NEWS FROM AUSTRALIA.
Lionel Verner could scarcely believe in his own identity. The train,
which was to have contained him, was whirling towards London; he, a poor
aspirant for future fortune, ought to have been in it; he had counted
most certainly to be in it; but here was he, while the steam of that
train yet snorted in his ears, walking out of the station, a wealthy
man, come into a proud inheritance, the inheritance of his fathers. In
the first moment of tumultuous thought, Lionel almost felt as if some
fairy must have been at work with a magic wand.
It was all true. He linked his arm within Jan's, and listened to the
recital in detail. Jan had found Mrs. Verner, on his arrival at Verner's
Pride, weeping over letters from Australia; one from a Captain Cannonby,
one from Sibylla. They contained the tidings that Frederick Massingbird
had died of fever, and that Sibylla was anxious to come home again.
"Who is Captain Cannonby?" asked Lionel of Jan.
"Have you forgotten the name?" returned Jan. "That friend of Fred
Massingbird's who sold out, and was knocking about London; Fred went up
once or twice to see him. He went to the diggings last autumn, and it
seems Fred and Sibylla lighted on him at Melbourne. He had laid poor
Fred in the grave the day before he wrote, he says."
"I can scarcely believe it all now, Jan," said Lionel. "What a change!"
"Ay. You won't believe it for a day or two. I say, Lionel, Uncle Stephen
need not have left Verner's Pride to the Massingbirds; they have not
lived to enjoy it. Neither need there have been all that bother about
the codicil. I know what."
"What?" asked Lionel, looking at him; for Jan spoke significantly.
"That Madam Sibylla would give her two ears now to have married you,
instead of Fred Massingbird."
Lionel's face flushed, and he replied coldly, hauteur in his tone,
"Nonsense, Jan! you are speaking most unwarrantably. When Sibylla chose
Fred Massingbird, I was the heir to Verner's Pride."
"_I_ know," said Jan. "Verner's Pride would be a great temptation to
Sibylla; and I can but think she knew it was left to Fred when she
married him."
Lionel did not condescend to retort. He would as soon believe himself
capable of bowing down before the god of gold, in a mean spirit, as
believe Sibylla capable of it. Indeed, though he was wont to charm
himself with the flattering notion that his love for Sibylla had died
out, or near upon it, he was very far off the point when he could think
any ill of Sibylla.
"My patients will be foaming," remarked Jan, who continued his way to
Verner's Pride with Lionel. "They will conclude I have gone off with Dr.
West; and I have his list on my hands now, as well as my own. I say,
Lionel, when I told you the letters from Australia were in, how little
we guessed they would contain this news."
"Little, indeed!" said Lionel.
"I suppose you won't go to London now?"
"I suppose not," was the reply of Lionel; and a rush of gladness
illumined his heart as he spoke it. No more toil over those dry old law
books! The study had never been to his taste.
The servants were gathered in the hall when Lionel and Jan entered it.
Decorously sorry, of course, for the tidings which had arrived, but
unable to conceal the inward satisfaction which peeped out--not
satisfaction at the death of Fred, but at the accession of Lionel. It is
curious to observe how jealous the old retainers of a family are, upon
all points which touch the honour or the well-being of the house. Fred
Massingbird was an alien; Lionel was a Verner; and now, as Lionel
entered, they formed into a double line that he might pass between them,
their master from henceforth.
Mrs. Verner was in the old place, the study. Jan had seen her in bed
that morning; but, since then, she had risen. Early as the hour yet was,
recent as the sad news had been, Mrs. Verner had dropped asleep. She sat
nodding in her chair, snoring heavily, breathing painfully, her neck and
face all one colour--carmine red. That she looked--as Jan had
observed--a very apoplectic subject, struck Lionel most particularly on
this morning.
"Why don't you bleed her, Jan?" he whispered.
"She won't be bled," responded Jan. "She won't take physic. She won't do
anything that she ought to do. You may as well talk to a post. She'll do
nothing but eat and drink, and fall asleep afterwards, and then wake up
to eat and drink and fall asleep again. Mrs. Verner"--exalting his
voice--"here's Lionel."
Mrs. Verner partially woke up. Her eyes opened sufficiently to observe
Jan; and her mind apparently grew awake to a confused remembrance of
facts. "He's gone to London," said she to Jan. "You won't catch him:"
and then she nodded again.
"I did catch him," shouted Jan. "Lionel's here."
