OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY
MARY CECIL HAY
ATTHOB OP " MISSING," "THE SQUIEE'S LEO-UJ~ *.
CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:
BELFORD, CLARKE & COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS.
mows
BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
CHAPTER I.
More water glideth by the mill,
Than wots the miller of.
TITTTS ANDEONICTTS.
A STRETCH of highway lay white and level in the dusk of
the September evening, and on its margin stood a low red
tavern, whose glory departed with the last stage-coach, and
which crumbled to ruin, as slowly, but as surely, as did its
grand old neighbour there behind the ivy-weighted walls of
Abbotsmoor. For a whole mile this wall extended before
\t was broken by the iron gates through which a view was
pained of the lodges and the sombre avenue ; and under
this wall, in the September twilight, a travelling-carriage
rolled upon the wide, white road.
Within a few yards of the iron gates, the horses were
pulled up. The postilion, sitting square upon his saddle,
looked straight along the road, as a well-trained post-toy
should ; the man-servant, seated with folded arms upon the
box, and his eyes fixed upon the roadsi 'e tavern half a mile
ahead ; and neither of the men turned his head one inch
when the carriage-door behind them was opened from
within. No change upon their faces showed that they even
anderstood why the horses had been stopped.
A gentleman descended leisurely from the chaise, tnmed
and addressed a few low words to some one within, and
then closed the carriage-door again quietly. The gentleman
tood in the shadow as he gave his orders to the servant
B
2136205
6 OLT MYDDELT01TS MONEY.
stood in tTie shadow as he paused for a minute to wafeh the
retreating vehicle and was in the shadow btill as he walked
np to the gates of Abbotsmoor and tried them. Locked.
Four gates there were in all a high pair in the centre, and
a single narrow gate on either side but all locked.
He stood for a few moments looking round him in the
dusk, and then whistled a call. The summons was answered
at once. An old man came limping from the lodge, and
scrutinised the visitor suspiciously, as shrewd old men will
do when their sight grows dim.
"I heard the call, sir. I'm sharp enough to hear, but
my sight fails me, so I can't tell who it is."
"A stranger and a traveller," the gentleman answered
from without the gates, as the old man fumbled with the
rusty keys, " and anxious, on his way past Abbotsmoor, to
see the house."
" It's late for that," the old man muttered, with a feeble
effort to turn the key in the lock; " we get but few visitors at
any time, but they never come after sunset and no wonder."
"You've opened this gate a thousand times, I daresay,
but I fancy I can do it better. Let me try."
As the stranger spoke, he put one hand through the bars,
and turned the key with ease ; then he laughed a little at
the old man's surprise.
" My ears are sharp to hear the difference in voices," the
lodge-keeper said, e)em^ this visitor with keenest interest
as he entered the park, " but my eyes won't recognize faces
now. Yoar voice has a homelike tone to me, sir, so I know
it's English, though there's a richness in it that reminds
me of the foreign countries I used to visit with my old
master. And yet I ought to know the tongue of the Far
West when my own father was an American."
" Surely," the visitor said, " you have no need to leek the
gate behind us. "Who would enter here in the dusk ? "
" Who indeed ? " questioned the old man, surlily. " No,
eir, it was only habit. Such habit clings to a man after ten
years of it."
" Ten years" the stranger was pausing within the gates,
and booking thoughtfully on among the shadows of the
hepvy trees " only ten years. Then you were not here at
*he time of old Mr My dd el toil's death ? "
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 7
u Not I, sir thank Providence for that ! I was in
Germany at that time, with my own old master. It was
only after my eyes and limbs failed me that Mr. Haughtou
the family solicitor, and a family connection, sir put me
here to keep the keys. It wasn't a post many cared to fill ;
it isn't a post many would care to fill even half-blind
cripples like myself now that such a dark name rests upon
the place."
" Who lived here at the time of the murder ? "
The question was asked coolly, and the questioner's eyes
did not come back from their gaze among the shadows.
" The woman who kept the lodge then, sir, died not long
after the murder."
" Then all you know of that time is from hearsay only ? "
" From hearsay only, sir. Who would wish to know it
any other way ? "
" Who indeed ? "
The dusk was deepening in the park, and the shadows
lay a little wei:dly about the waters of the lake. The old
man looked with curiosity after the strange gentleman as
he sauntered up the avenue, quite slowly as it seemed, yet
with a step which was far from purposeless or listless.
" It's a queer hour to come and view the place. Mostly
people choose broad daylight when they come to see the
spot where old Myddelton was murdered." So the old man
muttered, while the stranger went slowly on towards the
groat desolate house, over whose history a veil of gloom
end mystery hung.
"It almost seems," this visitor whispered to himself, as
he passed up the silent avenue, " as if the mist of guilt upon
the place, and this heavy lethargy of isolation and disuse.
had wrapped themselves about me since I passed those
gates. The horrible paralysis that stayed all life and motion
in this spot has touched me too ; or why do I not clearly
follow out this plan, as I have followed others in my life ?
What is this feeling upon me which seems to stop me here
at the very spot ? 'Not to-night,' it says. Why not to-
night ? It is but the first link of a chain I have to follow
link by link to its end. Can I begin too soon ? This in-
explicable feeling is at any rate unworthy of a thought."
As he argued thus with himself, uttering the thought
OLD MYDDELTON B MONEY.
aloud in the evening: silence, he raised his hat. and for ft
few minutes carried it in his hand as he walked on up the
neglected, grass-mown avenue. The evening breeze rustled
the green branches overhead, and with lazy enjoyment he
lifted his face to meet it. It was a dark, grave face, full of
determined purpose, yet most striking at that moment was
its look of intense patience not the spurious patience bora
of listlessness or indifference, but a steadfast, manly patience,
born it might have been in a great repentance, or it might
have been in a great wrong. It was a face which could wear
other expressions, far different from if not warring against
the quiet, manful power of enduring and forbearing, so
plainly written there ; but at that moment, raised among
the dusky shadows, this was its only look.
The avenue at Abbotsmoor was nearly two milos in
length, for though, as the crow flies, it would have been
scarcely a mile from the lodge to the great front entrance,
yet the approach was so curved and twisted that it doubled
the distance. In old times neighbouring squires used to
urge on old Mr. Myddelton the advisability of forming a
new approach, straight as an arrow, from the lodges to the
house ; but their advice was laughed at grimly, aud the old
avenue kept its winding way.
So it happened that the visitor was within a hundred
yards of the house itself when he caught his first glimpse of
it. He made no stop in his thoughtful, unhurried walk ;
but there grew a look of keen intentuess in his eyes, and
there started into sudden life a line of deep and harassed
thought between his brows.
" In spite of the changes," he said to himself, his full
gaze on the house, " I shall remember it all more clearly on
this spot,"
The scene which lay before him was grand even in its
ntter desolation, and picturesque even in its heavy, haunted
gloom ; for on neither the empty building nor the untrodden
grass lay any trace of that deed which had made this spot a
shunned and isolated one.
" In this weird light, and at this lonely hour," the
stranger whispered to himself, " I shall see it just as it
should be seen."
were no steps to muiau, 110 Lerrucot- to tread. The
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 9
mansion stood low on the wide, level park, but it was none
the Jess a grand and an imposing structure, viewed from
that last point in the irregular avenue.
The visitor trod more slowly now across the lawn, up to
the wide oak doorway (locked securely against his examin<
ing hand), then slowly on, past the long row of windows
belonging to the ground floor, the shutters of which were so
heavily barred. He counted them as he sauntered past the
front of the house eight, between the door and the corner.
Involuntarily he stepped back a few paces, and counted the
eight upon the other side. As he did so, a sound, indefinite
and hardly audible, reached him from the shrubbery
beyond the lawn a sound so faint that it might well
have been laid to imagination only, but a sound about
which the listener, after a minute's pause, felt no doubt at all.
" A cough," he said, with lazy sarcasm, " strangled and
stifled, but a cough unmistakably ; and, more than that, a
man's cough, and still more than that, a cough I've heard
before.
Then he sauntered on. The rank grass over which he
stepped was heavy with dew, yet often he stopped where it
was longest, and stooped to gather a blossom from the wild
flowers which overran the neglected lawn. So he passed
from the great front entrance round to the south end of the
house, turned and loitered past the servants' premises at the
back, then turned another corner, and continued his walk
a little more slowly beside the shuttered windows on the
north side. At one, the last in the row, he made a pause,
not as if in uncertainty or doubt, but with a settled purpose.
First he examined it critically, measuring with his eye ita
height and width, and its depth from the ground ; then he
turned his back upon it, and took in, with a keen, full
glance, the scene before it the stretch of lawn, the border-
ing of shrubbery beyond, and the crowd of grand old elins
towering above it all still farther on. For at least ten long
minutes he stood so, his eyes dark gray eyes, holding the
rare beauty of deep, clear thought earnestly scanning the
dusky scene, and an utter stillness and vigilance in the
easy attitr.de.
1 1 auy eyes could have been watching from among the
over-grown laurels opposite, this was a picture not to be
I) OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
eisily either forgotten or understood so lonely and go still
the scene, so easy, yet so full of purpose this solitary figure.
But why should any watchful eyes have been hidden there
among the darkening laurel leaves ?
The long, thoughtful minutes were spent at last, and the
lonely visitor turned to leave Abbotsmoor. One last glance
before he entered the avenue, and the scene was photo-
graphed on his mind indelibly. The wide, high frontage of
the house ; the rows of windows heavy with dust and cob-
web?, their shutters closely barred, yet cracked in many
places ; the wide door, scratched and scarred, while a rank,
unmanageable branch of ivy had fallen across it, as it' ta
form another heavy bolt ; grass growing in the cracks of
the stone steps, just as it grew between the embrasures of
the windows ; wild flowers and garden flowers tangled
together among the weeds and grasses ; uncut and unnailed
creepers perishing helplessly upon the ground, where they
seemed struggling to escape the ill-fated hous-e. All the
ravages of wind and weather, all the heavy footprints of
time and devastation, all the rank fruit of neglect.
" There is a rookery overhead," said the stranger, as he
pa zed, "and it is impossible but that sometimes the sun-
shine finds its way here, and the birds sing. It was an
English home one. 1 , and years hence it may be BO again,
although old Myddelton's heir "
A sound again, subdued and hushed almost in a moment
yet the keen ear had detected it, and the swift, sportsman-
like glance had discovered a figure watching stealthily from
among the trees. A few steps on the long, tangled grass,
and he was beside this figure, looking down upon it with
cool, ironical curiosity.
" Are you here on your own account, or are you sent by
your employer ? "
The man he addressed did not answer. Perhaps that
stifled cough was stopping him ; but perhaps that quick
gasp of his breath was sudden fear.
" This is the second time I have caught you watching
me, and I have a fancy for its being the last. A spy can
expect only one treatment, and here it is."
His left hand was fast on the man's collar ; with Lis
flight he broke a brunch above his head, and the next thing
OLfi MYDDKLTONS MONEY. 11
of which the listener was aware was a particular sensation of
smarting and stinging in his shoulders, and a general sensa-
tion of smarting and stinging throughout his whole system.
Grinding his teeth with rage and shame, he rose from the
spot to which he had ignominiously been hurled, ami
looked after his chastiser with an ugly scowl upon his
smooth, sleek face.
" This sort of thing," he muttered between his teeth, " a
man never forgets."
An aphorism few would deny at any time, but one which
certainly could not be denied by those who boasted the
acquaintance of Bickerton Slimp, confidential clerk in the
office of Lawrence Haughton, attorney-at-law in the town
of Kinbury.
" I shall be even with him yet ! "
Such was the magnanimous conclusion arrived at by Mr.
Slimp, before he dragged his injured person down the
avenue in the wake of his assaulter.
This assaulter had in the meantime reached the gates,
and the old lodge-keeper held one of them open for him
while he took a crown from his purse.
" Good night," he said then, genially. " Lock the gate
after me, so that you may lock in all other marauders."
The old man chuckled as he turned the rusty key.
"There's only myself, sir, to lock in." And the words
were true, for Bickerton Slimp's modes of ingress and
egress had been nobly independent of lock and bolt, and,
though they necessitated a creeping progress unsuited to an
upright man, they had their advantage in being known
only to himself.
The low, red tavern over the door of which, througl
ruth and revelry, the sicra of the " Myddeltoa Arms " hac
hung for fifty years felt that evening just a shade of th<
importance which, according to its own popular legends,
belonged to it in the old coaching days. The arrival of t
private travelling carriage, with emblazoned panels and
white silk lining, was not by any means of daily occurrence,
and made the lazy ostler put down hia pipe with such
impetus thaD it broke into half-a-dozen pieces. The enter-
12 OLD MYDDELTON'S MOXET.
tainment of a lady traveller was still less a circumstance of
daily occurrence, and made the fidgety hostess nervously
and petulantly remark to herself, as she threw her soiled
apron behind the door, " Sure as ever there's nothing in the
house, somebody's safe to come ! "
"You'll be wishing for tea, ma'am," ehe suggested,
coming blandly forward a minute afterwards, to forestall
any idea of dinner which might have lurked in the
traveller's mind, " a wholesome knife-and-fork tea, as we
call it ? I've as nice a cold ham as ever was boiled ; and
with some eggs "
" Thank you," the lady answered, passing through the
door which the landlady held open, "anything you have. I
am sure it will be nice, as you say."
" Only for one, ma'am ? "
The fact was self-evident, and the useless piece of
enumeration on the part of the landlady only the effect of
habit, but she looked surprised when, with the answer,
came a vivid blush.
Tea was served in the shadowy, low-ceiled parlour, where
H newly-lighted fire struggled into existence, and added
Considerably to the shadows, but nothing to the light or
cheeriuess ; when there came the heaviest blow which the
landlady of the " Myddelton Arms " had felt for many a
day. The cold boiled ham emphatically the piece de
resistance of the inn larder was gracing that long table in
the parlour, and she had displayed there everything edible
or ornamental which the inn could furnish forth, when a
gentleman arrived, walked coolly into the inn, and ordered
strange to say tea for one. No need for the landlady
to forestall him with the suggestion. Whether or not it
was his habit to dine late, the order for tea came promptly
enough from his lips to-night.
*' He doesn't look hurried or even hungry," thought
mine hostess, gazing nervously up into his face ; " will it do
to ask him to wait ? He looks kind, and a gentleman,"
was the next nervous thought ; " will it do to tell him how
I'm situated ?"
At that moment the gentleman tsmiled smiled almost as
if he understood her.
*' Perhaps your room is engaged ? "
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. S3
That made it easy. The landlady's lips were unsealed,
and she did tell him exactly and rather circumstantially
" how she was situated." As he stood listening, leaning
against the window of the little bar, he took a crimson
leather purse from his pocket, and held it in his hand. Hei
eyes fell on it as she spoke, and she noticed that it was old
and rather shabby, but that it was a peculiar purse, and
handsomer than any she had ever seen before.
" If the lady will allow me to join her at tea, it will sav
trouble, will it? "
So he asked, opening the while one of the pockets of the
purse, and drawing a card from it.
" Yes sir, if, as you say, she will."
Mine hostess made this observation rather absently, gazing
at the many pockets of the purse, and trying to read the name
which was stamped in gold upon the leather inside the flap.
" On second thoughts, I will not send a card ; it can
make no difference. Say a stranger asks this favour of her."
As he put back the card a sudden quizzical smile came
into his eyes.
" What sort of a lady is she ? "
"Well, sir," began the landlady, meditatively, " I should
gay, if I was asked, that she's an invalid. She looks white
enough to have just come from a sick-bed, and she's hardly
strength and energy to move about ; she doesn't look cheer-
ful either. I should say ill in mind and body ; that's what
I should say, sir, if I was asked."
Perhaps the stranger thought she had been asked, and
that he had been answered, for without further words he
turned away and walked to and fro within the circumscribed
limits of the bar, until mine hostess reappeared with an
expression of intense relief on her countenance.
"The lady sends her compliments, sir, and will be very
happy if you will join her. I'll take fresh plates and a cup in
at once. I'm very glad it's arranged so, as you're in a hurry."
Her mind being thoroughly at ease, and the arrange-
ments propitious, mine hostess could afford to bring out a
little of the gracious and accommodating loftiness of the
si age-coach period.
The door was hardly closed upon her gnest when another
customer arrived at the "Myddelton Arms," but this lime
14 OLD MYDDKLTON'S MONEY.
the landlady felt no nervousness in the prospect of the
entertainment, for the face of Mr. Bickerton Slimp was well
known in the tavern bar, and the voice of Mr. Slimp had u
familkr, even confidential tone when it addressed miiu
hostess.
" Well, Mrs. Murray, no need to ask you how you are ;
yon look as blooming as usual. I've snatched a few
minutes to call in, you see. Ah, if your snug hostelry was
but a little nearer to Kinbury, what constant visits you
would have from yours truly ! "
" You aren't looking well, Mr. Slimp," remarked the
landlady, gazing critically into his face.
" Oh, yes, yes, quite well," he answered, with a move-
ment of his shoulders which he intended for a gesture of
deprecation, but which had the appearance of an experi-
ment to test their muscles, " but tired a little. The old
man has kept me very hard at it to-day."
" The old man, indeed ! " smiled the listener, with a
friendly tap upon the narrow shoulder of Mr. Slimp. "Why,
Mr Haughton cannot be more than forty, if he's that. His
sister was born the same year as me, that was in '29, and
he's younger by two years at the very least Well, if we
were born in '29, and this is '71, aren't we forty-two ? And
can you call him an old man ? "
" Ladies are never old," smiled the lawyer's clerk insinu-
atingly ; " but in these degenerate days, Mrs. Murray, on 1
employers get dubbed old men, without reference to the
year in which they chanced to be born."
"When you set up for yourself, then, your clerks will be
at liberty to speak of you as an old man, though you can
scarcely be let me eee more than Mr. Hanghton'a age."
This mine hostess said with a sly relish, for Bickerton
Slimp affected a youthful air and youthful garments, and
few ventured to remind him of his age. Even she could not
have done so without that dainty allusion to his " setting
np for himself," the centre of the labyrinth in which he
plodded ; the bourne to which he fancied crafc and cunning
were his surest guides.
He smiled again ; he had a bland, stereotyped gmile,
which he considered a mighty weapon with the fair sex.
"Just so; and you shall rebuke my clerks as sternly as
yon please, on condition that you always smile npon me.
Is dear me, what was I going to say oh, is the parlour
vacant this evening ? "
Mrs. Murray was a little surprised at the question, and a
little surprised that Mr. SI imp still stood on the chilly
bricks in the little hall, and did not take his own seat in the
bar. and light his pipe. But she was not sorry for an excuse
to tell him about those two guests who were drinking tea
together now from her best china, and she did so at large.
The lawyer's clerk listened smilingly, nor did he attempt to
gpeak himself until the narration was quite over. Then he
asked her coaxingly to mix him a glass of whisky punch, and
enumerated the different ingredients he required with a culti-
vated taste which would have done no discredit to a Yankee.
" Just mix it so, Mrs. Murray, if you please ; and do it
yourself, to give it its proper flavour. You are quite sure
you have Angostura bitters in the house ? "
Mrs. Murray stepped within the bar and left the lawyer's
clerk still standing beside the parlour door. The mixing of
the punch, even with all its requisites, would not take more
than two minutes, so he had no time to spare. With a loud,
demonstrative carelessness, he opened the parlour door and
entered the room, stood a moment transfixed with astonish-
ment when he found it occupied, uttered a meek and very
elaborate apology to the lady for having assumed the room
to be empty, and backed from it with slow very slow
deference.
" I just opened that door to see what time it was," he
explained, as he entered the bar and took up his glass with
a beaming smile upon his face ; " I knew my watch was
wrong, but did not know how much. I cannot depend upon
your kitchen clock ; but that timepiece upon the parlour
chimney I depend upon implicitly, and always did."
" Were they at tea ? " inquired the hostess, her curiosity
stronger than her pride.
" Not exactly." Mr. Slimp answered the question with
emotion, but whether this was the effect of the whisky, or
of what he had seen, was not evideut. " Not exactly ;
they were standing together on the hearth, Mrs. Murray,
looking very interesting indeed."
" ^; i^fi are straners 1 "
16 OLD MTDDELTON'a MONET.
! So we are given to understand, if we choose."
" But " Mrs. Murray's very breath was taken away hj
the covert insinuation "but you say they were standing
together on the rug, Were they talking or shaking hands-
or anything ?"
" Xot exactly," Mr. Slimp answered again, as delibe-
rately as lef'ore. " In fact, they were standing there in utter
silence, which is the suspicious part of it all. Do you think
that if they were strangers to each other they would stand
so, without speaking ? No, my good friend ; they would
have been seated at table, and talking amiably."
Mine hostess put on an air of worldly wisdom equal to
Mr. Slimp's, and, not to be behindhand in other qualities,
remarked, with more vivacity than veracity, that she had
" suspected so all along."
The next moment she had left the bar, for the parlour
bell had rung, and she always liked as she expressed it
to answer her own bells.
" It's for the carriage, Mr. Slimp," she whispered, look-
ing in at the bar on her return. " I must go and tell the
servants ; they aro having supper in the kitchen. I left the
girl to see to them."
" Wtiir. Mrs. Murray," called Slimp, in a subdued, eager
voice ; " I will go round to the yard myself, and order the
horses to be put to."
It was almost dark in the yard now, and, though it im-
peded his examination, it certainly afforded Mr. Slimp the
opportunity of conducting it unperceived. The ostler ol
the " Myddelton Arms " was glad to see Mr. Slimp and to
converse with him, but the postilion, when he came briskly
out and took his seat, and the gentleman's gentleman who
Stood quietly by until the horses moved and then followed
<;hem to the front door of the inn, exhibited a little more
surprise at the effort he made to enter into conversation with
them, and discouraged those efforts with cool civility.
The carriage lamps were lighted, the horses fresh and
restive. The breath of (.he near horse actually fanned the
cheek of Mr. Slimp when he leaned against the house look-
ing on. The lady for whom the beautiful carriage waited
came slowly and timidly from the parlour, while the gentle-
man, who was indebted to her lor his accommodation,
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 17
followed her leisurely. It was natural, of course, that he
should see her to her carriage. She bade good evening to
the landlady, wrapped her cloak tightly about her, drew a soft
wool veil down over her face, and took her seat. One of her
bands was full of flowers, a curious mixture of wild-flowers
and of cultivated blossoms run to seed ; the other she
offered to the gentleman ; and he, standing at the carriage
door, took it, and quietly wished her good night. After a
moment's pause he went back into the inn parlour. Mrs.
Murray had performed her last curtsey, and the horses had
made a few steps forward, when he came out again, and
apoke up to the servant on the box seat, while the postilion
drew in his eager horses,
" Your lady left this purse behind her in the tavern."
The servant stooped with a touch of his hat and took the
purse ; the gentleman stepped back, and the carriage went
on its way. But Mrs. Murray had not regained her breucu
yet. In her officiousness at something -having been left
behind, she had gone close up to the lamps, and so she saw
that the purse he handed to the lady's servant was the purse
she had last seen in his hands when he took his card from
it, the worn crimson purse, with the many pockets and the
name stamped in gold.
" Don't you think that she seems very nervous and deli-
cate, sir ? "
Mine hostess made this inquiry merely out of curiosity for
his reply ; but felt very little enlightened when that was
given.
" I do indeed."
For nearly an hour he stayed at the inn, and for this hour
Mr. Slimp's life was a burden to him. The cool, half-
quizzical eyes of the man who had thrashed him, seemed
following him everywhere, for the sole purpose of making
him uncomfortable and ill at ease. Once or twice the
embryo attorney became so seriously depressed that he
resolved to start at once for Kinbury, but lie never carried
out the resolution. He had a plan to work out with which
a sudden departure might have interfered, and besides that,
it might almost have looked like fear strange and un-
natural hypothesis after that scene among the trees at
Abbotsmoor !
13 OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY.
It was an idle hour which the stranger spent at the road-
side tavern, but he did not apparently object to wasting it.
Wherever he stood or sat ; to whomsoever he talked ; with,
whomsoever he laughed ; if he did not laugh or speak afeall ;
lounging and loitering there with utter indolence, yet with
a grace which had no listlessness or supineness he pursued
the luckless clerk with this cool, amused gaze of his. It was
never angry ; it was far from insolent ; it was only a gaze of
quiet amusement. But perhaps the contempt which Mr.
Sliinp read in it was not all born of his imagination only,
though certainly the threat he read there was. The hand-
some, amused eyes held no threat for such a pitiable object
iw the man who had cringed and fawned under an upraised
arm.
CHAPTER IL
A girl who has so many wilful ways,
She would have caused Job's patience to forsake him,
Yet is so rich in all that's girlhood's praise,
Did Job himself upon her goodness gaze,
A little better she would surely make him.
THE " Myddelton Arms " stood on the highway about a
mile and a half from Kinbury, and at about the same dis-
tance on the other side the town, lay the small estate of
Deergrove, sheltered at the back by the grove which
originally gave it its name, and against which the walla
of the house stood out with dazzling whiteness, but tm
sheltered in the front, where its windows glistened in the
noonday sun, unbroken and unrelieved by any waving leaf
or blossom, and where the flower-beds, so perfect in fheir
outline, stared thirstily up in the summer days, and wai-ched
for the cool, coy shadows of the passing clouds.
" But it does not signify much," as one of Mrs. Trent's
visitors said to herself, walking slowly up the smooth and
well-kept lawn ; " they grow no flowers here but those that
love the glare."
The summer had passed its middle age, yet the round
beds were gay in their scarlet and yellow robes. It was
still quite warm and pleasant in the dusk of the September
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONKT. 1ft
, so the young girl sauntered slowly up tne drive,
thinking how beautiful it would be in the grove behind the
house, where the twilight was so dim and silent.
Within the house a man-servant had shut the daylight
from one room, arid was lighting it as he had been skilfully
trained to do to show off at their best the snow-white
damask, the glittering plate, and, above all, the faces and
figures of the ladies of the house. In the drawing-room on
the opposite side of the small paved hall the daylight was
Btill allowed to linger.
A moderate-sized and modernly furnished drawing-room,
suggestive of ample means, and luxurious taste, but with
one vague, inexplicable want. This deficiency might not
have been felt by many of those who met here, but to those
who recognised it at all, it was evident in. everything the
handsome room contained, or rather it was so ever-present
there that it made itself felt in spite of all those attributes
of ease and luxury, or of art and literature, which this
drawing-room at Deergrove held. It peeped from the
gli-'tening blue curtains, and lay on the deep white rug. It
nestled among the silken cushions, and lingered about the
laden tables. It stared back from the vivid, well-framed
pictures on the walls, and echoed even from the gleaming
keys ot *r> grand piano.
It was only one of the four occupants of the room who,
that evening, was conscious.of this vague sense of something
wanting. If it had been possible for the others to feel it,
the void could not have existed.
A group of four, sitting at ease, with very little of the
air of expectancy usual to the waiting minutes before dinner.
The hostess reclined in a wide easy-chair beside one of the
bay windows. She was a large, languid woman, elegantly
dressed, but possessing in her handsome face that great
want which all her house held. S:ie had three claims to
individuality, and three only a fine figure, a great ambition,
and an overweening pride in her only child. And Mrs.
Trent was performing her own peculiar mission as she sat
emiling upon her daughter and her guests, and bringing in,
at every opportunity, dainty allusions to her titled acquaint-
ances. In the corner of a small couch near her, reclined
her daughter Theodora, leaning forward gracefully from th
?0 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET
cushions, while her long skirts of preen satin lay in ricb
folds upon the white ruir. Her hair, of pale brown, was
dressed high upon her head, as was the fashion of that year,
and a butterfly of gold and er.ieralds shone with almo>t
dazzling lustre among the plaits above her temple. H<-r
features were clearly cub and regular, like her mother's ;
and her eyes were of the sa'ue li_ r ht blue ; but her lips were
still more haughty in their curves, and even a little colder in
their rest. A handsome woman undeniably was Theodora
Trent, yet in her faultless features that guest, to whom her
face is turned so often, sees that one vague deficiency which
is about him always in this house.
Upon the rug, with his elbow on the chimney-piece, and
the fingers of one hand toying with his silky, pale
moustache and whiskers, lounged Captain Hervey Trent,
nephew of his hostess, and the husband selected for her
only daughter not simply because he was so sure to in-
herit old Myddelton'fl money, but because he was in every
way suitable for a son-io-law. Handsome and elegant, he
graced society, and would add to her daughter's popularity ;
easy and indolent, he would not be likely to rebel against
the will of a mother-in-law.
Decidedly Captain Trent was a handsome man. There
never was heard a dissentient voice when the fact was
asserted, while no one was more thoroughly aware of its
truth than Captain Hervey Trent himself. He was twenty-
five his cousin Theodora's age exactly and boasted the
regular features and blue eyes which characterised the
Trents : he stood five feet ten in his boots, and measured
the approved number of inches across the shoulders, and,
beyond all this, he possessed equally the power, and the
time, and the inclination to dress to the very perfection of
what he termed "good form." He was a man with a
musical, passionless voice, and white, listless hands; able to
bear with no unhandsome grace the burden of himself and
the boredom which surrounded him ; and to go through life
as a gentleman should who rightly understands the exi-
gencies of "good form ;" and can utterly ignore so vulgar
an abstract idea as emotion.
A great contrast to her nephew, was the one guest whom
Mrs. Trent entertained this evening BO great a contrast to
OLD M7DDE1 .TON'S MONEY. 21
them all, indeed, that not for years were they to comprehend
the unreached heights and unsounded depths of a nature
such as his. Nineteen women out of twenty would unhesi-
tatingly have pronounced Captain Hervey Trent the hand-
somer man of the two; not one woman out of twenty could
have lavished on Hervey Trent one tithe of the thought,
and curiosity, and admiration which were won from them
sometimes even against their will by Royden Keith.
We have seen him before in the evening dusk at Abbots-
moor. Theodora Trent had seen him before, but his face
was still a riddle to her, as it had been from the first, and as
it was still to be. It was a grave face when at rest, with its
strange mixture of power and patience a face full of deep
and concentrated thought, but with never a shade of gloom
upon it, or trivial fretfulness ; a face that could be only
brave, and fearless, whether shadowed by that depth of
thought, or brightened by the rare smile which Theodora
tried to provoke. Its skin was so browned by the sun, the
moustache and the short hair were so thick and dark, the
lashes so long, and the teeth so white, that many took Eoy-
den Keith for a native of Southern Spain or Italy. But
that idea vanished after the first few minutes, and most
especially when he spoke. Though puzzled a little now and
then by the trace of foreign travel, no one could help being
struck by what was essentially English in him; the straight-
forward glance of his eyes, clear- judging and tar-seeing, and
the voice, which, whether ringing to anger, falling to quiet
irony, or softening to pathos, was, despite an accent or an
idiom, picked up unconsciously in foreign lands, most
thoroughly English.
He was sitting opposite Miss Trent, his elbow on a table
near the couch on which she sat. She looked from him up
to Captain Trent, and down to him again. Even her unob-
servant eyes were puzzled by the difference in the attitudes
of the two young men ; and she turned for the last time
from her cousin's leaning form, and the slow motion of his
hands, to the tall, well-knit figure, which, though full of
etrength and activity, was yet capable of an ease and still-
ness almost remarkable.
" And can you really mean, Mr. Keith," she said, drop
ping her fiugars on a cabinet portrait of herself which ley
G
22 OLD MYDDELTOXS MOSffT.
upon the table beside her, "that you hare never been
photographed before."
" Why, ' before ' ? " asked Royden, extending his hand
for the picture.
" After all, I am rather glad," she mused smilingly,
"* because now your first photograph will be taken with us."
" How will that happen, Miss Trent ? "
" I will tell you," she answered, watching his face as he
examined the portrait. " On the day of our pic-nic at
Abbotsmoor, a little French photographer, who lives in
Station, is to be there with his camera, and take us all, with
the old mansion for a background. Now you see why I am
glad that will be your first portrait."
" Hardly." Mr. Keith said this quietly, as he bent
over the picture, and Theodora looked in vain for a smile.
" Interesting scene," remarked Captain Hervey, raising
his blue eyes slowly from the rug ; " Lady Lawrence re-
quires the picture, I believe ; at any rate, she has proposed
it through her lawyer. The dramatis persons are to be old
Myddelton's relations, and the scene his ruinous estate. An
elegant group and cheerful surroundings eh, Mr. Keith ?"
" I do not know all old Mr. Myddelton's relations."
" Yon know the chief of them, Mr. Keith," Theodora
answered, unconscious of the vanity of her words, and of the
smile which accompanied them, " and you shall see them all
on Thursday at Abbotsmoor. You will not be too proud to
be photographed among them, will you ? "
" Without being one of the family, ought I to be included
in the picture ? "
There was an intonation that baffled Theodora, and she
looked up uneasily.
" Certainly ; I shall insist."
She said this with her sweetest smile, and a certain
manner which many young ladies of the present age affect
a gracious condescension and self-assertion which in the last
century it would have taken a middle-aged matron of the
highest society to make bearable, but which now is chosen
and assumed by many who, while they speak with open
contempt of their fast or unformed sisters, fail to see where
they themselves have overstepped the lily-bordered path of
and simple girlhood.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY 23
" One other member of old Myddelton's family you will
Bee liere to-nihi, Mr. Keith," remarked Mrs. Trent, in a
tone which seemed to entreat his leniency for the person of
whom she spoke ; " she is a niece of mine, and cousin of
my daughter's, though she belongs to quite the other side of
the house " on that " quite " Mrs. Trent laid a deliberate
emphasis. " We like to ask her here occasionally to show
her a little society. She is a grown-up girl now, and not
unpresentable ; so I do all I can for her, and allow her as
close an intercourse with my daughter as my daughter chooses
to admit."
"Poor little Honor," added " my daughter," with a laugh
of particular complaisance. " She is a thorough Craven, as
was "
" A thorough coward ? " Royden asked, when she so
abruptly paused.
"Oh, Mr. Keith," laughed Theodora, pleasantly, "you
know what I mean. At least, you do not know, of course.
Why should you be expected to know anything about old
Myddelton's family ? But this is how it is. Old Mr.
Myddelton, you must understand, had one brother and one
sister, both a good deal younger than himself. The brother
married a Miss Craven quite a portionless girl and the
sister married very well. She did not agree with her brother
as a young girl, and went out with a friend to India, where
she married Sir Hervey Lawrence, a very rich old Baronet
of an excellent family. This marriage pleased her brother
immensely."
" Had neither brother nor sister any children ? "
" The only child of old Mr. Myddelton's brother," put in
Mrs. Trent, considering, perhaps, that her daughter's
genealogical powers had been taxed to the utmost, " was the
miserable and abandoned Gabriel, of whom, of course, you
have heard and read ; we will put him out of the conversa-
tion at once, if you please. There was no other child, and
Lady Lawrence had none at all, so the remaining relations,
or rather connexions, are the only children of Sir Hervey
Lawrence's brother and sister, and Miss Craven's brother
and sister."
" The brother and sister of Miss Myddelton's husband,
nd the brother and sister of Mr. Mvddeiton's wile j
24 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
do I understand that aright?" inquired her guest,
quietly.
" Yes, that is it exactly," put in Miss Trent, hastening to
take the conversation upon herself again. " Now see how
plainly I will describe them to you. Sir Hervey's sister had
two sons my father, and Hervey's father and his brother
had one daughter, Mrs. Haoghton, of The Larches, near
here. She and her husband died years ago, but the son,
Mr. Haughton, is a solicitor in Kinbury, and Miss Haughton
keeps his house. Well, then, on the other side "Miss
Trent illustrated her narrative by the action of her jewelled
fingers, and Mr. Keith seemed readily to follow her" Miss
Craven's brother and sister had each an only daughter. The
brother's daughter is to be here to-night ; and.4he sister's
daughter is Phoebe Owen, a silly girl, who tries one's patience
more than Honor does.
"Then, except yourself, Miss Trent, all the relations of
Mr. Myddelton are orphans or rather, I should* say, as
Mrs. Trent did, the connexions, for I fail to trace one single
tie of real relationship ? "
" Yes, all orphans ; but how funny it is," laughed
Theodora, "to speak of Mr. and Miss Haughton as orphans !
Why, he is almost a middle-aged man, and she is older.
He is the guardian of Honor and Phoebe, who have lived at
The Larches ever since they left school."
"Mr. Haughton is a very clever lawyer," interposed
Mrs. Trent, languidly: "but we do not visit, save just
occasionally to keep up appearances. They move in a
different circle from ours."
"I don't believe they move at all, mamma," smiled
Theodora ; " they stagnate, I think ; and Jane Haughton
looks like a curiosity when she goes out anywhere."
" After all that rigmarole, Mr. Keith," remarked Captain
Hervey, from his position on the rug, " do you feel ambitions
of being one of the group to be photographed in front of Ab-
botsmoor for Lady Lawrence's benefit ? for the picture is to
De sent to her ladyship as a delicate attention from her heirs."
"A rather incongruous addition to the family group,"
fmiled Mr. Keith.
" But I am bent upon having you among us," insisted
Miss Trent. And, when she appealed to her mother, Mrs.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 25
Trent smiled a?sent,ingly, though even she could see how
gilly and inconsiderate was the request.
" Theo," remarked Captain Trent, breaking in upon the
silence which followed her speech, "it is five minutes to
seven. You should speak to Honor Craven about being in
good time."
" I did, Hervey, and she says you told her that it was not
comme ilfaut to be too early anywhere."
" I think the child is anxious to learn, Hervey," remarked his
aunt, placidly, "and you are helpingher to lose her gaucherie."
Reading Captain Trent's handsome, lazy smile, a suspicion
crossed Royden's mind.
" But I will judge for myself," he thought ; and just at
that moment the drawing-room door was opened to admit
the girl who had been so long sauntering from The Larches
to Deergrove.
"Miss Craven."
Theodora rose to meet her cousin, but with such a very
slow grace that the girl had come among them all before
her hand was taken.
Royden looked up to see this "child" whom Captain
Hervey was graciously instructing, and rose, prepared for
his introduction. From that moment until he took his
place opposite her at the dinner-table, he did not think 01
Bitting again.
For the few minutes before the butler announced dinner
she chatted with no appearance of even seeing how her two
cousins held themselves aloof from her, and with no maiivaise
honte in the frank occasional glance she gave to Royden
Keith. In vain he looked for the gaucherie; in vain he
looked for a glimpse of the anxiety for Captain Hervey's
instruction ; he only saw a young and beautiful girl whose
manners had a free and natural grace which was as far
removed from Theodora's languidelegance as is the flight of a
swallow in the air from the gliding of a swan upon the water.
With curious intentness he watched her through those
waiting minutes, and the study seemed a fresh one to this
man who had travelled over half the world, and studied the
beauty of so many races ; and who, though little more than
thirty years of age, had lived a wider, larger life than most
of the gray-haired men he met
26 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
Honor Craven rose when the servant announced the dinnei
for which Captain Trent had been anxiously waiting ; and
for the few moments that she stood there in the daylight
Hoyden's eyes were fixed upon her. She was a girl <>t
apparently eighteen or nineteen years of age, slight and tall,
iviih a figure rounded to the perfection of womanhood, yet
possessing the supple grace and freedom of a child. Her
dimpled arms and neck shone with a smooth and silky
whiteness through her transparent dress. Her hair rich,
soft hair, of bright chestnut brown was twisted into a coil
high upon her head ; and, though no one could see how the
ends fell naturally into loose rich curls as they do when
Honor lets it down at night still everyone could see the
soft, natural wave, where it lay across her forehead, and was
brushed from her smooth white temples. Her eyes were
gray, long, and beautifully shaped, ready in an instant to
brighten to a sunny smile, and ready in an instant, too, to
darken to a grave and tender sympathy. Her nose was small
and straight ; and her white and even teeth would have
given beauty to any smile, even without the flash of the
brilliant eyes.
All this he saw, yet he could not even have attempted a
description of Honor Craven's face, because its rare and
matchless beauty was a beauty not of form and tint alone.
" Hervey, I must entrust both the young ladies to you."
Mrs. Trent said this with a wave of the hand in Honor's
direction, intended as a gracious encouragement for the girl
to come forward and share with Theodora the ineffable ad
yantage of Captain Hervey's support across the hall. Then
the hostess laid her plump hand on Hoyden's sleeve, and,
under his silent escort, followed the young people as near
as the length of Theodora's train would allow. The few
remarks she made were bland and comfortable ones, yet was
she all the time keenly aware of a little scene enacted be-
fore her; and the sight brought a smile of satisfaction to her
lips, and a thought which was compassionately pleasant.
" Poor fhild, she always feels de trap with Hervey and
Iheodora."
Mr. Keith, too, had been watching the three figures in
front; and though no smile stirred his lips, there wag
% glance of keen amusement in his eyes, for Honor had
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 27
refused Captain Trent's arm, and was walking in her own
way to the dining-room, with a pretty, quiet nonchalance
which she did not attempt to hide or disguise. There
were two feet at least of space between Captain Hervey'e
unoccupied arm and the small gloved hand of the girl ; and
the watcher behind would fain have seen whether Captain
Trent comprehended this behaviour in the pupil who was
BO eager to be initiated by him into the mysteries of " good
form," and who knew nothing of " society," save what he
kindly exhibited before her ; but the back of Captain
Trent's fair head alone was visible, and that, at all events,
was unruffled.
