The relict of the late colonel, who had left his hones in the Punjaub
and herself with only a slight maintenance, had nevertheless sufficient
to maintain a "turn-out." True it was but a pony and phaeton; but the
pony was spirited, the phaeton a neat one, and with the charming Belle
in it, hat on head, whip and ribbons in hand, it might have been termed
stylish. The appearance was improved by a boy in buttons, who sat upon
the back seat, well trained to sustain the dignity of the situation.
This choice little tableau of country life might have been seen at the
gate of Mrs Mainwaring's villa at eleven o'clock of that same day, on
which the conversation already reported had passed between herself and
her daughter in the breakfast-room.
It was an early hour for a drive; but it was to be a journey upon
business to her lawyer. It was never made; for just as the sprightly
Belle had taken her seat in the phaeton, adjusted her drapery, and
commenced "catching flies" with her whip, what should appear coming up
the road, and at a spanking pace, but the two-horse trap of that lawyer
himself, Mr Woolet.
The trap was evidently _en route_ for the widow's residence, where more
than once it had brought its owner upon matters of business. Its
approach was a fortunate circumstance; so thought Mrs Mainwaring, so
thought her daughter, neither of whom on that particular day desired to
go to the town. It was not one that had been set apart for shopping;
more important matters were on the _tapis_, and these could be arranged
with Mr Woolet on the spot. The phaeton was at once abandoned,
"Buttons" receiving orders to keep the pony by the gate, and the ladies,
followed by the lawyer, returned into the cottage. The attorney was
received in the drawing-room; but, as the business could have nothing to
do with the beautiful Belle, her presence was excused, and she sauntered
out again, leaving her mother alone with Mr Woolet.
Though there was still a certain obsequiousness about the lawyer's
manner, it was very different from that he had exhibited when dealing
with General Harding. There was a vast distinction between a live
General, possessed of a clear hundred thousand pounds, and a defunct
colonel's widow, with scarce so many pence. Still, Mrs Mainwaring was
a lady of acknowledged social position, with a daughter who might at no
distant day have the _control_ of a gentleman who had a hundred thousand
pounds, and who might become a profitable client of whoever chanced at
the time to be her mother's solicitor. Mr Woolet was a sharp,
far-seeing individual, and this forecast had not escaped him. If he
showed himself more at ease in the presence of the colonel's widow than
he had done in that of the General, it was simply because he recognised
in the lady a nature like his own--less scrupulous upon points of honour
or etiquette.
"Have you any business with me, Mr Woolet?" asked the lady, without
making known the fact that she was about going on business to him.
"Well, Mrs Mainwaring, scarce enough to make it worth while my calling
on you--at all events, interrupting your drive. What I have to say may
be of no importance--but five minutes will suffice for saying it."
"Take what time you please, Mr Woolet; our drive had no object--a
little shopping affair of my daughter's, that can be disposed of at any
hour. Please be seated."
The lawyer took a chair; the lady sank into a couch.
"Something, I suppose, connected with the cottage?" she continued in a
tone of studied indifference. "I think the rent is paid up to--"
"Oh, nothing of that," interrupted the lawyer. "You are too punctual in
your payments, Mrs Mainwaring, to need reminding from me. I have come
upon an affair that, indeed, now that I think of it, may look like
interference on my part. But it is one that may be of importance, and,
studying your interest as my client, I deem it my duty to interfere. I
hope, if in error, you will not be offended by my apparent over-zeal."
The widow opened her eyes, once beautiful enough, but now only
expressive of surprise. The manner of the attorney, his tone of
confidence--of an almost friendly assurance--led her to look for some
pleasant revelation. What could it be?
"Over-zeal on your part can never be offensive, Mr Woolet--at least,
not to me. Please let me know what you have to communicate. Whether it
concern me or not, I promise you it shall have my full consideration,
and such response as I can give."
"First, Mrs Mainwaring, I must ask a question that from any other might
be deemed impertinent. But you have done me the honour to trust me as
your legal adviser, and that must be my excuse. There is a rumour
abroad--indeed, I might say, something more than a rumour--that your
daughter is about to be--to contract an alliance with one of the sons of
General Harding. May I ask if this rumour has any truth in it?"
"Well, Mr Woolet, to you I shall answer frankly: there is some truth in
it."
"May I further ask which of the General's sons is to be the fortunate,
and, I may say, happy individual?"
"Really, Mr Woolet! But why do you want to know this?"
"I have a reason, madam--a reason that also concerns yourself, if I am
not mistaken."
"In what way?"
"By reading this, you will learn."
A sheet of bluish foolscap, with the ink scarce dried upon it, was
spread out before the eyes of the widow. It was the will of General
Harding.
She coloured while reading it. With all the coolness of her Scotch
blood; with all the steadiness of nerve produced by an eventful life--in
long accompaniment of her husband in his campaigns--she could not
conceal the emotion called forth by what she read upon the sheet of
foolscap. It was like the echo of her own thoughts--a response to the
reflections that, scarce an hour before, had been not only passing
through her mind, but forming the subject of her conversation.
Adroitly as woman could--and Mrs Mainwaring was not the most simple of
her sex--she endeavoured to make light of the knowledge thus
communicated. She was only sorry that General Harding should so far
forget his duties as a parent, to make such a distinction between his
two sons. Both were equally of his own blood; and, though the younger
might have been of better behaviour, still he was the younger, and time
might cure him of those habits which appeared to have given offence to
his father. For herself, Mrs Mainwaring was very sorry indeed; and,
although it did not so essentially concern her, she could not do
otherwise than thank Mr Woolet for his disinterested kindness in
letting her know the terms of this strange testament. In fine, she
would always feel grateful to him for what he had done.
The last clause of her speech was delivered in a tone not to be
misunderstood by such an astute listener as Mr Woolet; and at its
conclusion he folded up the will, and prepared to take his departure.
To repeat excuses, and say that he had only done what he deemed his
duty, were empty words, and were so understood by both.
A glass of sherry, with a biscuit, and the interview came to an end.
Mr Woolet returned to his trap, and was soon rolling back to the town;
while Buttons was commanded to take back the pony to its stable. The
sauntering Belle was summoned into the drawing-room.
"What did he want, mamma?" was her inquiry on entering. "Anything that
concerns me?"
"I should think so. If you marry Henry Harding you will marry a
_pauper_. I have seen the will. His father has disinherited him."
Miss Mainwaring sank upon the couch, with a cry that told rather of
disappointment than despair.