Mr. Sleech and his family were enjoying their possession of Stanmore.
He had begun to cut down the trees which he and his son had marked, and
as many of them were very fine and old, he was delighted to find that
they would fetch the full amount he had anticipated. This encouraged
him to proceed further.
"I have often heard that trees about houses are not wholesome," he
observed. "The more space we can clear away the better, and really a
five-pound note to my mind is better than an old tree, with its boughs
spreading far and wide over the ground, and shutting out the sunlight.
Nothing will grow under old trees except fungi, and the ground may be
much better occupied."
A sufficient time had now elapsed, in the opinion of Mr. Sleech, since
the death of Colonel Everard, his predecessor, to allow him to give a
party at Stanmore without impropriety. The Misses Sleech were busily
employed in sending out invitations. They asked everybody, whether they
had called or not. "The chances are they will come," they observed,
"and it will not do to be too particular." They were rather surprised
to find that several of the principal families in the neighbourhood
declined. However, their rooms were sure to be filled, there was no
doubt of that. The foreign officers had no scruple about coming, and at
a distance there were several families with whom Mr. Sleech was more or
less acquainted, who would be glad to accept the invitation. Miss
Sleech, Miss Anna Maria Sleech, and Miss Martha, who were out, were very
anxious to have their brother Silas. They agreed to write to get him
down. They could not ask Mr. Coppinger to allow him to come merely for
the sake of a ball; they therefore begged their father from his fertile
brain to invent an excuse, which that gentleman had no scruple whatever
in doing. The result of that letter has been seen. At the hour he was
expected to arrive, the carriage was sent over to meet the coach, but
neither in the inside nor on the out was Silas Sleech to be seen.
"Of course he will come to-morrow in plenty of time for the ball,"
observed his sisters, consoling themselves. Old Mr. Sleech, however,
wanted his son's advice and assistance.
The morning before the intended _fete_, when workmen were busy in
different parts of the house preparing the rooms, placing tents outside
the windows, and arranging flowers and taking up the carpets, a carriage
drove up to the door. A gentleman stepped out of it in a naval undress.
He looked about him with an air of mute astonishment.
"Who is here? what is taking place?" he asked of the servant who opened
the door.
"Why, we are going to have a ball to-night," was the answer. "Who do
you want to see?"
"A ball!" exclaimed the stranger. "My aunt and daughter giving a ball!
Has Colonel Everard so completely recovered?"
"Why, bless you, Colonel Everard has been dead ever so long, and the
Misses Everard are not in the house. My master is Mr. Sleech, the owner
of Stanmore. If you want to see him I will take in your name."
"Are you mocking me, man?" exclaimed the stranger. "Where are Madam and
Miss Everard?"
"Why, I rather fancy they have gone to live in the town since they were
turned out of this," answered the man, with an impudent look.
"Let me see Mr. Sleech immediately, then," said the stranger, entering
the house. "I must learn clearly what has taken place without delay.
Where is Mr. Sleech?"
"Who wants me?" asked a voice from the study, the door of which faced
the entrance. The stranger, advancing with rapid step, entered the
room.
"I am Captain Everard, sir," he said, facing Mr. Sleech, who had risen
from his chair with a newspaper in his hand. "Let me know, I entreat
you, by what means you have come into possession of Stanmore, and tell
me did I hear rightly that my uncle is dead?"
"Dead as a door-mat," answered Mr. Sleech, "you may depend on that; and
as to how I came into possession of Stanmore, I came in by right of law.
I don't want to hurt your feelings, Captain Everard, but you know that
legitimacy takes precedence over illegitimacy. It is not a man's fault
when his mother has forgotten to get the marriage ceremony performed;
but her children have to take the consequences. You understand me, I
need not be more explicit."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Captain Everard, leaning on a chair to
support himself, for though a strong man, late events had shaken him.
He was yet more completely overcome by the news he had just heard.
"Mean, sir, that your father, Lieutenant Everard, of the Royal Navy,
brother of the late Colonel Everard, and of my beloved and departed
wife, was never married to your French mother; no witnesses are to be
found, and no documents exist to prove that any such marriage ever took
place. By right of law, therefore, when my excellent brother-in-law,
Colonel Everard, departed this life, I, as the representative of his
sister--he having no direct heir--became possessed of this very fine and
beautiful estate. It is not my fault that your father was not married;
it is not your fault; nor could I forego the privileges and advantages
which accrue from possessing this estate."
