THE TREE IS RE-GRAFTED.
EVELYN felt much comforted by the Rector’s visit and kindness, but she
was not allowed to remain long alone, for the ringing of the door-bell
speedily announced the arrival of Mr. Merivale, the family lawyer. This
gentleman, also, expressed great indignation at the conduct of Mr.
Tresham Potts, but he could see no remedy for it, for the property was
undoubtedly entailed upon him on the failure of the male issue of the
late owner.
After some conversation--“I don’t want to rip up old sores, my dear
Miss Manwaring,” said the old man, in sympathising tones, “but I want
to ask you a curious question, and that is, are you quite sure your
brother Wilfred is no longer alive?”
“Yes,” answered Evelyn, after a pause, “I fear there is no doubt
that such is the case. Remember how, after his innocence was
proved, we advertised for him in every paper, and offered rewards
for any information about him, but all in vain. And then think how
circumstantial were the reports that he had embarked in that poor ship
which went down in the Atlantic. Yes, I fear there cannot be a shadow
of a doubt that such is the case. And yet,” added she, “my foolish
heart sometimes tells me he is alive; but then, if so, why does he not
write, for surely he must have seen some of the advertisements. And
now, Mr. Merivale, don’t think me gone out of my wits when I tell you I
dreamed the other night he was alive and well, and then I awoke, oh! so
happy! Why should I have felt happy if he is dead?”
“I am afraid, my dear young lady,” responded Mr. Merivale, “that you
must not build upon ‘the baseless fabric of a vision;’ and I really
don’t know why I asked you the question. ‘There’s no fool like an old
fool,’ you will say. And now I must tell you, as a lawyer, that I don’t
see how you can refuse to give up possession of the place to this
snobbish cousin of yours, and his vulgar wife and flashy daughters.
That he has intruded upon you in the manner he has, is perfectly
outrageous; and my only comfort is, his conduct will do him no good
amongst the neighbours when he comes to reside.”
After a little more conversation, chiefly upon business matters, Mr.
Merivale, rejecting all offers of hospitality, took his leave; and
shortly afterwards, luncheon being announced, Tresham Potts joined his
cousin in the dining-room.
“Glad to see this rum old place in better condition than I expected,”
was his first observation, as he put an entire grouse upon his plate;
“but I don’t like to see such a lot of wheezy old stagers messing about
the grounds. I shall make a clean sweep on ’em, I can tell ’em, when
I come here. A Scotch gardener, who knows a thing or two, will soon
settle _their_ hash, you bet. But I say, cousin, who was that
seedy old fellow I saw coming across the garden, and marching into the
house by the glass door into the drawing-room?”
“That gentleman was my dear old friend, Mr. Elthorne, the Rector of
Holmcastle,” answered Evelyn.
“Oh! a parson, was it; I thought so. Them locusts are everywhere; but I
shall take care not to let him come prowling about the place when I’m
here, I can tell him. Precious impudent it seems, his coming in as he
did, considering the place belongs to me!”
“As long as I remain, I suppose he regards me as the mistress of the
house,” replied poor Evelyn, with some spirit; “and indeed I consider
myself in that light myself. And though, Cousin Tresham, I receive you
as my guest, I cannot permit you to deny me the company of such old
friends as may come to see me, and comfort me in my sorrow.”
“Oh, certainly,” retorted Tresham, somewhat abashed; “but it’s only
for three weeks, you know. Take a bit of this bird? No? Well, then,
I’ll take it myself, and not let it be wasted on cormorants like them
servants;” and with this elegant sentiment, the lawyer helped himself
to the second grouse, and swallowed his fourth glass of Madeira.
“The wines are all yours, that old fool Merivale writes me,” he
continued, presently; “rather hard that, when a lot of rubbishy old
books are left me as heirlooms! Better let me take it off your hands in
a lot; for my part, I don’t know what women want with wine at all--not
but what Mrs. Tresham drinks like a fish when she’s out o’ sorts or
out o’ temper. I’ll send a fellow over from Clitheroe to value it, if
you’re agreeable; but I shan’t give a fancy price--you may take your
oath of that.”
Evelyn said that, not feeling equal to business matters at present, she
had placed all her affairs in the hands of her old friend, Mr. Merivale.
“Oh! I know him,” cried Tresham, “and a cunning old fox he is too; but
he won’t come over _me_, I can tell you.”
Another day, after dinner, Mr. Potts broke a long silence thus:--“Look
y’here, cousin, I’ve been out marking timber all day, and a precious
good fall I shall have, please the pigs; but I’ve never yet seen the
_Tree_--the Family Tree--which the old Squire set such precious
store by, and from which, I’ve heard, he lopped off the liveliest twig
of all on ’em, and that’s me--ha, ha, ha! Let’s have a look at it, Miss
Evelyn; it’s cur’ous to think he’s lopped off himself now, ain’t it?”
Poor Evelyn went out wearily, and presently returned with the great
scroll, and put it into her cousin’s hand.
“Ha!” cried he, as he unrolled it; “this Tree’s been a long time a
growing, hain’t it? Ha, ha, ha! this beats cock-fighting, don’t it?
Now then, a pen, quick, and I’ll do a little bit o’ grafting. There, it
looks pretty now, don’t it? See what I’ve written.”
|
+---------------------+---------------------+
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Tresham, _m._ Belinda: da: of Silas
Assumed the name and Potts, Cheesemonger.
arms of Potts.
As the writer said this, he pushed the parchment before his cousin’s
eyes; she could scarcely see for her tears, as she called to mind the
last time, and under what miserable circumstances, she had seen the
document. And then a curious thing occurred. As Evelyn looked, she
fancied she saw the name of her brother Wilfred written in clear, bold
characters in the space it had formerly occupied before it was erased
by her father’s hand. The characters faded as she gazed fixedly upon
them, and at length totally disappeared; but the impression that she
had really seen them remained firmly fixed upon her mind. Evelyn knew
the whole affair must have been an illusion of the eyes or brain,
but, nevertheless, the circumstance strangely comforted her; and she
dried her tears, and apologised to her cousin for the weakness she had
exhibited.
Tresham, who at first had noticed her fixed gaze, was astonished at
her sudden change of demeanour, and asked the reason of it.
“It was only my fancy,” she made answer, “but I imagined I saw the name
of my poor brother who was drowned at sea in the place which my father
had scratched it out, when he was angry with him.”
“The deuce you did!” exclaimed Tresham, brutally; and then he carefully
examined the pedigree in the place indicated, but he could see nothing.
Nevertheless, he seemed strangely disturbed.
“It was only my fancy,” said Evelyn; “I suppose my nerves are not so
good as they were before all these troubles came upon me.”
“Well,” retorted Tresham, “I wish you’d keep your nerves to yourself,
that’s all; and what’s more, if you can’t manage that, you and I
will fall out one of these days, my pretty cousin. I don’t keep a
lodging-house for women with weak nerves, hang me if I do;” and with
this civil speech, the speaker stumped out of the room.
Left alone, Evelyn took up the emblazoned scroll and narrowly examined
it, but the place from whence her father had elided the much-loved
name, and to which, they thought, he had wished on his deathbed to
restore it, was white and blank. “It must have been a mistake, and
yet----” Evelyn could not reason about the circumstance, but somehow
she felt comforted, and she retired to rest with a less heavy heart
than she had as yet borne with her to her weary couch.