" My nephew offered you his arm, Honor," remarked
Mrs. Trent, as she motioned the girl to the solitary seat on
her left hand; "you should have taken it, my dear."
" Should I ? " questioned Honor. " You will be tired
presently of telling me what I should do or leave undone ;
won't you, Mrs. Trent ? "
" Not if you try to learn," was the benignant reply.
*' Theodora and I will be patient with yon to the end, and
Captain Hervey is really anxious to see you study appear-
ances. His eye, of course, is offended by awkwardness,
but otherwise he is, I'm sure, pleased to see you always."
" Hervey," the girl said, turning her eyes fully upon her
cousin, as he took his seat at the foot of the table, " when
shall I cease to otfend your eye, so that that delightful time
may come when you will be pleased to see me always ? "
" I am pleased to see you now," remarked Hervey, with
Jazy patronage; " I was saying to Theo, only this morning,
that your manners were very much improved."
" Afc least," observed Miss Trent, indifferently, " you
said they were a pleasant contrast to Phosbe's."
" Only this morning," echoed Honor, with wilful miscon
ception; " I'm glad you only said it that once. Unfortu-
nately, you have not taken so much trouble with Phoebe
as you have with me," she added, stooping to inhale the
fragrance of the flowers beside her plate; "you must make
allowance for us both, but especially for her."
" Phoebe Owen, Mr. Keith," said" Miss Trent, turning to
Royden, who sat beside her, " is the only one of Mr. Myd-
delton's relations whom \ou do not know now."
28 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
" Except "
It was Honor who began the sentence, and stopped
blushing vividly, even painfully.
" Except ? " Mr. Keith echoed, interrogatively.
" Honor, what pleasure can you find in dragging np for-
bidden subjects ? " inquired Mrs. Trent ; and Honor under- '
stood the hidden anger in the smooth, soft tones.
Hervey looked down upon his soup plate and Theodora
attempted to quench her cousin with a glance and a curl of
her lips; but Mr. Keith waited for his answer.
" 1 was going to say," Honor remarked, looking fully
into its questioning eyes, while the bright pink faded slowly
to its own delicate hue again, " except my own cousiu,
Gabriel Myddelton. I forgot that his name was never
mentioned here. And I I don't know why I should have
Bpoken of him to-night. At home he is talked of only with
horror and contempt. When I mention him, even myself,
it is simply in utter bewilderment."
" Why ? "
For a moment she read his face with a frank, gentle gaze,
and then she dropped her eyes again, and answered very
quietly
" I can see that yon know why."
" Please don't bring up that horrible and detestable story
again," exclaimed Theodora, with a well-feigned shudder;
" we are not hardened to it by hearing it perpetually, as
Honor says she does at home."
" No, Mr. Myddelton's murder is not quite a perpetual
topic of conversation even at The Larches, Theodora," said
Honor, speaking fearlessly, though her beautiful eyes had
a great wist fulness in them.
" Mr. Keith," remarked Miss Trent, to change effectually
the subject of conversation, "what a splendid horse you
were riding to-day, and how tired he was ! From where
had you ridden ? "
"Fronl home."
Theodora glanced up with a start. One word or look of
encouragement from him, and she could ask the question
to which she longed to hear the answer, " Where is your
home ? " But there came no word or smile of encourage-
ment, however slight, and she was fain to content herself
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 29
frith having achieved her primary object, and tnrned her
guest's attention from a name which she would have given
much to be able to expunge from the family tree.
Yet, had Theodora quite succeeded, after all ? She had
shown her hatred of the subject ; Mrs. Trent had skilfully
withdrawn from it ; Hervey had languidly ignored it ;
Honor Craven had blushed with a keen sense of pain or
shame at mentioning it ; yet no sooner had the servants
left the room than this dreaded topic was uppermost once
more, and even being handled by each one of the little
group with an apparent indifference. Was it because
Gabriel Myddelton was now spoken of only as old Myddel-
ton's nephew, and not as a friend or relation of any one
present ? Or was it because there was one strong will
present, which, without evidence of its power, could lead
where it chose, and chose thus ?
" If I am really to go with yon to Abbotsmoor," Hoyden
said, " I must first hear the entire story of old Myddelton's
murder, or what interest will there be for me in the place ?
Miss Trent, will you tell it ? "
" I suppose I must, if you ask me," she answered
smiling ; " but it is a very horrible story to tell, and I am
not sure that I shall be able to get through it. Honor, you
look as if you were prepared to interrupt me in every
sentence. Eat your grapes, please. Must I really tell it
all, Mr. Keith ? " and again she looked up, smilingly, into
the handsome dark face.
" If you will unless your cousin will help you."
He did not mention which cousin, but Honor very sud-
denly began to attend to her grapes.
CHAPTER III.
He alone whose hand is bounding
Human power and human will,
Looking through each soul's surrounding,
Knows its good or ill.
" I KNOW, Mr. Keith, that you have not been in this part
of the country very long," Miss Trent began; "but still
you must have heard of old Mr. Myddelton. You must
80 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
have heard how he saved and accumulated his wealth until
the very mention of old Myddelton's money became a
proverb conveying an idea of unlimited riches."
" Our uncle's existence was one long course of amassing
and hoarding," remarked Honor, speaking almost absently,
while her clear, listening gaze was fixed upon Theodora's
face, " and I think the people about Abbotsmoor are quite
right when they whisper that wealth acquired and used
go must bring the very reverse of a blessing to its pos-
sessor."
" Its probable possessors do not happen to think so," put
in Captain Trent, lightly.
"They know, of course," added Royden Keith, as he
raised his wine-glass slowly to his lips, " that it depends
upon themselves, and upon their use of the wealth."
" You really want to hear the story of Mr. Myddelton's
murder, do you, Mr. Keith ? " inquired Miss Trent, as she
deliberately peeled the peach which she could not stop to
taste ; leaning forward a little, so that when she turned to
Royden she could see the expression of his listening face.
" I wish you had seen Abbotsmoor before I told you. We
shall be there on Thursday, and I will show you the window
through which the murderer forced his way."
" I have seen Abbotsmoor ; I know the window," re-
marked Royden, calmly.
Miss Trent looked round, surprised.
" Oh, I did not know," she said, vexed it would seeni
" Then Lady Somerson, I suppose, anticipated our pic-nic ?
That was very unkind of her, because I told her of it two
weeks ago."
" No, I went alone," said Royden, in his cool grave tones
" One evening, as I passed the lodge, I was tempted in to
see the gloomy old place."
"You will not think it a gloomy place on Thursday,"
observed Theodora, with her most charming smile. " But
I must get on with my story, or you and Hervey and
:namma will be bored to death."
For an instant Royden glanced across at Honor, as
if wondering why she should not be bored too. The
girl's look of eager, yet sorrowful interest was answer
enough.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. SI
"I told yon, didn't I, that old Myddelton's brother had
one only son Gabriel ? He was educated for no profession,
because, of course, he was known to be his uncle's heir
After his parents died they died when he was quite a
child he lived entirely at Abbotsmoor. His uncle did not
send him to college ; and he wasn't very well educated, was
he, mamma ? "
" As I remember him," remarked Mrs. Trent, indifferently,
" he was a quiet, gentlemanly young man, amiable, and
easily led, but with a pernicious habit of arguing certain
matters with his uncle. At that time I never imagined
what awful passions lay beneath this quiet demeanour ;
still I always, even then, considered him inexcusably un-
grateful for what was done for him, of a moody nature, and
sadly deficient in refinement of taste. He could not bear
the restraint of a regular life at Abbotsmoor ; indeed he
made no secret of the fact that the order and. punctuality of
his uncle's house were irksome to him."
" But order and punctuality were not all, Mrs. Trent,"
put in Honor, speaking with quiet earnestness. " I have
often heard that life at Abbotsmoor was utterly sordid and
utterly solitary."
" And Gabriel Myddelton," remarked Hoyden, refilling
Theodora's glass with great leisureliness, without one
glance into Honor's face, " was perhaps by nature neither
utterly sordid nor utterly solitary."
" H proved himself both to no mean extent," returned
Captain Trent.
"He proved himself," added Theodora, with a slo\
elevation of her eyebrows, a hundred thousand times worse
than that ; and it is no wonder is it, Mr. Keith ? that we
are all ashamed of even belonging to the family of Gabriel
Myddelton."
" Miss Craven, I believe," said Royden, " is the only one
at all allied to him. How does she bear the heavy yoke of
such a connection ? "
As he gazed into Honor's face, he saw her cheeks burn ;
W knowing the colour must be born either of a great pain
or a great shame, he turned the question aside.
' Now, Miss Trent, what a long time we hover on the
verge of that murder ! "
32 OLD MYDDELTOtf'3 MONET.
" Honor, do not interrupt roe again," said Theodora, once
more taking up the thread which it pleased her to fancy
that Honor had broken. "Well, Mr. Keith, once Gabriel
and old Mr. Myddeltcn had a quarrel, s aud it ended in
Gabriel's either being turne 1 out of the house, or voluntarily
leaving it. A message was sent at once to summon Mr.
Myildelton's lawyer the firm in Kinbury was Carter and
lliiughton in those days : now Mr. Haughfon (I told you he
was one of old Myddelton's relations and Honor's guardian)
has the whole business. Well, Mr. Carter came, and Mr.
Myddelton made his will, leaving his property, as I toll
you, to his sister, Lady Lawrence, to be by her bequeathed
among his connections. The lawyer was at Abbotsmo<>r
nearly all d;iy, and when he left the house at last, he met
Gabriel returning to it. They stopped a little time talking,
and Mr. Carter, being a silly, chatty old gentleman, told
Gabriel of the will he had just left in his client's secretaire,
and which would leave him penniless instead of a millionaire ;
adding a word of advice to him to try to regain his old
position before it was too late.
Then they separated. That night oh, this is a dreadful
story to tell ! " cried Theodora, interrupting herself with a
clasp of her white hands. " I wish you had not asked me,
Mr. Keith."
"Perhaps some one else will finish the story for you," he
suggested.
But Theodora had no real desire for another to take her
place as long as she could win even by this story from
which she pretended to shrink a claim on his undivided
attention.
"No, I will go on, as yon wish it," she said, acceding
gracefully. " Next morning old Mr. Myddelton was found
murdered in the wood beyond the shrubbery ; the window
of his room had been forced open, the lock of the secretaire
wrenched, and the Till was gone ; and, more than that,
upon the carpet lay ttr. Myddelton's candlestick and the
velvet cap he always wore in the house, and on both there
were stains of blood."
" Judging by those premises," remarked Royden, " Mr.
Myddeltou bad been struck within the room by the thief
who had stolen the will ; he had followed the thief across
OLD MYl'DELTOX'S MONEY. 83
the lawn and through the shrubbery to the wood. Here
there must have been another struggle, which ended in the
old man's death. Was that the general supposition ?"
" It was exactly so," returned Hervey, "and proved, of
course, to have been Gabriel Myddelton's act."
"It was easy to prove that," put in Mrs. Trent, with
languid contempt. " Gabriel was caught in an attempt to
leave England ; and, in the bag he carried were found
fragments of the missing will. Of course there could not
be a doubt after that, but, even if there had been, it was
dispelled upon the trial."
" Whose evidence in Court could go beyond that forcible
fact of the destroyed will being found in his possession, and
his being caught endeavouring to escape ? "
"But, Mr. Keith, there was even further evidence, and
that doomed him at once," replied Theodora. " The counsel
for the prosecution brought forward a girl named Margaret
Territ, who lived with her father in a cottage on the outer
border of the wood, and she had terrible evidence to give,
though she had with much trouble been prevailed upon to
give it. On that evening of the murder, she said, Gabriel
Myddelton had gone to their cottage and told them of his
quarrel with his uncle, lie had told them of old Mr
Myddeltou's having made a will to disinherit him, and even
where it was put. Her father could prove this, the girl
added, for he had been present, and had waited to cheer
young Mr. Myddelton a bit before he went away to the mines,
where he was on night-work. At night, when she was
sitting alone in the cottage, Gabriel came again, very quietly
and cautiously, she said, his face white and scared, as she
could see even by the firelight, for he would not let her light
a candle. He asked for water to wash his hands, and when
ae had washed them he opened the back-door of the cottage
and threw the water on the soil ; then he drew off his white
wristbands, crushed them up in his hand, and burnt them to
ashes in the fire ; and then he borrowed from her an old
coat of her father's. The poor girl seems to have un-
questioningly done all the wicked fellow asked her r and she
had even promised to hide or destroy the coat he left behind
him. But I suppose her father's sense of justice came to
her aid, and prevented her fulfilling her promise. The coat
84 OLD MYDDELTOH'S MONEY.
was shown on the trial, and there, on one shoulder and on
one wrist, were stains of blood again."
" Stronger evidence never was brought against a prisoner
Of course they hanged him? "
" He was convicted, certainly," replied Theodora, " but
he escaped."
A little silence fell upon the group, and then again
Royden's voice coolly and easily broke the stillness.
" How about the will, Miss Trent ? "
" Fortunately," explained Theodora, with as much empha-
sis as her constitutional languor would permit, "Mr. Carter
nad a duplicate of the will, so that it did not signify about
that copy having been destroyed by his client's nephew."
" If Mr. Carter had told Gabriel that," exclaimed Honor,
involuntarily, " nothing need have happened."
" Or rather," added liervey, " the old lawyer might have
been murdered too."
" Exactly," assented Hoyden, with a nod of prompt
acquiescence. " How did Myddelton manage the escape
from gaol ? "
"Oh, pray do not begin another long story about that
wicked young man, Theodora," cried Mrs. Trent, smiling
graciously upon her guest. " You are wearying Mr.
Keith. What interest can he tak in such an amount of
crime and craft ? "
"It does interest me, Mrs. Trent," her guest answered,
with grave courtesy ; " I have been a barrister, and such
things still interest me keenly."
" Have been a barrister ! " echoed Theodora, wonderingly,
and not too politely. " How strange that seems ! J only
mean," she added in graceful confusion, " that you seem so
young to talk of what you fiave been in a profession, too,
where a man must bring the experience of years to follow it
successfully ; besides "
But Theodora stopped there ; she could not add aloud the
wonder how he had travelled so muoh, and was so rich and
idle now, if his profession had only been that of a barrister.
"If you have been a barrister, Mr. Keith," said llervey,
gazing curiously at him, " I wonder you are not au fait in
this story of young Myddelton's trial and escape."
" I have heard of it, V*-. no one ever gave "lie the
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY, 35
particulars exactly as yon have done. I did not read a word
of it in the papers at the time."
" That was odd."
" Very odd," assented Royden, lazily ; " besides which,
another thing strikes me as odd. You said that Gabriel
Myddelton was weak and cowardly ; if so, how did lie
manage his escape after conviction ? Such a thing would,
I should imagine, require skill and courage."
" I think," said Theodora, hastily putting in a reply,
"that when you hear the particulars of his escape you wi'l
gee that it was chiefly managed for him he had but little
need of skill and courage himself."
" But who would care to run such risks for a condemned
criminal ? "
" I think you will see when I tell you the story," replied
Miss Trent ; "but you must wait for that until we are at
Abbotsmoor on Thursday. Mamma will not object then ;
will you, mamma dear ? "
" Even I have never heard the whole story of Gabriel's
escape," said Honor, breaking her attentive silence ; " but
of course it was Margaret Territ, or her father, who planned
it and helped him."
" You were but a little child when the murder was com
mitted," observed Royden; "you do not, I suppose, re-
member Gabriel Myddelton ?"
" No, it was ten years ago, and I was only eight ; but
I've seen his picture at Abbotsmoor."
" A weak face, had he ? "
" I can hardly say. It is very boyish, I think, and
delicate."
" It does not remind you of the Chamber of Horrors at
Madame Tussaud's ? "
" Oh, no ! " she answered. Then her pretty langh broke
off suddenly, and her eyes darkened with an anxious wist-
fulness. " Mr. Keith, do you feel sure that my cousin
Gabriel wag guilty of that theft and murder ? "
She could not help her eyes betraying her longing that
lie should contradict this fact which no one had ever yec
doubted ; nor could he help that one bound which his heart
gave when he saw how she waited for his answer.
" There seems no room for doubt," he said. " The flight
86 OLD MYDDELTOJTS MONEY
and escajv are both terrible stumbling-blocks to any belief
in Gabriel Myddelton's innocence."
" Oh, no ! " she interrupted eagerly, though her tone was
very low. " You forget, Mr. Keith, that the escape was
after conviction. It was too late fur any innocence to save
him then, even if "
" Even if he had been innocent yes," returned Eoyden ;
" but I see no loophole for escape from such a verdict as the
jury brought."
" And you think he was guilty ? "
There gathered a striinge, warm light in Hoyden's eyes as
he answered her with quiet earnestness
" You must let me answer this question on some future
day. I have not even heard the whole history yet."
"You shall hear it at Abbotsmoor on Thursday," put in
Theodora, graciously, " and then you will see as I told you
all old Middelton's connections together of course except-
ing Gabriel."
" Of course excepting Gabriel," assented Hoyden. " And
about the property ? It, I suppose, went as it was willed -
and Lady Lawrence holds the power of dividing it amon^
you, or bequeathing it to one alone ?"
" Yes, it rests with her entirely ; and at Christmas she is
coming over to make the acquaintance of all the family,
preparatory to making her will. We receive these messages
through her solicitors in London, for she herself never writes
to any of us."
" i'ne is a widow, I presume ? "
" Yes, and has been a widow for many years, with no
femily of her own."
"A good thing for us," put in Captain Hervey, placidly:
for you must own there are plenty of us to choose from."
" A.nd both her possible heirs," added Theodora, with a
litild quiet malice, " are named after her husband or hersc-lf.
Old Sir Hervey Lawrence belonged to this neighbourhood,
you st^; and so we have Hervey Myddelton Trent here,
and Lawrence Myddelton Haughton at The Larches."
" And all we girls have Myddelton for a second name," nut
in Honor, laughing.
" Strange of Lady Lawrence to wait so long before she
cornea to "dsit her family or her native place."
OLD MYDDELTON S MONEY.
" She never liked Abbotsmoor," Mrs. Trent replied. " I
believe she never liked England ; and I'm sure she did not
care for her brother."
" Suppose she never comes, but leaves her money to Indian
eharities ? " said Honor.
" She dare not," retorted Theodora, quickly. " She ia
^ound to leave it as Mr. Myddelton arranged, either to. one
of us, or to some of us, or to all of us."
" Who is the most likely to inherit it ? " questioned
Royden, coolly.
" I should certainly never dream of the other side the
house "
" Do not hesitate to say it, Hervey," observed Honor, in
his pause. " You mean that she will never acknowledge
the Cravens. I don't think she will, Mr. Keith. Mr.
Myddelton was very angry with his brother for marrving
my aunt. The Cravens were poor, and always had been
poor ; and it is to be surmised they always will be poor."
"You are evidently grieving for that."
"Yes," she answered, with no shade of grief in her eyes.
" I should love to be rich I think."
" Strange thing," mused Royden, " that the old Squire
should at last shuffle off the responsibility of nip wealth u;on
his sister. Has she been using the money since his death ? "
"No ; it has been accumulating, luckily for us," replied
Hervey ; "indeed, it was accumulating for years before his
death. Old Myddelton's money is more than a million in
hard cash now, independent of the landed property."
" Lady Lawrence may very well divide such wealth as that."
"Yes, of course she may, Mr. Keith," assented his hostess,
languidly ; " but still I fancy she will choose an heir, and
that will naturally be Hervey."
" But Mr. Haughton is as nearly related to her, is he not, ? "
"Oh, she will not think of him," interposed Captain
Trent, superciliously ; " he is a regular snob, settled down
into a pettifogging country lawjer, and almost as mean as
Vas old Myddelton himself."
" Suppose you were to recollect the fact that he's my
guardian, Hervey," observed Honor, quietly.
" That would make no difference," returned Captain Trentj
laughing. " You know very well how little you think of him.'
D
od OLD MYDDELTON S MONET.
A vivid, painful blush rose to the girl's cheeks, and even
Roy den could see that she had not the power of contradict-
ing that last statement.
*' Perhaps," he said, " Lady Lawrence may choose aii
heiress in preference to an heir. She might very naturally
wish for a young relation to live with her, as she has no
daughters of her own."
" So I often say," spoke Mrs. Trent, blandly ; "and it
pleases me to think how admirably my daughter is fitted for
the post."
" More than the others ? "
Theodora turned to Mr. Keith in blank astonishment
when he uttered that cool question ; but the sight of his
handsome, careless face disarmed her quick suspicion.
' As for the others," she said, with a deprecatory gesture
of her hands, " Jane Haughton would grind and save like
an exaggerated female copy of old Myddelton himself, and
Phoebe would spend all the money on her person."
" It is a small person to spend a million on," observed
Honor, with a quick flash in her eyes, half of anger, half of
amusement.
'And" questioned Hoyden, his own eyes full of
laughter.
" The only other niece is Honor," said Theodora, hurrying
over the words, M and I'm sure she would not have an idea
what to do with the money ; should you, Honor ? "
"Yes. I would live all alone in a splendid house, where
no one should order me about."
" What a childish idea ! " said Theodora, with a curl of
her lip.
" And I would do good to others, for I could afford to pay
for a master in deportment, and so relieve Hervey from hia
most onerous duty."
"You are right. Such wealth should have some such
noble end in view," said Hoyden, with a laugh of quiet irony.
" Gold is, as we all know, ' Heaven's physic, Life's restora-
tive,' but we also know that there are other virtues it can
possess."
" There is one evil it cannot cure," observed Honor, puz-
zling a little over his tone, but answering it merrily, "and
that is our family failing avarice. I often think how
OLD MYDDELTON'S HONEY. 89
readily Lady Lawrence will recognise us all afe Myddeltons,
when she sees us crowding eagerly about her, and paying
court to the riches which she holds in bond for some of us."
" ' All the women of Blois are freckled and ill-tempered,' "
quoted Royden, rising as Mrs. Trent rose.
Honor paused where she stood, and forgot every practical
answer to Captain llervey's catechism on the exigencies of
society.
" How do you mean, Mr. Keith ? "
He smiled into the ianocent, questioning eyes, and
answered her, while Mrs. Trent and Theodora swept
ominously past.
"A lazy traveller in Blois, who found his landlady
freckled and ill-tempered, wrote his experience so ' All the
women of Blois are freckled and ill-tempered.' "
" I hope, Honor," remarked Mrs. Trent, as the girl
entered the drawing-room, " that you may some day grow to
understand what is required of you when you are the least im-
portant person in company. I despair of ever teaching you."
"Suppose I learn that thoroughly, and then tind I am not
always the least important person in company," said Honor,
with a mischievous glance from under her lashes. "I shall
have all to unlearn, and a fresh lesson to begin. Oh, dear me !
how pleasant it would be if one need only acton instinct ! "
"If 1 were a girl like you, Honor," put in Theodora,
with an exaggerated expression of despair, and perhaps not
very strict adherence to truth, " I should feel very grateful
to those who tried to train me."
" Under those circumstances it might almost be a good
thing if you were me," was Honor's dry and ungrammatical
rejoinder, as she took as comfortable a seat as Mrs. Trent
and Theodora allowed her, and settled herself to gain as
much enjoyment as possible from the inevitable dissertation
on dress.
" It would be rude to take a book and entertain myself
with other people's thoughts," she mused, when at last Mrs.
Trent succumbed to her after-dinner somnolence, and
Theodora posed herself in an attitude of graceful indolence,
" but I am apparently at liberty to indulge my own such
as they are."
There was a circular mirror on the wall opposite her, and
40 OLD MYDDELTON 8 MONET.
between the candles burning on each Bide of it she conld
gee the fireside group ; the elder lady sleeping in her chair,
comfortable and handsome, and the younger one almost as
motionless, with one ringed hand supporting the fair, regular
face, round which the mirror showed such gorgeous setting
of silk and gold.
In each of us lurks some vein of true genius. Though
sometimes so slight that, in the gloom of uuappreciation, or
the glory of a greater light, it is not seen, the golden thread
is pretty sure to be there.
Theodora Trent possessed no brilliant talent or versatile
powers. She had no depth, or force, or strength of character,
but she had that one slender filament in her nature, and knew
its power. She understood exactly how far the splendour of
dress was needed to give effect to hershallow, toneless beauty;
and in this matter, which was her one deep study, she was
thoroughly and, indeed, to a certain extent, dangerously
skilled. -At every ball she attended (and Mi>s Trent
favoured all shecould, both in town and county) she was looked
upon as a formidable rival by many a prettier and brighter and
better girl ; and not a few of the young men who stood up
with her to dance felt proudly conscious of having won the
most admired partner in the room. What wonder ? The
face is, after all, but a trifling part of the whole ; and who
would miss variety atid brightness there, when they found it
in the manifold adornments which Theodora carried so well f
Honor's eyes lingered long on these two figures, hard I/
glancing for a moment at her own, so still and white.
"Suppose," she mused idly to herself, "that were the
mirror of Lao, and reflected the mind as well as the person.
What should I see ? Not much," she added, with a half-
smile, still unconsciously ignoring her own image ; " there is
not much in either Mrs. Trent or Theodora which it would
need Lao's silass to reflect."
As she thought this, Btill with her eyes on the mirror
ihe door behind her was opened, and another figura
*as added to the group on which she gazed. Then an
involuntary and rather puzzled feeling rose in her mind, that
this figure had given a new character to the picture.
"Now," she said letting her fanciful thoughts run on*
" if it were but the glass of Lao now J "
OLD MYDDEI.TON'S MONEY. 41
Most probably Royden Keith would have objected to enter
the room at all if that circular mirror had been the magic
instrument she thought of, bat, being the harmless reflector
it was, he sat down opposite it with the greatest ease, an^
was, to all appearance, totally unconscious of its very presence
on the wall.
Mrs. Trent, wide awake now, graciously called Honor over
to sit beside her while she sipped her tea ; and then en-
treated her daughter to sing a duet with Hervey, and to
persuade Mr. Keith to sing with her too.
Theodora did sing with her cousin, once or twice, and
then once or twice alone ; then once or twice with Mr. Keith,
but Honor had not been asked, when, feeling the neglect
acutely, she rose and said that she must go home.
'Jane told me to be early," she explained, standing
before Mrs. Trent, with a fading flush upon her cheeks.
And just then the mirror gave back a lovely picture, while
Royden Keith stood waiting for his hand-shake. There was
no intentness in his gaze, yet for all his life this picture lived
unblemished in his memory.
"This is a new idea, Honor," observed Captain Trent,
coming forward with a shade of annoyance on his face/.
" Why should Jane's wishes be paramount ? Are they not
alone at The Larches to-night ? "
" I hope so."
" Whom are you afraid of finding at home ? " inquired
Theodora, wondering why Mr. Keith smiled, when of course
he could not understand anything about Honor's home.
" I know," drawled Hervey, with his lazy smile ; " it's
little Slimp."
" Yes," echoed Honor, demurely ; " it's little Slimp."
" Slimp Slimp ? I have surely heard that name before,"
put in Roydeu, with a great amusement in his eyes. " I
almost think I have had the honour of seeing the gentleman
to whom the name belongs ; a man of huge proportions and
frank expression of countenance ; a man without fear, oi
guile, or Wrty are you laughing, Miss Craven ? "
" If you had tried to describe the exact opposite of the
Mr. Slimp I know," said Honor, " you could not have suc-
ceeded better."
" Indeed ! Then please describe the Mr. Slimp YOU know."
42 OLD MYDDELTON S MONET.
" Not I, Mr. Keith," laughed the girl, " except to tell you
that, like Slender, ' he hath but a little wee face, with a little
yellow beard a Cain-coloured beard.' "
4< And you do not like him ? "
"Like him!" The shy, proud colour was rising again
under Royden's steadfast g;ize. "Not one atom ! " she said,
as she gave her hand to Mrs. Trent. And in that tone ot
prompt contempt she dropped the subject.
" If you are walking home, you will, I hope, allow me to
walk with you, Miss Craven."
Theodora looked up in surprise. One of the men-servants
had always been sent to attend Honor back to The Larches
after an evening at Deergrove. Surely that was sufficient,
without Mr. Keith offering his escort. " That is unneces-
sary," interposed Captain Hervey, stopping as he loitered
towards the door; " I am goin<r with Miss Craven."
" And you, Mr. Keith," said Theodora, advancing with
her gracious smile, " must stay and play that game of chesa
which I have set my heart upon. See how early it is, and I
am ready. Good night again, Honor."
*******
" Mamma," said Theodora, an hour later, when the
mother and daughter were left alone together, " you must
ask Mr. Keith to stay with us for a week or two; he is only
at the hotel, you know, and you might quite properly do it
while Hervey is here."
Mrs. Trent's breath came for a minute in hurried gaspa
" Theo," she said, " I have been surprised at you all th|
evening ; I am doubly surprised now. Pray do not fc
Hervey see this sudden and ridiculous infatuation."
" Hervey will never see anything in me which is ridicul-
ous," was Theo's complacent rejoinder; " but, mamma, yon
must own how immeasurably superior Mr. Keith is to the
men one generally meets."
" And after all, what do we know of him ? " inquired the
elder lady, pettishly.
" This," returned the younger one, as if the subject were
a pleasant one to her, and she were quite willing to linger
over it. " We know that he is a thorough and perfect gen-
tleman, to whom society has evidently thrown open her
doora. We know that he has travelled a great deal, and
OLD MYDDELTON S MONET. 43
Been a great deal, and is very clever. We know how different
he looked from all the gentlemen at the Castle the other
night, and how jealous the girls were about him, and we see
how womanish he makes Hervey look. And we know,"
concluded Theodora, moving her head slowly before th
glass to catch the light upon the jewelled butterfly in her
hair, " that he is very rich."
" Theo, my dear," urged Mrs. Trent, cautiously for, like
all weak and indulgent mothers, she dreaded her daughter's
displeasure being turned directly against herself " of course
you can enjoy Mr. Keith's society while he stays in this
neighbourhood, but you will be most unwise if you excite
Hervey's jealousy. Mr. Keith may be a rich man I do not
doubt it but what would his wealth be compared with that
which Hervey is-likely to inherit ? Remember, Theo, that
my heart is set upon your making a good match. It is,"
concluded Mrs. Trent, pathetically, " the only aim for which
I care to live."
" All right, mamma," returned Theodora, brusquely ; " 1
will take care that your aim is attained. I will not
quarrel with Hervey, but I will do just as I like at present."
*******
Eoyden Keith had, like his fellow-guest, walked to Deer-
grove that evening, and now was walking back to Kinbury.
It was a pleasant autumn night, and he went leisurely and
thoughtfully along the highway, until he entered the town
close to the hotel where he was staying. Then he quickened
his steps, for in front of the lighted entrance there stood a
tax-cart and a foaming little thoroughbred which he knew.
A servant-man in a livery of white and green a livery we
have seen before at the roadside tavern near Abboibmoor
touched his hat from the driver's seat as Royden passed
into the vestibule of the hotel, where another servant, in the
Bame livery, came forward to meet him.
" What is it ? " asked Royden, as he pleasantly returned
the man's respectful greeting.
" A letter, sir."
" Any orders to yourselves ? " inquired Royden, as he
took the letter.
" No orders, sir, except what you should give us."
" Then go back at once. Say 1 am corning to-morrow.
44 OLD MYDDELTONS MONEY.
Take something at the bar, and send Morris to do the same \
then drive back at once. Good ni^'ht."
Seated in his own room, with the lamp lighted and the
shutters closed, Royden read the letter. The writing was
clear and the lines uncrossed, but yet it took him a long
time to read ; for the sheets of paper were lar<_ r e and trans-
parent, as if the letter had come from, or was destined for,
some distant country.
When he had finished, and replaced the two thin sheets
within their cover, he rose and rang his bell
" I want,# he said when the door was opened by a grave,
middle-aged man in black, "to tpeak to Edwards. Send
him up here, will you ? "
" Yes, sir."
" Are the other men gone ? "
" Some time ago, sir."
The groom, whom his master had called Edwards, donned
his livery hastily when his master's valet summoned him.
" I know what it is," he muttered : " a gallop all the way
to the Towers and back. That's just like him."
" If you mean he'd take the gallop himself and think
nothing of it, you're about right," returned the valet,
curtly ; " but unless that is what you mean, you are a good
way off being right ; for he isn't one to send his servants
galloping about when they ought to be in bed."
" .No, he isn't generally," acquiesced the groom, a little
less sulkily ; "but it does make one cross to have to dress
again. Do I look all right now, Mr. Pierce ? "
The "gentleman's gentleman" smiled with generous
condescension. " You are a vain, churlish fellow," it said,
as plain as smile could speak ; " but whatelsecan one expect
in a groom and so young a one ? "
lie smiled still more when the groom returned to him in
ten minutes' time, brisk, alert, and good-humoured, as he
had been in his master's presence.
" If it's ' just like him ' for the master to drive his men
about inconsiderately and inconsistently," thevalet remarked,
aloud, "I wonder why they should look as if they felt all
the pleasanter for their interviews with him. He doesn't
quite treat you as if you were cattle eh, Edwards ? "
"He's going off at dawn," explained the groom, ignoring
OLD MYDDELTON S MONET. 45
that question ; " I'm to have Princess saddled by the first
glimpse of daylight. He's writing now, and told me to tell
you not to stay up. He'll be back to-morrow afternoon,
he says. Where d'you think he's going, Mr. Pierce ? "
" I know," said Pierce, quietly, as he turned away, " he's
going home."
" Home ! " echoed the younger man, when he was left to
himself. " I don't know much, p'raps ; but I do know
what that ineaus."
CHAPTER IV.
I do not love thee, Doctor Fell
The reason why I cannot tell ;
But this alone 1 know full well,
I do not love thee. Doctor Fell.
Tom Brown.
IT was no very new thing for Captain Trent to be walking
with Honor Craven along the road which lay between
Deergrove and The Larches, but something seemed to strike
him as new in the performance to-night.
" You are not talking at all," Honor," he said at last,
when the reason of the novelty dawned upon him. " What
a very unusual thing ! It does not show nicely-regulated
manners to talk a good deal at one time, and say nothing
at all at another.''
" Hervey," said the girl, pausing suddenly in her walk.
and turning her eyes upon him so that he could see their
laughter in the ploora, "don't you lecture me when nobody
is present. When Mrs. Trent and Theodora are by, it
affords them great pleasure to hear you, so I don't mind ;
but when we have no audience we will have no performance,
please. On those occasions beinir, as they are, very few
and very far between we will imagine ourselves on an
equality. Now we will talk as much as you like, for I
shall soon be at home. Hervey, who is Mr. Keith ? "
" Why do you want to know ? " inquired Captain Trent,
epeaking sharply, but whether in consequence of Honor's
introductory speech or of that last question was not clear.
" It does not signify ; I can find out from Lawrence."
46 OLD MYDDELTGN 8 MONET.
" He is as likely to be an adventurer as not," suggested
Hervey, spitefully; "looking after Theodora for her fortune,
and for her expectation of a share of old Myddelton's money."
" I should have thought you old enough to know a tru*
gentleman when you met him," observed Honor, with prox
voking gravity. " And if he really is come to woo Theodora,
what shall you do ? "
" Why ? " he asked, his tone a trifle harsh, either in anger
or self-consciousness.
" Because you are to marry her, you know."
"Do not say 'you know,' Honor ; it is unnecessary and
inelegant, and I do not know, though you do, it would seem."
" Of course I do ; everybody knows it."
" Of course I could win her if I chose," mused Hervey,
complacently, " if that is what you mean by everybody
knowing I am to do so."
Honor's laugh rang fresh and clear on the night air, and
naturally it roused Captain Hervey's languid wrath.
" It is childish to laugh at nothing, as you do, Honor."
" Only yesterday you told me it was childish to laugh at
everything. You are inconsistent, Hervey, if you guide me
at once in opposite directions."
" If Mr. Keith wins Theodora and her fortune," remarked
Hervey, presently, with an idea of stem retaliation, " what
will Lawrence Haughton do ? Because everybody knows,
as you say, that Lawrence is to marry a rich wife if he
marries at all."
No answer, so he put the question direct.
*' Do you think Haughton will marry a rich wife ? "
' I hope he will."
"Why?"
" Because," she answered, with a tightening of her lips,
" he won't be at all happy if he does men never are who
marry for money nor will she. It is you who are laughing
at nothing now, Hervey."
" Your notions of the world seem to be gleaned from
novels. Why do you not wish he would marry a penniless
wife, just to spite Jane ? "
" Because Jane would break theheartof the penniless wife,"
" Honor ! "
" Yes. I'm here,"
OLD M YDDELTON' S MONET. 4?
" Why, you have tears in your voice ! Are you so un-
happy at The Larches ? "
" 1 was not thinking of myself," returned Honor, hastily
" Don't grieve for Phoebe," said Hervey, in a tone o f
relief; "she doesn't feel these things. It is far harder to
you, Honor, to bear the love of the man you scorn, than it is
to her to bear the scorn of the man she loves poor girl 1 "
" Hervey, how dare you speak so ! " cried Honor, pas-
sionately. " You know nothing about this about Phoebe or
about me. I will not allow you to talk so to me of my
cousin, or of myself. Do not ever again pretend you can
teach me to be a gentlewoman, for you do not yourself
know how to be a gentleman ! Go back ! I'm quite safe ;
I would rather not have you."
" My dear Honor," he began, in his most plausible tones,
"you should try not to be so hasty. Why should I not
mention what, to use your own words, everybody knows ?
Phosbe makes no secret of her infatuation for Lawrence,
and Lawrence makes no secret of his indifference to her, so
why should I ? You make no secret of your indifference to
Lawrence, and he certainly makes no secret of his infatua-
tion for you, so why should I ? "
" It is most ungenerous," said Honor, hotly ; and then
she maintained perfect silence for the rest of their walk.
The Larches was a sombre, red-brick house, standing a
little way from the road, and separated from it by half-a-
dozen yards of brick wall between two white gates at either
end of the curved drive which passed the front door. At
this door Honor stood in the darkness, wondering rathe*
anxiously who would let her in. Hervey had left her at
the gate ; but, though she did not know it, he was lingering
there, waiting to see her safely into the house. He had not
long to wait ; the door was opened promptly to her sum-
mons, and he saw her enter the lighted hall.
" It was Haughton himself who let her in," muttered
Captain Trent as he walked away. " She will be vexed if no
one else has waited up for her ; and certainly it cannot be by
Phoebe's ownchoice that she has left Haughton to do it alone.''
He hastened on now, " whistling as he went, for want of
thought," and by this time Honor and Mr. Haughton had
entered the \vtuia and lighted drawing-room.
18 OLD MYDDELTUN'S M.ONEX .
" Everyone gone to bed ! " she exclaimed, a note of keen
vexation in her tone. " Why did not Phoebe sit up for ine^
She promised she would, and lam as early as Jane bade me.
-*' I told Phoebe to go to bed," returned Mr. Haughtos
gently taking off the soft white shawl which Honor hau
worn under her dark cloak. " I chose to wait for you, and
I did not need any one to keep me company."
Honor glanced at him for one moment as he stood in the
full light, and then she quietly pushed away the chair he
had drawn up to the fire for her.
Honor's guardian was a man of forty, a little above the
middle height, but so broadly built that he looked below it.
His hair was thickly streaked with gray, and his moustache
gray too was heavy and coarse ; his face habitually shrewd
and callous, and his eyes habitually keen and restless ,
for any other expression which might be upon his face
to-night, or at other times when he was alone with Honor,
was not its customary one. He was a powerful man, both
physically and mentally ; a man who seemed to have his
passions and his words completely under his control, and
who, if he had not, might be perhaps a dangerous man to
thwart Granger. His clients spoke of him as asafe and ^elf-
con centra ted lawyer, as hard to understand as to bend ; a
clever fellow, whose soft, white fingers could unravel, in
that constant silence of his, the most intricate knot in law.
But there was one inmate of his house who knew him in
two characters, and who put no trust it. either.
" I have coffee ready for you, Honor," said Mr. Haughton
taking the coffee-pot from the fire and carrying it to th
table where stood one solitary cup ; " 1 know it will refresh
you after your walk."
"Thank you," said Honor, but her voice, for all its
gentleness, was utterly indifferent, and Lawrence Haughton
aoticed this.
" Have you had a pleasant evening ? " he asked, rather
nervously pursuing his unwonted and womanish task.
" A little better than usual," she said quietly ; '' but I'm
Tery sleepy, Lawrence. May I go to bed '< "
" Just wait until you have drunk this coffee, dear. I made
it myself on purpose for you, and I have kept it hot, and
fancied you would enjoy it."
OLD MYDDLLTON'S MO:\ T EY. 4fl
He had come up to her then, with the cup in his hand, and
ghe could not turn away. She took it with a little laugh,
fresh and sweet.
"You look odd at that task, Lawrence. Why did yon
attempt it ? "
" Because it was for you," he said, with a subdued eager-
ness in his tone. " There is no task I would not attempt
for you, Honor."
