Colonel Everard lay on his bed propped up with pillows. The window was
open. He gazed forth over the green lawn, the bright blue sea and the
Isle of Wight smiling in the distance. Three persons were in the room.
Near his head stood his faithful attendant and old companion-in-arms; on
the other side was his sister. Tears were in her eyes, while Mabel
stood near the foot of the bed with her hands clasped, gazing on that
venerated countenance. The sand of life was ebbing fast, a few grains
alone remained.
"Paul, we have fought together. We have served our country well when we
had youth and strength," whispered the old officer, holding the hand of
his faithful attendant. "You don't forget that day when our brave
general fell. Ere he died he heard that the enemy were put to flight,
the victory won. Sister, he died happy, and so do I; for I may say with
all humbleness, I have fought the good fight. I have tried to do my
duty, but I trust in One mighty to save." Then returning to old
recollections, "You remember that day, Paul; that battle, the most
glorious of our many fields. And now, Paul, we shall never fight again.
You must look after these two here, sister Ann and my sweet Mabel.
They want a trustworthy protector. I never knew you to fail me, Paul."
His voice as he spoke was sinking lower and lower. A few more words he
spoke expressive of the Christian's hope. Then his hands relaxed their
grasp, and those who watched him knew that the noble old man was dead.
The colonel's will was opened. By his express desire no funeral pomp
attended him to the grave. Paul, with eight of his older tenants,
simple cottagers, several of whom had been soldiers, bore his coffin.
Seldom, however, has a longer line of mourners attended a plume-bedecked
hearse than than which followed on foot the remains of Colonel Everard.
Not only did all the inhabitants of Lynderton join the procession, but
vast numbers of persons from the surrounding districts came to show
their respect to the memory of one who had so long dwelt among them, and
whose many virtues had won their love.
The estates were entailed on the next heir-at-law, while such property
as the colonel could leave was given to his well-beloved sister, Madam
Everard.
He had not, however, been a saving man; indeed, the expenses of his
position had been considerable, and the sum was but small. Mabel and
her aunt were to remain in possession of Stanmore Park till the return
of Captain Everard from sea.
The funeral was over, and once more the household settled down into
their usual ways. Paul was more active than ever: his eye was
everywhere, feeling that he was obeying his master's behests in watching
over the interests of the captain and his daughter.
The same coach which a few months before had brought Harry Tryon
southward, had now among its passengers no less a person than Mr. Silas
Sleech. He was in deep mourning--a proper respect to the memory of his
late uncle, Colonel Everard. Yet his countenance bore no signs of
grief. On the contrary, some pleasant thoughts seemed to occupy his
mind, as he frequently rubbed his hands together and smiled
complacently.
He was received with cordiality by his respected parent, the elder Mr.
Sleech, though the rest of the family, consisting of several brothers
and four fair sisters, welcomed him apparently with less affection.
Silas had brought but little luggage, but he held a tin case of
considerable size which he had never allowed to quit his hand. The
family greetings over, he and his father retired to the inner office.
With intense interest they examined the contents of the case.
"It's all right, father, I tell you," exclaimed Silas. "Stanmore is
ours, as sure as fate. My mother was the elder sister next to the
colonel, and the captain's father never had any marriage lines to show.
I tell you the captain has no more right to the name of Everard than old
Pike the mace-bearer. If the captain has a certificate, where is it?
Let him show it; but he has not; and that little jade Mabel, who looks
so proudly down upon me especially, must now be brought down a peg or
two herself. She will be humble enough before long, or I am mistaken."
"Silas, you ought to be Lord Chancellor," exclaimed his father; "you
have managed this affair with wonderful acuteness and judgment. I
always thought there was a screw loose about Tom Everard's foreign
marriage, his wife dying suddenly, and he coming home with a small baby
and a strange nurse, who could not speak a word of English or tell
anybody what had happened. However, now we have got the law on our
side, the sooner we take possession of our rights the better. You and I
will see to that to-morrow. We will behave handsomely to Madam Everard.