Lionel sat down by her, and she woke up pretty fully.
"I am grieved at this news for your sake, Mrs. Verner," he said in a
kind tone, as he took her hand. "I am sorry for Frederick."
"Both my boys gone before me, Lionel!" she cried, melting into
tears--"John first; Fred next. Why did they go out there to die?"
"It is indeed sad for you," replied Lionel. "Jan says Fred died of
fever."
"He has died of fever. Don't you remember when Sibylla wrote, she said
he was ill with fever? He never got well. He never got well! I take it
that it must have been a sort of intermittent fever--pretty well one
day, down ill the next--for he had started for the place where John
died--I forget its name, but you'll find it written there. Only a few
hours after quitting Melbourne, he grew worse and died."
"Was he alone?" asked Lionel.
"Captain Cannonby was with him. They were going together up to--I
forget, I say, the name of the place--where John died, you know. It was
nine or ten days' distance from Melbourne, and they had travelled but a
day of it. And I suppose," added Mrs. Verner, with tears in her eyes,
"that he'd be put into the ground like a dog!"
Lionel, on this score, could give no consolation. He knew not whether
the fact might be so, or not. Jan hoisted himself on to the top of a
high bureau, and sat in comfort.
"He'd be buried like a dog," repeated Mrs. Verner. "What do they know
about parsons and consecrated ground out there? Cannonby buried him, he
says, and then he went back to Melbourne to carry the tidings to
Sibylla."
"Sibylla? Was Sibylla not with him when he died?" exclaimed Lionel.
"It seems not. It's sure not, in fact, by the letters. You can read
them, Lionel. There's one from her and one from Captain Cannonby."
"It's not likely they'd drag Sibylla up to the diggings," interposed
Jan.
"And yet almost as unlikely that her husband would leave her alone in
such a place as Melbourne appears to be," dissented Lionel.
"She was not left alone," said Mrs. Verner. "If you'd read the letters,
Lionel, you would see. She stayed in Melbourne with a family: friends, I
think she says, of Captain Cannonby's. She has written for money to be
sent out to her by the first ship, that she may pay her passage home
again."
This item of intelligence astonished Lionel more than any other.
"Written for money to be sent out for her passage home!" he reiterated.
"_Has_ she no money?"
Mrs. Verner looked at him. "They accuse me of forgetting things in my
sleep, Lionel; but I think you must be growing worse than I am. Poor
Fred told us in his last letter that he had been robbed of his desk, and
that it had got his money in it."
"But I did not suppose it contained all--that they were reduced so low
as for his wife to have no money left for a passage. What will she do
there until some can be got out?"
"If she is with comfortable folks, they'd not turn her out," cried Jan.
Lionel took up the letters, and ran his eyes over them. They told him
little else of the facts; though more of the details. It appeared to
have taken place pretty much as Mrs. Verner said. The closing part of
Sibylla's letter ran as follows:--
"After we wrote to you, Fred met Captain Cannonby. You must
remember, dear aunt, how often Fred would speak of him.
Captain Cannonby has relatives out here, people in very good
position--if people can be said to be in a position at all in
such a horrid place. We knew Captain Cannonby had come over,
but thought he was at the Bendigo diggings. However, Fred met
him; and he was very civil and obliging. He got us apartments
in the best hotel--one of the very places that had refused us,
saying they were crowded. Fred seemed to grow a trifle better,
and it was decided that they should go to the place where John
died, and try to get particulars about his money, etc., which
in Melbourne we could hear nothing of. Indeed, nobody seemed
to know even John's name. Captain Cannonby (who has really
made money here in some way--trading, he says--and expects to
make a good deal more) agreed to go with Fred. Then Fred told
me of the loss of his desk and money, his bills of credit, and
that; whatever the term may be. It was stolen from the quay,
the day we arrived, and he had never been able to hear of it;
but, while there seemed a chance of finding it, he would not
let me know the ill news. Of course, with this loss upon us,
there was all the more necessity for our getting John's money
as speedily as might be. Captain Cannonby introduced me to his
relatives, the Eyres, told them my husband wanted to go up the
country for a short while, and they invited me to stay with
them. And here I am, and very kind they are to me in this
dreadful trouble.
"Aunt Verner, I thought I should have died when, a day or two
after they started, I saw Captain Cannonby come back alone,
with a long, sorrowful face. I seemed to know in a moment
what had happened; I had thought at the time they started that
Fred was too ill to go. I said to him, 'My husband is dead!'
and he confessed that it was so. He had been taken ill at the
end of the first day, and did not live many hours.