" I hope there is," she answered, very gently: " and please
let Phoebe keep her promise next time, and sit up for me,
Lawrence."
"Any one but me," he said, a dark flush rising in his
face ; "yet my only pleasure through this day has been the
anticipation of these few minutes, when I should have you
here to talk to me and look at me, as you rarely do when
you have others to see or speak to."
There was silence between th< m then, while he tried to
school his tones to easy indifference such as hers, and while she
wondered childishly whether her guardian's culinary achieve-
ment was known to his sister, whose one strong idea was that
it was he who ought to be waited on by all the household.
" Who was at Deergrove to-night, Honor ? "
Lawrence was standing against the mantel-piece, watching
the face of the girl beside him ; and it seemed as if, when
she had answered the question, his gaze grew more intent
and even stern.
" Only one gentleman Mr. Keith. He is staying at the
Royal Hotel in Kinbury now ; he has been visiting Sir
Philip Somerson at the Castle. I do not know whether he
stays for the shooting, or because he likes the neighbourhood.
Do you know him, Lawrence ? "
"As much," returned Mr. Haughton, apparently making
an effort to speak easily, " as I know any other idle young fel-
low who conies to stay in the town for a time, professedly for
the A bbotsmoor fishing, or shooting, or what not that is all."
" I will say good night now, Lawrence."
He put down the empty cup, and then took her offered
hand. " Good night," he echoed ; " how you hasten to utter
it ! Nothing I can do or say ever tempts you to lin<:< r with
me. My beautiful child, my favourite, if you would only
consent to learn one lesson from Phoebe ! "
50 OLD MYDDELTOX S MONEY.
" I am too old to learn," said Honor, defying the
which such words always gave her, in s|.ite of their frequency.
"Oli, Lawrence, I wish you were as sleepy as I am ! You
would hurry me off, and I should be so grateful to you
afterwards."
" Honor," he said, looking longingly in her sweet, pure
face, and still holding her hand tightly in his own, "years
ago, when you were a little one my favourite then aa
always, and even then the very sunshine of my life 3 on
used to bring your good-night kiss and lay it softly on my
lips. Do you remember ? And do' you remember how I
would never let Phoebe kiss me afterwards ? No, of course
you do not. You were but a child ; what could you know
of such feelings, or of the dreams that were my very life-
breath even then, and which you are trying now to kill for
me?"
' If you could guess how unhappy you make me by talking
so, Lawrence," the girl returned, still very gently, "I think
you would not do it so often. Let us be just "what we were
in those times you have been talking of cousins, as it were,
or ward and guardian, which you will but do not talk of
other love between us. It is impossible. You know it, and
you have known it always, if you would only own it to your-
self. You know, too, that I have no home but yours ; and,
if you were generous, you would not take every opportunity
of making me unhappy with this worn-out subject. Oh,
why," she cried, her hands clasped tightly to her breast,
" should you have given me this passion you call love? You
knew I never could love you. You have yourself told me how
I would not go near you when I first came here, a little
child. You have told me how your sister tried in vain to
teach me to admire you, and Phoebe tried in vain to teach
me to worship you, and you yourself tried oh, so much
more in vain ! to teach me to love you. Knowing all this,
why do you speak to me, so often, as you have done to-night ?
(Vhat right have I given you ?"
"None. I have taken the right," said Lawrence, hig
breath quick and hard. " Your pride and indifference,
through these ten years, has only made my love all the
stronger never mind why, we cannot understand these
things but you are a woman now, and must repay me for
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 01
these ypnra of pnin and waiting, Honor. This long and
Blighted love of mine shall win a return. You cannot crush
or kill it, for it is stronger than, yourself, aud will conquer you."
"I shall go away from here if you ever speak to me so
again," said the girl, with a flash of wrath in her eyes, "or
I must pass it by as something too too trivial for notice."
"And I," returned Lawrence, speaking a 5 * sternly as he
ever could to her, " shall never leave off telling you of my
love until you own your love is mine at last."
She walked quietly from the room even while he spoke ;
but he followed her, eager to do something for her even then.
" Why, Lawrence," she said, taking her candle from hil
hand, and by an effort speaking in her old tones, just as if
that interview had never been, " there is a light in youi
room ! "Who is there ? "
" Only Slimp," returned Mr. Haughton, looking with
annoyance towards the line of light from the door of his
private room. " He has a deed to copy for me, and he's
late over it. Never mind him ; he will not be here for
breakfast."
" Those nre good tidings," said Honor, emphatically ; and,
glancing at the door wit") an inimitable mimicry of Mr.
Slimp's normal expression, she ran lightly and noiselessly
upstairs.
Mr. Haughton, smiling at the remembrance of her
comical grimace, watched her till she turned out of sight,
and then entered his own room, the stern and watchful man
of business now, the unmoved man of the world.
" You have all your instructions, Slimp, so you can go to
bed when you like. There will be breakfast for you in this
room at seven, and you will be gone before I come down."
"Very well, sir," was Mr. Slimp's unquestioning assent.
But he looked as if he understood an omitted margin to t he
words ; and if Honor had been there, she might have
Jboked in vain for the deed he had been copying.
"Do the Temple thoroughly ; study the records, and
leave no stone unturned. I have written on the back of
this card a few headings to remind you, and on the other
Bide is the name. Keep the card carefully I had trouble
enough to get it."
Mr. Slimp took it from Mr. Haughton's hand deliberately j
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
read the pencilled instructions through with still more deli-
beration ; then, turned the card round, and read the name
engraved upon the other side " Hoyden Keith."
CHAPTER V.
. T frown upon him, yet he loves me fetill.
HELENA. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill '
.SEKMIA. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
HELENA. The more I lo\e, the more he hateth me.
Midsummer Night' t Dream.
" ASLEEP, Phoebe ? "
At the sound of Honor's bright voice, and at the sight of
her face round the half-opened door of Phoebe's bed-room,
a head sprang from the pillow, and an eager whisper bade
her come in and shut the door.
So Honor came in and shut the door, obediently ; then,
putting her candlestick down upon the dressing-table, and
taking up an easy position on the bed, with her back against
the iron footrail, she looked across into her cousin's face,
and remarked, sententiously, that she was back again. And
then her wakeful eyes went wandering round the little
untidy chamber as if it were all strange to them, with a
shadow in them deeper than their wonder a shadow which
now and then did fall upon their brightness at odd timea
and in familiar scenes, as if, even yet, the life which had
been hers ever since she could remember, had its dark,
inscrutable corners which she searched in vain.
There was little to gaze upon in this bed-room of Phoebe's,
BO it was no wonder that the girl's eyes soon came back to
the face opposite her, and rested there.
"Why, Phoebe," Honor said then, "you have been crying !"
Phoebe was sitting up in bed, with her hands locked
fcbout her knees, and her broad, Dutch-looking face rather
pretty, but soulless and self-cbsorbed was flushed and
stained with tears.
" Crying ? " she stammered, and both the repetition of
the wurd and the inoriilied gaze betrayed the dependence
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 53
and the self-consciousness of her character. "Why should
you ?ay so ? "
" 1 am led to that conclusion by the sight of tears. Ain
I as wise as that doctor's assistant who knew his patient had
been eating horse because he caught sight of the saddle
under the bed ? "
" I did cry," replied Phoebe, plaintively, " because Law-
rence would not let me sit up for you, as I'd promised, and
because he hardly spoke to me all the evening."
" What a relief ! " remarked Honor, devoutly.
"Not to me," sighed Phoebe ; "you know it isn't."
"Yes, 1 know I do know," rejoined Honor, pitifully, for
how could she help pitying the girl who could perpetually
court sympathy for having, unasked and with utter absence
of pride, or even self-respect, laid her shallow heart at her
guardian's feet ? " Yes, I know, Phcebe, and I only thought
of myself when I spoke. But I do really believe that some
day you will say, with me, that it is a relief when Lawrence
does not speak."
I never should," said Phoebe, with a sigh. " I'm not so
surprised that he takes no notice of me when you are here ;
but when you are away it is worse. He does not talk at all
then ; he hardly stays in the room with* us. Oh, Honor, I
Fish I didn't care ! But I do ; and do you think he will
iver be different ? "
" I hope so, in many ways," said Honor, sagely ; "but I
think, if it ever came to happen that he offered his love to
you, Phoebe, you would see all at once, that it wasn't worth
taking. Has it been very dull for you then, poor little Frau?"
one of Honor's pet names for her Dutch-visaged cousin.
" Jane was as cross as she could be," spoke Phoebe, em-
phatically ; " and she said lots of unkind things about your
going to Deergrove, till Lawrence stopped her ; he said
afterwards she was never to speak of you before Mr. Slimp."
" Oh, he was here I forgot that ! " cried Honor, with a
Boft little laugh. "I saw him. I caught a delightful glimpse
of him through the half-closed door sitting so."
Phoebe laughed though in a rather spiritless manner afc
her cousin's quaint imitation of Mr. Slimp's attitude ; and
Jhen Honor turned the subject delicately from that com-
plaint which Phoebe delighted to outpour.
64 OLD MYDDELTO-N'S MONET.
" Stop a moment, Phoebe. Give me time to get down
from the bed, and I'll give you a rare representation of
Theo's manners to-night; especially of her reception and her
ferewell."
The ceremony of greeting and speeding a decidedly poor
relation whose part in the scene was of course piux-lj
imaginary was performed with perfect gravity, though iu
ludicrous side was evident from the laughter which chased
away all Phoebe's discontent. Then followed a slight ex-
hibition of Captain Hervey's languid deportment, and the
elegant sleepiness which Mr. Trent could always manage to
maintain, undisturbed by the keen watch she kept upon her
daughter, and the frequent lessons she vouchsafed to Honor.
Then Honor ceased her acting and took up her candlestick.
" If you and I were rich," mourned Phoebe, plaintively,
" and could dress and talk grandly, they would behave quite
differently to us, Honor. They wouldn't invite us to Deer-
grove just on sufferance, one at a time, as they do now when
they have a place vacant, to make us small and patronise us,
and pretend they are doing a very noble and compassionate
gort of thing to their poor relations."
"That will do, Phoebe. Never mind that old grudge,"
returned Honor, brightly. " I never let them, treat me like a
poor relation, arid I can often glean a little amusement there."
" I cannot," sighed Phoebe ; " they quench me entirely.
I always corne home miserable, and wishing I was rich and
beautiful and admired, that I might pay back Theo for her
scornful ways. Honor, do you ever have day-dreams about
be<ng rich ? "
" Often. Such gorgeous dreams they are, and I'm go
beautiful in them, and wear such matchless dresses, and
have horses, and carriages, and servants, and a magnificent
castle of my own, and I reed all the poor, aad have all the
sick cured, and everybody idolises me, and I'm presented to
the Queen so," explained Honor, sweeping her skirt along
ihe shabby drugtret, in the performance of a wonderfuj
curtsey, "and all the ladies and lords-in-waiting whisper
that there never was such a lovely person seen before, even
at Court."
" Perhaps they're not allowed to whisper when the Queen
u by," put in Phosbe, her practical nature stumbling here.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 55
"I'm quite certain that the Earl of Essex often whis-
pered," returned the younger girl, with confidence, "and
Anne Boleyn was just the one to whisper a great deal when
she was a maid-of-honour ; and so they whisper in my
dreams, and everything is wonderful and beautiful their
Phoebe ; but I never care about crowing over Theo she isn't
in the dreams at all."
Phoebe had so thoroughly taught hwself to lean upon
Honor's deeper, brighter nature that it gave her generally a
curious air of dependence and submission to her younger
rousin totally at variance to her superiority in point of
vears, But there were times when she roused herself to a
fleeting priority, on the basis of her freedom from those de-
ceptions encouraged by a disposition so dreamy, credulous,
and speculative as her cousin's. At such rare moments she
believed implicitly Jane Haughton's favourite ax'om that
" Honor had not a grain of sterling common sense," and
invest herself abundantly with that oft-misnamed com-
modity. Such a moment followed Honor's soft voice-
painting of her childish dream.
' You always go into impossibilities, Honor. I think
only of what may be."
Impossibilities ! While the white-clad figure, in spite of
its dingy background and the scant light thrown upon it,
was so purely beautiful ! Impossibilities! While the eyes
were so full of trust and courage for the time to come, and
that time to come was so safely hidden beyond a golden mist
made up of possibilities !
" You know Lady Lawrence may leave us a share of her
wealth," added Phrebe, apparently aggrieved. " She ought
not entirely to forget us girls, and leave it all to Lawrence
or Hervey, or even both."
Honor's laugh rang out merrily.
" I am afraid we are all alike," she said : "all building
out future on old Myddelton's money. Oh, what tottering
fabrics ! But your mentioning Lady Lawrence reminds me
of something else, Phrebe. The Abbotsmoor pic-nic is fixed
for Thursday, and the photograph, with Abbotsmoor itself
as a background, is to be sent to Lady Lawrence in India."
"Oh, how nice ! " cried Phosbe, ecstatically. "May we
all choose our own postures, and by whom we will stand or
56 OLD MYDDELTOX'S MONEY.
sit ? What shall I wear ? Oh, Honor, I have not any nice
dress to go in."
" Have you not ? " asked Honor, always such a gentle,
helpful receiver of these lugubrious and spasmodic expres-
sions of Phoebe's anxieties respecting her wardrobe and de-
ficiencies therein. " How is that ? I thought we should wear
the dresses we had for the bazaar at Somerson Park."
" You can ; yours looks all right,'' whined Phoebe ; " and
of course you will, because everybody said that it suited you ;
but I cannot. Mine is as torn, and as soiled, and as shabby
as ever it can be, and I'm sure I would not disgrace myself
by putting it on."
Phoebe had risen in her excitement, and taken the dress
from its drawer, and now she threw it contemptuously ou the
bed before Honor.
" It was very pretty at first, I know," she said, " and no
one would believe you had done all the planning and trim-
ming, for they looked like French dresses. But you must
own, Honor, that I could not wear it now."
" If you like," said Honor, slowly, not questioning
Phoebe's right to have spoiled the dress while her own
bought, and made, and worn at the same time was fresh
and unsoiled, " if you like, Phoebe, we will wear our black
silks. '
" Black silks at a pic-nic ! " exclaimed Phoebe. " No, in-
deed. But it was a kind offer of yours, Honor," she added,
remorsefully, " for your dress is almost as good as new, and
you look so lovely in it. But I'll tell you what you might
do" this in a tone of anxious coaxing "you might get
Lawrence to give us money for a new one each. Tell him
how we have not five shillings left of this quarter's allow-
ance. He will not refuse you, Honor."
" I would go in my oldest dress sooner than ask for anew
one from him," returned the younger girl ; " I always keep
within my allowance for that very reason."
Phoebe's eyes filled ; they were gentle, rather prominent,
light gray eyes, with a fountain very near them ; but still
these ready tears had always the same effect upon Honor ;
and when Phoebe said, ruefully, " He would not give time,
or L would ask for myself ; but he never refuses you,'' she
kissed her quietly, and said she would ask their guardtan for
OLD MTDDELTON'S MONEY. 57
the dress, and did not blame her, by one word, for the selfish
Use she made of her guardian's favourite.
" I shall sleep comfortably now," observed Phoebe, shak-
ing up her pillow. " Good night, Honor dear ; though you
have not told me much about Deergrove. Was there no
guest but yourself ? "
" Only one," said Honor, from the open doorway ; " but
go to sleep, Phoebe."
" For, "added the girl to herself, as she closed the bed-
room door behind her, " if I speak or think again of that
other guest, my thoughts will go off once more to Gabriel
Myddelton and that often-told story which I heard again to-
night. How plain it was that Mr. Keith saw no way of
accounting for the murder but by Gabriel's having com-
mitted it ! How curiously he asked if a doubt had ever been
entertained as to Gabriel's guilt, and no onecould say 'Yes' !"
*******
Next morning, from a feverish dream in which old Myd-
delton was murdering Mr. Keith, and she and Gabriel
just as he might have walked out of the picture at Abbots-
moor stood looking on, Honor was roused by the clanging
of the shrill bell which was wont, at eight o'clock A.M., to
summon the occupants of The Larches to break their fast
upon the sternly simple viands which Miss Haughton'fl
ingenuity and economy had suggested.
" Late again," remarked that lady, as Honor entered the
breakfast-room half-an-hour afterwards, sweet and fresh as
a summer rose on which the dew-drops sparkle, and with
that clear light within her eyes which could not have shone
there if the soul behind had not been free from taint of
vanity or selfishness.
Mr. Haughton half rose from his seat as Honor came up
to the table, but, with a sudden change of purpose, he drew
his chair closer, and began to carve the cold meat before him.
His sister passed by the girl's bright "good morning,"
and poured out her tea with a rigid displeasure stamping
every feature. Jane Haughton was certainly not one of
those whose presence at any time makes sunshine in a house.
Hers had, on the contrary, rather the effect of February
sleet or a November fog ; but in -the early morning this tvui
peculiarly noticeable.
58 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
" A real wet blanket," Honor thought, as she took her cnp
from Jane's hand, " would have a far more soothing effect."
Conversation at The Larches was never very warm and
general, especially at breakfast ; but certainly this morning
as on many another morning, Honor tried her best to make
it so. She chatted of her visit last night, and described the
dinner to Jane, undeterred by that lady's etoniness of
aspect. She gave Phoebe an account of the dresses, the new
hooks she had seen, and the new duet she had heard, undis-
turbed by Phoebe's distracted attention and surreptitious
signs to her not to forget her promise ; and she retailed to
Lawrence the chief points of the conversation.
" That other guest," remarked Mr. Haughton, " must
have been vastly edified by so much talk of old Myddelton
and his connections, especially after the speech I heard old
Mrs. Payte make to him a day or two ago."
"What was that?"
" She said old Myddelton's relations could be nothing
but money- loving and cowardly."
" Oh, what a falsehood and a shame ! " cried Phcebe,
always ready to reply to him. " Suppose she knew you had
overheard that, Lawrence ? "
"I believe she did know," he answered, carelessly ; "she
Joes not care who overhears her sour speeches."
" What did Mr. Keith say ?" inquired Jane.
*' Do you suppose 1 cared to listen ? "
" It must be satisfactory to him," said Honor, quietly,
" to feel that he has not been deceived in his estimate of us.
There is plenty of cowardice and love of money amongst us."
"There may be these qualities amongst us," replied
Lawrence, looking into the girl's eyes, " but there is neither
of them in you, Honor."
" They belong to the very name of Myddelton," returned
Honor, with a hot, vexed blush, for nothing distressed her
more than such a speech from him in presence of his sister
And poor little Phosbe, " and he sees how we all hate
each other in our hearts, and he knows we shall hate each
other until Lady Lawrence's will is read, when we shall
immediately concentrate all our hatred upon her heir."
"It's all Gabriel Myddelton's fault," sighed Phoebe.
" that these dreadful things are laid to our charge ; but,
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. CD
Honor, you know very well that it is only the Trents wh<r
hate "
Phcebe broke off abruptly in her speech, for Mr. Haughton
had left the room, and she had something far more important
to urge upon Honor than any want of affection in the Trents.
"Go now," she whispered across the table, "remember
yonr promise, Honor."
Honor put her chair back into its place against the wfill
according to one of Jane's most strictly enforced lessons
and left the room too.
In the hall, as she paused in her extreme unwillingness
to enter Lawrence's study, Phoebe rushed out to her,
almost breathless in her eagerness.
" Make haste, Honor," she cried, pushing her cousin
towards the door of Mr. Haughton's study, " he may go off
in a hurry. Why should you dawdle here when you know
he will do it for you ? This is too unkind of you,
Honor."
" Take your hands away ; leave me to open the door
myself," said Honor, with a quick catch of her breath ; " I
will not be dragged to do what I have promised."
When Honor entered the room, her guardian was locking
the drawers of his writing-table. He had taken the key
from the last, and put the bunch into his pocket, before he
saw her, or heard her quiet tread. Then he stepped back
to the chimney-piece, and looked at her with a pleased smile
quite willing, evidently, that she should detain him as
long as she chose.
" Please, Lawrence," the girl began simply, " will you let
Phcebe have a little money this morning ? "
"No. I have told Phoebe a hundred times that if I per-
mit her to overdraw her allowance, she will grow more and
more extravagant, and will not be able to extricate herself."
Honor could not see that this impatient retort was chiefly
evoked in his sudden disappointment by finding that it was
for some one else's sake that she had sought him ; she only
gaw that he looked firm in his refusal.
" I have told her this a hundred times," he repeated ; "and
1 will not trouble myself to tell her again. She is absurd
and wasteful in her expenditure. Tell her to do as you do ;
you ha^e the same allowance, and )ou always look neat "
00 OLD MY1JDELTON8 MONEY.
" Jane says if there was another person in the house like me
fche should be driven wild."
" A pretty safe speech," sneered Lawrence ; " the if is a
huge one. Jane's reason ?or the feeling, poor old girl, if
cot inscrutable, though. You forgive those speeches, Honor,"
he added, in another tone, " when you remember how
jealously she guards my affection ? You can understand
why she is harder to you than to Phoebe ? She is not afraid
of Phoabe's ever supplanting
" Phoebe is a great deal smaller than Jane, why should
June be afraid ? "
" Laughing, always laughing," muttered Mr.- Haughton.
" Is life to be all a jest for you ? "
A soft, quick shadow fell upon the girl's face. She was
but eighteen, and an orphan. Into no mother's listening
ear and loving heart could she whisper the doubts, and
hopes, and longings which troubled and cheered her. Upon
no father's arm had she lent through all her girlhood ; no
father's strong and steadfast love had guided and taughther
And beyond ! What awaited this girl whose generous aims
and impulses were all thrown back upon herself in this
cramped home ? What awaited her beyond ? Was life to
to be all a jest ? No wonder such a swift, sad shadow fell
upon her face like a foreboding.
"Let Jane say what she will, Honor," spoke Lawrence,
extending his hand to her. " You shall be denied nothing
while I am master here."
" I was not thinking of Jane's speech," she said, rousing
herself from that moment's inexplicable sadness, and moving
a little back from the outstretched h>ind. " Will you give
Pho3be the money, please, Lawrence ? "
" No," he answered, angrily, but very slowly, as he
gazed into her face ; " but I will give it you if you like."
" I do not want it," began Honor, in haste, but he went
on after her interruption, as if he had wot hesitated.
" You may do as you like with it, of course ; spend it for
Pho3be, if you choose, or give it to her to speud. I do
not care what is done with it afterwards. How much is. it
to be ? Is this enough ? "
He had taken two sovereigns from his purse, bat he held
the puree etill opej?
OLD MYDDELTOX'S MONEY. 61
" Phoebe only wished for one," said Honor, in her proud,
quiet tones.
" I did not ask Phoebe," returned Mr. Haughton, closing
the purse, and once more holding his hand towards Honor,
with the money in it ; " take them, Honor. Of course
Phoebe bade you ask, but, come at whose bidding you will,
you know that I never could refuse a request of youra,
Some day, perhaps, the favours you come to ask will be for
yourself, as they used to be in old times. Take it. "Why
do you wait so long ? "
Slowly and daintily, with barely a touch of her soft, white
fingers, she took the gold coins from his palm.
"Thank you, Cousin Lawrence."
"Cousin Lawrence!" he echoed, angrily. "You are
skilled in wounding, Honor, and I am a stone, of couree,
and cannot feel or see. I am not supposed to know thut
you avoid touching my hand, when you do it with sui:h
gentle grace. I am not supposed to know that you
shrink from any obligation to me, when you thank me
BO prettily. Cousin ! Bah ! thai one word is hateful tome
from your lips."
" Is it ? " asked Honor, gravely. " Would you have me
gay Uncle Lawrence ? Would this sound better Thank
you, Uncle Lawrence ? "
" Is that all the payment you will give me ? " inquired
Mr. Haughton, his anger giving way to amusement, as it
generally did when he talked with her.
" Yes, that is all," she answered, speaking to him just a?
she used to do when she was a child, and had not learned
the secret of why it was she to whom he always listened,
and she whose company he always sought. "Phoebe will
repay her own debts."
"I want no thanks from Phoebe," he interrupted,
moodily. " Let her have her ribbons and flowers and
foolery, and be content. Do not send her with he? gushing
thanks to me. What is it ? What makes you look so hurt
and proud ? The old story, eh, of my duty to Phoebe as her
guardian of my unkindness of her wasted affection, may
be ? I do not know ; I am not to blame in the matter ;
you can testify to that, Honor. Do not tnrn away. Listen
tor one moment, my little favourite. You can set every
f2 OLD MFDDELTON'S MONEY.
thing straight. Phoebe shall have what she likes, drcpset
and feathers to satiety if you will give me what I want. 1
" 1 could not, Cousin Lawrence," said Honor, with *
demure shake of the head, " because what you want is *
contented mind."
Then she gave him her bright little daring nod, and,
leaving him, ran upstairs with the news for winch Phoebe
was so anxiously waiting.
" We'll walk into Kinbury this afternoon and buy the
dress," exclaimed Phoebe, in a rapture of delight, " and we
shall be able to make it ourselves to-morrow, and so can
Bpend all the extra money on trimmings."
''Yes," said Honor, kindly, knowing on whom the cutting
and the trimming and the chief work would fall ; " yes, we
can do it to-morrow, and have it all ready for Thursday
morning ; and on our way home this afternoon we will call
at East Cottage. Now I am going to see if I can help Jane."
CHAPTER VI.
She doeth little kindnesses,
"Which most leave undone or despise ;
For nought that sets one's heart at ease,
And giveth happiness or peace,
Is low-esteemed in her eyes.
Miss Owen's all-important purchases were made,
Honor made one which excited Phoebe's curiosity amazingly.
Yet it was only a packet of wools of various shades and
colours, and a roll of fine canvas.
" Why carry it ? " Phoebe asked, as Honor took thig
parcel in her hand. " Let it be sent with the other things."
" No," whispered Honor. " It is not large enough to be
inconvenient I wish it were."
On their way home, the girls stopped before a low white
cottage standing in a long garden where flowers, fruits, and
regetables grew promiscuously.
" Oh ! do not go in here," exclaimed Phoebe, pettishly.
" Mrs. Pav to is such a disagreeable old woman, and ^Irg.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. G3
Disbrowe so dull and depressing. Come along, Honor ;
they haven't seen us."
Honor had unfastened the gate by this time.
"If you wish to walk on, Phoebe, do," she said ; "and I
will overtake you."
But Phoebe had no wish to walk on by herself, and, more-
over, the thought struck her that, if they loitered hero,
perhaps Lawrence might overtake them on his way home
from his office. So she followed Honor up the garden path.
A small, sharp-faced old lady, in a broad -brimmed hat
and leather gloves, stood on the gravel path before the
cottage windows, leaning on a garden hoe, which looked
heavy and cumbersome in the tiny hands of this small old
lady. Her bright, shrewd eyes shone steadily from under
the brim of her ugly brown hat as she watched the girls
coming ; but her thin lips broke into no smile of welcome,
and she advanced no step to meet her visitors.
Behind her, at the open window of the cottage parlour,
sat another lady, totally different in appearance, though
probably of the same age. Both were widows ; yet, while
Mrs. Disbrowe wore the dress which belongs to lifelong
widowhood, little Mrs. Payte had decked herself in an
artistic combination of colours. Both were at least seventy
years of age ; yet, while Mrs. Disbrowe lay in her lar^e
chair, calm and tranquil, as sweet old age should be, and
with the soft white hair and patient eyes which a sweet old
age should wear, Mrs. Payte's small figure stood firm and
erect, and her keen, quick eyes and mobile features had
still the restlessness and strength of youth.
It needed no second glance to tell that the government of
East Cottage was on the shoulders of the smaller lady, and
that the invalid sitting at the window in the September
sunshine was fully and humbly aware of this. The old
ladies had not been particularly reticent about their private
or personal affairs ; so it was no secret in the village that
the rooms at East Cottage had been taken not only to
benefit Mrs. Disbrowe's health, but because Mrs. Payte
found it convenient to stay here at present to economise.
It was on that very subject that Mrs. Payte was speaking to
her friend, when tho garden gate opened to admit the girls.
" We have been here nearly two mouths," she was say Uag,
64 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
" and T don't see any improvement in your health, Selina v
indeed, I think you lie down more than ever ; and I'm sure,
on such a moruing as this" Honor was near enough now
for her quick young ears to catch every word " you might
very well exert yourself a little. I hate to see people giving
way to thorough indolence. Here's Honor Craven she'll
tell you how pleasant it is out of doors."
" It is quite as pleasant at the open window, Mrs. Disbrowe,"
said Honor, with a gentle smile into the patient's worn face,
as she went up to the window and took the invalid's hand
" quite as pleasant " this with a little emphasis, half in
fun, half in earnest, as she turned again to shake the leather-
gloved hand which Mrs. Payte extended leisurely.
" I'm very poorly myself," asserted the small old lady,
with a defiant expression in every feature which the brown
hat shaded ; " only no one ever notices. As for Selina, she
never thinks any one suffers but herself ; and she why, she
sleeps all night like a top, and I may toss and sigh, and she
hears nothing of it. If I could sleep as she does, I wouldn't
call myself ill. Dear me, Honor, you need not look at her
in that sort of sickeningly compassionate way. If she could
hear every word, it would not hurt her, but she cannot. She
gets "deafer every day, and only hears me when I shout at
the top of my voice. You needn't be afraid of hurting
her. Do you wonder that my patience is exhausted, when
you see how lackadaisical she is eh, Phoebe ? "
" Indeed I do not," said Phoebe ; for of course it was
easier and wiser to concur with the sharp- tempered old lady,
when Phoebe knew the invalid could not hear.
" You know very well how worried I am with her, and
how my patience is tried don't you, Honor ? "
" I see how Tier patience is tried, Mrs. Payte," the girl
said, softly. " To lighten her suffering, if that were possible,
or ease the tedium of her da} s, could hardly be worry for
any one to whom the opportunity is given."
" Dear me !" exclaimed the old lady, shrilly. " One would
think you envied me the pleasant occupation."
" I think I do," said Honor, thoughtfully ; " I so often and
often think of her how she is suffering hour after hour with-
out hope of ease, yet without complaint, and I do so long to
be able to do something to make the pain more bearable."
OLD MYDBELTON'S MONET. 65
"I verily believe you mean it," was the slow retort, as
Mrs. Edna Payte looked v. ith keen scrutiny into the girl's
earnest face ; "you look as if you did. Well, we shall soon
gee how hollow this idea is, for I give you leave from this
moment to take what share you will of this tedious and
enervating occupation. There now you won't make that
speech again, I fancy."
" May I come when I like ? " inquired Honor, earnestly.
. " May 1 do whatever I can, to cheer her or relieve her ?
May I really, Mrs. Payte ? "
" You may do whatever you choose," returned the old
.ady, with < omplacent contempt ; " we will soon see how
little that will be, now the way is clear for you. We are all
anxious enough to walk up the ' straight and thorny path
to heaven ' so long as we cannot find it ; but as soon as ever
it lies there right before our eyes, like the side of a precipice
covered with briers, why, then we sneak back again, and
leave off talking about it. Well," after a pause, " why
don't you contradict me, child, and say how sure you are
that you can tread safely among the adders, and the tangles,
and the pitfalls ? "
" I dare not," said the girl, softly ; " but you will not take
back your promise ? "
" Not yet," replied the old lady, smiling cynically into
Honor's beautiful, earnest eyes ; " I shall wait till I see the
ashes of all your high-flown resolutions. There, that's
enough of such nonsense. What's the news in Kinbury,
girls ? "
This was one of Mrs. Payte's unvarying questions, and
Phoebe was prepared tor it, and took a keen enjoyment in
pouring into such willing ears all that she could tell of small
news the only giant among the items being the descrip-
tion of her new dress.
" Whose taste was it ? " inquired Mrs. Payte, curtly, and
Phoebe eagerly appropriated the credit, coiiles-ing, though
Without any malice, that indeed Honor wanted her not to
have the fashionable mixture of pink and blue.
" If it is the fashion, have it," said Mrs. Payte, with
terseness. " What is Honor's taste compared with fashion ? "
" So I said," exclaimed Phoebe, delighted ; " and I do
not se*j why one should dress dowdilj at a pic-nic, though
66 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
I'm snre I do not want to vex Honor, because she's going to
help me make it."
" Certainly, don't vex her for yonr own sake," advised
the old lady, in those four last words hitting carelessly upon
the main-spring of Phoebe's character.
" Is your allowance greater than Honor's, Phoebe ? " in-
quired Mrs. Disbrowe, when the chief points of conversa-
tion became apparent to her.
" No, we have the same."
" Then I'm afraid you will always be behind-hand, and
always wanting help," was the quiet reply ; " for don't you
remember what George Herbert says, ' Who cannot live on
twentie poundes a yeare cannot on fortie ' ? "
" That's nonsense, of course," said Phoebe, " and it is not
many girls who have to dress on forty pounds a year, as we
have."
" Never mind," put in Mrs. Payte, encouragingly ; " you
may be rich enough some day, so it is worth while running;
short now. Have you heard anything lately from Lady
Lawrence ? "
"Yes," cried Phoebe, eagerly ; "she is to be in England
before Christmas, and we are all to meet her in London.
She is preparing now to leave Calcutta."
" That's right," remarked Mrs. Payte, with an air of real
anticipation. "I've a great wish to see this sister of old
MyddeUon's, and I may have a chance, if she comes to
England. I like to come across a thoroughly wicked old
woman."
" Is Lady Lawrence a thoroughly wicked old woman ? "
inquired Honor, laughing.
" Of course, being old Myddelton's sister and Gabriel's
aunt. But you girls mustn't think of that. You must
look upon her as a goddess or angel, whichever you like.
Remember, she has a million to will away, as well as landed
estates and princely incomes. You write affecti'mate
epistles to her, eh ? "
" I write every month," said Phoebe ; " we all do. I dare
Bay the Trents write oftcner, and I am sure Lawrence does,
but she never writes back, though she sent us her picture.
She's a very grand and clever-looking person, enormously
e tout, and with smooth, dark hair."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 67
"Mean people are always stout and clever," remarked
Mrs. Payte, sententiously. " Do you write to her, Honor ? "
" I have not lately," the girl aoswered, her eyes far off
upon the horseman coming slowly along the turnpike road
towards Kinbury. " I did when I was a child, just as the
others do, for Lawrence ordered it, but I don't now."
" A bad result of being your own mistress," grumbled
Mrs. Payte. " Why was it ? "
" She never answered our letters," Honor said. " She did
not care for us ; so how can we care for her ? "
" The others do, don't they ? "
Phoebe laughed. " Care for her ? why, of course not, Mrs.
Payte. We're only trying to make ourselves agreeable to her."
" To be sure that's what I mean. Most natural it is,
and Honor should not hold herself aloof. Well, it isn't too
late yet, that's one good thing. Take my advice, and write
her a long, flattering, fond letter. Don't think about
whether you really love her or not that's not the question.
She has money to leave to some of you, and, without caring
a button about her, you may ingratiate yourselves. Young
people seldom care much in reality about old women, and a
Jittle pretence is fair enough in such a case as this."
" That's what I say, and all of us," assented Phoebe, with
a ready burst of heavy laughter, " all but Honor."
" All the same, Honor must own it's true, if she has any
honesty at all," persisted the old lady, taking off her hat for
a moment to smooth her small gray curls, and looking, the
while, into Honor's faoe with ironical scrutiny.
" No ; I do not own it, Mrs. Payte," the girl said, shaking
her head with her pretty, gentle smile. " I do not own that
pretence is fair, and I do not own that young people do not
care for old women."
" Well, I've seen more than you have, and I've a right to
Bay it. Who is this ? "
The abrupt question made the invalid start, and Honor
looked round to see the cause of it. At the cottage gate
etood the horseman, whom, a few moments ago, she had been
watching. He dismounted, fastened his horse to the gate,
end then walked leisurely down the narrow path, three dogs
following closely at his heels, evidently aware that they were
not to go beyond the little box-border.
68 OI.IJ MTDDELTON'S MU.VEY.
"You've "been riding a long way, Mr. Keith," began Mrs.
Payte, with her usual abruptness, when he offered his hand.
" Forty miles at least since daybreak," was the brief reply.
But Mrs. Payte, without exactly knowing why, considered
it a stumbling-block in the way of further questioning.
She went through an elaborate ceremony in her introduction
of Phoebe, and turned to repeat it for Honor's benefit ; but,
to her surprise, she found Mr. Keith and Honor shaking hands.
One minute afterwards Honor had slipped away. Feeling
that her presence would not be missed just then, she went to
perform one errand on which her mind was bent, and which
5he always did perform in her visits to East Cottage.
Hurrying round to the back-door, she entered a small
kitchen, neat but barely furnished, in which a young woman
sat sewing near the lattice window, a heavy pair of crutches
beside her chair.
"Alone, Marie ?" questioned Honor, coming softly up to
the chair and leaning over it.
" Yes, alone, Miss Craven," said the sick girl, her pale
face brightening unspeakably as she raisc-d it to the beautiful
one above her. "The lady's servant is sitting in the front
kitchen ; she always does. She says this one feels like a
well, and and, as they pay for it, she has the right to sit
there."
"And have you given up the right to sit there too,
Marie ? "
" Oh, yes, Miss Craven ; they pay for those rooms. But
I do very well here."
" Marie, you remember telling me that you thought you
could get a little money by designing for woolwork, but
could only do it by working the pattern, not by drawing.
Well, see here."
The parcel was brought from Honor's pocket, and the two
girls' heads bent over its contents the beautiful face whose
suffering was all to come, and the worn one whose bitterest
luffering was past.
For nearly half an hour Honor Craven eat in the littlf
pack-kitchen, cheering, by that half-hour, the girl's whole
day, and giving her pleasant thoughts and memories to last
her till the next time the bright voice should greet her from
the open doorway. Then she rose to go.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 69
" 1 am coming here oftener now, Marie," she said, giving
her gentle little hand to the lame girl, as she would have
done to any lady in the laud. " I suppose your father will
soon be in. You will not be alone much longer. How ia
ne getting on, Marie?"
"About the same, Miss Craven," replied the girl, feeling
the reality of Honor's interest. "He has an order for the
photograph at Abbotsmoor on Thursday, but he took only
one likeness yesterday, and his room in Kiubury is expensive.
Poor father!"
"Oh, he will soon get better now, Marie; never fear. I'm
so glad it is he who is to take us at Abbotsmoor."
" It is through Sir Philip Somerson. I do not think Mrs.
Trent would ever have thought of it. And father says Mr.
Keith has ordered a picture, but whether that's through Sir
Philip or not, he doesn't know."
It was of the old photographer that they were talking
,n the garden, when Honor joined them again, and found
Royden Keith leaning against the open window beside which
Mrs. Disbrowe lay, and Mrs. Payte and Phoebe sitting on
the garden-seat without.
" It is a stupid idea altogether, I think," the little old
lady was saying when Honor came quietly up and stood
among them. " How can you have the picture complete
without having Gabriel Myddelton in it, and who would care
for a picture where he figured ? Rubbish altogether, I cal
it, and Lady Lawrence is a senseless old woman to want it."
"Perhaps it would be possible," said Royden, with the
flash of keen amusement which sometimes shone so swiftly
in his steadfast, handsome eyes, " for Verrien to copy Gabriel
Myddelton's picture first, and then arrange the head among
the others, that the photograph might include him too."
" None of the others would sit in that case," observed
Mrs. Payte, tersely.
" Why ? Cowardice was his inheritance, not an acquired
fault. What is your crest, Miss Craven ?
" A pair of heels," said Honor, smiling a little at her own
inexplicable blush, "and the motto below is from the
Musarum Dtlicm. You know the lines
*' He that fights and runs away,
May live to tight another day ! ''
70 OLD MYUUELTON'S MONST.
"The inheritance of cowardice," said Royden,
into her eyes. " And Gabriel's mother was a Craven. YWit
is the legend of the crest ? "
" Our earliest ancestor," said Honor, " once engaged in
single combat, and when he found the fight going against
him, saved his life iu a paltry manner by crying ' Craven '
before the sun went down. Knights were allowed in those
days to end the fight so, to their dishonour."
" I call it a wise and prudent measure too," said Hoyden,
as he turned to the sick lady within the room ; " there are
worse crimes in the world than crying ' Craven ' before the
Bun goes down. Don't you think so, Mrs. Disbrowe ? "
" Indeed I do," she answered, gently smiling as she met
his gaze. (" It is a gaze I like to meet," she said to Mr?.
Payte only that very morning, ae they talked of Royden
Keith.) "I wish I thought that was poor young Myddel-
ton's only sin."
" He was a Myddelton. How could you expect him to
be other than what he proved himself?'' interrupted Mrs.
Pane, contemptuously. " If he ever could turn out a good
man, it would be now that he has forfeited his name and his
riches. The hope of stepping into such a fortune has made
others sin besides Gabriel Myddelton, and is making others
sin, and will make others sin ; and the possession of such
wealth would spoil many a man, and woman too. It is
beyond my power to imagine whom it would not spoil."
The sharp eyes under the broad hat went from Honor's
face to Phoebe's and back again to Honor's, Mr. Keith
following their gaze, still leaning idly there against th
window, with the three dogs waitiug at his feet.
