered hat worn by her cousin at the fancy ball, with, by way
of overall, an ample riding cloak, well worn, which poor Dick had been
used to travel in. These articles she produced from the saddle-bags.
Neither was the mask forgotten. Although she had never seen Mr. Tew
before that day, and then only for a few minutes, it would not do to
leave the slightest opening for his recognition of her in the part she
was bent on playing.
John, meanwhile, had been changing Peggy's sidesaddle for an ordinary
one. That done, he again helped her to mount. It was as well for Nell
in her new character that her mare had been thoroughly trained, and
that she was a fearless horsewoman. Whatever awkwardness or
embarrassment she might feel at first the friendly night covered up;
but presently she had other things to think of than any little hot and
cold shivers of her own. In the holsters in front of her were stuck a
brace of unloaded pistols. John's pistols, however, were fully
charged.
How Miss Baynard sped on her hare-brained expedition has already been
told: how she mistook the chaise of a stranger for that of Mr. Tew;
how she was fired at, but escaped with nothing worse than a fright;
and how the notorious Captain Nightshade appeared in the nick of time
and acted as her guide as far as Rockmount, where, under the name of
Mr. Frank Nevill (that of a cousin in India) she was made welcome, and
found shelter for the night.
We left her just after Mr. Cope-Ellerslie's housekeeper had shown her
to her chamber; and now that the two threads of our narrative have
been brought together we will take up her history from the following
morning.
When "Mr. Frank Nevill" went downstairs he found an excellent
breakfast awaiting him in the same room into which he had been shown
overnight. He was waited upon by Mrs. Dobson, who expressed much
concern at the smallness of his appetite. When the meal had come to an
end she said, "At what o'clock, sir, would you like your horse to be
brought round?"
"As soon as it can be got ready, for I am anxious to get on my way."
In ten more minutes he was in the saddle. In accordance with Mr.
Ellerslie's promise, a serving-man on horseback was in readiness to
show him the way as far as the Whinbarrow road. He did not part from
Mrs. Dobson without asking her to convey to her master his warmest
thanks for the hospitality which had been extended to him; nor did he
forget to press a guinea into her palm, reluctant though she was to
take it.
As he turned away from the house he gave it a long backward look. It
was a two-storied domicile, plain to the verge of ugliness, built of
roughly-hewn blocks of the dark gray stone of the country. Its walls
were of great thickness, and it was roofed with huge slabs of slate,
well fitted to withstand the fierce gales which assailed it during the
winter months. It stood alone in the centre of a great plateau of
stony, desolate moorland, which spread away on every side till it was
lost in the distance. No other homestead or sign of man's occupancy or
vicinage was anywhere visible. A narrow rutted lane, originally, no
doubt, nothing more than a sheep track, passed close by it, seemingly
coming from nowhere and leading to nowhere. Frank Nevill shuddered as
he looked. What must it be like, he asked himself, to live there in
winter? What man in his proper senses would think of building a house
on such a spot? And yet Mr. Cope-Ellerslie seemed well satisfied to
live there!
After traversing the lane for a matter of three or four miles, Frank
and his conductor emerged on one of the great highways running due
north and south. Crossing this, they found themselves after a little
while in a tangle of country roads, among which a stranger would
infallibly have lost himself. Frank's guide, however, evidently knew
every foot of the way, and at the end of a couple of hours, at a point
where the cross-road they had been traversing debouched into one much
wider, he pulled up his horse and said: "This is the Whinbarrow road,
sir; six miles straight ahead will bring you to Dunthale Prior. Do you
wish me to go any further with you, sir?"
They were almost the first words the man had spoken, and Frank, as in
honor bound, had refrained from putting any questions to him.
He now dismissed him with thanks and a little present for himself.
Twenty minutes later he drew rein and dismounted at the first
toll-bar, at which place it had been arranged that John Dyce should
await his arrival.
And there honest John was, and a glad man was he to set eyes again on
his young mistress. Never before had he passed so wretched a night.
Fear and anxiety had rendered him half crazy, and had put all thought
of sleep out of his head.
As already stated, the keeper of the toll-bar was a cousin of
John Dyce; and Mrs. Nixon, his wife, now proceeded to show "Mr.
Nevill" into a neat little bedroom. It was the last time that young
gentleman was seen by mortal eye. At the end of half-an-hour Miss
Baynard--stately and gracious, but with a defiant sparkle in her eye
which seemed to say, "Challenge me who dare!"--issued from the chamber
and made her way downstairs.
Miss Baynard reached Dene House on the stroke of noon, where she was
warmly welcomed by Mr. Delafosse and his wife. The old bibliophile
proved to be quite willing to exchange his gold stater of Epaticcus
for the rare MS. on vellum which Nell had brought with her. Although
genuinely grieved to receive such a bad account of his old friend, he
could not help reminding himself that there were several rarities in
Cortelyon's collection the possession of which he had long envied him.
Well, we must all die some time, and as his friend's collection would
be sure to come to the hammer, there would at length be a possibility
of his becoming the owner of such articles as he especially coveted.
All the more would they be valued by him for having been the property
of a man he so highly esteemed.
After joining the Dene House family over their three o'clock dinner,
Miss Baynard set out on her return, and, there being nothing this time
to detain her on the road, Stanbrook was reached by dusk. As she rode
up the avenue she glanced anxiously at the windows. Had the Squire
been dead the blinds would have been drawn down. But there was no
change in the usual aspect of the house, and it was with a relieved
heart that she dismounted.
She went up to her uncle's room without delay when told that he had
more than once asked for her. "There's a great improvement in him
to-day, my dear," Mrs. Budd had said to her in the entrance hall. "Dr.
Banks was quite struck by the change when he called this morning."
Nell found her uncle awake. His eyes met hers questioningly as she
entered the room, but when she produced the coveted coin and placed it
in his hand his face lighted up wonderfully. "Good lass! good lass!"
he murmured. Then he gave a sigh of relief, and his lean fingers
closed lovingly over the stater.
As to whether Miss Baynard's attempt to purloin her uncle's will was,
or was not, under the circumstances morally justifiable, the writer
wishes it to be understood that the point is one with which he
considers himself in nowise concerned. His duty, as he apprehends it,
is simply that of a recorder of facts, without taking on himself
either to justify or condemn any actions, good, bad, or indifferent on
the part of his characters, who are allowed to go their own way
without let or hindrance, and as we all have to do, must accept and
make the best of whatever consequences may result therefrom.