"You should know, sir, that my father was married. The colonel always
believed that he was, and treated me as his heir," answered Captain
Everard, with all the calmness he could command. "But, as you say, the
law must decide, and if it decide against me, I must submit. You, by
some means, have got into possession; I cannot, therefore, turn you out.
I can only judge of the way you have treated those dear to me by the
manner in which you have received me."
The captain drew himself up, and was about to retire from the room.
"Come, we are relations, though you bear the name of Everard by
courtesy," said Mr. Sleech, putting out his hand; "I don't want to
quarrel about the matter; your ill-luck is my good fortune; that's the
view of the case I take."
Captain Everard drew back his hand.
"No, sir, no. I cannot impute wrong motives to you; but, at the same
time, I cannot pretend friendship to a person who, without apology,
casts a stigma on the names of my father and mother."
"_As_ you please, as you please," said Mr. Sleech, in an apparently
indifferent tone; "I wish to do you good, but I cannot make a silk purse
out of a sow's ear. If you won't receive my kindness, that's your
look-out, and not mine."
Captain Everard had always felt an especial dislike to his aunt's
husband; it now, very naturally, increased considerably. Still he spoke
calmly.
"I must bid you good-day, sir," he said. "For my daughter's sake and my
own, you must expect that I will use every means to regain the property
which I believe to be rightfully mine."
"And I will do my best to keep what I have got, and I rather think I
shall succeed," answered the attorney, as the captain left the room
without deigning to cast another look upon his relative.
The door had been left open, and the conversation had been heard by
several of the servants and workmen. They were mostly creatures of Mr.
Sleech, for he only patronised those he thought likely to serve him in
any way he might require. They had collected in the hall as the captain
passed through it--some to gaze at him with curiosity, not unmixed
perhaps with pity; others holding their hands to their mouths, as if to
hide their laughter.
"I told you what was true, captain, although you did not believe me,"
said the man who had admitted him. "I hope you won't be for doubting a
gentleman's word again when he speaks the truth."
The captain made no answer to the fellow's insolence; but, stepping into
the post-chaise, ordered the man to drive instantly to Lynderton.
Madam Everard received her nephew with an anxious countenance.
"Where is Mabel?" he exclaimed; "has anything, too, happened to her?"
"She is alive, and I hope well," answered his aunt. "The poor girl, her
feelings have been sorely tried, first by her anxiety about you, and
then by the fearful position in which Harry Tryon has been placed."
She then told him of the mutiny, and of the way in which Harry had been
implicated.
"She knows also that he saved your life, and that of course has not
tended to decrease her love for him."
"Harry Tryon saved my life!" exclaimed the captain. "I have not seen
him since I met him at Stanmore, that I am aware of."
"But you knew a young seaman called Andrew Brown; did you not recognise
Harry Tryon in him?"
"How extraordinary!" exclaimed the captain. "I several times saw the
likeness, but could not believe in the possibility of his having come to
sea with me. Yes, indeed, he did save my life in a gallant way, and I
longed to hear of the lad again, that I might show my gratitude."
"I fear that if he suffers, Mabel's heart will break," said Madam
Everard. "Executions of the misguided men are taking place every day.
She has, therefore, had no time to lose, for we know not how soon the
unhappy young man may have to share the fate of his companions. My
heart sickens at having to utter such words. A week has passed since
she left me, and I have not since heard of her. I am very anxious as it
is, but I should be still more so were she not under the charge of so
trustworthy an attendant as Paul Gauntlett."
Captain Everard had been so anxious to hear about his daughter that he
had not hitherto inquired of Madam Everard further particulars regarding
the circumstances which had compelled her and his daughter to leave
Stanmore. They were briefly told.
"I must see Wallace," he said, "and ascertain whether any certificate of
my father's marriage exists."
While he was speaking the servant entered, to say that two gentlemen
were at the door, and the Baron de Ruvigny and Captain Rochard were
announced. The latter in his delight, as he entered, seized Captain
Everard in his arms.