It was the little old lady herself who broke the pause
which followed her last words.
" I have a great wish to go to Abbotsmoor. I suppose I
must pocket my pride and ask for an invitation."
" Will you go in my place, Mrs. Payte," cried Honor, im-
pulsively, " and let me stay with Mrs. Disbrowe ? "
"Now, Honor, how can you be so silly?" explained
Phoebe. " You know how angry Lawrence would be."
" Will you," said Royden, turning his eyes quickly from
Honor's vexed face, "let me drive yon there, Mrs. Payte ?
I am invited tc bring a frieiid ; please to be that friend."
OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY. 71
There was a little blunt demurring, but it was arranged
nevertheless, and the old lady seemed as well contented at*
she ever seemed about anything.
They chatted a little longer, and then Royden prepared to go.
" What a beautiful fellow this greyhound is ! " said
Honor, laying her hand lightly on the glossy, dun-coloured
head. " What is his name, Mr. Keith ? "
" Lachne," he answered, as he ollered her his hand ; "that
means the glossy-coated : and this little terrier is Leucos,
which means grey ; and this spaniel, Labro, which means furi-
ous. Can you remember after whose dogs mine are named ? "
" Yes Actason's," she answered. " Have you fifty ? "
" Only these three now," he said, rather gravely ; " trusty
old friends, whom I have had with me many years."
" And from whom you would not like to part, especially
this beautiful greyhound ? "
" No ; I do not know what would tempt me voluntarily to
part with Lachne."
From East Cottage, Royden Keith rode on to Kinbury,
and, dismounting at the door of the hotel, gave his horse
to his groom.
" She is tired enough," he said ; " take her in, Edwards,
and bring me round Robin Hood in half-an-hour's time."
" Saddled, sir ? " inquired the groom, betraying a little
of his astonishment ; for had not his master been in the
saddle almost since daybreak ?
"Saddled, of course," returned Royden, as he mounted
the hotel steps.
" I did not expect you back so soon, sir," said Pierce, fol-
lowing Mr. Keith to his private sitting-room ; "you ordered
dinner at eight. Will you lunch so late as this, sir ? "
" I lunched three hours ago," said Royden, as he took his
letters from the chimney-piece, with his back to the valet,
who seemed stirred a little from his usual middle-aged
gravity. " I lunched at The Towers. Send me a glass of
wine, that is all."
Following the waiter, who, with the mathematical preci-
sion of waiters, set the wine and biscuits before Mr. Keith,
came Pierce once more into his master's presence.
" I beg your pardon, sir," he said, making a show of re-
moving the things, "but are all well at The Towers ?"
72 OLD MYDDELTOX'S MCCNET.
" All well, thank you, Pierce."
" And everything going on as it should do, r as if yon
were there ? "
" Just as it would if we were there," amended Roydeu,
smiling at the man's real, though hidden, earnestness.
" You seemed to be summoned so hurriedly, sir, I
thought."
" Not summoned at all," said Mr. Keith, as he poured
himself a glass of sherry.
" No illness of the lady's, sir ? "
"No."
Royden put down his empty glass and took up another
letter. The servant lingered still, but the solemn decorum
of his face and manner hid the keen and anxious interest he
felt in his master's answers.
" Leave those, Pierce," said Royden, looking up from the
paper in his hand ; " I am going out again in a few
minutes."
" Riding again this evening, sir ?"
u Riding again this evening yes," he answered, smiling
a little now. " But I am only going round the Abbotsmoor
woods, and shall be back to dinner. Poor Princess is tired
out, but Robin will be fresh and fleet."
" The dogs seem tired too, sir," said Pierce, wondering at
the run their master had given them that day.
" Then they need not come ; they shall make their own
ehoice. N-o," mused Royden, slowly tearing the letter in
bis hand ; " I will take Lachne only."
Pierce looked in vain for any apparent reason for this
change of purpose.
"To save trouble, I suppose," he thought. "There's
always a scene if he tries to leave the greyhound behind."
So Royden Keith, ten minutes afterwards, rode from
Kinbury to find the answer to that doubt he had expressed
^t East Cottage
" I do not know what would tempt me voluntarily to part
with Lachne."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONK*. 73
CHAPTER VII.
The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well ; hut
civil, Count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealouf
complexion. Much Ado about Nothing.
MRS. PAYTE stood with the girls at the gate of East Cot.
tage, watching Royden as he rode away.
" Do you like him, Phoebe ? " she asked abruptly.
" He is very handsome," Phoebe acknowledged, in a tone
of praise as warm as she ever bestowed on anyone save her
guardian.
" He's not a man to go through life with his hands
folded," remarked the old lady tersely. " Honor, why are
you staring up the road ? You won't call him handsome, I
know not you. Unless a man has languishing manners
like Captain Trent's, and can look at you lackadaisically
under his eyelids, and talk in a lazy whisper, you haven't
much to say in his favour. Ah, I see why you were staring ;
here they come ! Sound the trumpet, beat the drum ! What
a delightful conjunction ! They remind me of Prior and
Swift, who used to walk round the parks together Prior to
make himself fat ; Swift to keep himself lean."
Honor's eyes had to come back from their distant gaze to
see the two advancing figures, and then she turned to Phoebe
with a smile.
" I declare I did not know," said the old lady, " that
Lawrence Haughton and Hervey Trent were such close
friends. What bond of union lies between them ? "
" It must have been Hervey who joined Lawrence on the
road," suggested Phoebe, "for I'm sure Lawrence would not
overtake and join Hervey of his own accord."
"And pray why not?" inquired Mrs. Payte, sharply.
"Would not Mr. Haughton like to be the means of benefit-
ing a young man whose mind is peculiarly alive to good
influences ? "
Phoebe looked into the old lady's face, astonished, but
never for more than a minute at a time did she trouble her-
t- If to study Mrs. Payte's moods.
Tne gentlemen came up to the gate inpfc then, and
with a look of pleasure tu \veii as surprise : buo
74 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
after that first moment, Honor could see that Lawrence fros
in one of his moods of smothered ill-humour.
" Walking home, are you ? " said the old lady, her shrewd
glance impeded by the brim of her ugly brown hat. " What
enterprise ! But I must stop you here. Look upon East
Cottage as a half-way house the travellers' rest and when
you leave, I will let you take your wards with you, Mr.
Hau^hton. Now, Horvor, run and order the tea-table to be
brought out."
There was no hesitation in Hervey's mind about accepting
the invitation, and, though Lawrence paused for a moment,
he did not refuse.
" I like to have young people round me," observed Mrs.
Payte, particularly addressing Hervey, as he threw himself
languidly on the garden seat ; " it gives me life and vigour.
As one grows old and feeble, one likes to study enviously
the strength and energy ef youth."
" Does one, Mrs. Payte ? " inquired Captain Hervey,
politely, as his lazy eyes rested on the small, wiry form
before him. " I should have thought it would have bored
one."
" Mr. Haughton, you must not bring your business face
here, please ; we do not want to make our wills, or draw up
our marriage settlements quite yet. We only want to
fritter away an hour in nonsensical tea-drinking. Stupid,
don't you think ? "
" One wasted hour cannot signify very much," the lawyer
answered indifferently.
" Perhaps not, only the difficulty to me is to determine
which of our hours are wasted. Now, Selina ? "
Mrs. Disbrowe rose from her seat in the window, for
Honor had come for her, and had brought Hervey to carry
the easy-chair. Mrs, Payte stopped in her own occupation
to watch this proceeding, but afterwards made up for the
lost time by extra snapping.
" She says she likes to have young people about," fretted
Miss Owen aside to her cousin ; " if so, why is she so cross ? *
"Now, girls," cried the little old lady from her seat, " we
are waiting for you. Go to your separate trays Honor 10
the coffee, and you, Phoebe, to the tea. There will be a
knight for each of you."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 75
Mrs. Payte leaned back in her seat after this speech, and
waited for the division of labour, watching almost as if she
had an interest in it beyond what Theodora Trent called her
** an warrantable interference in everything."
" llervey," said Honor, simply, " will you please to war
upon me ? "
The sharp eyes of the brown hat went swiftly np to
Lawrence Haughton's faco, and the thin lips of 'this cross
old lady stirred just a little at the corners.
" Mr. Hanghton, I patronise your end of the table, and
Phoebe's tea. I look upon coffee as a lingering poison for a
bilious constitution like mine. Your vaunted air has done
me no good so far."
Honor glanced at the real invalid, who never spoke of her
ailments, and grew even more gentle in her attentions.
" Hervey," she said, " did not Mrs. Trent tell us last
night that Lady Lawrence said Kinbury air would kill her ? "
" I dare say," assented Hervey, languidly. " I rarely
recollect what she says."
" In that particular matter, Lady Lawrence's opinion en-
tirely coincides with mine, then," said the old lady, smiling
graciously, in answer to Hervey's words, " though in other
respects I fail to learn any good of her. You are more
privileged, I presume ; you are sure to hear the best points
of her character."
" Then I should like to be told which are the worst,"
vbserved Mr. Haughton, bluntly.
"I suppose, Mr. Haughton," mused the old lady, as she
sipped her tea, " that it is you who have the greater chance
of her favour ; you are so clever, and so well understand the
ralue of money."
" It would be rather a dangerous thing for you, Law-
rence," said Honor, when he turned to her. " Don't you
remember Little, the miser ? He saved forty thousand
pounds, and when at last the doctor told him he must spend
a little and take wine, he died in the act of drawing the first
cork. How much better it would have been if he'd gone OD
saving, and left the wine alone ! "
"You are a ridiculous child," snapped Mrs,, Pavte. " Mr.
Haughton, wii 1 you kindly bring me another cup 01 tea froa
76 OLD MYUDELTON'S MONEY.
Phoebe had been gazing regretfully into his angry face,
and perhaps the little old lady had noticed this. When tea
vas over, and Honor was again enlisting Hervey's aid for th?
invalid, Mrs. Payte managed to keep Lawrence on the seat
beside ner. Phoebe hovered about for a time, but she was
so very coolly and persistently kept at arm's length that she
was obliged to fall back and join Honor and Mrs.Disbrowe
in the sitting-room.
" Captain Trent is exerting himself unusually," observed
Mrs. Payte. " I suppose he will exert himself sufficient!}
to marry."
' I suppose so."
" Theodora Trent will make him an excellent wife," she
continued, pushing her hat back a little, and smoothing her
tiny gray curls, "and& stylish wife, which is all- import ant.
That being the case, and their marriage a settled thing, I
don't like to see him dancing attendance I mean saun-
tering attendance on Honor Craven."
A flame of fiercest scarlet rushed into Lawrence Haugh-
ton's face.
"And I am afraid," resumed the old lady, placidly,
that the day of Hervey's marriage will be a heavy day for
you. I have heard that Miss Trent is always received at
The Larches with open arms."
" Pray whose arms are open to receive her ? " inquired
Lawrence, with undisguised scorn.
" Miss Haugh ton's, and, they say, Mr. Han gh ton's too ;
though he would not confess it for a thousand pounds."
" Why should I lie for a thousand pounds ? "
" This is only what I have heard," explained the old lady,
apparently anxious to impress this fact upon him ; "you will
excuse my mentioning it."
He bowed a sulky acceptance of her apology.
" There h no preventing idiotic things being Baid," he
muttered. " i never believe a word I hear."
" Nor do I," returned the old lady, " not a word ; and I
know that some day I shall have the pleasure of offering
my congratulations on your marriage with Phoebe a nice
lively girl, with plenty of smiles and agreeable sayings. I
suppose, in the event of your inheriting old Myddelton'i
money, you would sell your practice, Mr. Haughton ? "
MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 11
"Yes."
Mrs. Payte had just answered by a smile full of sym-
pathy, when the garden g^te swung upon its hinges, and
cheery voice saluted th^ party.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Romer," called Mrs. Payte, in
her brisk, shrill tones, " for my young visitors were just
leaving me."
The Reverend "Walter Romer, Rector of Statton (the
village to which Deergrove and The Larches and East
Cottage belonged), was a cordial, heart void gentleman, who
equally enjoyed tending his spiritual flock and farming his
arable land ; a practical farmer as well as a practical
Christian ; a man with a clear business head and a warm,
unselfish heart ; a man at once shrewd and frank ; at once
provident and generous ; worldly in just those varied senses of
the world in which it is safe fora good and upright pastor to be
worldly, while this is the world in which his help is needed.
" I understood from my old clerk," he said, after his warm
greeting all round, " that Mr. Keith was here."
" He only stopped for a few minutes as he rode past," ex-
plained Mrs. Payte, while more than one present noticed
the frown gathering on Lawrence Haughton's hrow. " What
do you want with him, Mr. Romer ? Wasn't he at church
last Sunday ? "
"Probably somewhere," returned the Rector, laughing,
"listening to a better fellow than myself. No ; the fact is,
he was to have come out to-day for some fishing, and I
wanted to ask what had prevented him. There was a freshet
this morning of a couple of feet down the river, and l'io
vexed he missed his spott."
"Are you?" questioned Mrs. Payte, in her quickest
tones. " Do you mean to say now, Mr. Romer, that you
understand that man ? "
*' Well, he emphatically does not wear his heart upon hia
sleeve. And yet I think "
" What, Mr. Romer ? "
It was Honor who put in the question gently, when he
paused.
" That there is no inconsistency in his wearing the motto
which belongs to his branch of the Keith family / oivn n6
nobility but the soul nobility enough, ch, Miss Honor ? "
78 OLD MYDD ELTON'S MONET.
"Excuse me," pat in the lawyer, chillily, "but how have
von discovered his branch of the family, if, as you insinuate,
he is a man who rigidly guards his own secrets ? "
"Ah, you know him, I see, Haughton," smiled th<
Rector, " for that is his nature, and yet I did not assert it
My important discovery was made by very simple me-ins
I read the motto on his seal. Well, and how is the garden
going OD, Mrs. Payte ?"
" Every ripe apple gets stolen before I'm down in the
morning."
" It is too bad," said the Eector, suppressing his laugh
at the complaint for which he had been thoroughly pre-
pared. " Everything always goes wrong with the garden,
doesn't it, Mrs. Payte ? The hens used to dig up the seeds,
and eat the currants as they came."
" Every one," assented the little lady, promptly ; " though
I wrapped each bush in muslin like a ghost."
" And the birds ate all the cherries," continued the
Eector, sympathisingly.
" Every cherry. The little thieves would come rushing
out of the tree in my very face whole regiments and
boarding-schools. Yet look at Selina, throwing crumbs to
them at this very moment, to defy me. A nice set they
are to encourage savage, selfish little creatures. You once
watch them when you feed them, and I dare vow you'll
never feed them again. A father will hop off with the
family dinner from under the very nose of his hungry wife
and children, and a grown-up daughter will snatch the
bread and butter from between her old mother's very teeth.
Bah ! a nice race they are to befriend."
The Rector turned away to hide his laugh, wondering
how any one who grumbled so persistently at everything
tinder the sun could yet take such a keen, unwavering
interest in the afl'airs of others.
" I must go in now," he said, " to have a chat with Mrs.
Disbrowe, and then to see Marie, poor girl ! I shall over
take you young people presently. What do you think of
the weather, Haughton ? Don't the clouds form rather too
high ? Yon smile at my anxiety, but if you'd a sprinkling
of bank-notes lying out in a field, bound to lie there for a
certain time, you would not relish the idea of rain and \\ ind,"
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 7S
"Even without that simile, I understand your anxiety
about your harvest, Mr. Eomer," said Lawrence, coldly, as
he stood at the gate waiting for Honor to return from
bidding good-bye to Mrs. Disbrowe.
But when she came, all his scientific arrangements wer*
knocked on the head. At the very last moment Hervey
forestalled him, and took his place at Honor's side, as he
could not have done if the girl herself had not purposely
aided his design. But to walk apart with Phoebe, as Honor
evidently had intended him to do, was an alternative which
Lawrence Haughton did not for an instant entertain ; he
sauntered up to Honor's right, as Hervey staunchly kept his
position on her left, and walked so, dropping now and then
a crumb of conversation to Phoebe at his right hand, but
chiefly watching surreptitiously the face upon his left, until
the Rector overtook them, and with frank diplomacy, soon
established himself in Lawrence Haughton's place beside his
favourite. Then Phoebe's guardian fell moodily back beside
her, and entertained her on the way home with blunt mono-
syllables only.
" I think," said the girl, when she had exhausted all her
lively subjects of conversation, and still ransacked her brain
for more, under the delusion that she was amusing her com-
panion, "that Hervey Trent would rather be with Honor than
with Theodora ; and I think Honor likes him very much."
Rubbish ! She is always laughing at him."
"Yes, I know," granted Phcebe, unwillingly ; "but then
that is all good -tempe redly done and he does not mind a
bit, although he always does lecture her when Mrs. Trenf
and Theodora are by. I don't know why they should go on
in that way, nor how Honor can ever choose to walk with
him, when she might walk with you, Lawrence."
If Phoebe had had any idea of the storm she had invoked,
she would not have tripped quite so happily past her guardian
when she reached The Larches at last ; but Phoebe Owen
was not gifted with the power of seeing below the surface in
any single matter whatever.
Lawrence was ill that fact appeared to be patent to Miss
ITaughton the moment she met her brother in the hall, a^
the invariably did j and Lawrence apparently found it iesa
to assent to this thau to cieai bis gloomy brow,
CO OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
shake off the sullen silence which pressed upon him . Nothing
at dinner pleased him, and nothing that was said elicited a
smile, or even an amiable word.
"You are very poorly, lam afraid, Lawrence," fretted Jane
pathetically; "I knew it would be BO this morning when
you took those mushrooms."
" It is your head, Lawrence, I can see," said Phoebe,
softly; "I will fetch my eau-de-cologne."
"Nonsense!" cried Jane, authoritatively. "It is not the
head, and I know what will do him more good."
But Phoebe had rushed off for her scent-bottle.
"Foolish girl," muttered Jane, following her stiffly; "as
if I did not know best what is the matter with my own
brother!"
"You never offer scent, or stimulant, or sympathy,
Honor," said Lawrence, when they two were left ; and now
his tone, though vexed, was neither rough nor sullen. "Why
don't you tell me what is the matter as they do ? "
" Don't they remind you," asked Honor, as she took a
rosebud from one of the vases on the table, "of the shoemaker
in The Relapse, who told Lord Popping ton that he was mis-
taken in supposing his shoe pinched him ?"
Lawrence laughed as if he had not been poorly.
"There is no deceiving those beautiful eyes of yours," he
said. "Give me that rosebud ; pin it in my coat yourself,
and that will cure me."
But with the utmost care and deliberation she fastened it
in her dress.
" There Lawrence, just drink this, and you'll be all right."
said Jane, entering fussily with some mixture in a glass.
** You ought to have come home early and nursed yourself;
you are so neglectful of your health."
"I've read somewhere," rem;irked Honor, sedately, "of
a young captain of Marines, who was shot in the arm in
battle, and when he asked permission to go below to have it
amputated, he apologised for leaving action for 'such a
trivial occasion' ; he was like Lawrence."
"Exactly,'' assented Jane and Phoebe in a breath, having
heard the words, but being in much too great a fuss to notige
the tone.
" For pity's sake, sit down, both of you ! " cried Law-
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. fcl
rence, in sudden, inexplicable anger. "Take these womanish
condiments away."
* * ' * * * * *
Captain Hervey Trent, all unconscious of any of Mr.
Haughton's feelings towards him, pursued his way to Deer-
grove that evening, in a state of placid satisfaction, chiefly
with himself, but, in a secondary degree, with one or two
other people ; and what he pondered as he went, was be-
trayed by a few words which even passed his lips as he opened
the gate at Deergrove.
" I hope that when I and Theodora are married and set-
tled here, Honor will still be living close by us not married
to Lawrence detestable idea, that but still living there, or
equally near us. I shall take care always to be kind to her ;
she is troublesome, of course, but I don't object to taking a
little trouble for her."
*******
When her visitors had all left East Cottage, Mrs. Payte
heaved a sigh which sounded very like an expression of
relief ; but still it was with her usual eager briskness that
she questioned Mrs. Disbrowe on various speeches which she
must very well have known were intended only for that lady's
private ear.
" I guessed as much," she ejaculated, as complacently as
if she had been drinking in a string of compliments. " I
saw that Mr. Haughton was out of temper with me, and that
Captain Trent was bored to death, and that that little
Dutch-faced girl only stayed with me because her guardian
did. And Honor Craven was disgusted with all I said to
you."
" No ! " put in the invalid anxiously.
"Yes," returned Mrs. Payte, with that shrewd glance of
hers, which showed how hard it would be to deceive her.
" She was whispering to you about me just before they
went."
" She only said," answered the sick lady, with a smile of
pleasant recollection, " she thought you did not mean )uut
Words to be hard and sharp, as I said they were."
82 OLD MYUDKLTON'B MONEY.
CHAPTER VIII.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not sfcerad.
LEAVING Kinbury, Royden Keith rode along the high-road
towards Abbotsmoor ; past, the wall that skirted the park,
and past the high hedge bordering the wood. Then he
turned aside into a lane which ran at right angles with the
highway and bordered the wood on the other side. He rode
slowly here, not only because the lane was rough and deeply
rutted, and Robin Hood of his own accord slackened his
dainty steps, but apparently because Robin's master had no
Insh to hasten now.
He had ridden about a mile up the lane when he drew
bridle, for he had come upon a solitary cottage just at a
turning in the lane. The walls were propped, the thatch
torn, and the windows patched with paper, but a curl of thin
blue smoke from the broken chimney rose against the dark
background of the Abbotsmoor woods, and Royden, seeing
this, dismounted without a moment's hesitation. Fastening
Robin to an alder-lush which grew beside the rickety gar-
den-gate, he walked up to the door of this desolate-looking
little dwelling, and knocked upon it with his riding-whip.
" It has been a comfortable dwelling," he said to himself.
" Can all the cottages on the Abbotsmoor estate have been
left to fall to ruin when they would, as this one has ? "
There came no answer to his knock, but, just as he stepped
back to assure himself again of the presence of smoke that
should betoken human occupation, an old man came round
the corner of the cottage, with a spade upon his shoulder.
He had evidently been at work in the garden behind, and so
had not heard Royden's summons.
" What is it ? " he inquired, suspiciously.
** I want to ask you," said Royden, in his pleasant, high-
bred tones, " a few questions about this cottage and its late
tenants. If you will answer them for me, I shall feel very
much obliged to you."
The man put down his spade, and leaned upon it as he
stood. Royden, resting his arm upon the branch of a
stunted apple-tree, looked towards the cottage door as if hQ
OLD MYPDEI.TON'R MONET, 9$
would rather have gone within, gloomy and desolate as th
place mighb be.
"Have you lived here Ion? ?" he asked, when he saw
that he was expected to hold his interview there.
" I dunno what you call long," returned the old man,
sulkily ; " I've lived here better'n seven year will that do
ye?"
"You took the cottage, did. you not, from a man named
Territ ? "
" Not I."
" Did you not ? I understood he was living here about
ten years ago. He was a miner, and he had a daughter
named "
" I know her name," put in the old man, scraping the
sole of his boot upon the spade he held. " If that's all ye
want, I can tell ye that sir." The last word was added
apparently against the speaker's will, as he glanced at the
face and figure opposite him. " Her name was Alargit. I've
heerd of her. She married from this cottage, and went with
her husband to the county town. I've heerd nothin' of her
since then. What should I hear, if she's a respectable
"ooman, and stays at home ? "
" Then you did not know either of them personally ?*
"Notl."
" Do you happen to know the name of Margaret's hus-
band ? "
" No I never heerd it. That's a fine dog o' yourn, sir
fleet as the wind, I'll warrant. No, I don't trouble about
my neebors' names not I. Margit married a town chap,
and I know none o' them. Is there anythin' more you'd
care to ask ? " added the old man, still gazing critically at
the greyhound, which sat waiting at his master's feet.
" Margaret's father is he dead ? "
" Dead ! Years and years ago. A fine horse that at the
gate, sir is it your'n ? "
" Yes, it is mine," said Royden, pleasantly ; " but, before
I mount him, just let me look round your cottage kitchen,
will you ? "
" Ye're welcome," said the old man, in anything but a
gracious tone. "There's naught to see in there, but, if j
like to take the trouble, why, ye can."
84 OLD MYDDELTON'S MOJJET.
Saying this, he Btuck his spade in the soil among hi
cabbages, and opened the door of the cottage.
Desolate as the little dwelling had looked from without,
it was far more desolate, to Royden's eyes, within. Every-
thing bore evidence of poverty, and nothing breathed the
presence of a woman's care or thrift. But whether it was
only of this that Hoyden was thinking, as he stood and
looked round the bare and gloomy kitchen, no one could
judge.
" The door leading into the garden at the back, you have
fastened up, I see."
The old man glanced with rude astonishment up into the
grave, dark face.
" You know the place, then, do ye ? "
" From hearsay," was the quiet answer ; " I have heard of
this cottage, of course. Who that has heard of old Mr. M yd-
delton's murder has not heard of this cottage of Territ's ? "
"Ah, sure, it was talked a deal of at the time, I s'pose ?"
"Gabriel Myddelton" the visitor was slowly treading
the cottage floor as he spoke " threw out there, they pay,
the water in which he washed his hands after the murder,
and in the fire there he threw his wristbands stained with
blood. I see. You do not happen to know, I suppose, where
he hid his coat ? "
" Lor' bless me, what should I know of such things ? n
ejaculated the old man, with a pious horror of the subject.
" I'd do better to forget that any murderer was ever in here
at all. I didn't ever trouble to ask where the coat was found,
or anythin' of the kind, not I."
" It was Margaret, I believe, who hid it, but I have
never heard whether it was she or her father who brought
it to light."
" Maybe, maybe," returned the old man, absently; "I
never troubled to question any/thin' about it. Girls are
great ijjits sometimes. She may a-wanted to screen that
/oung Myddelton ; but I dunno I dunno."
Roy den was leaning against the rickety little table in the
centre of the kitchen, his eyes bent upon the small wood-
fire, his face full of deep thought, and one hand resting
absently on the greyhound's head, ^t- old labourer stood
watching him with a puzzled (scrutiny. No figure like this
OLD MYDDELTCCN'S MONEY. 85
nad ever stood with him before upon his cottage hearth, and
the very novelty of it worried him.
" He don't take on impident," he thought to himself,
** nor he don't attempt preachin' and such like, but I don't
see any good comin' here pokin* into that old murder that
everybody's forgotten. That's a fine dog, though there's
no doubt about him"
Judging by ihe stress the old man laid upon the last
pronoun, there did exist a doubt about the dog's master,
who rose now from his easy position, and turned his eyes
from the fire with an appearance of having suddenly awakened
to the present from some long thought which had held him.
" Thank you," he said, offering his hand to the astonished
occupant of this comfortless dwelling ; " I have wanted to
lee this cottage ever since I heard the story of the murder,
/here is very little to see, as you said ; still," I'm much
obliged to you for showing it. Good night."
Quietly, and even unobserved by the eld man's watchful
eyes, he put a sovereign down upon the taWe, then re-trod
the rough little garden-path, and mounted Robin.
" A nice evening, sir ; you'll have a pleasant ride."
The old labourer had not seen the sovereign, yet his tone
was changed. It was even respectful, though he could not
have told what it was in his visitor which had caused this
involuntary change. Royden did not notice it. Touching
his hat kindly, in answer to the old man's awkward bow, he
rode on up the lane at a trot.
No other cottage, and no other human being, came into
Bight, until a mile further on, he reached a stile over which
a woman was climbing, with a heavy sheaf of wheat upon
her head and a baby in her arms. Royden waited until she
came down the lane and turned to go his way ; then he spoke.
" You are heavily laden to-night. Let me carry the little
one as far as we are going on the same way ."
He took the child and made her snug before him on the
beautiful black horse, while the mother watched him, look-
ing half afraid, until she saw the proud delight of the little
girl so safely held in her grand position.
" You have been gleaning, of course ? " said Royden
making his horse's steps suit the pace of the tired mother.
"Yes, sir."
fe
81 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
A little pause. Royden's motive in talking was not to
pass the time away, but to make the wisest use of it.
" I Lavejuat been," he said, breaking the pause as soon as
he could, " to that ruinous cottage on the outskirts of the
Abbotsmoor woods ; do you know it ? The Territs used to
live there a miner and his dauehter, who made themselves
well known at the time of old Mr. Myddelton's murder."
" I remember, sir," replied the woman, respectfully ; " at
least, I remember a little about it. Margaret Territ married
just after ; but I needn't tell you that, sir ; those who know
about the murdtr at any rate, about the escape must
^uow about Margaret's marriage."
" Is her husband living now ? "
" No, sir ; at least, I oughtn't to say even that for certain,
for I only know what my ears pick up by chance Mar-
garet's living somewhere in this very neighbourhood now,
sir, I believe. I've never seen her, but I've heard she came
back here some bit ago as a widow. It may be many miles
off that she is, but I don't know ; people talk about her as
if she was somewhere round about here."
" You are sure she is a widow ? " questioned Royden.
"They said so, sir, when she came ; that's all I know."
"You do not really belong to this part, I suppose I
mean, you have not lived here all your life ? "
"No, sir, only since my marriage, four years ago. 1
come from "Wales, but my husband has always lived here,
and he knows no more about the Territs than I do. The old
man was hurt in a mine, and was a long time dying. I
can't tell you why Margaret should have come back to live
here. She was left a widow with just enough to live upon."
" And you cannot tell me what her husband's name was ? "
queried Roy den.
" No, indeed I can't, sir ; and I don't know who can. It
never seems to have been let out, or else it was never cared
gbout. That's our cottage, sir, across the field, and we turn
ap here. Thank you kindly."
She took the little girl from Royden's arms and went on
her way, the child crying to go back, and the mother sooth-
ing her ; while Royden rode quickly on, crossing meadows,
end following lanes, until he had left Abbotsmoor mile*
behind, and found himself on a small rugged heath.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 87
" I ought," he mused, glancing around him, " to be able
to get back to Kinbury without retracing the way I have
come. How will it be ? Kinbury lies over there, due east;
so if I cut off a corner of the heath and push straight on, t
can hardly miss my way, though I must necessarily be late."
When he had cut off the corner of the heath, he stopped
in surprise. At this spot two high hedge-rows ended
abruptly, and between them the grass grew rank and un-
trodden. A narrow, hedged-in strip of scanty pasture-land
it* might have been, but Hoyden's quick eye detected at
once that this had been a lane. Was it passable now ?
Just then he caught sight of a man crossing the heath at
A little distance, and riding up to him, he questioned him.
He was a farmer, young and well to do, but he spoke in
a tone of quiet respect as he glanced with shrewd criticism
at horse and rider.
"I'm almost a stranger here myself," he said, "but I
have heard these lanes spoken of as impassable. When
the line to the mine was cut, it made those old lanes useless,
BO new roads were made, aud those bye-ways have been
allowed to run to seed, as you see. I don't think I would
attempt them, if I were you ; you want a stiff north-country
pony for such an experiment, not such a horse as that.
" Thank you, but I think I will try," said Royden.
"Pure perverseness," muttered the farmer, left to his
solitary walk again. " He' sure to have to turn back."
Along that grass-grown track between the high hedge-
rows Royden rode, the steps of his young horse constantly
impeded, and its head tossed impatiently under this unusua 1
treatment.
" Where can we be ? "
The exclamation broke from Royden when, after half-an-
hour's slow riding, he reached a chained but broken gate
which stretched like a termiuus across the rough, forgotten
way. Robin, at all events, could not pass this barrier.
" The question is," mused Royden, " can I venture to
leave him here for a time, or must I turn now? I would
father go on, if I could, and see if there is any cottage
hereabouts where they remember "
The thought was broken by a rustling in the hedge,
and presently there emerged into the lane a ragged, hatlea
88 CJ.D MYDD^LTON'^ MONEY.
lad, with a look in his bright eyes, half of fear and half of
defiance.
" Trespassing ! " said Eoyden, looking coolly down upon
him. " What are you going to do with the nuts ? "
" Nuts, sir ! " the lad echoed, with the innocent look of
one well versed in falsehood. " What nuts ?"
" These," said Hoyden, touching with his riding-whip one
after another of the pockets which bulged from the lad's
shabby garments.
"Oh, those," said the boy, brought sturdily to bay,
"mother '11 sell 'em."
" What will your mother get for a handful sixpence? "
" Bless ye, no, sir; threepence, maybe."
"Well, I will give you sixpence for the first handful, and
you shall see how cleverly my dog can crack and eat them ."
To the boy, grasping his sixpence in one hand and supply-
ing with the other the nuts which Lachne cracked, those
ten minutes were minutes of perfect enjoyment ; but they
faded into insignificance when the crowning joy was given.
" If I tie my horse to this gate," said Jioyden, suiting the
action to his words in his prompt, cool way, " can you watch
and take care of him till I come back ? Don't come too
near him he isn't used to little lads ; but you've watched a
horse before now, I daresay, and, if you do it well this time, I
have some loose shillings in my pocket which may find their
^ay into yours."
The boy's eyes brightened under his shaggy hair.
"Yes, sir; I've tended horses afore now, sir," he said,
with a friendly nod. " Will you take the dog, sir ? "
" He will do as he likes, ' said Royden, as he climbed the
gate and walked on.
But the boy's doubt was soon settled, for the greyhound
darted over the gate, and was close beside his master in a
moment.
Through two or three fields Royden had walked, when
he found himself in a small three-cornered patch of meadow,
ehut in entirely by two hedges and the embankment of that
single railway line to the mines, which was the cause of the
way being so negle< ted and forsaken.
" Will there be a little nook beyond the line," questioned
Roydeu to himself, " or does it open presently to the high-
OLD MYD1) ELTON'S MONEY. 89
way ? I suppose I had better not go on from here this
evening. Ah ! great Heaven ! "
For, before his eyes, a child sat on the high embankment,
its figure clearly outlined against the evening sky, and in
his ears the panting of a fast-approaching engine sounded
with a deafening portent. Where was it ? Which way was
the train coming ? How far away was it ? How soon
would it rush over the spot on which his eyes were fastened
too eagerly for him to see aught else ? Soon in one minute
perhaps, it might be. The sight of the great engine would
give the child one awful moment of panic, in which it would
be helpless in its horror ; then the train would pass on, and
there would be no child sitting there against the evening
light, but scattered on the rails
A thousand impossibilities darted into Royden's mind, as
he stood and saw the child playing there in its utter un-
consciousness, while Death came rushing on ; a thousand
possibilities, while below all, was the awful consciousness that
human aid was powerless here. But, for all that, it was
only through one breathless second that he stood thus. In
the next he was again the man who had faced danger and
death too often to be made a woman by it, even when it
came in such a form as this and he knew that his own arm
was powerless to help or stay it.
His resolution was as swift as thought. One quick, low
whistle, a swift, firm gesture of his haud, a keen, eager look
upon his face, which the intelligent eyes that watched it
Beemed to understand then Royden stood alone ; and the
greyhound literally now " fleet as the wind " sped across
the field, and up the embankment. The impulse of the
child, as the animal darted up to him, was to fly in the op-
posite direction, and this saved him ; for in one instant he
had fallen down the steep embankment on the opposite side
of the line to that up which Lachne had sprung. To have
seen the mighty, panting engine bearing down upon him
would have paralysed the child in every limb ; to see the
hound rush towards him gave him just the terror which
urged flight, and he had fallen before the train rolled past.
Roydeu's eyes were strong and fearless, and had looked on
death close and bravely more than once ; but there glistened
iomething womanish on their lashes when he stood upon the
90 OLL MYDDELTONS MONEY.
line, and saw something scattered there, which bore no
likeness now to the greyhound which for years had kept as
faithfully beside his master as he had kept that day.
Hoyden murmured no words of praise or pity as he stood
looking down upon these ghastly fragments ; and, keenly aa
he mourned his favourite, there rose no bitter query in hia
mind, " Had the life of a neglected child been worth this
sacrifice ? " There are some minds in which such questions
never can have birth.
Royden turned away with one deep, quiet sigh, stifling
the memories of old days through which this dog had been
his only companion, a faithful and a constant one, always
watchful and always true. His care was wanted now for
the child whom Lachne's death had saved. So, struggling
bravely with his thoughts, while his heart was heavy,
lioyden lifted the unconscious child, a boy of five or six
years old, and saw a deep cut across his low, brown forehead,
and one lock of fair hair lying upon it stained with blood.
Tenderly almost as if the strong arms had been used to
such a task Rovden carried him to where, about a hundred
yards away, a cottage stood alone under a giant poplar. As
he approached it he saw that a woman was standing shrink-
ingly against the wall, gazing at him with a kind of vacant
terror as he advanced.
" Can you," asked Royden, wondering at the expression
on the woman's handsome, care-lined face, "direct me to
the home of this child ? He has had a fall, and I want to
leave him with his mother."
The woman raised both hands, and touched the child very
gently, but she did not move her eyes from Royden's face
BO full of grave and quiet kindness then.
" Your child ? " he asked, pitifully, as he watched her.
" I am very glad ; and, if this is your home, let us go in."
" I saw," she said, still without moving, " but I could not
stir. I could not run. I could not even pray. I saw him
sitting there, and the engine coming coming close upon
him. Then I saw him saved ! This scratch " laying her
finger softly on the cut " is nothing to me, because in that
one awful moment, I saw him dead ! "
" Come," said Royden, gently, but not offering now to give
the child to her ; " we want, warm water to bathe his face."
OLD MYDDELTOK'S MONEY. $1
It was he, though, who led the way into the cottage, and
when the mother had followed him in, she only fell on her
knees beside the little cotton-covered couch on which Royden
had tenderly laid down the chilcL
" I saw it," she cried again, laying a soft brown hand
upon the boy's cut forehead, as if to hide the stains she
would not yet remove. " I saw death rushing to seize my
child, and then I saw him saved ! "
Gently Royden touched her on the shoulder, and told her
what few mothers would have required to be told.
" It is not waut of love," he whispered to himself. " Poor
thing poor mother ! Will solitude work this, or has it
been a shock ? "
For a whole hour he waited with the mother and her
child her only one, that fact was plain to him without a
word ; her only one, and she a widow. Then he rose to go,
for the little boy was sleeping calmly, with a soft bandage
round his head, and the mother's wide and puzzled eyes had
found the blest relief of tears.
" There are one or two things that I want to borrow of
you," said Royden then, " and a few feet of your waste
ground."
She understood in a moment, and through the next hour's
bitter work she helped him almost as efficiently, and quite
as silently, as a man could have done.
" Such sights as this would make most women shrink and
faint," thought Royden, " but not this woman. Can hei
dim eyes have looked on such a sight before ? "
"Thank you for all your help," he said, aloud, "and for
that quiet spot you chose for my dog's grave. I will come
again some day to see the little lad. He will soon be all
ri<*ht, and I fancy he will never again push his way through
difficulties and obstacles up to the railway-line."
"Never again," the woman returned, in her dreamy way,
her undrooping, vacant eyes still fixed upon Royden as he
stood in the low cottage kitchen. " 1 have not thanked you
yet," she faltered, " I cannot."
" Your thanks are due elsewhere," said Royden, gently,
"not to me."
A few minutes more he lingered, hardly liking even yet
to leave her in her sorrow and loneliness ; and then tbi
92 OLD M YD IJ ELTON 'h MONEy.
the first time since he had seen the child's unconscious
figure sitting against the evening light, while he heard the
punting engine close upon it there rushed back into hi?
mind the motive of this search of his.
" I have been to-nighc," he said, " to that cottage beyonti
the Abbotsmoor woods, where Territ the miner used to live,
lie had a daughter, I believe. Do you happen to remember
them at all ? "
"No, no."
The woman's answer came clear and quick, and her eyes
grew startled in their unmoved gaze.
" Do you not ? I am particulary anxious to meet with
pome trace of this girl girl I say, but I am thinking of
what she must have been ten years ago. She is a woman of
thirty now, I should think."
No answer, and Hoyden went on, his gaze a little more
intent, his thoughts awaking to suspicion.
" You do not happen, you say, to have heard where she
lives now, or even her name ? "
" No, no."
" Can you tell me whether the Christian name of any of
you neighbours is Margaret ? It would help me if you could
tell me even so little as that."
Her startled gaze deepened a little, her lips shook even
as she compressed them firmly, her hands were locked before
her as if the tension gave her strength to stand.
" I have no neighbours."
" Thank you, then it is useless to ask you more." Royden
said this very quietly, but a shrewd ear would have detected
the undertone. " Good-bye," he added, and his eyes were
kind in their gaze, and hid the thoughts that lay below.
The woman stood quite still for a few minutes after he
had left, and then she turned with a shiver to the fire,
murmuring the name to herself again and again.
" Margaret Ten-it ! Margaret Territ ! What should he
want with her with Margaret ? She died many years
ago ten years ago quite suddenly she died, on the day of
that trial. He was guilty of murder, they said. Ah, that was
a double murder ! No wonder she died poor Margaret !"
The simple dreamy smile with which she had been looking
down upon her Bleeping child gave place to one which.