Indeed, I rather suspect that she won't be so badly off, and whatever
she has will go to Mabel, so there's no use falling out too much with
them. However, if your mother's husband and children ought to be at
Stanmore, why to Stanmore we will go, so that is settled."
"Don't tell the rest of them, though, father," said Silas. "They will
be blabbing it out, and Madam Everard will be getting wind of it, and we
shan't have the pleasure of giving them the little surprise I long for;
come, you must not baulk me in that, daddy. A Lord Chancellor knows
what's what, and if I don't kick up a pretty shindy in Stanmore Park
before long, my name's not Silas Sleech."
Madam Everard and niece were seated in the study after breakfast. It
had been the colonel's sitting-room, and they occupied it with fond
affection, no one, however, making use of his arm-chair. It seemed as
if his spirit was often there, come down from the realms of the blest,
while they talked of him and their lost Lucy.
The servant entered, and Madam Everard heard with no small
dissatisfaction the names of her little-esteemed brother-in-law and his
eldest son. They entered the room not with quite so much confidence as
might have been expected.
"Why, Ann, you look somewhat solemn this fine morning," observed the
elder, as he took a seat, not very close to Madam Everard. Silas drew
somewhat nearer to Mabel, but rising, she placed herself on the sofa
near her aunt, and continued the embroidery at which she was working,
scarcely looking up. The elder Sleech turned his hat about several
times. He did not look as if he felt himself a member of the Everard
family.
Silas had more impudence than his father, and this enabled him to
overcome a certain feeling which would intrude, in spite of his assumed
confidence.
"I have come about business, Ann," at last said Mr. Sleech the elder,
"Silas and I. We wish to do everything pleasant and to give no
annoyance; but you must know, Ann, when your elder sister married me,
she married the family lawyer that was. You have always supposed that
Tom Everard--the captain's father--had married abroad; at all events the
captain was brought home as a baby by Tom, who said he was his lawful
child. Now it turns out that either Tom was mistaken, or else he told a
fib--I don't like to use strong language. If a man cannot prove his
marriage he is not married; that's what the law says. Now Tom to his
death never had any marriage certificate to exhibit. It follows,
therefore, in the eye of the law, that he was not married, and so you
see your sister Jane became heir-at-law of her late brother, and I, as
her representative, am--or rather my son Silas is--the rightful
possessor of Stanmore Park. It's as clear as a pike-staff, Ann, and so
there's no use making any ado about it."
While Mr. Sleech, senior, was speaking, Madam Everard had maintained a
perfect composure. Poor Mabel's colour came and went. She felt a
choking sensation in her throat. Not for herself did she care, she was
thinking of her gallant father, away from home fighting his country's
battles--when he returned to find himself disinherited. It would be a
grievous blow. She felt, too, that she could no longer, when she gave
her hand, endow her husband with the wealth she thought she should value
more for his sake than for her own.
"You say you called on a matter of business," said Madam Everard, with
becoming dignity. "As a man of business we will treat you. I will send
for Mr. Wallace, my late brother's solicitor, and should he be satisfied
that you are the rightful owner of Stanmore, and that Captain Everard
has no claim on it, my niece and I will quit the house. Till then I
must request you to leave us at peace. You must be aware that the
information you bring us is not pleasant."
Mabel kept her lips pressed together. She dared not trust her voice,
she simply bowed her assent to her aunt's request.
"Well, well, Ann, I am not surprised that you are annoyed," said Mr.
Sleech, rising from his seat; "that is but natural. Of course, we are
gentlemen, and wish to treat you as ladies. We will just take a look
round the park and grounds. I have a notion a good many trees should be
cut down. The colonel was over-squeamish about felling timber; and
Mabel, my dear, I wish you would not look so glum. Perhaps if you play
your cards well, you may still be mistress of Stanmore, eh? Silas, you
rogue, you used to admire your pretty little cousin."
Silas rolled his round eyes and gave a glance at Mabel which she, at
least, thought bespoke very little affection, for she turned a way from
him with a feeling of loathing, not deigning to make any remark.
"You know your way," said Madam Everard; "you must do as you think fit.
We cannot interfere."