"My dear friend, I am overjoyed to meet you!" he exclaimed. "What have
I heard? Ah! it is too true that you have been deprived of your estate;
but though the sun be hidden by a thick cloud, it is sure to burst forth
again. Be not troubled about it; I have longed to show how deeply
grateful I feel to you for saving my life. Your daughter has told me
that you require evidence of your father's marriage to my relative, and
I trust that, even now, though so many years have passed, it may be
obtained. It shall be my care, at every risk, to search for it. You
could not possibly travel in my distracted country. There may be danger
for me, but less danger than there would be for you. If I do not return
you will know that I have fallen, and you must then get some one to
supply my place. Believe me, though, that it will be my joy and
satisfaction to serve you."
"I trust you, count; I feel sure that you will not fail to do your
utmost for me."
It was with somewhat painful feelings, not unmixed with contempt, that
Madam Everard watched the carriages proceeding down the street towards
Stanmore, on the evening of the ball. The spinster ladies had either to
walk or to club together to hire the only public vehicle in the place,
which was constantly kept moving backwards and forwards, from the first
moment at which they could with decency appear at the hall, till a late
hour in the evening. Miss Sleech, and Miss Anna Maria Sleech and her
sisters, of all ages, were dressed out in what they conceived the height
of fashion to receive their guests. A few ladies in pattens and high
hoods, attended by their maid-servants with umbrellas and lanterns,
arrived at an early hour. The Misses Sleech were not afraid of them, as
they were their old acquaintances, and they now treated them with that
condescending kindness which they felt was due from themselves in their
position. Their dresses were admired; the roses on their cheeks and the
patches which they had stuck on their faces. They had time also to
exhibit the decorations, and the alterations which they had made in the
rooms. Mr. Sleech, in small clothes and pumps, his hair freshly
powdered, a huge frill to his shirt, and the neck-cloth of many turns
round his throat, with a coat, put on for the first time, with a high
collar, almost hiding his ears, stood ready to make his bows to those he
considered worthy of receiving them. For a few minutes he stood
practising flourishes with his cocked hat, having received lately a few
private lessons from his daughter's dancing-master, to fit him, as he
hoped, for his exalted situation. One thing only was wanting to fill up
his cup of happiness, his satisfaction, and pride. He could not help
wishing that the eldest scion of his house--the heir of Stanmore--had
been present. Even now he thought it possible he might come. At length
some guests of greater distinction began to arrive. The officers of the
foreign legion of course came, although they were perfectly well aware
of the difference between the old and new families; but there was no
reason why they should lose an evening's entertainment. The Misses
Coppinger also came with an aunt, a Mrs. Simmons, who always went out as
their chaperone. They were not aware of the connection between their
host and their father's clerk. It is just possible, had they been so,
they might have declined the invitation, that gentleman not standing in
any way high in their estimation. Before long, Admiral Wallace hobbled
in, his voice sounding loud and cheery through the half-filled rooms, as
Mr. Sleech bowed and salaamed to him with due respect, and the Misses
Sleech performed the courtesies they had learned from Mú Millepied,
their dancing-master.
"Well, Sleech, you have done the thing well," cried the admiral. "I
little thought to see anybody else than an Everard in this house.
However, the world's turned upside down; rogues get into honest men's
places, and honest men come to the wall--that's the way affairs go at
present."
"I am obliged to you for the compliment, Sir James," answered Mr.
Sleech, again bowing, and not knowing whether to take offence.
"I don't mean to call you a rogue, Sleech, of course," answered the
admiral, intending to exculpate himself. "Never think of calling a man
a rogue in his own house, whatever I may think about the matter."
Happily for both parties, the conversation was cut short by the entrance
of General and Mrs. Perkins, whose tall figures completely overwhelmed
that of the somewhat diminutive lawyer. Again he bowed as before, now
to the lady, now to the gentleman, who returned his salutations in a
somewhat cold manner, and passed on, looking round the rooms with
inquisitive glances, and making remarks as they passed along. The
Misses Sleech curtseyed as before. Mrs. Perkins returned their salutes
with one of her stiffest bows. Now the people came trooping in more
rapidly, and the music at length struck up, to call the dancers into the
ball-room, where Mú Millepied had been engaged as master of the
ceremonies. Bowing to the guests, he assumed his responsible office.