OLD MYDD ELTON'S MONET. 93
ewjftly as it eped, looked pitifully out of character upon the
worn face a smile of caution which amounted to cunning.
" He saved my child I remember that ; but ho
shouldn't have spoken of Margaret."
On the strip of carpet on her hearth, with her chin in her
palms and her eyes upon the fire, the woman sat for more
than an hour, buried so deeply in thought, that when, at last,
the child awoke, and roused her with its sudden cry, she
sprang to her feet with a shriek of fear, and gazed in horror
round the cottage walls.
CHAPTER TX.
Friend or brother,
He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
It was the day of the Abbotsmoor pic-nic, and Phoebe
Owen, with a care-encumbered expression of countenance,
added the finishing touches to her elaborate toilette.
" I don't know how it is," she fretted, looking at herself
iu the glass as she put on her tall hat with its pink roses
and blue feathers, " but whatever way I do my hair I always
look the same. I learned this new way from Theodora,
and it doesn't make me look any better does it, Honor ? "
Thus appealed to, Honor answered, with pleasant rash-
ness, that it was not at all a good thing for girls to be
altered by the way they did their hair ; and then she put
her head gravely on one side, to criticise the plump littla
figure which she had so patiently and brightly assisted to
adorn.
" Well," inquired Phcebe, anxiously, " what will they
think of it ? "
" I can imagine the Sector's eyes when he says, ' Phoebe,
my dear, what a very secular costume ! ' "
" You are always laughing, and seeming as if ycu weren't,
Honor," said Phoebe, pettishly. But for all that, now
that the arduous performance was over, and she could see the
startling foul ensemble in the glass, her own lips broke into
a gratified smile. " Lawrence will see that I have made
the most of the money he gave me, won't he, Honor? "
* Indeed he will ; but I must run off. Think of ma
94 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
here in my dressing-frown at five-and-twenty minutes past
twelve, and Lawrence ordered the waggonette for half-past ! "
" But, you see," put in Phoebe, unwilling even yet for
her cousin to go, " Lawrence will wait for you and not b*
angry, and he makes such a luss if I am late,, Is Jana
ready ? and how does she look ? "
" Very nice," replied Honor, shortly, for she never would
allow any of Phoebe's spiteful remarks on Miss Haughton's
personal appearance. Hard and suspicious as Jane Haughton
might be to her young kinswoman, this young kinswoman,
on whom nature had lavished her fairest gifts, had never a
word to say against Jane's appearance.
"In her temper, I mean," explained Phoebe. "There's
Lawrence calling I Here we are, Lawrence ! " she cried,
rushing past Honor and down the stairs. " At least here
I am, and Honor won't be a minute."
Without even a thought for Phoebe's selfishness, Honor
ran lightly into her own room, and five minutes afterwards
sprang down the last few steps into the hall, alighting un-
expectedly beside Lawrence as he paced to and fro waiting
for her.
" Oh ! Lawrence, I did not see you ! I fancied you would
be fuming on the box of the waggonette ."
" I chose to fume here instead," said Lawrence, trying to
assume a sternness which he could not feel while she stood
beside him in her bright and girlish beauty. " Sit on the
box beside me, Honor, and the man and the hamper shall
go inside."
With only a slight shake of the head for answer, Honot
stepped up into the waggonette, and Mr. Haughton followed
her, to Phoebe's great delight.
" I thought you were going to drive," remarked Jane.
"No," he answered, curtly. " Take the reins, Hare."
It was scarcely half-an-hour's drive, from The Larches to
Abbotsmoor, yet the waggonette was the last vehicle which
drew up before the empty mansion, where all the guests
were gathered, some dismounting and others standing
Bbout. There was Theodora, resplendent in green and
white grenadine, lingering near the dog-cart, from which.
Roydcn Koith was assisting little Mrs. Payte to alight. There
wuB ike juvial Rector, waking the sleeping echoes of the
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 95
place with his hearty laugh, while his comely wife went in
and out among the party, dispensing sage but unheeded
advice on tlie subject of hampers. There was Captain
Trent, sauntering to and fro, and vouchsafing languid in-
structions to the men-servants froom Deergrove. There
was Mrs. Trent, in heavy bronze-coloured silk, making
strenuous use of her eyes and fan. There was Lady
Somerson, courteously apologising for the absence of Sir
Philip, and making herself quietly and unobtrusively
pleasant, as high-bred ladies sometimes do. There was
Pierce, in possession of a huge luncheon basket ; and there
was little Monsieur Verrien, arranging his camera in front
of the house, and weighed down by a greater amount of
anxiety than pressed upon the rest of the company conjointly.
"The photograph must be taken first," asserted Miss
Trent. " Who will fetch Monsieur Verrien ? "
Monsieur Verrien came up, and began at once the " busi-
ness " of his day.
" Pardon, mesdames et messieurs," he said, accosting the
whole party in a vague, nervous way, " but did Lady
Lawrence say she would have the facade with the group ? "
" Yes, the fagade with the family clustered there."
" Thanks, monsieur. And now will you kindly tell me
whom I am to take ? "
He had happened now to address Lady Somerson, and she
drew back smiling.
"Almost everyone but myself," she said.
His speech passed on to the next lady, little Mrs. Payte,
in her broad brown hat and old-fashioned alpaca dress.
"Not me. Bless the man, does he think the whole
neighbourhood is peopled by old Myddelton's kindred ? "
" He is a foreigner," explained Lady Somerson, gently,
" and almost a stranger here."
" Oh ! I know all about him," said the small old lady,
with a grunt which greatly amused some of the bystanders ;
" but I wish somebody would put it to him in his native
tongue that Lady Lawrence, whoever she may be, did not
ask for my portrait."
Again the little photographer's question passed on, and
this time was intercepted by Roy den Keith, who shook hii
head and smiled.
96 OLD MYDDEJ /TON'S MONEY.
"No, monsieur," he said, in his courteous way ; " 1 toe
must be left out of your picture."
"You don't scorn the idea of being one of our family
quite as Mrs. Payte did," remarked Theodora.
He stood back, watching the little Frenchman arrange his
group, and Mrs. Payte, chatting volubly all the time, took
up her station near him. Lady Somerson and the Kector
stood nearer the photographer, apparently more interested.
" Theodora Trent looks very well in that position," re-
marked Mrs. Payte, her shrewd eyes glistening as she watched
the preparation for the photograph, "and she knows it."
It was at that moment, as Yemen walked back townrda
his camera, that Theodora, with a smiling glance, beckoned
to Royden that she wanted him. Mrs. Payte looked sharply
up into his face, and saw him shake his head ami bow.
" How kind of her ! " she said, feelingly. " She would
have you in the photograph, if possible. It will make a
hideous picture," she continued, presently, with a placid
enjoyment of her idea. " Look at Hervey Trent's lacka-
daisical attitude, and Mr. Haughton's assumption of
careless ease. That blue fabric on Phoebe's head will come
out as a huge white blemish ; and just notice the amount
of space Theodora's skirts occupy. Lady Lawrence will
know a great deal about them from that photograph, won't
Bhe ? How is she to know, for instance, that Miss Trent
made all the arrangements to suit herself, and that Honor
Craven, standing so prettily there against the house, is
laughing the whole notion of the thing to scorn ? Bah 1 I
have no patience with any of them ! "
" So I see, Mrs. Payte," said Royden, laughing. " Perhapg,
if you had the patience, the picture would not seem quite so
hideous."
" May be. For goodness sake, let us walk about till that
farce is over."
They had strolled quite half a mile from the house, when
Royden gave an imperceptible start and stood still.
"This is I have heard of this oak," he said, as they
stopped before a splendid oak-tree, on the outskirts of the
park.
Mrs. Payte looked up into his face, and then higher,
among the branches of the oak.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MOSEY. J7
" Of course," she returned, sharply ; " everything about
lid Myddelton's place has been well talked of."
" This tree must be a thousand years old," Eoyden con-
tinned, moving nearer, " and it is hollow."
" How quick you are ! " observed the old lady, as she
tripped round the tree. " You spoke before you had seen
the opening."
She was stopping then in front of an aperture four of
five feet high, and a couple of feet wide.
" What a huge trunk ! " she said, looking in over the foot
of bark which still remained, and formed a kind of stile to
the entrance of the cavity. " This hollow would dine a
dozen people. I like to see these old trees on an old estate ;
but I don't like this estate ; do you, Mr. Keith ? "
" I should," replied Royden, walking quietly on, at the
little lady's side, " if I could see it utilized and beautified ;
with a man's hand and heart at work about it, and a woman's
bright, sweet presence."
"Can you fancy it ?"
, "Yes."
" Bah ! " said the eld lady, answering brusquely Ivoyden'g
Ifuiet word. " How can old Myddelton's money cause any-
thing but evil, when we remember how it was garnered ? "
" Very easily," returned Eoyden, gazing on the empty
house which lay before them. " Can we possibly hold that
heathenish idea of there being a curse on old Myddelton's
money ? Do you believe that his wealth, if well and humbly
nsed -would not do the good that other money could; and
if, as I said, nobly and generously used return in blesings on
the giver ! "
"No old Myddelton's," opposed Mrs. Pay te, sturdily
"I remember once reading an epitaph which run in this way
"That I spent, that I had;
That I gave, that I have ;
That I left, that I lost.
do yon see how old Myddelton managed. He spent little,
BO he had little ; he gave none, so he has none ; and he left
much, BO he lost mightily. How I hate the very idea of
wealth when I think of it ! See, they are beckoning '- us.
Dinner, I suppose always the key-note of a picnic ! '*
The cloths were spread in the shade of the avenue treei,
98 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
under which a merry group had gathered when Royden and
Mrs. Payte came up.
The photograph was taken, and now there was no thin g
more for them to do but to enjoy themselves just in tlieir
own idle way, and, first of all, by lingering over the meal,
for which everyone was ready. Theodora's management of
her own personal affairs was, as usual, excellent, and,
viewed from her stand-point, thoroughly successful. She
took her seat between Royden Keith and Hervey
Trent, and was waited upon to her heart's content. Whether
all the others fared as well, signified very little indeed to
her.
Phoebe never did succeed in her mild diplomacy, so it wai
no surprise to her to find herself at a quite impassable dis-
tance from her guardian, who was assiduously waiting on
Honor, and chafing very visibly at Honor's reception of his
service. Captain Trent, too, dovetailed in his mild atten-
tions, but these Honor received with equally careless com-
posure. It was a rather difficult part to play, this of Captain
Hervey's. "With Miss Trent's presence and requirements so
persistently asserted, and her eyes seldom letting any one
of his acts escape them, his straying inclinations were some-
what difficult of accomplishmeut.
Whatever Royden's part might have been, he played it
with perfect ease, sometimes humorously, but at all times
quietly and easily. He had stories to tell now and then,
ghort and pithy experiences, which, though his own, never
contained repetition of the objectionable personal pronoun.
So well he told them, too, that even those and there were
more than one who wished to slight them and him, could
not do so ; they were drawn against their wills to listen to
his stories, feo well he told them his voice perfectly
grave, and no smile stirring his lips, though his eyes might
be full of fun that he never was interrupted, to the ruin
of the story, or had to shorten it ignominiously. But once
ie made a sudden pause, and finished abruptly.
" That wasn't the real end of the adventure, Mr. Keith,"
aid Theodora, excitedly. " Please don't imagine that you
can take us in so easily."
" You are wise, Mr. Keith," Mrs. Pajte remarked. " In
this place and this company, you never intended to intrude
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 9
a touching episode, though I do believe you would tell that
even better. What is it you have there, Miss Trent ? "
Theodora had looked with such unutterable insolence at
the old lady during her interruption, that everyone felt a
little startled by the cool conclusion being addressed parti-
cularly to her.
" Tartelettes au fromage a la creme," replied Theodora,
frith languid frigidity.
" Good to eat ? "
Theodora passed the dish back to the footman behind her
without deigning a reply. But the glance, intended, as it
was, for utter annihilation, missed its aim.
" In our young days, Mrs. Payte," put in the Rector
classing himself genially with the old lady of threescore
years and ten, " we had not found out the vast advantages
of those French abbreviations."
" Abbreviations ! Isgelee au vin an abbreviation of ' jelly' ?
Pooh ! in my ycung days we called a spade a spade, and we
called affection, folly."
Except that the sayings of such a small and meanly-clad
old lady must necessarily be vulgar in the extreme, and be-
iow the notice of refined and elegant minds, this suggestive
speech would have met with a crushing retort from Miss
Trent ; but, being so, it was only consigned to a deserved
oblivion, and Theodora graciously continued her efforts at
entertainment. But at intervals during the day she relieved
herself by wondering why that common and sour-tempered
little being should ever have been allowed to come among
them ; but was always on her guard as to the recipient of
this wonder, because she was perfectly aware in whose
escort she had arrived.
" Hervey, my dear," observed Mrs. Trent, aside to her
nephew, before they separated after dinner, " the more
Theodora shows her dislike to that chattering old person,
the more Honor Craven chats with her. You should tell
the girl what bad taste this shows ; she will desist then."
Acting complacently on this suggestion, Captain Trent,
lot at all unwillingly, drew Honor aside to speak seriously
Jo her.
" Thank you, Hervey," she said. " How good it is of
you to think of these things even at a pic-nic 1 "
100 OLD MYDDELTOH'8 MONEY.
Hervey told her graciously that of course he always
thought of " these things," and then had the mortification
of seeing her escape from him as swiftly as possible, and
straightway join a group in which the obnoxious old lady
was a prominent figure.
*' Now we are going over the house."
Two or three voices said it at once, and a general move was
made. Jane Hanghton rose and shook the crumbs from her
lap, heaving a sigh over the abundant remnants of the feast.
Pierce, who during the dinner had been worth two or three
of the other men put together, was quietly waiting on one
solitary man who dined among the avenue trees at a little
distance.
" Will he repack his hamper or waste it ? All the nicest
things here are what Mr. Keith brought. Silly extrava-
gance ! "
With her mind nnder this pressure, Jane Haughton put
up her parasol, and moved stolidly forward, as one prepared
to do her duty by viewing the house. Honor ran up at this
moment and joined the group.
" Where have you been ? " inquired Jane.
" Only talking to Monsieur Verrien. I said he could go
over the house, too, as it was open. He would like to see the
pictures."
" He can go with the servants when we have been," re-
marked Theodora, coldly.
"Suppose we make an arrangement," proposed the
Rector, "and then we needn't feel dependent on each other.
We meet here is it not so ? at six o'clock, for tea, and for
our start homewards."
"Not homewards," put in Theodora, taking the wordji
from Mrs. Trent. " You are coming to Deergove then,
please ; we want to finish the day with a dance. You all
promise to come ? "
The "all" was uttered certainly, but it was only to
Hoyden Keith that she chanced to turn just in that interro-
gatory pause. He did not seem to notice this, and the
general acceptance of Theodora's invitation was hearty
enough. Mrs. Payte, who certainly had not been particu-
larly addressed, even if included, thanked Miss Trent in *
fsrj marked manner, and expressed herseli as most happy.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 101
" Have you a licence to shoot over the Abbotsmoor estate,
Mr. Keith ? " asked Honor, as they walked on.
" Yes "
" The steward is a niggardly fellow," put in Lawrence
llnughton. "How do you think he served me last year ?
lie sent me a present of game a brace of birds and a hare,
I think and I, of course, sent him a note of thanks. A few
months afterwards, he came to me to settle a little private
matter of his, by law, and when he received im bill he
brought it to me, entreating me to remember the game. 1
did, and let the bill go. In another month he sent me a
bill of this game by a man who was to wait for payment."
" What did you do ? " inquired Mr. Keith, laughing.
" While his man waited, I sent a clerk to his house with
mij bill to wait for payment."
"You were quite equal to the occasioi," remarked
Honor, turning to join another group.
" How horribly dismal it looks ! " cried PI cebe, pausing
on the threshold of the great, echoing hall. " . f daren't ven-
ture in without some strong escort. Lawrence, will you
take me through ? "
He took her in, and returned to join Honor.
So instinctively she shrank from him, that, noticing it
herself, she tried to laugh off the gesture of repugnance.
" I am a real Craven," she said : "I must ho^er in the
Rector's protection."
And, to Mr. Romer's intense amusement, she kept beside
him through all the dusty rooms and staircases, on which
the cobwebs hung as thickly as the leaves hung upon thr
ancient trees without. But, in spite of her words, Honor
had no shadow of craven fear within her inquisitive eyes.
They reached the portrait-gallery at last, but found it
difficult to examine and criticise the pictures until they
became accustomed to the heavy semi-light.
" Mrs. Payte," said Honor, leaving the Rector now, and
linking her arm in that of the small old lady, " you have
never seen the pictures belure. Come and let me show you
Gabriel Myddeiton."
They stood before the portrait for a few minutes in silence-,
and by that time the others had joined them ; all
it would seem, to examine this one picture.
102 OLD MYDDELTON-'S MOXE7.
" "What a young face it is ! " said Lady Somerson. " Tin's
portrait must have been taken some time before he quarrelled
with his uncle."
" The date is 1860," read Lawrence. u That was one year
before the murder. He was nineteen then."
" It is a handsome face," observed Mrs. Payte, her hat
pushed back, and her head elevated that she might get a
good look at the picture; "but I thought that Gabriel
Myddelton was fairer more, for instance, like Captain
Trent."
" No," said Lady Somerson ; " he was dark. A little more
like Mr. Keith, only not so tall, nor so finely built, nor
BO handsome."
" Or, rather, not so old," put in Royden, laughing, as he
frankly met her scrutinising gaze. " Mr. Huughton, I have
never heard how Gabriel Myddelton escaped from gaol."
" Have you not ? " remarked Lawrence, haughtily, ignor-
ing the evident question put to him.
"Will you kindly tell me?"
" The escape was managed by the girl whose evidence had
gone to hang him, and by her lover, who, as ill fate would
have it, was warder in the county gaol."
"As ill fate would have it. Yes ? " said Royden, with a
curious tone in the question, half of scorn and half of
amusement.
" The man got admission for the girl to see Myddelton,"
put in Mr. Romer, noticing Mr. Haughton's surliness, "and
she passed into the condemned cell in profuse tears. She
was seen to walk out to the dog-cart that waited for her, and
then to pass back again, and out again. There was a con-
fused account of these passings to and fio, as if the gaolers
had been off their guard, taking little heed of her in her
tears. At any rate, the condemned cell was empty next
aorning. Gabriel Myddelton was gone, and tlie warder
knew nothing about it. They dismissed him, of course, aa
without his connivance the girl would have been closely
watched, as well as the prisoner ; but nothing could ever be
proved against him, and the mystery has never been solved.
Several people met Margaret Territ driving alone to the gaol,
and several met her driving back, still alone ; but the fact
femaiued. Old Myddelton's murderer never was seen alter."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 103
"A clever escape," said Roy den, with a quiet smile.
" Why, Mr. Keith, what credit you give the miserable
young woman !" exclaimed Mrs. Trent. " We know hardly
anything of the escape ; how do you know it was clever ? "
" True, Mr. Haughton favoured me with very few particu-
lars," assented Roy den, coolly.
" From that time Margaret Territ has been literally lost
to the world," continued the Rector, " and I feel sure we can
never know any further particulars of Gabriel's escape."
" Unless we some day hear them from Gabriel himself."
"Oh, Mr. Keith," cried Theodora, " please don't talk of
tuch a thing ! Come, why have we stayed so long before this
horrid portrait ; and why talk so much about a wicked felon?"
" I suppose," said Royden Keith, addressing Mr. Hangh-
ton in a clear, marked tone, " that there is no doubt about
Gabriel Myddelton's having been, as Miss Trent says, a
wicked felon ? You would doubtless investigate the facts ? "
" Supposing Gabriel Myddelton innocent," Mrs. Payte
struck in, drowning Lawrence's scornful retort, " would he
have old Myddelton's money ? "
" Impossible, even if he came back and acquitted him-
self. The money was willed from him."
" Phoebe," whispered Honor, as they moved from before
the picture* " Mr. Keith is quite sure that Gabriel did mur-
der old Mr. Myddelton. I can see he is."
" Of course," cried Phosbe ; " who ever doubted it ?"
" That's pretty," exclaimed Mrs. Payte, standing opposite
a heavily-framed painting of a young girl and a pony; " and
I declare it reminds me of our dinner. Why is that ? "
" Because it is the same sweep of park, Mrs. Payte," ex-
plained Honor. " This is the spot where we dined, and the
pony and girl stand just between where we were and the
front of the mansion. Do you guess that it is the portrait
of Lady Lawrence when a girl ? She was not fifteen when
she went out to India, you know."
" I'd rather see a likeness taken later," spoke Mrs. Payte,
curtly. " That tells nothing of what she would be now."
" We have a sketch of her taken lately," said Honor. " She
is tall and stout, with smooth black hair, and a placid,
serious face."
" I dou't like that sort of old lady," objected Mrs. Fay to,
104 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY
moving away impatiently, and leaving Honor to wonder
little at the bad taste of this speech from one who was go
essentially different.
" It certainly is a beautiful park," said the little old lady,
btopping before one of the gallery windows. " What do you
intend to do, Mr. Haughton, if you inherit Abbotsmoor ?"
" Let it," replied Lawrence, promptly.
" And you, Miss Owen ? "
" Certainly let it," returned Phoebe, delighted to echo her
guardian's answer.
" And you, Miss Trent ? "
" Pull it down," said Theodora, " and build a handsome^
modern mansion, raised on terraces."
" Wise," assented the old lady as she passed the question on.
" You, Captain Trent, doubtless agree with Miss Trent ? "
" I suppose so," replied Hervey, lazily ; " but I should
soon cut down whole acres of the timber,"
" Wise, too. And you, Miss Craven ? "
" I never thought about it, but I should restore it, I
suppose," said Honor, smiling ; " restore it, and "
" And what ? " inquired the old lady, sharply.
" And try to make the old place, and even tne old name,
honoured again."
"Gabriel has rendered that impossible," interposed
Lawrence.
"Quite impossible," assented Mrs. Payte ; "and your
idea is childibh, Honor. I should have said, if I had been
you, pull it all down and leave not one stone upon another."
" 1 declare, Honor," whispered Hervey, when the group
was scattered again, "that litt/le old creature has done
nothing but grumble and make herself disagreeable all day.
I shall tell her so presently."
" Which will be making yourself much more disagreeable."
They strolled for some time longer through the great,
gloomy rooms, admiring and finding fault, chattering and
criticising, Theodora's sarcasm excited very often by Honor'*
fresh delight over what she called tiifles, and little Mrs.
Payte popping aiways jnst into that very group v\ hers she
did not seem to be wanted.
So closely had Lawrence Haughton followed Honor
fch.ough that day, and BO merry had she been, that it was
OLD MYDDELTOK'S MOKEY. 105
g great surprise to Royden Keith, late on in the afternoon,
to come upon her seated in one of the staircase windows
alone, and with a wistful earnestness in her eyes as she
looked out over the park.
" It is a beautiful estate, Miss Craven," he said, as he
paused beside her, lookingly intently, and rather quizzically,
down into her face. " Are you wishing it were yours ? "
" No," she answered, in a tone as grave as the beautiful
young face ; " I am only wondering how any one could have
lived here such a life as old Mr. Myddelton lived. And "
" And ? " he questioned, gently.
" And wondering if such a life could ever be led here again.**
" Heaven forbid ! "
She looked up into his face, anxiously, and he met the
gaze with one of fearless confidence.
" I have no fear," he said ; " I see no cloud upon old
Myddelton's home now, and no blight upon his wealth."
Then she smiled, still looking up into his face ; and
somehow it seemed as if that gaze, or the few words, had
given each a quiet confidence in the other.
CHAPTER X.
He little thought, when he set out,
Of running such a rig. COWPEB.
THE tea-tables had been hurriedly carried in from the park
to the great hall, and the guests had gathered there in haste ;
those, at least, whom the suddenly-lowering clouds had
warned in time.
" It was very lucky we were so near," said Theodora,
looking down cpmplacently upon her thin, crisp dress.
" Very," assented Phoebe, with most heartfelt emphasis ;
" only it is a pity Honor's away."
" Is Honor away ? " asked Captain Trent, looking out
upon the fast-falling rain. " What a bore for her ! "
" Dear me, dear me ! " grumbled Mrs. Payte, moving
restlessly about. " How silly of the child to run off in that
way, with no waterproof, or goloshes, or umbrella ! "
One or two laughed, recalling the picture of Honor as
they saw her last, vv her pretty summer dress, and with the
106 OLD MYDDELTON'B MONEY.
bright sunshine round her ; but others were too much vexed
to srnile.
"Where did you see her last, Phoebe ?" inquired Ladj
Somerson. And everyone waited to hear the answer.
"I saw her last at one of the side entrances," explained
Phoabe. " I knew she was going about the park to to hide
from Lawrence, and Lawrence came up just then and asked
her where would she go, and she said, Nowhere ; and as soon
as ever he was gone, saying he would be back in a minute,
she ran off. Afterwards he came back and went to find
her. But I don't suppose he has : Honor is so quick."
" Miss Owen, if you will kindly tell me which are Miss
Craven's shawls and umbrella," said Royden, turning over
a pile of wraps which lay in the hall, " 1 will find her."
"I think," interposed Theodora, in a raised, distinct
tone, " that we can safely trust Honor to find her way
here. She knows the park well, and you do not, Mr. Keith."
But Hoyden answered lightly that he was used to finding
his way, and donning his loose overcoat, and carrying a
close umbrella and the blue waterproof which Phoebe had
given him, he started. He had a strong idea that Honor
would b.e taking shelter in that hollow oak on the outskiits
of the park, and though he had no motive for the sunn is*,
he- was not mistaken. In the sombre gloom within the bo!e
of the great oak, he saw the girl's bright face looking out,
with a doubtful expression ; as if the enjoyment of the posi-
tion were somewhat questionable, but yet to be staunchly
maintained. Royden, smiling at the wet figure in its heavy
frame, handed her the cloak, and told her she might ven-
ture to the house in that, and under the umbrella.
" I am not coming," she said : " I am thoroughly soaked.
I was wet through before I could reach this shelter, and I
shall be scolded and laughed at."
"Let me help you on with your cloak," was Roy 'en's
only response, as he held it at the opening of the tree.
" .No one will see anything but the cloak. May I come in ? "
" No," said Honor, drawing back. " I won't be seen. Go
back to your tea, Mr. Keith ; and presently, when you are
all busy starting, I'll Blip up and take my place ; then I
thall escape "
She stopped suddenly, but Hoyden guessed what she
OLD jaYDDELTOfl'S MONET. 107
wished to avoid. It was not difficult for him to imagine
either Miss Haughtou's corrections, Miss Trent's sneers, or
Miss Owen's exclamations.
'' Very well, I will wait for you here," he said, coolly,,
So, leaning against the tree in silence, he waited, while
she grew gradually uncomfortable in her snug retreat, and,
from being amused at seeing him there in the rain, grew
vexed, without understanding that this vexation was another
name for anxiety.
" Your hat is spoiling, Mr. Keith," she said at last, with
a sense of injury upon her.
"Is it?"
He took it off and examined it leisurely, while the rain
fell heavily and slowly upon his uncovered head such a
handsome head !
" It will bear a little more," he added, replacing it.
" I wish you would go back," she began again, presently;
" I'm quite comfortable, but you are not."
" I think I have the better position," maintained Eoyden,
coolly. " Your atmosphere has a mustiness about it which
I do not envy." Another pause.
" Do go ! " exclaimed the girl, pettishly. " Everybody will
be wondering where you are, and there will be such a fuss !"
" I like a fuss," said Royden, quietly ; " and so do you."
"Indeed I don't !" asserted Honor, in hot haste. "I
cannot bear a fuss. What do you mean, Mr. Keith?"
she asked, venturing forward a little in her den. " Whatmakea
you say I like a fuss ? "
" I see you do."
" You are very unjust ! " cried Honor, rousing herself
into a state of wrath which she all the time knew to be
utterly childish. "You say it just because you want to
be in the house. Please to go."
" I will," said Royden, calmly, " when I want to be in
in the house."
" You are quite wet," cried Honor, calming down a little,
and feeling very small and powerless to impifss him in any
way with her own anger.
' Yes. Are you as wet ? "
"Oh, much wettpr, of course. You have an overcoat, I
bad nothing over this thin dress."
108 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY,
A look of anxiety, swift as thought, passed over Hoyden's
face ; but his next words were rather more leisurely even
than they had been, and therefore of course more successful
" The others will be amused, Miss Craven, to see you in
there. Mr. Haughton is coming towards us now. Don't
etir yet. Captain Trent is walking in this direction too
NQW you may enjoy the pleasure of a fuss."
Without another word Honor stepped from the hollow
tree her blue cloak failing to hide the linfp appearance of
her dress and spoiled hat and coolly Royden took his place
beside her.
" How do you feel now ? " he inquired presently, glancing
down upon her.
" Hungry, thank you."
' I wish he hadn't come," she said to herself, petulantly ;
** I would rather any one else had found me."
Yet, when she joined them all, under a heavy fire of sym-
pathy and astonishment and blame, she looked up into
Royden's quiet, amused face, and so variable is a woman's
mind wished they had all treated the matter just as he had.
" Oh, Honor, I'm BO glad I did not come ! " exclaimed
Phffibe, ruefully.
" So am I," returned Honor, pleasantly, as she looked
from Phoebe's showy dress down to her own wet garments.
" This sort of thing adds considerably to the expense of a
pic-nic," observed Jane Haughton.
" Don't take any more notice, please, Jane," whispered the
girl, in real and earnest entreaty, as she took her tea, stand-
ing ; " my dress was not new, and I daresay it will wash."
" Come, Honor," put in Lawrence, " I must put you on
more than that cloak."
" I don't want more," said Honor, shrinking from his
touch. " Oh, Lawrence, how I do hate to be taken care of
in this way ! " she added, as he hovered about her. *' I like
to be forgotten. It is such a relief to feel that nobody knows
or cares anything about one."
Not by very many was Honor the only one who, in im-
patient youth, has felt this strongly, because the care they
received was not the care they loved. And they do not think
that there may come a time when all such random words will
ting with a keen, reproachful memory.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 105
" You shall have a dress of mine when we reach Deergrove,
Honor," said Theodora, looking with placidity on the girl's
limp figure. "Oh, Mr. Keith, see how wet your hat is ! it
left quite a little pool when you took it up That's through
Honor how vexatious !"
" Most vexatious," assented Koyden, looking critically
down upon the wet hat. "As an Englishman, this disastej
touches me in a sensitive spot."
"Are yon really an Englishman?" inquired Theodora,
evidently glad of this vent for a little of her overflowing but
Buppressed curiosity.
" Is it not proved by my anxiety for my hat ? Hat-
worship belongs to no other nation. Don't you notice in
England how a man's first and deepest care is always
bestowed upon his hat ?"
" Especially in church," added Mr. Hanghton, flippantly,
" Before he seats himself he breathes into it a prayer for
its safety and that's about the only time he looks really
devout through the service."
"But though you maybe really an Englishman, Mr. Keith,"
persistedMiss Trent, "youmust have been very much abroad."
"Yes. Don't you think, Miss Craven, that your hat is
in as bad a plight as mine ? It does not nearly look so tall
as Miss Owen's now."
" Phosbe thinks a hat cannot be too tall for her," remarked
Mr. Haughton, superciliously.
"Very wise, Miss Phoebe," said Royden, gravely.
" Paddy's tall hat was the means of saving his life, if you
recollect. A bullet passed through the top of his high hat.
' There,' said Paddy, complacently, as he examined the hole,
'if I'd had a low hat, that bullet would have gone right
through my head.' "We should always choose tall hats,
shouldn't we, Miss Owen ? "
No suspicion crossed the mind of any one of his reason
for talking thus.
" Honor," said Mrs. Payte, when the rain was over, and
the carriages were coming round to the door in the gather-
ing twilight, "take this large shawl of mine ; I have wrapi
enough. You are coming with us in Mr. Keith's dog-cart
you and Mr. Homer. Lady Somerson and Mrs. Komer
are snug together in the Somerson carriage, and we go KG
110 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONTY.
fleetly behind those beautiful horses. And then," added *ht
little lady, betraying her motive, " you cau stop at Tbo
Larches and change your dress."
' Ch ! no," said Honor ; " I "
" You dare not venture eh ? " inquired the little old lady.
w Theodora says she will lend me a dre-s," amended the girl.
* " Yes, so she will," remarked Mrs. Payte, dryly, " and a
nice baggy old thing it will be. Don't I see how she is en-
joying the idea of it even now ? She won't let you rival
her to-night, child. Never mind, there is a beaut "
" Mrs. Pnyte," put in Theodora, appearing at that moment,
and graciously addressing the little old lady, of whose very
existence she had all day endeavoured to be unaware,
"would you not like to change places with me for the drive
to Deergrove ? You will meet the wind in the seat you
occupied in coming, whereas mine is a sheltered seat."
"This is a thoughtful idea, of yours, Miss Trent," re-
turned the old lady, meditatively, " nevertheless, I like the
seat I occupied in coming."
" But you would be so comfortable in our carriage."
" I shall be comfortable in Mr. Keirh's, thank you."
" It is so chilly to-night," urged Theodora. " Had you
not better change your mind ? "
" No, nor my place," said the little lady, emphatically.
" I shall drive back as I drove here, thank you behind Mr.
Keith's splendid horses, and side by side with him. He is a
clever man, and we get on admirably ; now and then talking
Shakespeare and the musical glasses, and now and then
'cooing and billing, like Philip and Mary on a shilling."
No, I have no wish for a change."
Theodora's head was at a lofty elevation when she turned
away, and her muttered " Odious ! " was not confined to
her own ears alone.
"Her exertions for my welfare are unselfish," observed
Mrs. Payte, dryly, "and her motive inscrutable."
" Honor Craven was so bent on being driven by yon, Mr.
Keith," remarked Theodora, as he assisted her into her car-
riage, " that we other girls had no chance at all, even if we
had wished it."
" Which of course, Miss Trent, you did not."
" But of course I did," she pouted, declining u> see that
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY, 111
he wished to drop the subject, " only all the girls are not so
forward as Honor."
" Miss Craven." said Royden, with proud quietness, " ha
not even yet consented to take that vacant seat in my dog-
cart I wish she would."
No word further could Theodora say. She leaned back in
her corner of the carriage, and during the drive, hardly
uttered a sentence, either to her mother or to Hervey ; her
only consolation being the thought that, in the garb destined
for her, Honor Craven would present a spectacle slightly at
variance with the dainty figure which she had always mildly
chafed to see about the rooms where she wished to reign,
but which, since she had known Royden Keith, excited
every jealous and spiteful passion in her languid nature.
" There that will be our last glimpse of Abbotsmoor for
a time," said the Rector, speaking to Honor with rather
unusual gravity, as the dog-cart rolled smoothly under the
trees of the avenue ; " it is a beautiful place, and I hope
the tragedy we have been recalling to-day will be the last to
throw its shadow over it."
She turned and looked up into his face, surprised,
" Of course it will be the last, Mr. Roiner. What other
could there be ? "
" My dear," said the Rector, in a thoughtful tone, ^vhich
told Honor that something had vexed him that day, " there
will be tragedies enacted so long as jealousy and envy are
allowed to be unbridled passions. Let us do our best te
keep our hearts free from them."
CHAPTER XI.
So Love does raine
In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre,
He maketh warre : he maketh peace againe,
And yet his peace is but continuall jarre ;
miserable men that to him subject arre !
SPETTSM.
THE daylight had quite faded when the picnic party
reached Detrgrove, and the rain had made the air so chilly
that they were not sorry to see fire* in the handsome, un
homely rooms.
112 OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONET.
" Of course yon must change yonr dress, Honor," re-
parked Theodora, joining her in the hall. " Come up to my
room."
Honor was not there long. Almost as soon as the other
guests, who had been upstairs only to wash their hands, was
she down again, sipping her tea at the drawing-room fire ;
and, of all the involuntary laughter which her appearance
provoked, her own was the most full of merriment,
although she knew there was many a dress Theodora might
have lent her of which the misfit or unsuitableness would
have been scarcely perceptible, while in this it was very
painfully so.
" Theodora, my dear," blandly commented Mrs. Trent,
levelling her glass, " how odd Honor looks in that dress ! "
Theodora smiled a gentle assent, but forbore to press her
advantage just then.
Still, Honor, even in her questionable g rb, was not to be
repressed. It almost seemed as if she had determined that,
in defiance of the unpicturesque and unbecoming dress, she
would be to-night the rival whom Theodora fancied she had
p>mihi!ated ; yet such an intention in reality was far from her
thoughts. In her girlish light-heartedness, and in that
intense power of enjoyment possessed by those who are
endowed with a keen perception, alike of the beautiful and
the ludicrous, Honor's merriment was real merriment, and
therefore infectious. Random she might have been in
her fun, but flippant never ; nor did one word of unkind-
ness pass the laughing lips.
" I like to see young people capable of thoroughly enjoy,
ing themselves," observed Mrs. Payte to the Rector, as he
joined her on her couch. "Is it the remnant of an age
that's past, or is it the foreshadowing of an age to come ?
Look at Theodora Trent, the model of this age. Why, she
might have been in her present position for a hundred years,
for any freshness it possesses for her."
" The age does very well," said the Rector, asserting the
truth good-hnmouredly. " Honor may look as bored and
languid as Miss Trent when she has been in society as long."
" Watch Mr. Haughton throwing straws against the
wind," said the little old lady, after a pause. " He was mad
with Honor just now, and when he had spoken to her lie
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 116
took np a book to pretend to read, and his hand shook as I
only fancied a man's hand could shake in a rrovel. I'm glad
to see that Hervey Trent looks more in his element here
than he did about the rooms at Abbotsmoor."
" Probably because the carpets were up at Abbotsmoor,"
laughed the Eector. " Trent is pre-eminently a carpet-
knight."
" Pre-eminently," repeated Mrs. Payte, her shrewd eyes
following Captain Hervey's slight, inert figure, " and I re-
member an old Spanish proverb which says a soldier nau
better smell of gunpowder than musk."
" Theodora, my dear," spoke Mrs. Trent, acting as
prompted by her daughter, and as cleverly as long practice
could make her, " can we not have a little music ? Suppose
you set the example."
Theodora demurred, of course ; but, when her mother's
request had been backed anxiously by others, she took her
seat at the piano with slow grace, and waited for a few
seconds with folded hands, as if for an inspiration. But
Miss Trent knew well what she intended to sing before ner
mother's request had been uttered.
After her performance Captain Hervey acceded to the
general demand for one of his songs, and went through it
very creditably. Then for neither Mr. nor Miss Haughtou
understood a note of music Phoebe was prevailed upon
to delight the audience with her two-hundredth rendering
of a certain reverie, whose gliding course halted a good deal
ander her plurnp little fingers, and whose dreamy train of
thought was, to say the least, jerky ; but it was, cf course,
pronounced a pretty thing when over.
" Miss Craven, do you not sing ? "
Mr. Keith, in the very middle of Theodora's coaxing
demand for a song, had turned to the girl whom Miss Trent
had hitherto ignored.
" I am not a good singer," said Honor, in her frank,
oright way ; " I have always been more fond of trying new
Aiusic than of carefully practising."
"You read music very easily, then ?" he asked, smiling,
"Yes, that is easy to me ; but- "
" But you will sing with me ? "
* Now, Mr. Keith," pleaded Miss Trent, from the musio
114 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
stool beside them, " please come ; I am going to accompany
you."
" Thank you," said Royden, a great deal more heartily
than he would have said it two minutes before, " I am
ready ; and Miss Craven is going to sing too. We will have
the first duet we find."
As he spoke, he took up a copy of Faust, and opened at
an early duet between Faust and Marguerite a duet which
is, perhaps, not in that opera alone, but in all operas, un-
equalled in its graceful tenderness and its intense love.
The guests were silent, and some of them gathered about
the piano, listening in rapt astonishment.
" One more ! " cried Lady Somerson and the Rector in
a breath, when the last notes had died away. " One more
duet from the same opera !"
Royden turned the leaves, and asked Honor if she would
sing the one to which he pointed. She nodded brightly,
and Theodora, reading the rather difficult accompaniment
with moody intentness, began again. There was no pathetic
tenderness in this music, only the pathos of a wild and
passionate despair ; and when the last note had ceased,
Honor felt a sudden heavy sadness seize her.
" I wish," she thought to herself, with inexplicable long-
ing, " that we had snug that first. I wish the other had come
last. That was so beautiful and happy this is so sorrowful! "
Of course Theodora insisted on Mr. Keith's singing
duets with her afterwards, while Honor was very glad to sit
apart unnoticed : and when at last Royden sang alone the
exquisite tenor solo, "Versa nel mio" so much more
beautiful and tender, if well sung to a piano, than it is upon
the stage she bent her head upon the book she pretended
to read, and silenced Hervey, almost with a sob, when he
began whispering to her. But when all the music was
over, the mood left her.
"Honor" it was some little time after this, and Mr?