"I can't tell you any more, dear Aunt Verner; I am too sick
and ill, and if I filled ten sheets with the particulars, it
would not alter the dreadful facts. I want to come home to
_you_; I know you will receive me, and let me live with you
always. I have not any money. Please send me out sufficient to
bring me home by the first ship that sails. I don't care for
any of the things we brought out; they may stop here or be
lost in the sea, for all the difference it will make to me: I
only want to come home. Captain Cannonby says he will take
upon himself now to look after John's money, and transmit it
to us, if he can get it.
"Mrs. Eyre has just come in. She desires me to say that they
are taking every care of me, and are all happy to have me with
them: she says I am to tell you that her own daughters are
about my age. It is all true, dear aunt, and they are
exceedingly kind to me. They seem to have plenty of money, are
intimate with the governor's family, and with what they call
the good society of the colony. When I think what my position
would have been now had I not met with them, I grow quite
frightened.
"I have to write to papa, and must close this. I have
requested Captain Cannonby to write to you himself, and give
you particulars about the last moments of Frederick. Send me
the money without delay, dear aunt. The place is hateful to me
now he is gone, and I'd rather be dead than stop in it.
"Your affectionate and afflicted niece,
"SIBYLLA MASSINGBIRD."
Lionel folded the letter musingly. "It would almost appear that they had
not heard of your son's accession to Verner's Pride," he remarked to
Mrs. Verner. "It is not alluded to in any way."
"I think it is sure they had not heard of it," she answered "I remarked
so to Mary Tynn. The letters must have been delayed in their passage.
Lionel, you will see to the sending out of the money for me."
"Immediately," replied Lionel.
"And when do you come home?"
"Do you mean--do you mean when do I come here?" returned Lionel.
"To be sure I mean it. It is your home. Verner's Pride is your home,
Lionel, now; not mine. It has been yours this three or four months past,
only we did not know it. You must come home to it at once, Lionel."
"I suppose it will be right that I should do so," he answered.
"And I shall be thankful," said Mrs. Verner. "There will be a master
once more, and no need to bother me. I have been bothered, Lionel. Mr.
Jan,"--turning to the bureau--"it's that which has made me feel ill. One
comes to me with some worry or other, and another comes to me: they
_will_ come to me. The complaints and tales of that Roy fidget my life
out."
"I shall discharge Roy at once, Mrs. Verner."
Mrs. Verner made a deprecatory movement of the hands, as much as to say
that it was no business of hers. "Lionel, I have only one request to
make of you: never speak of the estate to me again, or of anything
connected with its management. You are its sole master, and can do as
you please. Shall you turn me out?"
Lionel's face flushed. "No, Mrs. Verner," he almost passionately
answered. "You could not think so."
"You have the right. Had Fred come home, he would have had the right.
But I'd hardly reconcile myself to any other house how."
"It is a right which I should never exercise," said Lionel.
"I shall mostly keep my room," resumed Mrs. Verner; "perhaps wholly keep
it: and Mary Tynn will wait upon me. The servants will be yours, Lionel.
In fact, they are yours; not mine. What a blessing! to know that I may
be at peace from henceforth: that the care will be upon another's
shoulders! My poor Fred! My dear sons! I little thought I was taking
leave of them both for the last time!"
Jan jumped off his bureau. Now that the brunt of the surprise was over,
and plans began to be discussed, Jan bethought himself of his impatient
sick list, who were doubtlessly wondering at the non-appearance of their
doctor. Lionel rose to depart with him.
"But, you should not go," said Mrs. Verner. "In five minutes I vacate
this study; resign it to you. This change will give you plenty to do,
Lionel."
"I know it will, dear Mrs. Verner. I shall be back soon, but I must
hasten to acquaint my mother."
"You will promise not to go away again, Lionel. It is your lawful home,
remember."
"I shall not go away again," was Lionel's answer; and Mrs. Verner
breathed freely. To be emancipated from what she had regarded as the
great worry of life, was felt to be a relief. Now she could eat and
sleep all day, and never need be asked a single question, or hear
whether the outside world had stopped, or was going on still.
"You will just pen a few words for me to Sibylla, Lionel," she called
out. "I am past much writing now."
"If it be necessary that I should," he coldly replied.