Still Mr. Sleech looked round in vain for those he would most have
delighted to see. There were several whose names he would not have
valued much at the back of a bill, and not a few ladies whose characters
would certainly have ill borne any very minute examination. Still he
hoped that they would not be observed in the crowd, or attempt to make
themselves conspicuous. Vain hope. Their names were quickly buzzed
about, and they took good care to be seen dancing with the most dashing
of the officers, while they paid constant and especial attention to the
Misses Sleech.
At length a real English countess arrived.
She had lately come to Lynderton, and knew very little of the politics
of the place, but having received the Misses Sleech's card and an
invitation to Stanmore, which she knew to be the principal house in the
neighbourhood, her ladyship had accepted the invitation. It is possible
that she might have been surprised at the appearance of Mr. Sleech and
his family, but was certainly too well-bred to exhibit her opinion. She
passed on with her daughters, hoping to take up a retired position,
where she could observe what was going on without herself attracting
attention. Mr. Sleech, however, was far too delighted at the honour
done him to allow her to carry out her intention, and every instant he
was coming up and making one of his flourishing bows, either with offers
of refreshment, or with a request of being allowed the honour of
introducing most eligible partners to Lady Mary and Lady Grace. They,
however, from the first, declined dancing, after which, even had they
desired it, they could not, without offending those who had first
offered, have accepted other partners.
Mr. Sleech was on his way, for about the twentieth time, to the
countess, when his eldest daughter came up to him, and, in a hurried
voice, said that a person wished to see him on important business.
"Tell him to come in, then; I cannot come out to see him. If he has got
any message to deliver he must deliver it here," answered Mr. Sleech,
scarcely knowing what he was saying.
His daughter hurried off. Soon afterwards a man was seen in a
horseman's suit passing among the gaily-dressed throng towards the
master of the house.
"Who do you come from?" asked Mr. Sleech, eyeing him narrowly.
"From Mr. Coppinger," answered the messenger. "It is about a matter of
importance, and he told me to see you immediately."
"What is it? Is it about my son?" asked Mr. Sleech, in a nervous voice.
"I believe so; but that will tell you," said the man, delivering the
letter he held in his hand. Mr. Sleech, in his eagerness, tore it open,
forgetting at the moment by whom he was surrounded. His eyes ran
rapidly over the paper. With unrepressed anger he broke silence,
exclaiming--
"My son accused of forgery! It is a lie. Mr. Coppinger is a base liar;
I will bring an action against him for defamation of character."
The Misses Coppinger, unfortunately, were standing near at the time, and
were very naturally indignant at hearing their father thus spoken of.
"The letter says true enough, I have no doubt," observed Mr. Gilby, who
had been dancing with one of the young ladies. "If the son he speaks of
is Silas Sleech, a more arrant rogue does not exist. I am very certain
that he led that young Harry Tryon purposely into all sorts of scrapes,
and drove him off at last to sea. Poor fellow! I don't think I told
you what I know about him."
His remarks were cut short by the confusion which ensued in consequence
of Mr. Sleech's behaviour. The letter he had received, although sent in
kindness, had completely overcome him. Had he been in his usual state
of composure he would probably have put it in his pocket, and kept its
contents secret; but being already excited, having paid constant visits
to the refreshment-room in order to keep up his spirits, it drove him
beside himself. In vain his friends tried to pacify him. He rushed
round the room, exclaiming again, "It is a lie! It is a base lie! My
son a rogue! The heir of Stanmore accused of forgery! It is
impossible; it is impossible! I defy any one to prove it."
Thus the wretched man went on proclaiming his son's infamy and his own
disgrace. Several of the guests, who had been somewhat unwilling to
come, on this ordered their carriages. Even the most heartless felt
that they could not with propriety remain, and thus the greater part of
the company followed the example of the first.
The Misses Coppinger and their aunt got away immediately, attended by
Mr. Gilby; and in a short time the gaily-bedecked and highly-lighted
rooms were deserted by all the guests, while his children could with
difficulty get their father to his room, still but little pacified. The
people said, not without reason, that the balls at Stanmore were
destined to have a disastrous termination.