Payte had caught the girl standing, gazing silently at Theo-
dora and her mother " what are you puzzling over ? "
" I was wondering," Honor answered, without hesitation,
" how I should entertain if I were rich at least, how 1
ghould try to do it. What a silly idea it was ! " added the
girl, with sudden recol 1
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. I 1 5
"Very Billy," acknowledged the old lady, speaking so
loudly that the colour mounted in Honor's face. " But, by
the way, that reminds me that I have a little fortune-teller
upstairs, in my satchel. Mrs. Disbrowe poor thing ! all her
little vagaries are excusable made it, and asked me to bring
it to amuse you. All I want to know is, who's to believe
it ? You'll see how inappropriate the mottoes are sure to he.
Fetch it, Honor, and let's see what it tells us. This is the
sort of time to be silly, if one ever should be."
"Oh, yes, let's have our fortunes told," cried Phoebe,
ecstatically, while Honor ran upstairs.
" Yes, certainly our fortunes," seconded Theodora, with a
little approach to energy. " Mr. Keith, you'll have yours
told ? "
" Eemember, I do not make the mottoes, or quite under-
stand them, or at all believe in them," said Mrs. Payte, as
Honor laid the satchel in her lap. " I brought the little
fortune-teller because Selina said you might glean an atom
of fun out of it."
The toy which the old lady took from her bag was a doll
dressed gipsy-fashion, in the folds of whose many-coloured
and voluminous paper skirts lurked what the girls looked
upon as " fortunes."
She laid the little figure on her knee, as she sat in her seat
beside the fire, and made the young people wait at a respect-
ful distance. She had in her hand a tiny gold pencil-case
which she used now and then, but always unobserved.
" Now, who comes first ? " she asked. " Is it you, Miss
Trent ? "
" Yes. You can tell me mine first, if it is likely to be
true."
" Suitable, let ns say," amended the old lady, without
glancing up. "You have the first choice of the numbers.
There are but nine here altogether, so they will but just go
round."
" I choose number one," said Theodora, with her slow,
conscious sraile.
" Number one," repeated Mrs. Payte, very deliberately,
as she pulled out a dark blue fold of the many-coloured
ekirts. " This is what is said on number one : ' The hearts
of old gave hands, but our mw heraliru is hands, not hearts.'
118 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
I really do not know," continued the old lady, still withont
looking up, " what poet Selina has taken that from, but }t.a
see how inapplicable it is, don't yon ? Am 1 to read any
more ? "
" Oh ! yes, please," cried Phcebe, while one or two of the
others were silent, wondering over Theodora's choice.
" Then you choose," said Mrs. Payte, looking observantly
up into Phoebe's face, " any number from two to nine."
" Seven," called Phoebe, with an excited little clasp of her
hands ; " seven is lucky, you know."
" Seven," echoed the fortune-teller, drawing ont a pink
fold. "This is what is written on seven : ' // is in woman
as in soils there is a vein of gold sometimes which tfa
owner wots not of.' That's an idea of Swift's, if 1 remember
rightly. What do yon think of it ? "
" I don't call that a fortune," said Phoebe, ruefully.
" Now," continued Mrs. Payte, emi ling as she refolded
the pink paper, " who comes next ? You, Miss Haughton ? "
" No, indeed."
"Yes, please, Miss Haughton," nrged Hoyden, in hie
pleasant tones ; "let us all take our turn."
"I think it nonsense," returned Jane, coldly ; " but if I
must be as foolish as all the others, I'll say nine."
" Nine nine I can hardly read nine," muttered the old
lady, bending over a yellow fold. " It is a couple of lines
from Tennyson
" Dark is the world to thee
Thyself art the reason why.
I suppose," she muttered, " it isn't to be expected that any
single one will be appropriate. Now, Honor, it is your
turn. Of oourse yours won't be suitable either. S:u : -kl
institution, isn't it ? Choose your number any one from
two to eight, except seven, which is taken."
" Eight, please. What colour is it, Mrs, Payte ? "
" Don't be impatient and inquisitive," retorted the old
lady, glancing shrewdly up into the girl's bright face, as she
drew out a strip of sky blue from the gipsy's dress. " This
is all there is to read to you :
" She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed;
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
A bit from King B<u**m VI. How absurd 1 "
OLD MYPDELTON'S MONEY. 117
"Yes very absurd," said Honor," laughing; but srie
had blushed a little too, when she had met the eyes of Mr.
Keith.
" What a hit!" ejaculated Captain Trent "Give ma
as true a hit, Mrs. Payte. I say number three. I wonder
no one has chosen number three before."
" Do you ? " said Mrs. Payte, absently^ drawing out
white fold of the thick glazed paper. " We will conclude
shall we ? that it has been specially reserved for you. Here
it is. Listen : ' / am not settled yet in any stable condition ;
but lie wind-bound off the Cape of Good Hope, expecting some
gentle gale to launch me out* That's a quotation fro-n
Howell ; silly man to lie there, eh ? wind-bound off the
Cape of Good Hope."
" Perhaps old Myddelton's money has that to answer for,"
said Honor, in a tone of deep consideration,
"Why, Honor, you baby," remarked Theodora, "you
speak as if this rubbish were true. Mr. Keith, ycu will not
be so silly as to try any number, will you ? "
" I cannot settle to anything," said Royden, with gravity,
"until I know my motto. Please, Mrs. Payte, give me
number five."
" Yes, you can have five," assented the old lady, drawing
out a crimson paper ; " but but let me see, I can scarcely
detect the meaning of this. It is Byronic Manfred, I
fancy
" I feel the impulse, yet I do not plunge ;
I feel the peril, yet do not recede ;
And my brain reels, and yet my foot is firm.
"Why, Mr. Keith," cried Theodora, a few minutes after-
wards, " how silent you are over your motto ! It might be
your destiny, from the grave look upon your face."
" Now, Mrs. Payte," exclaimed Phrebe, " please read Mr.
Haughton's."
" Will you choose your number, Lawrence ? " said Honor,
rather enjoying the idea ; and at her words he chose it.
'' Number six, if I really am to choose."
" Number six," repeated Mrs. Payte, musingly, as she
ilowly very slowly opened a green paper. '* Dear me,
this ia all that's said on number six
118 OLD MYDDEIYTON'S MOSEY.
" Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries
Longest stays when sorest chidden,
Lauglis and tlies when pressed and biJden.
I have heard that verse before, so have you, of course. Well,
is that all ?
" I am going to choose a number for Mrs. Payte herself,"
said the Rector, laughing ; " and by that we shall judge how
true her axioms are. Now, Mrs. Payte, I choose four for
you ; please read it."
The old lady opened a brown fold of paper, and bent to
read, with her eyes fall of laughter.
" This is rather trying," she said, looking sharply up into
the surrounding faces. " This is what it says
" Whether she knows the thing or no,
Her tongue eternally will go,
For she has impudence at will.
To begin with, it is a distortion of Gay's lines, which were
originally applied to the masculine gender ; and to end with,
its inapplicability is as apparent as in the other cases. For
goodness' sake, burn the creature, some of you 1 "
" Mrs. Payte," asked Honor, a suspicion darting across
her mind, " are the numbers really there ? "
The old lady raised her head, and eyed Honor sternly.
" Of course they are there. Take it and see."
She was quite right ; the verses exactly answered to the
numbers everyone had chosen ; and it never entered into
Honor's head to conjecture when the pencilled figures had
been added over the quotations. " Thank you," she said,
handing back the toy ; " it is very odd."
" Honor," interposed Theodora, evidently tired of the
subject, " we are going to dance now.. You are fond of
performing dance music, so I suppose you will play first."
Honor took her seat at the piano, and at once struck up a
valse. Mr. Keith, as in duty bound, offered his arm to
I'heodora.
On and on went Honor, until her fingers ached ; then she
stopped with a rich, swift chord, and turned on her stool,
smiling, to picture the sudden stop ; but Theodora and her
partner were the only two who had kept, up so long as the
music.
OLD 3TYT>r>ELTON'S MONET. 119
" How spiteful of you !" whispered Miss Trent, coming
np to her alone. " You stopped because I was enjoying it."
" I thought everyone was enjoying it except me," said
Honor, naively ; but my wrists gave way."
<J Will you dance now, Miss Craven ? "
Theodora turned, her eagerness evident through all her
studied composure.
" You will offend Honor if you take her away from the
piano, Mr. Keith. Her musical strength lies in dances."
"And, in singing, as Marguerite," added Royden, with a
imile into Honor's eyes.
" Oh, I did that very badly," said Honor, turning swiftly
away ; " I will do this better."
And without another moment's pause, she played the
opening bars of the Lancers. Then followed other dances,
tind still Honor was allowed to keep her seat at the piano.
Once or twice Lawrence, in his stiff, stern way, proposed
that some one else should take a turn ; but not very eagerly,
for he did not care to dance, and he could be more sure of
having her near him while she played. Once or twice Cap-
tain Trent sauntered to her side, and whispered what a coo'
thing it was of Theodora ; but he had not the courage to
venture this remark to Miss Trent herself, so its only effect
was a comical expression from Honor as she played on.
Once or twice the Rector took Phoebe to the piano and pro-
posed a division of labour, but Honor knew how Phoebe
bungled over dance music, and so she only nodded smilingly,
and still played on. And once Mr. Keith, in the hearing of
all in the room, inquired coolly if it was not the turn of
Borne one else to play.
" If I offered to play," explained Theodora, in a low tone,
" Honor would not let me. She objects to dancing in boots
that are not her own."
" I see," said Royden, with a quizzical gravity in his eyes.
But in another moment he was to see quite the opposite
pide of the picture. Little Mrs. Payte marched up to the
piano, and declared, in a tone which there was no gainsaying,
that Honor would much oblige her by resigning.
" I never heard such ugly things as these tunes of the
present day ! " she said. " Let me show you what was
called dance-music when I was young."
120 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
Honor rose with evident relief and pleasure, but first she
looked quesiioningly into the old lady's face.
" Are you sure, Mrs. Payte, that you do not say it because
I have looked tired or discontented ?"
" Sure," she rejoined, tersely, and sat down at once.
Lawrence rose from his lounge behind the piano.
"You will dance with me, Honor ?"
" Yes," she said, so brightly and readily that Hoyden
" saw " a little more clearly still through the excuse of the
boots.
" Honor, how odious this music is ! " observed Theodora
pointedly, when the valse was over. " I cannot dance
to it."
" Can you not ? Oh, I can ."
Mrs. Payte was far more determined about not giving up
her occupation at the piano than even Honor had been.
She sat there, tripping through the old-fashioned airs, with
her wrists very much elevated, and her fingers very light
upon the keys ; but no one save the daughter of the house
uttered a word against the performance.
" I can dance merrily to those quaint old airs can't you ?"
asked Honor, appealing daringly to Theodora. "And I
never knew anyone keep better time than Mrs. Payte. How
kind it is of her ! "
And Honor evidently felt every word she said, for, in all
her happy excitement and restless enjoyment, she never
forgot to thank the old lady, and offer earnestly to relieve
her.
" Go on," nodded the little pianist, working away inde-
fatigably. " I like it. I don't intend to be turned out in
favour of your new-fangled style. Go on."
Honor indeed went on, and the "brighter and merrier
she grew, the more coldly supercilious were the glances
bestowed upon her by Miss Trent ; the more appalling was
Miss Haughton's gaze of disapproval ; the more Lawrence
expanded in her smiles ; the more Hervey caught himself
up in his corrections and lectures, as if he feared her sudden
flight from their midst ; the more Phoebe raised her eye-
brows with mild astonishment ; ihe more Mrs. Trent made
languid remarks of displeasure at " girls who let their
spirits run away with them ; : ' the more Lady Somerson
OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY. 1J1
Bailed behind her hand-screen, following with her eyes the
light, restless figure, which was so beautiful, despite its ill-
fitting dress ; and the more Royden Keith studied, with
quiet amusement, the changing face of this girl, who seemed
as yet to possess so little knowledge of the world which had
eet its seal upon his thoughtful face.
" You do not often see girls make themselves ridiculous,
just as Honor does to-night, do you, Mr. Keith ? "
Theodora had paused beside him as he leaned against the
chimney watching the dancers watching one especially, as
Miss Trent plainly saw. He looked down and answered
her, his eyes growing full of fun as their intentness van-
ished ; he looked down and answered her truthfully, but as
he would rather have died than answer her, if he could
have forseen how and when she would report and distort hia
words.
" Very seldom."
" That is what I cannot understand in Honor's nature,"
continued Theodora, placidly insinuating the wide contrast
in her own ; " her perfect incapacity for any serious thought
and feeling. She is rather pretty, and, as Hervey says, she
is amusing sometimes ; but she is not at all one yon could
faucy at the head of an establishment, or, indeed, moving
in any wider range of society. As mamma says " Theo-
dora was gaining courage from the uncontradicting face
" any man would be unwise to bestow a strong affection
upon Honor, if he expected depth of affection in return ; do
you think so too ?"
"That it would be unwise for some men to bestow a
strong affection upon Miss Craven ? Yes."
It was at this moment, just as Theodora smiled assent to
his words, that Honor herself came up to them, with Law-
rence following her to entreat her hand for the next dance.
" Honor, you are making yourself rather oddly con-
spicuous, are you not ? " inquired Theodora, in a would-be
whisper. " We were wondering to see you."
Honor glanced up into Boyden's face with a gaze of swift
and pained inquiry, while the soft pink deepened in her
cheeks.
" Honor bright."
" So he answered qyi/etly, with his rare smile ; but, when
122 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
the two words bad been thus involuntarily uttered, a dnsky
flush rose in his face ; and his eyes, meeting hers, asked
pardon for the jest. No one had noticed her blush, or the
sudden brightening of her eyes, but everyone could see that
no words of his had vexed her.
Lawrence led her off in pride again, and the young faco
was once more the brightest and the happiest in the room.
For a while Lawrence Haughton's jealousy lay sleeping, but
his sister redoubled the keenness of her watch, and Theodora
redoubled her quiet words and glances of contempt. By
force of contrast, Miss Trent appeared almost genial to Jane
and Phoebe that night. Jane was so harmless in her easy
chair, and Phoabe so insignificant in her small, gushing
amiability, that Theodora Trent, in her graciousness, could
ullnrd to patronise these two unhurtful guests ; only re-
paying herself by a few sleepy words of jesting contempt,
uttered now and then beyond their hearing.
Duly Mr. Keith and Captain Trent received any amount
of attention from the daughter of their hostess, and, though
Hervey was quite aware of the inferior quality and quantity
dealt out to him, he did not fret over it. He could not, just
yet, feel any unpleasant consciousness of inferiority in the
presence of his possible rival, perhaps from the fact that
Hervey Trent was too thoroughly an artificial man to
appreciate the intense reality of Rovden's nature.
" Mr. Keith "little Mrs. Pajte, from her seat at the
piano, without turning her head, called him as he passed
near, and he paused, standing beside her ; it was a lull
between the dances, and her fingers were striking only a
few idle chords " were you going to ask Honor to dance ? "
" No."
" Why not ? Because of that clumsy dress Theodora
chose to lend her, or the boots that do not fit ? "
" No," he answered, rather gravely, following the moving
fingers on the keys, " not fcr that reason."
" She is as pretty in her ugly gown," resumed the old
lady, energetically, " as Theodora in her falbala."
" Falbala ! " he echoed, laughing. " How strange to
hear that word ! I heard it last in Spanish America."
" It's a common enough word," rejoined the old lady,
testily, " among those who are not solely English. It belongs
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 123
to Spain and Italy and France don't fancy it peculiar to
South America, pray and it is more natural to me than
Ihe stupid, distorted word ' furbelows,' which these girls
use. Isn't it sad," she added, with a quick change of tone,
and a keen, upward glance, to see Honor Craven exciting
herself so childishly, in spite of Captain Trent's repeated
reprimands ? "
" Captain Trent is not wearing himself out," said Royden,
in a leisurely tone. " Captain Trent is one of those lucky
individuals who are able to stroll through life."
" And they are the wisest, too," asserted Mrs. Payte, with
unmistakable emphasis. " Why should men gallop through
life as some do ? "
" Or trip through it, as SOIPP women do ? " said Royden,
with a smile.
" Or stalk through it, as some other women do ? " added
the little old lady, with a sly, swift glance at Miss Haughtou.
" Have you asked her to dance ? "
" Yes, I asked Miss Haughton, and she refused me, as you
did."
" For my reason, probably. One evening of dancing would
leave me like the Dutch, skipper, who came home so thin
that his wife and his sister could not both look at him at
the same time."
" Ten minutes ago," she presently resumed, playing a
little louder, "I heard Miss Haughton wondering to Miss
Trent why she invited that disagreeable little Mrs. Payte
here. And on whom do you think our hostess laid the
iniquity ?"
" On me, if she did me justice," said Royden, plea-
santly.
" Yes ; on you. I was your guest for the day, she said ;
and I of course was obliged to be invited. How do you
feel ? "
" Decidedly better."
" Then now you are going to ask Honor Craven to dance
this valse ?" I remember a tune that will send her feet
flying, even in big boots."
" Why do you wish it ? " he asked, rather gravely, as hii
e^ "s went swiftly across the room in their search for Honor.
" For two reasons. She is a good dancer old we men ar
124 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
not always BO blind as you imagine and I want you to
have one thoroughly pleasant dance before we go. Honor's
height will just suit you. Go and try."
He turned at once and went, his eyes still fixed upon her in
her distant corner, and a great pleasure and anticipation in
their depths. He came up to her just as she stood, alone and
quite still, against the open door ; and he saw that her face
for that moment lost its brilliant merriment, and her beau-
tiful eyes were full of quiet thought.
" Are you very tired ? "
He spoke quietly, but his voice scattered the thought in
a moment.
" No, not tired," she said, and simply and unaffectedly
8he put her hand within his proffered arm.
" This is the last dance, I believe. Will you give it to me?"
She only smiled without a word, and they took their
places. It was a long valse : Mrs. Payte's busy fingers went
from one old air to another untiringly ; yet among all the
dancers, strange to say, it was Honor who stopped first
Honor who had seemed so restless and unwearying.
"I had no idea I was so tired," she said, her hand
trembling in his clasp ; " let us stop now."
Hoyden looked down, an anxious surprise in his eyes.
" Was it painful to you to dance with me ? "
She shook her head and laughed. It was a gesture of
curious self-reproach, and the laugh was a little forced.
" No, no," she said, " but I do not know how it was
there came a sudden pain ; swift enough, for it is gone
now ; but it was heavy and miserable, like a foreboding."
" Rest for a moment here at the. window. See what a
beautiful night it is ! "
She heaved a soft little sigh, possibly in her relief
because he had not laughed at her childish and almost
inperstitiuus idea, possibly in thorough enjoyment of the
rest and calna.
The dancing for a long time went on behind them, as they
etood in silence looking out on the dim autumn night, bat
it stopped at last.
" Are you rested ? Are you quite rested ? "
As he spoke, he touched the hand that lay upon his arm, and
the looked up with a smile to meet his questioning eyes.
JLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 121
" Quite rested, and that pain is gone."
He did not answer, but she knew that some strong emo-
tion which she could not fully comprehend, found utterance
in that one slow, long-drawn breath.
The valse was over, and Mrs. Payte's shrewd eyes were
turned from the piano. She saw the dancers separate and
mingle with the other occupants of the room, breaking then
into groups of twos and threes, with here and there perhaps
one solitary figure left out, as was her own just then ;
though the brisk little old lady did not give that fact the
faintest shadow of regret. She took her isolation so little
to heart that she found herself able to cull a racy amuse-
ment, as usual, from the remarks which her keen ears re-
ceived in an illicit manner.
" What makes you look so absent, Honor ? "
" I am not absent," said the girl, turning her head from
Lawrence Haughton when he joined her with these words.
" I said you looked absent, which is true."
" What does it signify bow I look ? " she asked, appeal-
ing to him with a sadness underlying her impatience. " I
wish you would not look at me, Lawrence why should
you?"
" Let me look at whom I may," he answered, moodily,
" it is always you I see ; and that sudden thoughtful fit after
your last valse was, to say the least, unlike you, Honor,
ind "
" Now I must go and thank Mrs. Payte for playing for
me."
" For you ? " rejoined Mr. Hanghton, sulkily. " The
thanks are due from Theodora and her mother. Leave it to
them, Honor."
' 1 Trust Honor to make acquaintance readily with low
people," remarked Theodora to Captain Trent, as she
sauntered with him up to where her mother sat. " Doesn't
she look absurd, laying herself out to that old to that
extent ? " corrected Miss Trent, uncomfortably conscious of
Hoyden's presence.
"Yes oh yes, of course," assented Captain Hervey,
obeying vepy readily his cousin's command to look at iionor.
" She looks pretty, doesn't she ? Very pretty. But ol
course you are right, Theo*"
126 01 J) MYDDELTON'S MONET.
CHAPTER XII.
Beal up your lips, and give no words, but mnm.
Henry VI.
THE offices of Messrs. Carter & Haughton, solicitors, were
opposite the Royal Hotel, in the most important street in
Kinbury. The situation was as decidedly the best situation
in the town for a lawyer's office, as Air. Haughton was
himself the most prosperous lawyer ; and the rooms were so
furnished and arranged as to give the visitor an impressive
idea of the wide and select practice of the firm. Not that
Lawrence Haughton had any partner now, but among the
old clients Mr. Haughton's offices were still the offices of the
firm, and Lawrence Haughton himself but a representatire
of it.
These offices consisted of three rooms. A small one on
the ground-floor, furnished with a huge double desk, two
high stools, two maps, two odd chairs, and two jocular and
rather idle clerks, who spent six hours of everyday chatting
together, and between whiles either performed in an upright
hand upon Lawrence Haughton's foolscap, or drewnp, with
elaborate care, essays and notes, to be read, amid great
applause, at the meetings of the Kinbury Young Men's
Literary Association.
At the top of the short flight of stairs, two rooms opened
on a lobby, and the one to the back of the house was Mr.
Slimp's office, a room in which that pallid little gentleman
conducted his own business as well as his employer's, and
very much subdued the spirits, while, assisting in the legal
education, of Mr. Haughton's articled clerks. This was by
no means an uncomfortable or meanly furnished room ; nor
was Bickerton Slimp ignorant of the art of taking his ease
there, while he hatched his mean and petty plans ; but the
Banctum of the lawyer himself was Mr. Slimp's favourite
resting-place, and on the morning of the day after the pic-
nic at Abbotsmoor he was standing there on the rug, with
an appearance as nearly approaching to ease and at-homeness
as it was in the power of his small and angular person to
casnme.
This private office of Mr. Haughton's wae a large front
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 127
room overlooking the vestibule of the Royal Hotel opposite,
and no one glancing round it could fail to be impressed by
the apparently limitless extent of the business entrusted to
Lawrence Haughton, solicitor. How many secrets he mast
have held in his grasp, touching the well-known names so
prominently displayed ! How much he must have known
of those families which Kinbury with a wide appreciation
of ancestry called its " good families ! " And, beyond
that, how evident it was that he had in his keeping money
as well as secrets. Yet the clients, looking ever so closely,
could detect no sign of lavish or needless expenditure ; and
shrugging their shoulders, would pronounce Lawrence
Haughton a true Myddelton at heart, posse-sing inherently
the old man's talent of amassing wealth this being no
means an unpleasant reflection for those whose fortunes were
in his hands.
Lawrence Haughton had pushed his round-backed chair
from the writing-table, and leaning back, with his elbows
on the arms, he began to fold and unfold an empty envelope,
an unmistakeable sign that his conversation with his chief
clerk was over. Mr. Slimp had made a movement to retire
a quite unusual proceeding with him unless his master
had shown this sign of having done with him.
" No evidence, you are quite sure, of such a name having
ever been upon the records ? " repeated Mr. Haughton,
some suppressed excitement stirring his harsh tones.
" No proof at all, sir. A young Royden Sydney wa
called to the bar in 1859, but he left the profession within
a year."
" That's no evidence," retorted Mr. Haughton, curtly ; " I
found that out a week ago."
" That is the only mention of such a Christian name,"
continued Mr. Slimp, in his peculiar tones of mingled
deference and assurance. " As for the surname, there have
been several Keiths, but not one since 1859."
" Then this journey," put in Mr. Haughton, impatiently
" has given you no further clue ? You tell me now only
exactly what you told me on Tuesday night, when you
returned from London."
" That is all I have been able to discover, sir."
Lawrence was silent tor a minute, absently folding and
128 OLD HYDDELTON'S MONET.
refolding the paper in his hands, and seeing nothing of his
clerk's wily glance into his brooding lace. Suddenly recol-
lecting himself, as it seemed, he wheeled his chair before his
writing-table again, and, nodding towards the door, took
up his pen.
Mr. Slimp walked softly across the carpeted floor, and
closed the door behind him, without a sound. He should
be summoned again, he knew, when any further plans wer
to be mooted.
Half an hour after this, Mr. Haughton opened the door
of his chief clerk's office.
" I shall be out for ten minutes," he said, " not more."
He did not glance in at the lower office as he passed, but
the two clerks heard his step, and looked out to see which
way he went; more for the diversion of^a gaze into the
street, than for any lively interest they felt in the lawyer's
proceedings.
" Into the Eoyal Hotel ! What's up ? "
" Bitter beer."
But it was no order for bitter beer which Mr. Haughton
gave, as he walked into the vestibule of the Royal Hotel.
" Is Mr. Keith within ? " he asked of the waiter.
Now hotel waiters are, as a rule, quick and observant ;
and the man to whom the lawyer addressed this question
was no exception. While he answered politely, " 1 believe
he is, sir, but I will fetch his servant," he was cogitating
to himself in a very different strain. " Lawyer Haughton
hasn't put on that friendly air for nothing. He's never been
over to eee Mr. Keith before, and these aren't his usual
grim tones."
He cast one more keen glance into Mr. Haugh ton's face
*hen he returned with Pierce, and then went on into the
bar with an unmoved countenance.
Hoyden Keith rose and put down his book when Mr.
Haujjhton, uninvited, followed the card Pierce brought in.
Hoyden offered his hand in his easy, eourteous way ; but,
though he showed no evidence of it, he i'elt a great surprise
at this visit.
During the day before, both at Abbotsmoor and Deer-
grove, there had been no concealment in Lawrence Haugh.
ton's 8U>*vinion and avoidance of this stranger of waooi
OLD MYDDELTOJS'S MOSEY. 129
others had made so much ; and Royden had felt and under,
stood the reason of this, as only a shrewd and sensitive
man can understand and feel. Therefore was this unex-
pected visit, so far, a puzzle to him.
Mr. Haughton declined to take a chair.
" I am expected at my office in a few minutes' time," he
said, by way of excuse.
Then he paused. If, when he resolved upon this visit, he
had for one moment fancied it would be easy to sound
Royden Keith on the one subject which at present baffled
him, his first glance this morning into the young man's
face convinced him of his error. Even if possible, the task
Would be far from easy.
" Our visit to Abbotsmoor yesterday," began Lawrence,
thinking it wisest to make a plunge at once, "very
naturally put Gabriel Myddelton into my thoughts. This
morning I find them returning to him, and so I have
been looking over what papers I possess relating to his
crime."
"A humiliating task, I fear."
" A very humiliating task," assented Lawrence, taking
op, with inexplicable heat, those few cool words of Roy den's;
" but I am not here with the intention of blaming him. He
is as far beyond my blame as his crime is beyond my
punishment. 1 '
" Is his crime beyond your punishment ?" inquired
Royden, with composure. " If you find him, surely you can
hang him, even now."
A flame of scarlet rose to the lawyer's brow, the very
veins of his face were swollen when Royden, from his
great height, glanced calmly down upon him, reading his
suspicion, but failing to read how this suppressed anger
was caused by the consciousness of his feelings for Gabriel
lying bare before the clear and quizzical eyes of this young
man, whom he could not read at all.
" A thought struck me last night," Lawrence had, by
a strong effort, shaken off his impotent wrath, and was con-
tinuing the conversation with as much ease as he could
assume " that Gabriel Myddelton might be in straitened
circumstances, and, if any one could tell OB where he was,
W might be able to help him."
130 OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY.
"Yes ?" questioned Hoyden, in the pause, his long
eyes fixed coolly and steadily upon the lawyer's face.
" I thought, as you have travelled much, even, as I hear,
in America, you might, through your friends there, possibly
make inquiries for us."
" I have one or two friends in America," returned Royden,
in his leisurely tones ; " what do you wish me to ask them ? "
" I thought, as I said, that you might possibly make
inquiries among them concerning Gabriel Myddelton."
" You mean, if they can be trusted in such a case ? "
"Of course, of course !" exclaimed Lawrence, hastilv,
wondering why he could not frame his words here, and on
this subject, just as he could on matters of law in his owu
office ; " I mean, if you know any who can be trusted."
" If I do," said Eoyden, slowly, " what then ? "
" If, through them, we could send out help to Gabriel
always providing that his identity were assured we ehould
be willing to do so."
With these words, the lawyer raised his eyes boldly. The
younger man could hardly answer easily here, if his visitor's
one haunting and damning suspicion were well-founded.
" Have you reason to believe that he went to America ? "
" I have reason to believe that he landed in Quebec ; but
I did not hear this until it was years too late to be of service."
" Too late to capture him ? "
Again the hot flame of anger burned in Lawrence
Haughton's face.
" Am I not trying," he said, " to help this most degraded
connection of my own ? "
But for the eager, intense desire he felt to assure himself
of the correctness of this suspicion of his, Lawrence would
have uttered no further words on this subject. As it was,
though, he would bear any words his companion might
choose to say, rather than resign the chance of some day
proving him a convicted and escaped criminal.
" I never spent a day in Quebec in my life," said Royden,
steadily stud) ing the lawyer's hard, embarrassed face, "so
I have unfortunately no friends there to whom I can appeal
on behalf of your generous plan. I have one friend, a
miner, in Peru. Shall I apply to him lor possible tidings
of your cousin ? "
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 181
"Mr. Keith," said the lawyer, in only half-concealed
jnger, " it appears to me that you wilfully misunderstand
what I wish to say. Such conduct would make a suspicious
man fancy it more than possible that you yourself are cog-
nisant of Gabriel Myddelton's hiding-place."
The one cool glance which Royden gave into the face
i>elow him, read the whole depth and width of this man's
vile suspicion ; but then the lesson had been slowly learned
before that glance.
" You evidently understand the nature of a suspicions
man," he said, with a smile.
" Will you tell me,"inquired Lawrence, with a desperatelast
appeal, " if you think you can be of service to me in this ? "
"No, sir," rejoined Royden, gravely. "With all due
deference to you, and to the law you uphold, I would not, if
I could, be an agent however remote in leading a free
man into captivity."
" You do not know, then, anything of Gabriel Myddelton?"
Nothing could more plainly have shown the desperate
eagerness with which Lawrence Haughton sought to dive at a
truth which lay beyond his reach than this persistence in
nis questioning of Royden Keith, and laying himself open
to the cool and proud rejoinders which galled him as no
rough or angry words could have done, and galled him with
a hundred times their force because they were uttered by
this man whom he suspected, yet against whom he could
prove nothing. The man too of whom though he hardly
comprehended even himself the force, or strength, or mean-
ness of the feeling he was acutely and bitterly jealous, with
the smallest and most despicable jealousy of which a man's
mind is capable meanly jealous of the face and figure so
superior to his own ; selfishly jealous of the luxuries and re-
finements the man possessed ; angrily jealous of the mystery
"which surrounded him ; savagely jealous, above all, of the
power he seemed to possess of winning a love for which other
men might labour and sigh in vain. No feeling less strong
than this contemptible and overmastering jealousy and sus-
picion could have made Lawrence Haughton lengthen this
interview by a renewed attempt to wring a grain of some
convicting truth from his companion. But he did so, and
repeated and enlarged his question.
132 OLD KYDDELTON'S MONET.
" I properly understand you do I, Mr. Keith ? Too
have no knowledge of the hiding-place of Gabriel Myddel-
ton ? Let me assure yon that your information will be
received in strictest confidence."
Hoyden's steadfast eyes seemed to Mr. Haughton to take
in his whole mind and person in their slow, haughty glanc*
" What information, may I ask, sir ? "
"Any information," rejoined Lawrence, with a last effort
of humility, " with which you might favour me about my
cousin, Gabriel Myddelton."
" When I have information which I wish to confide to
Jou, I will bring it you myself. I will not trouble you to
seek it so urgently."
" You offered, a few minutes ago," observed the lawyer,
seizing on his last faint hope of a stray advantage, " to make
inquiries of your friends in South America."
"I will do so with pleasure. By what name may I
inquire for your cousin ? "
" By what name? '' replied Lawrence, gazing half stupefied
into the cool, quizzical face above him, and wondering how
it was that every word this man uttered went to strengtheo
his suspicion, yet every glance and tone to weaken it.
" Yes, that is my question, sir," returned Koyden, quietly.
" For it is not customary, I believe, even in the wilds of an
unpopulated country, for a condemned criminal, who has by
stratagem escaped the grip of English justice, to travel
under his branded name. By what name may I inquire foi
your cousin ? "
"You know I cannot tell ! " blurted the lawyer, impotently.
" A nice mockery your offer is ! you had better have made
none."
" Then I will withdraw it," said Hoyden, glancing at the
door as a footstep approached it from without.
" Of one thing I am perfectly sure," stammered Mr.
Haughton, looking at "his hat, as if about to put it on, but
making no movement towards the door ; " no gentleman
would speak as you have done to-day of Gabriel Myddelton
and his acts, unless he had personally known something of
Gabriel and those deeds of his."
"Come in."
The knock upon the door, and Mr. Keith's leisurely
OLD MYDDELTONS MONEY. 133
answer to it, alone had broken the pause which followed the
lawyer's words.
"A letter, sir."
Pierce came up to his master with his noiseless step, and
the lawyer hesitated in his intention to leave, watching Mr.
Keith's hand as it took the letter from the tray the servant
held.
"Waiting."
" No, sir sent by a messenger belonging to lliiibury."
Lawrence Haughton's eyes sharpened not only by years
of practice, but by the distrust which every moment grew so
upon him rested greedily upon the envelope which Hoyden
held without attempting to open ; but they rested there in
vain, for all their keenness ; and one fancy, which had been
hovering tauntingly about him, laid hold of Mr. Haughton's
mind now as a mortifying conviction. Below all the quiet,
rather amused ease of the young man before him lay a will
far stronger than his own, a power more dominant ; and
above all humiliating to the lawyer, who built so great pre-
tensions on his reserve a eight so much keener, and a
knowledge so much truer, that his motives and suspicions
had all been laid bare in this interview, which had shown
Mm nothing.
Was it any wonder that Lawrence Haughton, being the
man he was, should suspect that an infamous truth lay hidden
somewhere ; and should vow within himself that he would
drag this truth to light ?
There was no sign of Royden's opening the letter, and
Lawrence had no excuse to stay longer.
" Good morning, Mr. Keith," he said, and made rather
an unnecessary show of offering his hand.
" Good morning, sir," said Royden, with a slight, uncon-
cerned bow.
Before the lawyer had reached the vestibule of the hotel,
a sudden resolution formed itself from the jarring discords ot
mistrust and jealousy which swayed his mind. Slowly he
yetracedhig steps, and, following immediately on the slightest
?i<:na! cf iis approach 'which courtesy allowed, he entered Mr.
Keith's room once more.
It was empty, but Mr. Haughton thought he would wait
for a few moments, so he sauntered over to the hearth, and,
134 OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY.
as he framed to himself the speech intended for Royden'a
ear, he stood with his eyes lowered.
Suddenly and swiftly a change came into his face. Stoop-
ing upon the rag, and stretching forth his cautious whire
fingers, he took something from the grate, and placed this
Bomething within the crown of the hat he carried.
"I see how it is," he said to himself, in self-congratulation;.
" he threw it there to burn, little guessing that the ashes
would tell secrets. I think I will not stay now."
But Mr. Haughton had, with miraculous suddenness, to
repress his smile of delight, and once more change his
tactics, when, as he turned to leave the room, he encountered
Hoyden Keith.
" I returned," he said, with a little unusual suavity in his
harsh tones, " to beg that, if you think it dangerous in any
way to move in the matter of discovering Gabriel Myddelton's
name and place of concealment, you will not, for a moment,
think of doing so."
" Danger to himself or to me ? " inquired Royden in a
tone of quiet irony.
The old bewilderment was falling upon Lawrence
Haughton's biain once more, but there was now the pleasant
consciousness of what he carried in his hat.
" Your question is odd," he said, with a curious smile.
" For whom could there be danger hut for the felon himself?"
" Oh, that is the law, is it ? Danger only for the felon
himself. That's well. Then listen, Mr. Haughton. I did
not, as you are quite aware, promise you help in discovering
his name and hiding-place ; your return, therefore, to in-
sinuate danger to him was unnecessary. But your courteous
and well-disguised insinuation of danger to myself has given
a zest to the idea for me, and I will now promise you to do
what you desire, and be myself the one to bring you and
Gabriel Myddelton face to face."
" If you do, you know the consequence," said Lawrence,
between his teeth.
" The consequence will naturally be the carrying out of
that long-delayed sentence of the law."
" Certainly. Though, as I said before," added Lawrence,
hastily, " if I knew him to be in a distant country, trying to
be a bettci- man, I would wish to offer him help."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 185
" You are generous," remarked Royden, drily ; and then
the two men separated.
" I know nothing more than I knew when I went in,"
muttered the lawyer to himself, as he descended the stairs
for the second time ; " but still I have something now which
may be a proof."
Entering his own office, without having addressed either
of his clerks on his way, Mr. Haughton turned the key in
the door behind him. Then taking his usual seat before
his writing-table, he cautiously drew the burned paper from
his hat. It was but a small torn piece which he had rescued,
and it was burned perfectly black, but upon it he could read,
in white, two written words.
" Science would explain this in a moment," smiled Law-
rence, locking the paper carefully in a private drawer, " and
tell why, as that peculiar paper burnt to tinder without
entirely crumbling away, and its whiteness turned to black-
ness, the ink should, on the contrary, turn from black to
white, and fulfil its mission still, by forming the words in its
strong contrast. But I do not need it explained by science.
Here the words stand, and that is enough for me. When
the time comes, they may be proof enough ; and in the
meantime they are safe here."
CHAPTER XIII.
Unless you can swear, "For life, for death,"
Oh, fear to call it loving !
E. B. BROWNING.
IN spite of Mrs Payte's sharp rebukes and muttered grum-
blings, Honor Craven acted upon the permission given her,
and spent much time at East Cottage, soothing and cheer-
ing, as far as possible, the wakeful hours of the invalid
whose only constant companion seemed so harsh and unfeel-
ing. Yet those visits to the cottage were by no means easy
of accomplishment for Honor. Far from being her own mis-
tress, to spend there what time she would, and come and go aa
the chose, there were continual difficulties put in her way, both
136 OLD MYDDELTON S MONEY.
by her guardian and his sister. Lawrence selfishly forbade
her to be out after six o'clock, when he himself came home;
and Miss Haughton considered that there were a hundred
things she might be doing more useful and sensible than
M dancing attendance " on a perfect stranger.
" Why don't you mend your stockings ? " she would in-
quire, when Honor, her morning duties over, would beg
permission to go.
" They don't want mending, Jane."
" Well, Phoebe's always want double mending ; so why
don't you help her ? " would be the grumbling remark.
" Oh ! let me go do, Jane ; Mrs. Disbrowe is so very ill,"
)he girl would plead, without uttering one impatient word
at Jane's proposal, though she knew that Phoebe's mending
always fell entirely upon her own quick fingers.
If at last she did succeed in getting off, she must how-
ever much she felt herself of use at the cottage be home
again for the six o'clock dinner, or incur her guardian's
hoody displeasure, and in so doing bring down upon herself
a perfect torrent of tears from Phoebe, and Miss Haughton's
blackest looks and grimmest words. So this new task which
Honor had taken upon herself was no* so easy r one as Mrs.
Payte seemed to fancy, when she would meet the girl's
bright face at the cottage window, and ask her sharply how
many of her day's duties she had left undone. The answers
always had been so truthful that even this sceptical old lady
could not doubt the truth of the one which at last took the
place of all others
"None left undone to-day, MrS Payte. I was up early,
and everything is done."
Sometimes, receiving this bright answer, Mrs. Payte
caught herself smiling into the girl's earnest eyes but only
sometimes. The answer generally met with a grunt of
sceptical surprise, and, but that Honor looked for no thanks,
her heart might have grown idle or rebellious in this task.
But it never did ; and when a month was gone, and October
was drawing to its close, Honor was still fulfilling this one
duty, her soft voice and step untiring, and her gentle hands
unfailing, in their prompt and loving service.
One afternoon, when Honor reached the cottage Miss
Haughton had kept her at home all the morning, darning
OLD MYDDELT01TS MONEY. 187
tablecloths with Phoebe, whose propensity was to keep a novel
under her work, and imbibe its contents surreptitiously while
her younger cousin worked she found Theodora Trent with
Mrs. Payte in the cottage parlour. Miss Trent had madr
her duty-call as brief as possible, and now was relieved to
feel that the ten minutes were over, and she might depart.
" I am very sorry to hear Mrs, Disbrowe is so ill ; I hope
We shall soon have better tidings of her."
So she was saying, in her languid tones, when Honor en-
tered the room ; and the cold wish, so impossible of fulfilment,
made the girl's heart feel hot and angry when she heard it.