Without putting out her hand, she gave a stately bow to her
brother-in-law and nephew. A chuckle reached her ears as the door
closed behind them.
"Jane, Jane, what have you brought upon us?" she exclaimed,
apostrophising her deceased sister.
The marriage had been a hateful one from the first. Old Sleech had,
even as a young man, been almost as odious as his son, and no one could
account for Jane Everard's infatuation and bad taste when she insisted
on marrying him.
Madam Everard rang the bell, and begged that Paul Gauntlett would come
to her. He obeyed the summons, and was soon afterwards trotting off on
the horse with which he always accompanied the colonel to Lynderton.
Mr. Wallace was at home, and very quickly made his appearance at
Stanmore, escaping an encounter with the Sleeches, who were still making
their round of the park, notching trees which they agreed might come
down to advantage and clear a pretty penny.
Mr. Wallace heard Madam Everard's statement with a grave face.
"I do not see much that is hopeful about it, but we will try what the
law can do. If the law decides that Captain Everard is not the heir, we
have no help for it. I will look over all the deeds deposited with me,
but to my recollection I have no certificate or copy of certificate of
Mr. Tom Everard's marriage. He must have been very young at the time,
at all events. An older man would probably have taken more care of so
important a document. However, I will see Mr. Sleech, and endeavour to
persuade him that he cannot justly at present push his claims. We must
proceed cautiously, for although you are in possession, I fear that he
can prove himself to be heir-at-law."
Mr. Wallace had left the house some time before the Sleeches returned.
They came in by the garden entrance, and walked without ceremony into
the study, where Mabel and her aunt were still sitting.
"Well, we have had a good look round the grounds, Ann, and I have come
to the conclusion that the colonel did not make half as much of the
property as he might have done. Why, I can tell you, eight thousand
pounds' worth of timber might be cut down--Silas says ten thousand, but
I think that he is a little over the mark--without doing any harm to the
place, and there are no end of improvements he and I have been
proposing."
"No one must venture to cut down timber on this property without the
leave of my nephew, the captain," said Madam Everard, drawing herself
up.
"Well, that's as may be, Ann," answered Mr. Sleech, with a forced laugh.
"He who has the right to the property will have the right to cut down
the trees, or law's not law. However, that's neither here nor there.
What I want to know, Ann, is when you and Mabel will be ready to pack up
bag and baggage and turn out. There's that bow-windowed house in the
town, half-way up the street, which would just suit you two spinster
ladies, and the fact is that my daughters and my sons and I have rather
a fancy to come and take up our quarters here. We have been kept out of
the place a pretty long number of years, and you see, in my opinion,
it's time we had our rights."
"When our legal adviser considers that we have no longer a right to
remain in this house, Mabel and I will immediately leave it," answered
the old lady, with dignity. "I am sure such would be Captain Everard's
wish. In the meantime, I must request, Mr. Sleech, that you and your
son will bring this interview to a conclusion. As relatives I would
have made you welcome; but I cannot feel that you are justified in thus
coming to insult my niece and me. I must therefore request that you
will take your departure."
"As you like, Ann, as you like," exclaimed Mr. Sleech, swinging about
his hat, which he had lifted from the ground. "It won't be for long, I
can tell you; we shall soon be back again, I have an idea."
Silas endeavoured to shake hands with Mabel with a smile which he
intended to be insinuating, but she indignantly turned from him.
"Oh, oh, proud as ever," he muttered, as he followed his father out of
the room, at the door of which Paul was standing sentry. He had seen
them returning to the house, and it would have fared ill with either of
them had they ventured to proceed much further in their insulting
remarks to the ladies. Not a muscle of his countenance moved as he
opened the hall-door; but his eyes glared down upon them with an
expression which made even Silas wince and keep close behind his
father's heels.
"Well, that old fellow's the essence of glumness," observed Silas, as
they got beyond hearing.
"She threatened me, she did," muttered his father, between his teeth,
not attending to what Silas had said. "But we will be even with them,
or my name's not Tony Sleech."