"And send them with the remittance," concluded Mrs. Verner. "You will
know how much to send. Tell Sibylla that Verner's Pride is no longer
mine, and I cannot invite her to it. It would hardly be the--the thing
for a young girl, and she's little better, to be living here with you
all day long, and I always shut up in my room. Would it?"
Lionel somewhat haughtily shrugged his shoulders. "Scarcely," he
answered.
"She must go to her sisters, of course. Poor girl! what a thing it seems
to have to return to her old house again!"
Jan put in his head. "I thought you said you were coming, Lionel?"
"So I am--this instant." And they departed together: encountering Mr.
Bitterworth in the road.
He grasped hold of Lionel in much excitement.
"Is it true--what people are saying? That you have come into Verner's
Pride?"
"Quite true," replied Lionel. And he gave Mr. Bitterworth a summary of
the facts.
"Now look there!" cried Mr. Bitterworth, who was evidently deeply
impressed; "it's of no use to try to go against honest right: sooner or
later it will triumph. In your case, it has come wonderfully soon. I
told my old friend that the Massingbirds had no claim to Verner's Pride;
that if they were exalted to it, over your head, it would not prosper
them--not, poor fellows, that I thought of their death. May you remain
in undisturbed possession of it, Lionel! May your children succeed to it
after you!"
Lionel and Jan continued their road. But they soon parted company, for
Jan turned off to his patients. Lionel made the best of his way to
Deerham Court. In the room he entered, steadily practising, was Lucy
Tempest, alone. She turned her head to see who it was, and at the sight
of Lionel started up in alarm.
"What is it? Why are you back?" she exclaimed. "Has the train broken
down?"
Lionel smiled at her vehemence; at her crimsoned countenance; at her
unbounded astonishment altogether.
"The train has not broken down, I trust, Lucy. I did not go with it. Do
you know where my mother is?"
"She is gone out with Decima."
He felt a temporary disappointment; the news, he was aware, would be so
deeply welcome to Lady Verner. Lucy stood regarding him, waiting the
solution of the mystery.
"What should you say, Lucy, if I tell you Deerham is not going to get
rid of me at all?"
"I do not understand you," replied Lucy, colouring with surprise and
emotion. "Do you mean that you are going to remain here?"
"Not here--in this house. That would be a calamity for you."
Lucy looked as if it would be anything but a calamity.
"You are as bad as our French mistress at the rectory," she said. "She
would never tell us anything; she used to make us guess."
Her words were interrupted by the breaking out of the church bells: a
loud peal, telling of joy. A misgiving crossed Lionel that the news had
got wind, and that some officious person had been setting on the bells
to ring for him, in honour of his succession. The exceeding bad taste of
the proceeding--should it prove so--called a flush of anger to his
brow. His inheritance had cost Mrs. Verner her son.
The suspicion was confirmed. One of the servants, who had been to the
village, came running in at this juncture with open mouth, calling out
that Mr. Lionel had come into his own, and that the bells were ringing
for it. Lucy Tempest heard the words, and turned to Lionel.
"It is so, Lucy," he said, answering the look. "Verner's Pride is at
last mine. But--"
She grew strangely excited. Lionel could see her heart beat--could see
the tears of emotion gather in her eyes.
"I am so glad!" she said in a low, heartfelt tone. "I thought it would
be so, sometime. Have you found the codicil?"
"Hush, Lucy! Before you express your gladness, you must learn that sad
circumstances are mixed with it. The codicil has not been found; but
Frederick Massingbird has died."
Lucy shook her head. "He had no right to Verner's Pride, and I did not
like him. I am sorry, though, for himself, that he is dead.
And--Lionel--you will never go away now?"
"I suppose not: to live."
"I am so glad! I may tell you that I am glad, may I not?"
She half timidly held out her hand as she spoke. Lionel took it between
both of his, toying with it as tenderly as he had ever toyed with
Sibylla's. And his low voice took a tone which was certainly not that of
hatred, as he bent towards her.
"I am glad also, Lucy. The least pleasant part of my recent projected
departure was the constantly remembered fact that I was about to put a
distance of many miles between myself and you. It grew all too palpable
towards the last."
Lucy laughed and drew away her hand, her radiant countenance falling
before the gaze of Lionel.
"So you will be troubled with me yet, you see, Miss Lucy," he added, in
a lighter tone, as he left her and strode off with a step that might
have matched Jan's, on his way to ask the bells whether they were not
ashamed of themselves.