" I hope so," rejoined Mrs. Payte, curtly. " She's a good
deal of trouble to me, as you may imagine."
"Yes, I can imagine it," assented Theodora.
" Anyone with sense can see how hard it is for me," con-
tinued the little old lady, waxing wrath at the thought,
" yet Honor never will own it. I only hope she will some
day have just such a place as mine to fill ; she'll understand
all about it then."
The shrewd eyes raised to Theodora's face had an inex-
plicable twinkle in them ; and Theodora, understanding
that Honor's conduct was deserving ridicule, laughed her
short lazy laugh, and moved a little nearer to the door.
" So Mr. Keith is going away again ? "
The words stopped Miss Trent.
" Oh, no," she said from a lofty height of superior know-
ledge ; " he has been away and has returned."
" Oh, that's it, is it ? I thought he was going again ;
but old women are not reliable authorities ; the absurdity
of their tales is proverbial. I don't wonder he came back,
the shooting hers is so good ; I don't wonder he goes away
again, the air is so vile. Mr. Haughton ought to invite
him to The Larches, Honor ; he would like that."
On this quizzical speech fell Miss Trent's slow cold ques-
tion, as she looked from one to the other.
" How do you mean ? Is Honor unwomanly enough to
try to attract Mr. Keith to The Larches ? "
" Unwomanly," smiled Mrs. Payte; " is Honor unwomanly,
you ask ? I have not known her so long as you have ;
please to answer your own question. I only said I thought
Mr. Keith would be very glad to visit at Honor's home."
188 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
" I think not," said Theodora, answering the quizzical
words with a suppressed eagerness which sounded almost
like fear ; " I happen to know, in fact, for Mr. Keith has
expressed to me his opinion of Honor."
" What a curious thing ! " said Honor, laughing. " What
was it, Theodora ? "
" He said " the words were uttered with but little com-
punction " that you were not a girl on whom any man
could bestow a strong affection. Yon were very well for an
hour's amusement, but any man would be a fool who offered
you anything more serious than a passing flirtation some-
thing, at any rate, to that effect. Dear me," exclaimed Theo-
dora, with a solo of laughter, " why do you look so horror-
stricken over it ? Others have made the snme remark
before. It is your own fault that men think you vain and
flippant ; surely his opinion need not have turned you white
to the very lips, need it ? I told you for your own good.' 1
" Don't be childish enough to undervalue what is told you
for your own good," remarked the old lady, placidly. " Miss
Trent, has Lady Lawrence acknowledged that photograph
which was so beautifully taken at Abbotsmoor the day we
were there ? "
" Yes, and she admires it very much."
" She naturally would. When is she coming to England ?"
" She will be here for Christmas, and we are to meet her
in London."
" Has she a house in London, or was it old Myddelton's ? "
" It is her own, I believe," said Theodora, the subject of
conversation making even the speaker bearable "a beautiful
mansion in Kensington. I am glad we are to meet her
there ; I've been terribly afraid of her coming down here.
It would have been awkward for her to have appointed to
meet us in this neighbourhood."
" Yes," assented Mrs. Payte. " Stay, Honor, that was
Belina's bell ; I will go. Miss Trent, may I ask you to wait
for a couple of minutes ? "
Even if Theodora had been inclined to refuse, the little
lady did not give, her any opportunity ; but she kept her
eearcely more than the allotted time.
"I wish to goodness," she exclaimed, coming in with a
heavy frown upon her face, " that servants were not, as a
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 189
class, snch heaps of selfishness. There is mine prone for her
half-holiday, goodness only knows where, and Selina moaning
for a new medicine from Kinbury, fidgeting me till I don'*
know what to do with myself. Servants have no right to
ask for holidays."
" Our servants never have them, unless we are away,"
observed Theodora ; H we think it a very unnecessary
indulgence."
" It is an absurd indulgence ! " fumed the old lady ; "and
Bee how it leaves me in this case alone in the house with
two helpless invalids, for that miserable girl belonging to the
cottage is of less than no use at all. Now what am I to do ?
I ought to go into Kinbury, but Selina is lost without me."
The faintest possible smile of contempt stirred Miss
Trent's lips. Could any invalid be lost without this
chattering and restless little worry ? she thought. But she
only said, aloud" It is very awkward for you. Why is
not the medicine sent ? "
" She wishes for a bottle of a medicine she used to take.
Sick women are so fanciful ! She thinks a dose of that
would give her a good night."
Honor looked up brightly at the words.
"I will go, Mrs. Payte," she said ; " the little trouble
will be well repaid by giving Mrs. Disbrowe a good night."
Miss Trent glanced at Honor with unconcealed surprise,
but evidently considered the matter beneath argument.
" You must not go, Honor. How could you come back ? "
" Let me go," pleaded Honor, with the old bright self-
forgetfulness. *'I will come back with Lawrence in the
waggonette."
" You are sure you can do so ? "
"Quite sure," said the girl, knowing how pleased
Lawrence would be to bring her home.
She would not go in to Mrs. Disbrowe, she said, for fear
of the sick lady's begging her not to undertake the walk,
and she only nodded a quiet good-bye to Theodora. Then
she set out, singing softly to herself in the wide and un-
frequented road, to drown the memory of those words which
Theodora Trent had repeated to her.
" What difference does it make to me ? " she said to her-
elf at last. with, a funny little shake of the head, when she
HO <JLD MTDDELTON'S MONEY.
found that the half-whispered song would not drown the
words. " I don't care an atom."
She asserted that fact distinctly twice over ; and yet A
faint, tremulous pain seized the girl when Eoyden Keith,
in sporting-dress, and with his gun upon his shoulder and
his dogs around him, came through a gate before her, and
out into the road.
" He the sight of him made me feel very angry ; I dislike
him so l"she said, reasoning with herself in marvellous
wisdom, as the tremor passed and the flash of vivid colour
faded. "I hope he will not wait for me I do dislike him so !"
It was an unnecessary speech, because she could plainly
see that Royden had not only waited, but was coming
towards her. He had a smile of pleasure on his face when
they met, but, before that, it had worn the sorrow of
thorough disappointment. Every few days since his dog
had saved the life of that child who lived in the solitary
cottage among the green lanes, Royden had paid the mother
a visit. Bat these visits though his voice was good tc
hear, and his face good to see in her gloomy home, and
though his thoughtful gifts were luxuries, and his tender-
ness to the little child was now the little fellow's one idea of
happiness brought a growing gloom instead of brightness
to the mother's face. And this very day he had found the
cottage locked and empty, though on his last visit no
mention had been made of the probable departure,,
Royden mused deeply over the circumstance, recalling
how, on that last visit, he had once again talked of
Margaret Territ, and had noticed with what eager, petulant
haste the mother had turned aside the subject, hurrying to
say, as she had said before, that she had no neighbour
Margaret no neighbour at all and that she wanted none.
Yet on the day afterwards she had left, and had taken her
child no one knew whither. How could Royden help musing
upon this, and feeling that the one clue which he had for
ft moment held within his hand, was lost again ? Still
the smile broke in his eyes as Honor came very lingeringly
up to meet him.
" Not going into Kinbury alone, are you, Miss Craven ? *
he asked, as his hand closed firmly over hers.
* Yes/' aid Honor, and she told him simply why.
OLD MYDDELTON 8 MONET. 141
" But this should not be," he objected, anxiously, as he
made a sudden stop. " You cannot possibly walk back.
Let me send the medicine out to East Cottage."
" No, thank you," returned Honor, proudly ; I will go,
because the commission was given to me, and I can come
home with my cousin. He has the waggonette in town."
Royden said no more. He could see how firm the girl's
resolution was, and, if he could not also see how delighted
she was with an excuse for displaying this pride, which was
anything but natural to her, why, it was not very much to
be wondered at, considering how lit tie he knew of the private
confidences of Miss Theodora Trent.
" I felt perfectly abashed when you began to talk to me of
business in town, with that very business-like air, Miss
Craven," he remarked, as they walked on, side by side, in
Bpite of Honor's proud and ineffectual little efforts to lea^e
a space of unoccupied highway between them. "Your tone
conveyed an unmistakable rebuke to me ; I began to feel
overwhelmed with shame at being only 'on pleasure bent.'"
Honor, feeling the incumbrance of unfamiliarity in her
new armour of pride, naturally made a strenuous effort to
appear very much at her ease therein.
" Captain Trent considers shooting very hard work," she
said, with her eyes far on before her, and a general ex-
pression of entire ease and indifference. " I dislike him
so," she added to herself again, most persistently, and try-
ing to take intc her face and figure an evidence of this.
"Then I ought to congratulate myself, I suppose," he
Baid, with a srnile, " that this will be for a time my last
day's hard work. I am going away to-morrow."
Angrily and silently Honor framed the words in her own
mind, " I am very glad very glad indeed." But for all
that, there passed a little quiver across her lips, and for an
instant the steep'es of Kiubury and the long stretch of
white highway were wrapped in heavy mist. Then she
epoke with quiet unconcern.
" You must be very glad. Yours is rather a solitary life
here."
" Mine is always a solitary life."
By mistake most mortifyingly by mistake she looked
op to meet his eyes.
142 OLD MYDDELTON S MONET.
" I hope not," she said ; and that was by mistake too.
" It always has been," he answered, very low ; " not quit*
idle, and not unhappy, but always solitary. Within the last
few months there has dawned upon me the possibility of
its being different a far-off possibility, but bright and beau-
tiful beyond my dreams. This is since I knew you, Honor."
" He said you were not a girl on whom any man conld
bestow a strong affection." Honor had no need to bring
these words from her memory, to array them in giant
strength against those quiet words he uttered ; the smart
was too recent. Her eyes looked clearly on before her
still, and her lip curled scornfully ; but the eyes did not
venture to meet his, and the lip curled tremulously, as if
its scorn were an effort.
" Miss Craven, I want to ask you if you will come and
see my home. Mrs. Trent has offered to visit me, and to
bring her daughter and her nephew. I had only to accept
their kindness ; but I would plead for yours. They are
coming only for one day. Will you let me, for that one
day, entertain in my home the only one in all the world
who can make the home beautiful for me ? "
" He said you were very well for an hour's amusement,
but that any man would be a fool to offer you anything
more serious than a passing flirtation."
Once more, with deathless force, the memory came and
crushed the power of those earnest words he uttered. If
only it had not been just in this hour that she had chanced
to meet him !
" Thank you, Mr. Keith, but I think I will not come."
He stopped for a moment in his walk, looking down, with
searching earnestness, into her face. It was such a pure
and innocent face, so thoughtful as well as bright, so quick
to read truth and earnestness, so thoroughly true itself, that
he knew he could trust the answer he should read there.
" He said you were not a girl on whom any man could
bestow a strong affection." Those words were in burning
letters before her wide and angry eyes ; at that moment he
looked down und read his answer.
For many minutes after that they walked in silence;
then, on the outskirts of the town, Royden offered his hand
"It is good-bye, I suppose, Miss Craven. I will not
OLD MTDDELTON'S MONEY. 145
tease yon by again asking you to come with Mrs. Trent ,
but, if you change your mind and come, you will makt
me very happy for that one day at least."
" You are very well for an hour's amusement that's
all." With those words surging in her heart, Honor
answered very easily
" Thank you again, Mr. Keith ; but there is no likelihood
of my changing my mind, so I will say good-bye."
He raised his hat, and turned into a shop near which
they had paused, his dogs following him, while Honor
walked on slowly up the quiet street. The young woman
in the small saddler's shop never guessed how little the
gentleman needed the dog-collar he bought. She knew
him well by sight, and had often looked out admiringly upon
him as he passed the window. He looked very handsome
DOW, standing beside the counter, examining the collars in
silence, and she was glad he took a long time to choose
one. But her warm heart would hardly have been glad,
could she have read aright the sorrow hidden at that
moment under the heavy lashes of his eyea.
While he lingered here for Honor's sake, she walked on
through the town, clinging childishly and eagerly to one
thought
" He said it ; he did say it. Theodora told me so. It
doesn't matter that he does not look as if he would think
it. He did say it. Theodora told me so."
The two junior clerks, who nourished for Honor, in good-
natured rivalry, a harmless and romantic passion, sprang
from their stools when they saw her enter Mr. Haughton's
office, and volunteered, in a breath, to go themselves, when
she told them, after her pleasant greeting, that she wanted a
messenger sent with a note to a certain surgery.
" I will wait in Mr. Haughton's room," she said, " for
the answer."
She had no sooner entered the lawyer's private office than
Mr. Slimp followed her, with a bland apology for his
master's absence
** Mr. Haughton was summoned to a client who lives at
least seven miles away, Miss Craven, and I know it is his
intention to drive straight from there, without returning
here again."
144 UU> MYDDELTONS MOSEY.
In vain did poor Honor try to hide her disappointment.
" I suppose there is a train this evening," she said, taking
np a time-table with fingers that trembled with nervousness.
" The last train which stops at Statton, leaves at 4.3< k ,
Miss Craven," rejoined Bickerton Slimp, with great officious-
ness, as he wheeled round Mr. Haughton's armchair for her,
" and it is now after five. How may I assist you ? "
" Thank you, but you can be of no assistance whatever,"
said Honor, moving away from the offered chair.
" If I may take the liberty of suggesting that I walk
back with you," proposed Bickerton, smiling.
" But you may not take the liberty," said Honor, with
quiet unconcern.
"I fear, Miss Craven," smiled the little clerk, insinuatingly,
as he rubbed his hands softly together, " that I must be rude
enough to enforce my escort upon you. Mr. Haughton would
never forgive me, if I allowed you unprotected to "
" Send over to the hotel, if you please," interrupted
Honor, " and order a fly for me."
Her tone was quite gentle, and even betrayed a little
of the timidity she felt, but there was in it a note of
such unquestionable though quiet authority that Bickerton
Slimp turned and left the room at once to obey her orders.
Whereabout, on his way to the hotel, another resolution
crossed his mind, he could not himself have told.
All through his a 1 sence Honor lingered at the window
where she had taken her stand when Mr. Slimp had in ited
her to the fire, and some one opposite, whom, in her absent
mood, she did not notice, saw her, and presently she was
aware that the bustling figure of Mr. Haughton's chief clerk
well known to him joined her at the window, evidently
to tell her something which brought a startled fear into
her face.
Prompt in all he did, Royden Keith walked downstairf
and out into the hotel yard, from which he ' ad watched
Mr. Slimp emerge. A few steps brought him to where one
of his cwn grooms stood chatting with an ostler, and a few
words explained his question.
" Mr. Slimp, sir," replied the ostler, touching his hat at
every other word, " came over just to say he supposed we
Lad no fly at home just now."
OLD MYDDELTON 8 M01HSy 145
* And had you?"
" Yes, sir."
" Do you happen to know if Mr. Haughton jg at his office?"
" He is not, sir. He drove away early to-day. 1 took the
carriage round myself, and he said he should riot be back."
Rojden walked straight to Mr. Haugh ton's office, and
upstairs to Lawrence Haughton's private room.
"Miss Craven," he said, not noticing Mr. Plimp's dis-
comfiture at his appearance, nor seeming to notice how she
trembled and shrank back, as if afraid of herself now that
he had appeared, " I came across to ask you if 3 ou will take
a seat in my dog-cart. I am sending it " with the refine-
ment inherent in him, Royden ignored the proposal of going
himself " into Station, and my man can give the medicine
in at East Cottage, and drive you on to The Larches. I am
afraid they will be anxious at both places until you arrive,
and so is it not a pity to linger here ? "
" I was waiting for a fly," said Honor, her quiet voice falter*
ing a little ; " they are out at present, so I am watching for
one to return."
" There is a fly in the hotel yard now, at your service, if
you prefer it," said Royden, without a glance towards where
Mr. Slimp stood, cowering a little in his miserable attempt
at ease. " Do you prefer it ? '
" Mr. Slimp told me he understood," said Honor, watching
curiously the face of her guardian's clerk, " that they were
engaged, and I could not have one."
" Mr. Slimp told you so," returned Royden, with calm
irony, ^ but did not understand so. You shall go as you
choose, Miss Craven. Do you prefer a fly ? "
" Yes, if you please," said Honor, a mist of tears gather,
ing at last in her eyes ; so like a child she felt just then,
because she longed to let him decide for her and act for her,
yet rebelled against this longing, tearful petulance.
" Mr. Slimp," said Royden, " will go across again, and
this time will bring you the fly."
Not very comfortable were the feelings of Mr. Bickerton
filimp as he left the office, his only relief being the discovery
that Mr. Keith was following him.
By the time the fly was ready to leave the hotel yard,
Honor was at the outer door of her guardian's offices, but
K6 OLD XYDUELTON S MONET.
her heart fell to eee that it was Bickerton SI imp who stood
beside the hired vehicle, waiting for her. Just as she had
taken her seat, however, Mr. Keith came up.
" Is it so ?" he asked, closing the door quietly in the
clerk's very face, as he was on the point of entering ; " is it
go, Miss Craven, that you need no escort now ? "
"None," she said eagerly.
" I think," he reflected, in his leisurely tones, " that it
hardly seems worth while to send my carriage out, now that
this is going ; and so may I beg you to allow my man a seat
on the box here ? He shall be no hindrance to you a little
help, perhaps, in guiding and arranging with the driver."
" Thank you," said Honor.
" He is here now, and will be much obliged for the seat,"
observed Royden, as he stepped back from the closed door
and raised his hat. Then, with great relief, Honor watched
Hoyden's valet mount the box before her.
" Stop nowhere on your way, Pierce, even for a minute."
"No, sir."
The fly drove on, and Royden turned away, with just one
glance of coolest scorn, not unmixed with amusement, at the
baffled little clerk. It was a look which recalled to Bicker-
ton Slimp that (to him) unpleasant evening at the Myddel-
ton Arms, when, after his severe castigation, he had been so
coolly followed by those long grey eyes.
" I haven't forgotten," muttered Bickerton, clenching hia
fists, as he mounted the office stairs again ; " and this will
make me doubly remember. I shall be more than even with
'aim yet more than even."
The threat was heavy and portentous, so it was small
that the wiry little form snook under it
CHAPTER XIV.
Thousand serfs do call me master
But, love, I love but thee. E. B.
HONOB OaAVEK, come with me to-day to call upoa
friend at a distance. Mrs. Disbrowe provokes me beyond
OLD MYDDKLTON'S MONET, 14?
endurance by being too ill to make herself useful in any
way. I shall be at the station at one o'clock. Mind you
are punctual ; I haie unpunctuality, which is only another
name for insult. Never mind about your best bonnet, but
be sure you have on a clean collar.
EDNA PAYTE."
Honor, laughing a little over this letter, went to seek
Miss Haughton and beg the holiday.
" If you like to lower yourself by being at the beck and
call of every old woman in the village," remarked Jane, with
a not very strict adherence to fact, " I have nothing to say
against it. Please yourself."
" Thank you," said Honor, her very tone betraying Low,
for her, the chiefest and purest pleasure was won by pleasing
others.
"Going with old Mrs. Payte !" exclaimed Phoabe, when
she found her cousin dressed to start, and surreptitiously
enjoying bread-and-butter beside the kitchen fire. " Well,
I do wish you joy, Honor ! And going without your
luncheon too ! ''
" Yes ; and without the faintest idea of where I'm going,
or whom I am going to see," observed Honor, gravely
discussing her mild repast.
" How lovely you look ! " blurted Phoebe, unable to
restrain her admiration.
" Good-bye, little Frau."
*#**
Mrs. Payte was impatiently pacing the station platform
when Honor arrived, and she turned sharply on the girl with
a reprimand. But somehow the anger left her eyes when
they rested on the beautiful face and figure.
" I don't know how it is," she mused, half closing her
shrewd eyes ; " Theodora Trent dresses more handsomely
and expensively, and Phoebe Owen more showily, yet they
never look as Honor does ; she is like an exquisite picture."
" Of course you're late," she remarked, aloud. " It's old-
fashioned to be punctual. Well, never mind ; next century
it will be old-fashioned to be late. Now, here's the train.
Find me a corner seat, with my back to the engine."
" What's the matter ? " asked the little old lady, from her
H3 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
corner seat, as the train rolled on. " Is my bonnet all on
one side ? "
" No, indeed," said Honor, ashamed of being canght in her
/mg gaze ; " I was only thinking how very nice you look."
"Ah, I thought something surprised you," observed Mrs.
Payte, with a complacent glance into the window beside her,
as if it were a mirror. "You miss my brown hat. I left
it at home for to-day. It's against my principles to wear a
brown hat in Friesland. You know what happened to the
traveller who did ? "
" No," said Honor, smiling, " I don't indeed."
" Well, then, you ought to know it, though I can't say
Jhat I do. At any rate he tried to go through Friesland in
ft brown hat, and he couldn't ; but whether he escaped with
his life or not I really forget."
" What do they wear in Friesland, then ? "
" Wear ! , It would take me all our journey to tell yon.
Knitted caps ; then high silk skull-caps ; then metal turbans,
and then large flaunting bonnets. " What's the use of laugh-
ing ? It's the custom of the country."
"Do you know I should have fancied" and then
Honor stopped, blushing.
" Fancied what ? "
" That you," resumed Honor, Daringly, thongh the shy
blush deepened, " would have been the very one to choose a
brown hat for Friesland, just to show the Frieslanders how
little you cared for their option."
" Should you ? " questioned the old lady, very slowly, as
she favoured Honor with a long and trying gaze. " That
partiiularly brilliant idea of yours is founded on the fact of
my going to the Abbotsmoor pic-nic in my gardening hat
and gown. How very little discrimination children possess^
Now amuse yourself; I want to read the deaths."
" Langhain Junction ! Change here Jw-"
" Oh, my goodness, Honor ! " cried fp^. Payte, rousing
herself in great excitement. " Perhapswe have to change
too. (ruard, guard ! "
The guard came up to the carriage door, too much
accustomed to the frantic excitement of lady passengers even
to smile.
" Do we change here for Westleigh Westleigh Towers ?
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 1 49
I don't think this was the name of the station, and yet 1
forget."
" You can reach Westleigh Towers from here," the guard
laid politely, " hut it's a very long drive, ma'am. This train
Btops at Westleigh, two stations on ; that's best for you.
" We are to be met, so pray direct us rightly," observed
Mrs. Payte, settling herself in her seat again.
" If the carriage from The Towers is to meet you, miss,"
the man said, addressing Honor now, "it will be at West-
leigh station. It's often there, and they wouldn't be so silly
as to send here, unless it was to meet a train that went no
further than the junction."
" Thank you."
" How officious those railway men are ! " remarked Mrs.
Payte, pulling up the window sharply. " Why didn't he say
* Yes 'or ' No ' at once, and have done with it ? There,
don't argue for them, pray. Here are the papers full of
arguments except the deaths. Now look out for our station.
What ! " she cried, when Honor roused her presently
" Westleigh already ? Are you quite sure ? Make in-
quiries."
Honor pointed to the name, painted in huge letters on a
board above the platform.
" Oh, nonsense ; one can't trust those things," grumbled
the old lady, fussily. " Ask a porter."
Honor asked a porter, her eyes full of irrepressible laugh-
ter. Yes ; that was Westleigh, and a carriage was waiting.
Honor looked a little curiously at this carriage when she
saw it outside the station gate. It was a long barouche, and
the coachman on the box, and the footman who held the door
were dressed in a handsome livery of white and green.
"I have Where have I seen that livery before ?"
thought Honor. " Mrs. Payte, have I ever seen this carriage
at your door ? '" she asked, as they drove on, the servants
being so far before them, in the long carriage, that there
was no fear of the conversation being heard.
" Never."
"Have I seen the servants at your cottage?" she con-
thaued, still puzzled.
"No ; what should bring them to my cottage ? My being
met so to-day is no proof that I' te a visiting list of aristo-
150 OLD MYDDELTON 8 MONET.
crats ; don 't imagine it. I know no more of Westleigh
Towers at this moment than you do ; but I like the owner
of it, and when he asked me to go to-day I said I would.
There's no mystery about the thing at all. Where are we
turning ? Oh, this, I suppose, is the park."
** I I wish I had not come," Honor faltered, nervously,
as she gazed before her.
For miles the park stretched around them, wooded and
undulated, crossed by its silvery stream, and necked by its
roaming herds of deer ; but almost close to them rose The
Towers, built in solid stone, and with the faultless propor-
tions of the best time of Gothic architecture ; and Honor's
eyes were fixed upon one figure, standing then upon the
wide steps, waiting for the carriage.
" Mrs. Payte," she said, below her breath, " whom have
you come to see ? "
" Mr. Keith, child. Don't you see him ? "
" He lives here then, alone ? "
" He lives here, certainly," returned the old lady, with a
grim little smile. " As for ' alone,' that's a question I can't
answer. I have heard something about an old lady who
lives with him ; but whether its true or not, and whether, if
it's true, she's any relation or not, I'm sure I cannot say.
We may possibly see her to-day."
" I wish I had not come."
Fortunately Mrs. Payte did not chance to hear that last
remark, for she was fussily preparing to alight ; snd now
Hoyden Keith stood beside the carriage-door, and Honor's
hand was in his.
" I am so glad to see you," he said, with quiet heartiness.
" How d'ye do ? You seem to have a house full of visitors,"
observed Mrs. Payte, in a breath, as she glanced towards the
windows.
" Only old friends whom you have met before."
" Oh ! "
The news seemed to mollify the old lady considerably, and
she walked placidly into the midst of these " old friends,"
more than one of whom had stared with a feeling deeper and
more dangerous than curiosity, to see her driving up in such
Btyle, and bringing Honor with her. Theodora Trent turned
from the window, with he/ teeth tight upon her under-lip.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 151
u For her to come ! " she thought. " How meanly it has
been arranged ! "
" Theo, my dear," whispered her mother, startled, " that
horrible little woman's sharp eyes are upon you, and I believe
she would tell anything to either Mr. Keith or Hervey. Don't
let her have cause to say you are jealous, my dear. Shew
your superiority over Honor. She will hardly know how to
conduct herself in such a magnificent place as this, while you
will show yourself quite at home."
But even this delicate maternal compliment could not
soothe Theodora's ruffled feelings, and she had great difficulty
in regaining her calm and gracious bearing. She felt baffled
and angry, as she had never felt before in all her life. For
weeks she had been looking forward to this day ; and so
strongly had she hinted to Mr. Keith that she should have
more pleasure in her visit if she did not meet her own rela-
tions at his house, that she felt quite sure she should not be
subjected to the mortification of seeing Honor there. Yet
now, just when the pleasure of the day was beginning,
that odious old woman with whom Miss Trent never
had had, and never could have, a moment's patience
had been received as an esteemed guest, and had brought
Honor.
What a day it was ! When Honor described it that night
to wondering, envious little Phcebe, the description read like
a page from the Arabian Nights.
" I really cannot tell why it seemed so beautiful, and bright,
and pleasant. It was Mr. Keith's doing, I suppose, for after
all, the lovely rooms, and pictures, and flowers, and silver, and
china, and the lots of servants and space, were not the real
cause. The laughter and enjoyment were quite real. Every-
body did exactly what they liked ; and in the park a band
played splendidly all the time. Yes, it was Tery pleasant,
and I suppose Mr. Keith made it so."
Honor was right. The real pleasure of the day was owing
far more to the host than to the beauty or the luxury of hia
house ; yet few of the guests could have defined any more
distinctly than Honor did how this could be.
*' Keith," said Sir Philip Somerson, shading his eyes with
his hand, as he stood upon the steps before the chief entrance
to The Towers, and looked across to a distant wooded ppct in
lt>2 OLD MYDDKLTON'S MONET.
the park, " there is a string of people passing quite a crowd
What does it mean ? "
" They are the mill-hands," said Royden, " going home."
" What ! making a thoroughfare of your park ? "
" Yes -, it saves them quite a mile, and is a pleasant walk."
"By Jove, yon are a reckless fellow to allow it ! " ex-
claimed the baronet, though he watched the passing figures
with a good deal of interest. " They will take all kinds of
liberties presently, and expect you, I should not wonder, to
throw the whole park open to them perhaps you do ? "
" Now and then, in summer-time," said Royden, laughing
at the abrupt question. " To see their enjoyment of that
day is worth something, I can assure you."
" Bad precedent," observed Sir Philip, vexed to find that
his words would not sound so sharp as he meant them to do.
" I once threw open Somerson Park for an excursion, and
the snobs cut off five hundred of my young trees for walking-
sticks. I have kept my grounds to myself since then."
" The cases are different, Sir Philip. They were strangers
to you, and most probably not the poor."
" I suppose you mean to insinuate," laughed the baronet,
"that these poor fellows, with their overworked wives, and
children, and sweethearts, would scorn to take advantage of
A patron they were fond of ? Wait and see."
He strolled away then, with the rest of the company, enjoy-
ing a little desultory chat here, and music there; now a game,
at which he would laugh as heartily as a boy, and now a grave
discussion on a work of art or scientific specimen.
" Mr. Keith," called Lady Somerson from one of the
mul'.ioned windows, "that sandy bay would be a favourite
resort of mine, if I lived here."
" I fancy not," said Royden, joining her, "for you would
soon learn its treachery. There are times when the tide
oomes sweeping into that bay with an almost sudden rush.
It is two miles in width ; and, unless you can be quite sure
vf the tide, and have a fleet horse, it is dangerous to venture
there. I once rode home that way from the junction, when
the train did not come on to Westleigh, but my horse was
fresh and the tide on the ebb."
" Touwill surely never do that again, Mr. Keith," put in
Mrs, Payte. "Just fancy anyone standing at this window,
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 153
and watching you start to cross those sands. You know
that a couple of miles is not accomplished in a breath, how-
ever fleet the horse may be ; and a year's agony might be
condensed into five minutes, for anyone watching you from
here anyone who cared for you."
"There is no fear," said Royden, laughing.
" No fear of your riding home along the coast again,"
smiled Theodora, " or no fear of anyone being frightened to
see it ? "
"That's it," laughed Sir Philip. "Keith knows that
only a wife would be frightened, so, to save her fear, he will
not bring a wife here at all. He says, like Benedick, ' One
woman is fair, yet I am well ; another is wise, yet I am
well ; another virtuous, yet I am well ; but, till all graces
be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace."
Is not that it, Keith ? "
" Yes."
" But will you ever find such a one ? " inquired Mrs. Trent,
with an effort at motherly interest, and a struggling effort,
too, to discriminate between the jesting and the earnest.
" Such a one as whom ? "
"I mean " began Mrs. Trent, in reply, but then halted.
" We all mean," interposed Mrs. Payte, without any hesi-
tation at all, " that we are dying with curiosity to know what
sort of a wife you intend to bring to this matchless home."
" ' Eich she shall be,' " quoted Hoyden, his eyes full of
laughter as he looked down into the little lady's eager face ;
" what comes next ? Oh, I know ' wise, or I'll none ; vir-
tuous, fair, mild, noble, of good discourse, an excellent musi-
cian, and her hair shall be what colour it shall please God.'"
" She is to be rich to begin with, is she, Mr. Keith ? "
smiled Theodora, feeling herself, in that respect, at least, the
only eligible person present.
"Yes, rich first of all. It is a word with a wide meaning,
Miss Trent. That gong is summoning us to tea ; will you
come?"
They saw again that he wished to put a stop to the con-
versation, and so they sauntered on, talking of other things.
At the far, dim end of the picture-gallery, Honor stood
alone, gazing in rapt admiration on a marble statue of Leda
bending over the water's brink and looking down with
154 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
wondering earnestness upon the graceful swan which bore to
h^r the spirit of the monarch of the gods. A light and
faultless figure, with hands clasped and head bent forward,
pausing among the flowers on the water's brim, listening,
yet starting back a little, hesitating, yet snaling coyly ;
pleased almost as if the Olympian deity had wooed her in
his own form. Honor stood with her back to the window ;
and, through the stained glass above her, fell a richly-tinted
light upon the chiselled figure ; so beautiful, she thought, so
passing beantiful ! But some one, advancing along the car-
peted gallery, saw the rich warm light lie on the living h'gure
too, and gave no thought to the beauty of the lifeless one.
" Miss Honor, why did you creep away from us while we
gtood talking a few minutes ago ? "
" I wanted to look once more at that, 1 ' she eaid, daintily
leading Royden's eyes from her face, where she felt the colour
rising, hard as she strove to prevent it.
" And you were weary of our talk," he said, with gentle-
ness ; "it shall never weary you again. Of my own will I
would not have mentioned that subject to-day. Since you
and I walked into Kinbury together that afternoon, even a
thought of marriage has never entered my heart. It never
can again. You know the answer to all their jesting ques-
tions. You know whom I love, and whom alone I could
ever ask to be my wife, and live with me in this solitary
home. You have told me, Honor, that this longing of
mine is never likely to be fulfilled, and, knowing this, you
understand what a lonely life mine will be. Is it not so ?"
Oh, why had he come to her? Why had he come just
then, when her thoughts were full of him, as they used to be
before Theodora repeated those words of his ? Why had he
spoken of this again here, in his home, where, with all his
power, hewas so gentle and so kind ? Why, above all, would
her heart beat even now at the slightest tone of his voice ?
Slowly and emphatically did Honor insist on repeating to
herself his speech to Theodora, but even then the old spirit
of anger was scarcely invoked with strength enough for
armour.
" Where is everybody gone ? " she asked, looking down
the long gallery with apparent unconcern, as she saoved way
from before the statue.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MOtfBY. 153
" Honor, I will never speak to you of this after to-night.
Only let me ask you the question once more now in all
earnestness. If you think you might care for me at some
future time, tell me to wait, and I will ask you again.
Seven years' waiting would be nothing to me, if, at the end
of the seven years you could lay your hand in mine, and say
you loved me then and would be my wife. Waiting ! How
could I think tvaiting hard," said Royden, drawing his hand
wearily across his brow, " when, if you say ' No ' to me to-
night, all the years I have to live will be but waiting years?"
" She does very well for an hour's amusement, but no man
could bestow on her a strong affection."
The unforgotten words started out clearly and distinctly
before Honor's mental eyes. He to speak so of her, and
then to mock her with this question !
" I wonder where Mrs. Payte can be," she said, with the
greatest nonchalance. " Don't let us talk on this subject
any more, please, Mr. Keith. Where are we going now ? "
"Downstairs, where they are having tea if you like."
"Yes; I like anywhere where other people are. lam
tired of being alone."
"And with me."
Honor's heart beat with a strange, sudden pain ; born
of the consciousness that all real weariness would lie on the
paths he did not tread with her. But it was better so ;
besides, it was too late now; and he had said those terrible
things of her to Theodora.
Despite these thoughts perhaps, indeed, owing to these
thoughts Honor was one of the merriest of Mr. Keith's?
guests during that sociable and luxurious tea ; and
Theodora's eyebrows were so constantly raised in super-
cilious astonishment that Mrs. Payte whispered to Honor a
serious doubt as to whether they could ever again assume
their original position.
" She has a hundred extra airs and graces on to-night.
She would have no objection to reign as mistress in such a
place as this, Honor ; but I hope he will not choose her.
Come, are you ready ? We have stayed late enough."
" I am ready quite ready," the girl said, almost eagerly.
" I have enjoyed this day very much," observed the old
hidy while she put on her bonnet, and Honor stood waiting
156 OLD MYDDELTON S MONEl.
for her in the warm and beautiful chamber. " Mr. Keith
has made it very pleasant, but then of course any wealthy
man could. L 'argent fail tout"
" Hardly," said Honor, staunchly enough now. " Every-
one could not have done it, even with the argent."
" Don't argue, child. I'm generalising. II y afayots ei
fa/jots. I know that ; but I'm accustomed to say what I
mean. Even if Captain Trent had been our wealthy boat
to-d;ty, wouldn't he have made us all happy? "
Honor laughed merrily.
" At any rate he would not have made us unhappy," she
eaid, her thoughts flying from him to the one who had the
greater power.
" No ; and I can tell you he chooses a good safe part.
It's far easier not to act at all, than to act well ; and he's
pretty safe. Now come down.''
The maid-servant, who had lingered at the door when
Mrs. Payte declined her services, led them downstairs again
to the great hall, and then disappeared. One moment after-
wards Honor missed her handkerchief; and turning un-
observed, she ran lightly up the stairs again. She could
easily, she fancied, find her way to the room she had just
quitted ; but, when she reached the gallery from which the
chamber door opened, she paused, forgetting whether the
maid had led them towards the right or lei .
" I think I remember," she said to herself, presently, and
hurried to the right. " Certainly this was the outer door "
It was a red cloth door, and moved on a noiseless spring.
Stepping through, Honor found hersell in a small ante-room,
and, opposite her, another door stood open. For a few
breathless seconds Honor stood rooted to the spot, gazing
fixedly through this door into the room beyond ; an
elegantly and luxuriously-furnished room, with books and
music and ornaments in profusion, with soft beautiful work
scattered about, and flowers in a perfect wealth of loveli-
ness. But Honor's eyes dwelt only upon a figure which
stood within her sight upon the hearth, dressed in girlish
white. A lady, young and very pale and fragile-looking, but
with the light of some happy, tender thought upon her face.
" It is her home," felt Honor, gliding from the room
with her hands locked in an agony of which she was just
OLD MYDDELTOltS MONET. 157
then unconscious ; " and she is thinking of him. What
a long, loving, bappy thought it was ! "
Swiftly and lightly retracing her steps, Honor saw he?
handkerchief at last, and stooped to pick it up. Then she
joined Mrs. Payte once more, and no one guessed what pain
lay at the girl's heart.
" Good-bye," said Eoyden, as he stood at the carriage
door in the gathering darkness.
"Good-bye," she said, with one long glance into his face,
reading it with piteous earnestness, there in the fading light,
and finding no shade of sin or shame upon it. " Good-bye."
"Well, I must say," observed Mrs. Payte, breaking in
upon Honor's silence as they drove to the station, " I ex-
pected the old aunt, or great-aunt, or grandmother, or
whatever she may be, would have shown herself to-day, to
do the honours to lady-guests . She can surely have no reason
for keeping herself hidden, like that wife of Mr. Kochester
in Charlotte Bronte's novel. What made you start, child? ''
" It is cold," said Honor, drawing her shawl about her,
and shrinking a little in her corner of the carriage.
" Humph, you're not generally a cold subject," retorted
the old lady, brusquely. But she said nothing more till
they were in. the railway carriage, when she promptly and
kindly fell asleep.
CHAPTER XV,
Ha ! ha! It will speed, it will speed, it will speed;
Resistance is vain we are sure to succeed.
Carillon National of the French Revolution
found her guardian waiting for her at the Kinbury
Station, although Mrs. Payte had left word that they would
drive home from there, r.3 the train did not stop at Station,
At East Cottage, Honor waited to hear tidings of Mrs.
Disbrowe. Then she walked on with Lawrence in the quiet
moonlight, her heart still so heavy that she could scarcely
follow his words.
But when she was again with Jane and Phoebe in the
commonplace rooms at The Larches, these sad and dreamy
15 g OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
thoughts were necessarily dispelled, and then she longed
to put away, with them, all mention of lloydens name.
But this she found impossible. Phoebe asked a hundred
questions about him and his home ; Lawrence brought the
subject forward again and again, contemptuously, and yet as
if with some purpose ; while Jane spoke of him with surly
inuendoes, hardest of all to bear. At last Honor, having
kept silence as long as she could, turned defiantly upon them.
" You don't any of yon know him better than i do, rt
well Then how dare you speak of him so ?"
Jane fixed her eyes upon the girl, in stolid astonishment ;
but Lawrence rose, and paced the room m wrath. ^
"Your ideas are utterly childish, Honor," he said, trym
in vain to suppress the anger of his tones, He has deceived
you iuat as he has deceived every one else. .
"That is a falsehood, Lawrence," she affirmed quietly.
It is not a falsehood," he returned, losing all control
over himself. " He is here under false pretences. You a;
credulous, and fancy him the honourable man he would
appear to be. I know him to be the very reverse.
" I know him as an honourable man," the girl
steadily ; but she knew full well in what a different tone
she would have asserted this before that night.
You will see," muttered Lawrence, savagely.
have evidence to prove it soon, and I can assert it anywhere.
' You ou-rht not to have asserted it even here, to us,
unless you had evidence to prove it," she remarked ; b
the unconcern now was an effort to her.
I will have my proof before I tell everything, even to
vou," said Mr. Hanghtcn, pausing before her. "My news
will stagger you, I dare say, but you will know then, as 1
do, that he is not an honourable man."
" I hope," observed Honor, smiling coldly,
gearch for proof of a man's dishonour you have the inesti-
mable advantage of Mr. Blimp's assistance."
" By Heaven" , ,,
' Hush, Lawrence ! " pleaded the girl, grave and gentle
again " When you utter that word so heedlessly, 1 am
afraid to think how heedless your thought of it must be.
" What do you think, Honor," put in Phoebe, hastening
to drown this speech, lest it should offend her guardian.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 159
" Mr. Stafford brought us definite news to-day ; we are to
meet Lady Lawrence in her London house on the first of
December. Don't you feel excited, Honor ? "
" This fuss will hinder me in collecting my proofs," said
Mr. Haughton, "but the short delay will not signify."