Lynderton was at that time a place of fashionable resort during the
summer season. People came down there to enjoy the sea breezes and the
bathing in salt water, to listen to the band of the foreign legion, and
to enjoy the pleasant society which was to be found in the town and its
neighbourhood. During the lifetime of his sister, Lady Tryon, Mr.
Coppinger had declined going there; but he now acceded to the urgent
entreaties of his daughters, and had taken a house for them, at which
they had arrived. He himself, however, could only occasionally get
down. One of the very few visitors admitted at Stanmore was the young
Baron de Ruvigny. He also had soon become acquainted with the Miss
Coppingers, and from the account he gave of them, as well as from the
way Harry had before spoken of his cousins, Mabel more than ever was
anxious to see them. Indeed, she consulted with her aunt whether she
might not with propriety call upon them. The matter was discussed
several times; but Madam Everard could not yet bring herself to see
strangers.
"They are charming young ladies," said the young baron, "so full of life
and spirits, and so sweet and gentle; so refined in manners, so lovely
in appearance."
"What! are the six sisters all charming?" asked Mabel, innocently.
The young baron hesitated, blushed, confessed that one in particular was
even more than he had described--a lovely pearl. Her name Sybella--what
a sweet name. Her voice, too--she sang exquisitely.
"I have heard of her," said Mabel, at length, "from her cousin Harry.
He described her as a very interesting girl, so pray tell them, baron,
that I hope soon to make their acquaintance."
This was said before the visit of the Mr. Sleeches to Stanmore, which
has just been described.
The Miss Coppingers thought Lynderton a most delightful place, and were
not at all surprised that Harry had praised it so much to them; their
only sorrow was that he was not there. Their father, with kind
consideration, had not told them that he had strong grounds for
suspecting Harry's honesty, nor had he given any reason for his absence.
All he had said was that Harry had suddenly left the counting-house and
had not returned, and they all thought too well of him to suspect him of
any dishonourable conduct. They consequently spoke of him openly at
Lynderton as their cousin. He seemed to have many friends, but only two
appeared to know what had become of him: one was the Baron de Ruvigny,
who was a very frequent visitor at their house, and the other was
Captain Rochard, who came once or twice with the baron. He was, he told
them, an old friend of Captain Everard's, and was therefore particularly
interested in the place.
Silas Sleech had obtained a holiday for the purpose of visiting
Lynderton, not at all aware at the time that Mr. Coppinger was about to
proceed there himself. Great was the merchant's astonishment when, the
day after he came down, his eyes fell on his clerk, dressed in the
height of fashion, walking up and down among the gay company assembled
under an avenue of trees at the outside of the town to hear the band
play. His amazement was increased when he saw him bow with a most
familiar glance at his own daughters. Directly afterwards his clerk's
eye met his. Now Silas possessed as much impudence and assurance as
most men, but his glance sank abashed before the stern look of the
dignified Mr. Coppinger. The young ladies were, they declared, utterly
ignorant who he was. He had introduced himself as a friend of the
officers of the legion, on the previous evening, without giving his
name, while they had seen him dancing with several young ladies. Silas
was ambitious. He was endeavouring to work his way into good society,
in the outside circles of which only his family had hitherto moved, in
spite of their connection by marriage with the Everards.
Meantime Roger Kyffin had returned from Ireland. His grief at finding
that Harry had gone away with so grievous an imputation on his character
was very great. Still he did not, he could not, believe Harry to be
guilty. He found no letter, however, from him at Idol Lane, nor was
there one at his own house.
"Surely the boy would have written to me," he thought, "and told me
where he was going. With all his faults, I believe he regarded me with
sincere affection. I am sure he would have written."
On speaking to his housekeeper one day about some letter which had been
left during his absence, she mentioned that Mr. Silas Sleech had on one
occasion come to the house and requested to see Mr. Kyffin's letters,
stating that he had been desired to forward some of them to him.
"I never gave any such directions," said Mr. Kyffin. "Did he take any
letter?"
"Yes, sir, there was one--a particularly thick one, too--and the
direction was in a good bold hand, just such as I have seen Master Harry
write. I thought at the time, `Surely that's the very letter master
would like to have,' so I let Mr. Sleech take it off, making sure that
he was going to send it on to you."