" Did you walk over and see Mrs. Disbrowe, Phoebe ? "
"No."
"Oh ! and you promised me ! She has been alone almost
all day."
" And if she has," remarked Jane, " it does not oblige
you loth to become her slaves. Phoebe is idle enough,
Honor, without your teaching her to be more so. How is
that ? You have two handkerchiefs in your hand. What
eilly extravagance to carry two at a time ! "
" I did not know I had two," said Honor, good-humour-
edly. " Have I taken up one of yours since I came in ?"
" Mrs. Payte gave you one when we stopped at the cot-
tage," remarked Lawrence. "She said she found it at
Westleigh Towers, and it had your name upon it ; don't you
recollect her saying so ? "
"Then the other, I suppose" began Honor. But
then she stopped suddenly, with a burning colour in her
cheeks. The handkerchief she held was the one she had
picked up in the gallery at Westleigh, just after leaving that
room where she had seen a lady standing alone beside the
fire ; and now her eyes had fallen upon a name embroidered
daintily across one corner " ALICE."
" I have brought this one by mistake," she said, putting
it back into her pocket ; while the colour faded from her
cheeks, and left her face, for one moment, white even to the
lips. " I was very careless."
" Theodora Trent's, I suppose," grumbled Miss Haughton.
" It is a stupid habit of hers to drop handkerchiefs about.
Mind you send it back, Honor."
But, in spite of this order, when Honor at last found
herself alone in her own room, she locked the handkerchief
iafely away.
" It will be better so," she said to herself, with a puzzled
thoughtfulness upon her face ; " better so than have to teL
what I saw. It will be quite safe, and no one will ever know."
Hour after hour, Honor lay awake that night, thoughts
160 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
crowding upon thoughts, and words which she had heard
that duy haunting her with unresting persistency ; as words
will often do through those night-hours when, if sleep will
not come, memory is BO keen, and thought so painfully
intense.
CHAPTER XVI.
The most delicate of all pleasures consists in proraoti/g the
pleasures of others. LA BRCTERE.
THE day was rapidly approaching on which old Myddel ton's
relatives were to meet Lady Lawrence in London, and the
excitement among them was general, though very differently
betrayed. Mr. Stafford Lady Lawrence's lawyer had
been again in Statton, to complete his arrangements for the
meeting, and Theodora had made much of him at Deergrove.
This excitement helped Miss Trent to bear the absence of
Royden Keith, whom she had not seen since the day she had
spent at Westleigh Towers. Pho3be's effervescence knesv no
bounds when she discussed Lady Lawrence and her will :
and Mr. Haughton himself could not quite hide or subdue
his mingled curiosity and expectation.
" In the midst of all this to-do," remarked Mrs. Payte,
rousing herself from a nap by the fire, when Honor one day
walked softly into Mrs. Disbrowe's sick-room, " I only won-
der you waste your time and energy here. Selina does venf
well without you, child ; and you ought to be rehearsing
what your behaviour in London shall be as the others are."
"With only a quiet smile and nod, Honor passed on to the
bed-side, and took her seat beside it ; talking to the invalid
for a time, undisturbed much to her surprise by the rest
less little old lady at the fire.
" How do the preparations go on for this grand event.
Honor?" inquired Mrs. Payte, at last, unable to keep a
longer silence. "There is but a fortnight, you know."
In her low, pleasant voice, Honor told a few particulars
which she thought would amuse the sick lady, but they
evidently did not satisfy the healthy one, being totally
deyoid of malice and even ridicule.
CM) MYDDELTON S MONET. 161
" Did Mr. Stafford help you at all, by warning you oi
any of Lady Lawrence's eccentricities or hobbies ? "
'' A little," laughed Honor. " He advised us all to dress
very simply and quietly, as she is particularly neat in her
taste ; and he advised Lawrence and Hervey to be genial
and unaffected."
" Ah ! " said Mrs. Payte, with a chuckle of enjoyment,
"that's good ! So thoroughly against nature eh ? How will
Theodora Trent bear to dress simply, and Plioebe quietly?
And how can Mr. and Miss Haughton be genial,and Captain
Trent unaffected ? I should like to be in the green-room
when you all dress for the stage. "What shall you do ? "
" I ? Nothing, Mrs. Payte ; why should I ? "
" Because you'll be a goose if you don't."
" Then I shall be a goose," said Honor, laughing. " Don't
you think Lady Lawrence would rather see us as we are
than acting for the occasion ? "
" What will she know about the acting ? Her lawyer won't
tell her he has put you on your guard, never tear. Take ad-
vantage of his help, child, and act and dress as he proposes."
" No," said Honor, shaking her head merrily, " for he did
not tell it as a message to us. She expects us all to be
ratural before her."
" But what does that matter ? " insisted the old lady, in
rising wrath. " He gave you the gratuitous benefit of his ex-
perience ; never mind whether it is treachery on his part or
not take the benefit. If you don't, you lose your chance."
" It is better I should lose it by being known as I am,
than gain it by being thought what I am not," said Honor,
as she smoothed the pillows for the restless head beside her.
" Well, I don't happen to think so," grumbled Mrs. Payte,
noisily poking the fire ; "but you must please yourself, I
suppose. What dress shall you wear? Not that new grey
one with the crimson slashing all about it ? '
"Yes," laughed Honor. "That is my best dress, Mrs.
^ayte ; and do you know if I must own such a humiliating
fact I am rather proud of it ? "
" You learnt the style from a picture, I should fancy."
: Yes," said the girl, blushing under the shrewd glance
the old lady turned so suddenly upon her. " It was a
picture that yr?u and I saw that we all saw at Westleigh
162 OLD MYDDELTON'g MONET.
Towers ; but it is quite near enough to the fashion not to
look odd."
" Odd ! " echoed Mrs. Payte, with a curious little grunt,
I think you look particularly odd in it ; aud, as for fashion,
just cover yourself with flounces from top to toe no matter
where you put them and you are sure to be in the fashion.
But what about the others ? It is more in their natuie to
dress smartly than yours. Will they hide it ? "
" Yes."
" Then you will have a double disadvantage by compari-
son with them. See what a silly baby you are, rushing
headlong against your own interests. Never mind whether
you like the old woman. Why, bless me, her individuality
is sunk ; she represents more than a million of money
think of it ! By the way, how is your guardian feeling just
now towards Mr. Keith ? "
The sick lady, on whose hand Honor's lay, felt the start it
gave, and wondered a little, as she lay calm in her weakness.
"He he"
" I know," put in Mrs. Payte, brusquely, " he gave me a
hint of it one day unconsciously. He thinks Eoyden Keith
is a man not to be trusted."
" He thinks," said Honor, the low, startled voice giving
words at last to the horrible conviction of Lawrence's mean-
ing which had stolen by degrees upon her, " that Mr. Keith
has at some time committed an act which which proves
him not what he seems to be."
" When ? "
"I do not know."
" Well, I do, then. It was ' in the reign of Queen Dick.'
All those likely things occurred in her reign, anJ when you
find it in your English history, we will discuss its events,
but not till then."
" I cannot think," exclaimed Honor, sadly, " why Law-
rence should ever dream "
"He never does," was the sharp retort. "Lawyers
never dream ; they are far too clever. By the way, Honor,
tell us just to amuse us what your keen-witted guardian
says of us. Begin with Selina."
" What could he say of her," answered Honor, smiling,
" but that she was most amiable ? "
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 183
" Bah ! To say a woman is amiable is to deny her any
character at all, to make her at once a nonentity in mind,
body, and estate. Go on. What does he say of me ? I
have heard him say that T am a snappish vixen, and a selfish
dabbler in other people's affairs."
" He has not said that to me," said Honor, gently.
The old lady's eyes softened a little, but there was cer-
tainly no softening in her next speech.
" I dare say he is saying it now to somebody. At any
rate I heard him say it to Theodora Trent. What a good
thing it would be if we had her here now, to nurse Selina !
She would be a nice one by a sick bed, eh ? I should like,"
continued the little lady, warming her feet busily by turns
opon the fender, " to take an Asmodean flight now, and look
down through one or two roofs."
" Why ? " asked Honor, in amusement, whilst even Mrs.
Disbrowe, having caught the quick words, smiled a little.
" Now then, child/' retorted Mrs. Payte, without answer-
ing the last question, " what are you poking about for ? It
is no use putting things ready to her hand either books or
flowers or scent. Bless you, Selina never raises a finger to
help herself ! What in the world is it you are looking as if
you wanted now, Seiina ? "
" Nothing," said the sick lady, in her low soft tones, and
with no appearance of resenting the harsh questions of her
companion.
" Nothing !" echoed Mrs. Payte, with supreme contempt.
" Mysterious nothing ! How shall I define thy shapeless,
baseless, placeless emptiness ? Some poet or professor says
that, and I'm no wiser than he, and cannot give you what t
cannot define, and what has no shape nor base nor place.
Where are you going, Honor ? "
" I shall not be many minutes," the girl said, as she
iooked round, to be sure that the invalid could miss nothing.
" I am only going to see Marie."
" Don't be long. Don't waste your time there."
The little kitchen, where Marie lay on the poor couci.
before the fire, was clean and neat in its bareness, and the
French girl's pinched face lay upon a snowy pillow. The
pillow was a present from Honor herself, but the whitenew
and purity of everything were Marie's owo.
154 OLD MYDDELTOXS MONET.
"Hare yon had any dinner, Marie?" asked Honor, gentlj
drawing the fine lace-work from the girl's wasted fingers.
" I did not want any to-day, Miss Craven ; and I did not
care to leave my work."
" You work too constantly, "said Honor, as she laid it aside.
"Tour father tells me you are at it at five o'clock inthe morn-
ing, and never leave off until bed-time. It is too much,
Marie. Now chat with me, while I get you a cup of tea."
Moving brightly about the little kitchen, Honor prepared
the meal with a deftness which put a happy amusement into
the sick girl's tired eyes ; and watching her, and listening
to her, and talking to her, as Honor led her on to do she
forgot her pain and weakness, and even her constant labour
and poverty. So when the tea was ready and Honor sat at
the table and waited on her, chatting as if she would not give
time to think, Marie caught herself actually laughing.
" Does Mrs. Payte's servant help you a little now ? " in-
quired Honor, when at last she rose to take her leave.
"Yes, she does indeed, Miss Crave a a little. She is
growing rather kind to me; but Mrs. Payte is she not odd ?
I can never understand her."
" No, it is not easy indeed," smiled Honor. " When will
your father be home, Marie ? "
" Oh! he is away, Miss Honor. Did you not know ? "
" Indeed I did not."
" I thought you would, Miss Craven ; because he was sent
for by Mr. Keith a week ago."
-farie made a pause here, without knowing it, wondering
at ttie softened brightness of Honor's eyes.
" A week ago, Miss Craven, he read an advertisement for
a photographer's assistant, a long way off more than thirty
miles and father fancied he might do, because he under-
Btands his work so well ; so he managed to get the money
for his railway ticket, and he went- They they told him,
before they asked him a single question, Miss Honor, that
\e was too old ; and so he walked home, for he had no other
ticket. It was quite the middle of the ni^ht \ hen he came
in here, so jaded and white I hardly knew hiin, and his boots
all worn to the ground."
" Then where is he uow, Marie ? " asked Honor, her eyes
<?Im with pity.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 163
" Now, Miss Honor," the girl said, in a "brighter tone,
he is at West! igh Towers. Mr. Keith seemed to have hoard
of his disappointment, though father himself did not know
how, and the very next day he sent for father to go over
there with his camera, as he wanted several photographs
taken, and father was to go prepared to stay for a time. Oh !
Miss Honor, he was just like a boy that day, and and yet
was ashamed before me of being so happy because poor
father ! / was not going. As if it was not more to me
than going myself, for him to go ! Miss Honor," added the
girl presently, seeing the tears slowly gather in Honor's
beautiful eyes, "father sent me a likeness of Mr. Keith.
Perhaps he ouht not to have done it, but he did ; he knew
I should not show it about, but keep it sacredly, and value
it, so he seat it. Will you see it, Miss Craven ? "
" No s thank you, Marie," said Honor, quietly.
" Oh, do ! " urged Marie, drawing the photograph from
between the leaves of a book which lay beside her on the
couch, and unfolding it from its silver paper. " Do look, Miss
Honor. I think father has taken it beautifully."
So Honor took the picture in her hands, but it was many
minutes before the figure grew distinct before her misty eyes.
The photograph had evidently included Roy den without his
knowledge. He was sitting in deep thought, his eyes fixed
gravely on the fire, his dogs lying about the rug at his feet.
To one who did not know him, it was the photograph of
a very handsome man, thoroughly artistic in the unconscious
grace of attitude. But to one who knew him, it was far
more than that. To Honor, the face, in its thought and
patience, and yet in its power and strength, for that minute
seemed to be really with her.
" Well, Honor, now much longer are you going to stay
here ? "
She gave back the likeness with a stifled sigh, yet wa
glad to be called away before she could speak of it.
" I am coming, Mrs. Payte, in ( ne minute."
The little old lady was pausing at the kitchen door, evi-
dently considering that to tread beyond the threshold would
contaminate her, and holding h r handkerchief to her no.-o,
as if the air of the clean little room were poisonous.
"That Inzy gid always detains you when you come here : "
166 OLD MYDDELTON'8 M0\rv.
ehe grumbled, holding her shabby brown dress about her
ankles, lest the floor should sully it. " She never exerts
herself for anyone ; why should you exert yourself for her ? "
" Mrs. Payte," cried Honor, her eyes brilliant with sudden
passion, "you are unjust, and I will not listen to such worda
of Marie in her helplessness and her pain. She never de-
tains me. I stay here because I like to stay. I am very
glad when I can stay with her, and it does me good, because
she is so patient and so gentle. She would exert herself
for everyone, if she were able, and be far more useful to me,
if I were ill, than ever 1 have been to her."
The little old lady in the doorway had dropped her dress,
and was breathing the plebeian air in gasps. She had seen
a flash of Honor's anger before, but never passionately
roused as now. And to hear her class herself so humbly
with that poor creature ! How beautiful she looked, too,
with one hand lying gently on the head of the sick girl !
" You don't look at all likely to be ill," chuckled the old
lady, " so how can we judge ? Are you coming now ? "
" I will follow you," said Honor.
Left again, sbe stooped beside the couch and comforted
Marie, who was trembling still in her nervous fear. Then,
when she had brought a smile at last to the pallid, troubled
face, she rose to go. Mrs. Payte met her fiercely in the
doorway of Mrs. Disbrowe's room.
" Do you recall all you said to me before that woman?"
" I am very sorry I spoke so hastily," said Honor ; " but
I cannot recall a single word I said."
" Very well," retorted the old lady, turning swiftly away,
" don't ! Are you going home now ? "
" Not unless you wish it. I have an hour's liberty still.
Will you let me stay ? "
" Oh, stay, by all means, or I shall be favoured with
Selina's groans all the evening. What does the doctor say
about that girl downstairs ? Will she get well ? "
" I fear not," said Honor, pitifully. " He says she noeds
care and rest, and ease and nourishment ; and all these
things, we know, are beyond her reach."
" He orders her port wine, I suppose, and beef and
mutton doctors always do when their patients are pour,
II } ou can stay, child, I'll make a call or two."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 167
" Honor," said Mrs. Disbrowe, smiling, when the restless
little old lady had bustled out of the room, " hard as she is
herself, she takes care that her servant shall help that poor
girl ; and now, I dare say, nourishing things will be sent
in to her. Edna is very strange, but I understand her."
Honor, almost unconsciously, breathed a sigh of relief.
The one great pain, to her generous and compassionate
nature, was the feeling that this patient invalid had, for her
only companion, one who was so hard and cross and dis-
satisfied. To know that this thought need not harass her
now, was a relief indeed ; and for the remainder of her
itay at East Cottage she was as bright as one of those rare
imnbeams which looked in now and then at the calm, sub-
missive face upon the pillows.
CHAPTER XVII.
But t'other young maiden looked sly at me,
And from her seat she ris'n ;
Let's you and I go our own way
And we'll let she go shis'n.
Berkshire Ditty.
"Mns. PAYTE." Mrs. Trent's eyes turned languidly to
her drawing-room door, when this visitor was announced
that afternoon, but she made no advance to meet her.
" A cold day," she remarked, indifferently, as she touched
the little old lady's hand with her soft fingers.
" Cold, is it ? " returned Mrs. Payte, looking inquisitively
at Theodora, who was making an elaborate process of
collecting her wools before she rose. " I did not notice. I
feel hot enough myself, for I have been put out."
Utter silence. Such a plain hint that the feelings and
temperature of Mrs. Edna Payte were matters of supreme
indifference to the ladies at Deergrove, that the bold little
visitor herself for a moment was nonplussed only for a
moment, though.
" Yes ; I have been put out, 1 ' she resumed, sitting for
her unusually still, but making strenuous use of her eyes,
"by Honor Craven."
" Indeed ! "
A faint and languid sign of interest t last..
168 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
" She is at my house now, dancing attendance, forsooth,
upon my sick friend ; but it is not that nonsense which \>n\
me out. It is her ridiculous determination not to make
eny effort to be agreeable to Lady Lawrence when she
arrives. Bless me, why should one of the family however
insignificant a one retire, and leave greater chance to the
there ? "
"Why indeed?"
This was all Theodora could say, in the very decided
pause which the rapid little speaker made ; but her face
was growing full of interest now.
" Why, indeed, as you say, Miss Trent ? " resumed Mrs.
Payte, a little more slowly ; " although, of course, for your
pake I could almost wish that Honor would persist in her
absurdity, even so far as declining to go up to London at all
to meet her ladyship ; because, if that were the case I saw
that it struck you just now you would have everything
your own way. Lady Lawrence would hardly hesitate to
choose you before either Miss Haughton or Miss Owen."
" I think," put in Mrs. Trent, " that my daughter has little
to fear from the rivalry of any other member of our family."
" I think not oh, I certainly think not," returned Mrs.
Payte, with prompt decision. " But then what can we tell
of the eccentricities of old Myddel ton's sister ? At any
rate, all that I have to say in the matter I have said now.
I determined to tell you, because you have always been
BO very wishful to help Honor she being your youngest
relative, and an orphan."
A pause again, so definite that Mrs. Trent nervously
rushed in to break it with a clear and stiff " Oh, certainly."
" Yes," said the small old lady, with a quick nod. " Well,
then, you will urge upon her the necessity of going to
London among the earliest of you, ar.d doing her best to
make herself agreeable to her great-aunt (if she is her great-
aunt, but I really don't understand anything about the
connection), that the chance of her being remembered in the
will may be as good as yours. I have done all J can do,
and I leave it now in your hanHs."
"*Honor is not at all likely 'o forego her chance," said
Theodora, wishing in her heart that this bluut and suuiug
little visitor would leave.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 160
"If she does, I shall now consider ifc entirely her own
fault," observed Mrs. Payte, almost blandly. Then, to the
^reat relief of both mother and daughter, she rose in her
imstling manner, and prepared to take her leave.
" I am grieved to be able to make so short a call," she
said, with apparent enjoyment of the idea, " but I wish, if
possible, to pay another visit before it is dark, and in these
wretched country districts one's friends always live so far
apart. Good-bye. Then I may hope to hear a diflerent
decision from Honor, after she has seen you."
* * * * * ' # *
Miss Han gh ton had just donned her black silk dinner
dress, and was beginning to listen for the sound of her
brother's return, and Phrebe was practising a fantasia which
was to astonish him, when an unexpected visitor was
announced "Mrs. Payte." The old lady made a longer
ceremony of her call here, though she had given herself
exactly the same mission to perform.
Jane received it with a strong disregard to its import,
and Phoebe (though she exclaimed several times, " Oh, of
course Honor must come," and " Oh, Lawrence would never
go without Honor," and " Oh, it was a shame to think of
it ") hardly followed the idea to the bottom, and thought a
great deal more about the bow in her hair, and listened a
great deal more eagerly for the wheels of the waggonette.
" I feel sure," observed Miss Haughton, reverting to the
subject when the visit was nearly over, and the visitor had
dropped it, "that Lady Lawrence will make nothing at all
of her female connections. She will be, you know, one of the
wealthiest indeed the very wealthiest woman in England.
She will most naturally select an heir."
" That seems the general opinion," observed Mrs. Payte,
carelessly ; " but of course T know nothing about it. Only
I should say, if she does wish to select an heir, she will be
tempted by the brilliant talents and sterling qualities of
Mr. Haughton ; and yet and yet," ruminated the old lady,
pensively, "Captain Trent is very accomplished, and of
elegant bearing, besides having the useful power like a
cat of lighting for ever on his feet. He too seems to have
a pretty fair chance. Well, well, it is of no use our worrying
ourselves about it. I only hope, for the sake of justice, that,
170 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
when the day comes for meeting this formidable old million,
atre, you will all be there. Now I must hurry home, or
I shall be benighted. If Mr. Haughton were here, I would
get him to escort me ; as it is, I must go alone." And she
went, briskly and cheerfully.
" She chose to come alone in the dusk," Jane said, rigidly,
when Phoebe ventured to ask whether it would not have been
well to send one of the servants with the old lady ; " so I
suppose she is used to it."
" They are all in a rare state of excitement," muttered
Mrs. Payte to herself, as she walked homeward in unusual
thoughtfulness, and with an unusually slow step ; " and it
has been almost as good to me, after all, as an Asmodean
flight."
" Hallo, there ! "
The exclamation came from Lawrence Haughton, as. in
the gathering darkness, he drove up close upon this solitary
and heedless pedestrian.
" Mr. Haughton, is that you ? "
Lawrence pulled up his horse, and leaned down from the
waggonette, which he generally preferred to drive himself.
" Mrs. Payte, I did not know you. It is late for you to
be walking alone."
" Yes, it is," was the prompt reply. " Please to turn and
drive me home ; then you can bring Honor back."
" Honor ! Is she at your cottage so late ? "
Lawrence was, beyond a doubt, very angry, and he turned
his horse without a word.
The servant held open the carriage door, and Mrs. Pavto
was driven back to East Cottage in grim silence. But she
did not seem to mind it much, and her small, shrewd face
wore something very like a smile, when the lights of the
cottage fell upon it at last.
"By the powers ! " she exclaimed it was a vague oath,
in which the restless little woman could safely, and not
against her conscience, indulge " Honor has got a bright
and cheerful-looking room up there ; and I declare, she is
singing to Selina f That is one thing Honor does well. Her
voice is not a machine, and she knows the difference between
singing and executing a song I call it exrcntinir a song,
girls behead it of sense and feeling. V\ ill you stay
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 17 1
here, Mr. Haughton," she continued, leading him into the
Brelit sitting-room, " while I fetch Honor ? "
Barely two minutes had Lawrence sat moodily there, when
the old lady returned to tell him that she could not persuad'
Honor to leave Mrs. Disbrowe, who was very ill and restless,
arid was soothed by Honor's singing and reading, and even
!)> her quiet presence " Mr. Haughton must please excuse
her to-night."
" I cannot excuse her," said Lawrence, roughly ; " she
must come home."
" I really fear she will not," replied Mrs. Payte ; and
fortunately the firelight did not 1 betray her mean enjoyment
of his wrath. "She is, as Mrs. Malaprop would say, * as
headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.' Shall
I appeal to her once more, or had I not better take your
consent for her to stay with my sick friend ? "
" It is not right for her to stay away from home," fumed
Lawrence, in his selfish anger ; " please tell her I insist on
her coming."
" I decline to tell her that," rejoined the old lady, with
sudden, quiet gravity, " and now I decline to urge even your
request. I hoped you would yourself think better of it, and
now, merely as a polite formality, Mr. Haughton, I beg yon
t o leave your ward here. She is very nobly and very tenderly
fulfilling a duty which has fallen in her way. Her presence
here is beyond measure pleasant and beneficial to a dying
woman, and still she is most unwilling to disobey her guardian,
or even to disregard 'his wish. This being the case, I will
not vex her again with the choice, but will myself arrange
with you for her to stay here a little time."
It was a perfectly insignificant person who thus accosted
Lawrence Haughton; a person meanly clad and dingily sur-
rounded, yet there was something in the words, or the tone,
or the bearing of the speaker, which kept his angry answer
back, and brought to his own reply a chilly but very evident
effort at politeness.
" I will dfive here myself for Miss Craven in the early
morning, before I leave for my office," he said ; " you will
not allow her again to set aside my order, I hope."
" I \\ill leave it to her," Mrs. Payte said, calmly, as she
took him to the door. "I wonder," she added, to herself*
172 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
as she remounted the cottage stairs, whether I shall findhei
anxious about what he said ? "
Anxious about him ! The old lady entertained no further
doubt upon this subject when she saw Honor beside tha*
quiet sick-bed, brightening so inexpressibly those calm, last
hours.
CHAPTER XVIII.
By their advice, and her own wicked wit,
She there devised a wondrous work to frame.
SPENSEE.
AFTER Mrs. Payte had left Deergrove that afternoon, Mrs.
Trent and her daughter sat for some time in silence, continu-
ing their work just as if no interruption had occurred ; but
presently Theodora broke the treacherous pause, and put into
words the thought which had been busy in the brains of both.
" What a difference it will make if Honor does not come ! "
No explanation was needed of the where or when, as Theo-
dora knew. " I never did fear anyone but Honor," she
continued, presently.
" You never had any occasion, my dear, even to fear her,' 1
marked Mrs. Trent, not quite liking to take up yet the
thread that lay to her hand.
" Of course, mamma, you will not try to persuade Honor
to go against her will ? ''
" I never persuade anyone to do anything against their
will, Theo, my dear, as you know," observed Mrs. Trent,
serenely.
" And suppose we go a few days earlier than the others
you yourself proposed it once."
" Did I ? " questioned the lady of the house, meditatively.
" I dare say Hervey thought it well too. And if Honor
does not arrive until you have won Lady Lawrence's regard
to yourself, my dear, why, we cannot help it.''
" It will be Honor's fault, for being late," returned Theo-
dora, suppressing a smile. " What shall we say if Lady
Lawrence questions us about her, mamma ? We must be
agreed.'"
" We can only give the experience we have had of her,"
OLD AIYDDELTON'S MONET. 173
replied Mrs. Trent, carefully folding the couvrelfo she was
knitting. " I could wish we had a better account to give of
the poor child. Bnt I suppose she never will improve now.
The association with those vulgar people at East Cottage
has quite destroyed what benefit, she had gained by bringing
her into our own society. Even Hervey's patience must be
quite worn out. By the way, my love, you had better talk
this over with Hervey ; he, too, I dare say, will be glad to be
in London before the Haughtons. Have you quite decided
about your dress, and do you feel sure you have chosen what
Lady Lawrence will like, as far as you can judge from Mr.
Stafford's account of her whims and fancies ?"
"Yes," said Theodora, rising at the sound of the dressing-
bell. " My dress will be quiet enough to suit her, I know.
How funny I shall feel in it, though ! "
" Never mind ; it will only be for a little time," said Mrs,
Trent in a consolatory tone. " Lady Lawrence is to make
her will at once, you know ; and then it will be all right.
You see, whether Hervey or you inherit, it will be the same
thing. Oh yes, my love, we will certainly be in London
first ; for Lady Lawrence will see it as a delicate attention
on our part. Mind you speak to Hervey to-night."
" Yes," thought Theodora> gliding up the stairs, with a
gmile upon her lips, " but I shall put it a little differently
to Hervey, for he never is keenlv alive to Honor's slyness
until I have talked to him a little."
So, knowing this. Theodora talked to him a good deal, and
had the satisfaction at last of seeing that Captain Trent grew
thoroughly imbued with the consciousness of a real wisdom
having directed all her arrangements. He languidly congra-
tulated her upon them, and expressed his appreciation of the
pdvantageous position to which her diplomacy pointed him.
Mr. Stafford had, in one of his visits to Dec-rgrove, un-
guardedly betrayed the fact that Lady Lawrence would be in
London a few days before that first of December appointed
for the meeting with her young relatives. Therefore, why
should not the family at Deergrove employ that private
information for their own immediate benefit? Lady Law-
!>-nce would of course be pleased with the attention, and
v.mld le glad perhaps to hear a little about the rest of tha
t/.iuily before she saw them.
174 OLD MYDDELTON'B MONET.
" I see," observed Captain Hervey, sauntering figuratively
out of the tedious conference. " The worst of it is, nothing
can be done without one's being so bored over it. Still, of
course, the possible result is worth fatipue. No felloe
would object to a little trouble to ensure the success which
you expect."
" And which you expect, Hervey."
" Oh, as to that, I expect it in any case. The old woman
wants an heir, and you don't suppose she'd choose Haugh-
ton. No, I expect it in any case ; but of course, Theo, I am
at your service in all plans that will make assurance doubly
sure ; only, for pity's sake, let us have no fuss, and, above
all, give that snob Haughton no excuse for blowing up."
" Do you ever see me in a fuss?" smiled Theodora. "And
Mr. Haughton's tempers, dear Hervey, can never lower us."
" Except 1n our spirits," drawled Captain Hervey. "Now
this is all arranged, I hope, and dinner ready. As for
Honor, I don't believe a word about her staying here over
the first of December ; she has far too much good sense."
" If she does stay," remarked Miss Trent, " it will be
entirely by her own choice. Of course she can go with the
others "if she chooses ; indeed, I feel anything but confident
that she will not. Although," added Miss Trent to herself,
as she slowly followed her mother and cousin to the dining-
room (Captain Hervey Trent objected to a position between
two ladies, and never was known to put himself into any
position in which he objected), " if she does not, I think
I can promise that her coming afterwards will be of verj
little avail."
It was at this same time that Mr. Haughton, with his
sister and his ward, sat down to a silent dinner at The
Larches. Lawrence had not recovered the mortification he
had met with at East Cottage, both in Honor's rebellion
and in Mrs. Payte's unexpected tirade, and he was, if possi-
ble, more taciturn than usual. Phoabe, laying it all to
Honor's absence, shed a few silent tears over Honor's de-
linquencies, and made a great many excited, but abortive
attempts at sprightly conversation. Jane laying it, as she
laid all her brother's ill-humours, on the weight and -extent
of the business he had transacted during the day took her
CWQ usual method (even more abortive, than Phoebe's) fur
OLD MYDDELTON'S MOXET. 17. r )
restoring his equanimity, and urged him to take nourish-
ment and rest. From these united efforts he escaped,
almost before dinner was over, to his own private room,
where he generally drank his after-dinner port in the societ- 1
of his law-books and papers. But to-night he took no book
from the shelves, and no paper from his private drawers.
He hardly glanced at the Gazette, though he opened and cut
it. He laid it down upon his knee without having read a
word, then leaned back in his chair, and sipped his wine
more frequently than usual.
His chafed and angry thoughts were at East Cottage still
a humiliating confession, which he would himself have
been slow to make and it seemed strange that presently
they should rush suddenly from there to the hotel in Kin-
bury, where he had had that one interview with Royden
Keith two weeks before. Nor was the reason of their leap
quite explained even when, at Phoebe's summons to tea
urged coaxingly through the closed door he rose and
threw aside his paper, with a few muttered words.
"Honor was bewitched about him, I think, and that was
half the old woman's doing ; though it's hard to see any
motive she could have had in that. She shall repent it,
though ; for Honor shall not go near her after to-morrow.
As for him, Honor never has seen any fault in him, but
she shall see a vile one. now. I said I would wait until Lady
Lawrence's will was written, and this fuss over ; but now I
think better of that decision. I will show Honor that burnt
letter. What will she think of him afterwards ? "
Phosbe, waiting paitently in the hall, sprang forward
joyously to meet Lawrence, because she saw that he came
from his room with an expression of pleasant anticipation
on his face.
CHAPTER XIX.
Come sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts.
Midsummer Night's Dream.
IT was the evening of the twenty-ninth of November, and
Mr. Hau?hton was leaving his last instructions with hit
head clerk. Mr. Slimp received the orders as usual, and
17^ OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
pretended not to be keenly aware that this was an extra,
ordinary occasion. But the young clerks below wer
making very merry over the event, and greatly enjoyed their
own keen and insatiable curiosity.
Lawrence Haughton's reserve had been of little service
to him this time. There was hardly any one in Kin bury
who did not know that old Myddelton's family were to meet
in London on the first of December, for old Myddelton's
sister to make their acquaintance and her own will ; and
the junior clerks in the lawyer's office were not the only
men who had betted, in a small way, on the result.
" In other respects, we are booked if Haughton returns
a millionaire," said one, willingly laying down his pen, after
two minutes' application.
" Can Slimp buy the practice, do you think ? "
"If he bought it twenty times over, he wouldn't buy my
Bervices ; nor yours, if you're the man I take you for."
Number Two evidently was the man for whom Number
One took him, for he laughed so heartily at the notion of
Bickerton Slimp as a master, that the conviviality conse-
quent on the notion even reached the ears unintelligibly
of Bickertou Slimp himself.
" Good evening to you both," said Lawrence, entering the
lower office.
" You leave to-morrow then, sir ? "
Yes."
44 And have no idea, I presume, when you will return ? **
"No idea."
"I'll tell you what it is," was the verdict, as Mr
Haughton's waggonette rolled from the office door, " he's in
a rage at the whole thing being so well known. He'd give
anything if he could escape going to dance attendance on
the old lady, though he'd not forego his chance not he
for any consideration whatever. But, as he has to go, he'd
give the world if he could go quietly up and manage the
will himself, with no prying eyes upon him."
This being, in effect, a not untrue epitome of Mr. Haugh.
tun's feelings, it can be readily imagined that when he
entered The Larches, and Phoebe met him with an excited
reminder of the morrow's journey, his face lost none of iia
normal gloom or rigidity.
OLD MYDDEI/rolTS MONEY. 177
""We are all ready, Lawrence," the girl cried ; " Jane an'l
1 have packed everything. Oh, isn't it a good thing that we
we going at last ? I used to think the day would never come."
"It has not come now," said Lawrence, carelessly. " Whose
boxes are these ? "
" Mine and Jane's."
"You are in time with your packing, at all events,"
observed Mr. Haughton, with dry sarcasm. " Where are
Honor's ? "
" They are not oh, Lawrence," the girl broke off, seeing
how his anger rose when the doubt, which had always
angered him, grew into a certainty, "she will not come.
She keeps to it, just as she told you, each time you scolded
her. She is quite firm, and really means not to go."
" Where is she ?"
" Upstairs ; you ordered her to be at home for dinner,
you know."
' Go and ask her to come to me at once in my own room."
Phoebe ran upstairs eagerly. Her guardian had given
her a commission, and that, for the moment, was happiness
enough for Phoebe. Of course she was sorry that Honor
shculd be scolded, but then really Honor was behaving
very oddly, and it was no wonder at all that Lawrence should
De enraged.
u Oh, Honor" meeting her cousin on the stairs, Phcebe
plunged into the very middle of the message " I know he's
angry, and I know we shall be miserable, and all because
of you. You ought to alter yoftr mind, Honor ; you know
you ought. You are to go to Lawrence now in his study.
He is so angry. You know he said long ago that he would
not go without you. It is very selfish of you, Honor, and
you used not to be selfish."
"Lawrence never said he would not go, meaning it,"
returned Honor, pausing on the stairs. " My going will do
no one any good, unless it be myself ; my staying here may,
and BO I stay."
" I dare say it is of no use our going at all now," whinod
Phoebe. " The Trents have been there two days, and and I
think it is no wonder Lawrence is cross. Make haste m,
Honor, and do say you'll go. I'll help you to pack."
" Oh, I can pack in a few minutes," smiled the younga
178 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
pirl, looking back as she went on downstairs. " When I hare
done all I can do here, I can follow you at half an hour's
notice. I have no preparations to make."
" Don't stop," cried Phoebe, eagerly ; " make haste to
Lawrence."
It was but a short interview between Honor and her
guardian. She was firm in her resolve, though perfectly
gentle in urging it ; and Mr. Haugh ton's anger and Mr.
Haughton's advice were equally unavailing.
" I feel," said the girl, with a great thoughtfulness upon
her face, " as if my duty lay here ; so don't try to persuade
r:e, please, Lawrence."
He did try though, again and again, but to no purpose ;
and when Jane and Phoebe had become fidgety, and the
dinner was growing cold, he came in and took his seat in
such evident ill-humour that no one ventured anything
beyond a casual and polite remark. Under these circum-
stances, the meal was a lugubrious one, and even Phoebe
longed for it to be over.
" Then you are not going to your own room this evening,
Lawrence ? "
He had entered the drawing-room behind them, and his
sister turned to him in surprise.
" No," he answered, curtly, as he took the large arm-chatr
always reserved for him.
Miss Haughton rang for wine, which had as usual been
placed in her brother's room, and prepared her work with a
little greater zest. But, for all her anticipations, it was not
the lawyer's presence which brightened the evening, and
Miss Haughton would never have been tempted to own
whose did. It wus as impossible for Honor not to brighten
those among whom she might be, as it would he impossible
for the June sunshine to lie upon the grass and leave it chill
and cold.
Far from avoiding Lawrence, she ignoring all memory
of that scene in his room won him, in her own sweet
daring way, to pleasant, idle fireside chat, and then even to
laughter. Crowning triumph, she tempted them all to a
game of whist, conducted, it is true, upon most unorthodox
principles, but serving its purpose perhaps all the better for
thut. Lawrence smiled upon Honor's bright little constant
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. V79
jests, and Jane thawed in the laughter ; she even forgot
herself once, and showed her hand across to Honor, laugh-
ing over it herself afterwards, and bearing with great philo-
sophy the defeat of her own side.
Altogether the game, though as whist an ignominious
failure, was, as an impromptu amusement, a thorough
success ; and, when tea came in, the meal was no repetition
of the gloomy dinner.
Next day Mr. Haughton ptarted with his sister and ward ;
and Honor, standing on the station platform to watch the
train out of sight, felt her eyes grow dim. They had done
little to make the girl's home a happy one, or her life
content ; but still they had made all the home she had ever
known ; and there was a vague, sad feeling upon her that
this first separation was the breaking up of the old life.
The fancy haunted her as she walked on to East Cottage ;
and, to dispel it, she recalled Phoebe's excited face and
manner, and the great expectations of the whole party ;
mentally wandering on then to the party from Deergrove,
who, in still greater excitement and anticipations, had lelt
London two days before.
" It is strange,' 1 she mused to herself, with an uncon-
scious sigh, " to think of the great power this money has
and yet how little it could do for some ! Think of Mane
Verrien in her constant pain, lying awake night after night,
coughing and suffering ! How trifling wealth must seem to
her, compared with ease and relief! And then Mrs.
Disbrowe, lying on the border-land in patient waiting.
Looking back upon her life, could she long for any power
wealth would give ? And, looking on, could she see its
power there?"
" Bless me, child," exclaimed little Mrs. Payte, as she met
her at the cottage door, and apparently noticed nothing of the
gill's thoughtful sadness, '"you haven't really come, have
Jou ? Well, I must say I did not expect you."
" I said I should come," was Honor's simple answer.
" "Women may always change their minds, and I felt sure
you would change yours. Are all the others gone to town ? "
" Yes, Lady Lawrence has probably arrived. If not, she
ia to be there to-day."
" I know. Do YOU at all realise how foolish you ha?e been ?"
180 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
"No, Mrs. Pajte," said Honor, gently. " I havp thought
it well over I did indeed from the first and I ieel that I
have done the only thing which I could feel happy in doing."
" Now,'' retorted the little old lady, fiercely, " you may
just as well not go at all. Your going will only be a
mortification. I wish you had not been so silly. Lady
Lawrence has a claim upon you, child."
'* Hardly," remarked Honor, smiling.
" While Selina," continued the little lady, without con-
descending to notice the interruption, " what claim has she ? "
"The first claim now," was Honor's quiet answer.
CHAPTER XX.
Bootless speed !
When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
Midsummer Night s Dream.
HIGH and dark against the wintry sky rose the massive
stone front of Westleigh Towers, sombre, silent, and
majestic on its height ; while the huge rock out at sea, by
force ol contrast, assumed almost pygmean proportions.
Yet a mighty rock it was too, rising two hundred feet above
the waves that fretted at its base ; a wonderful rock, haunted,
in its inaccessible recesses, by birds in thousands puffin;?,
cormorants, gulls, and curlews, but never touched by human
footsteps.
It had been a stormy day, and, though the storm
had lulled itself at last, the shoreward waves came panting
in with foaming crests, and chafed the sand and shingle
with a peevish restlessness. The waters covered to-night
that treacherous bay below the cliffs, heaving darkly in their
sheltered stflraghold, and swaying to and fro with a dull
and muffled sound. The moon was nearly at its full, but
over its bright disc the dusky clouds passed rapidly, obscur-
ing totally its light, save in the intervals between its flight.
The fishermen were glad to leave their boats upon the shore
to-night, and sit and smoke beside their cottage heartbr ;
and the servants at The Towers gathered ".^out their several
fires, and laughed and chatted, and forgot the cold and
without a crowd of *e-vuiui, comely and
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONSY. Igl
organized, but rather a superfluous number, it would seem,
to those who knew how little was exacted from them by the
solitary master whom they were hired to serve.
In one small room in the west wing of The Towers warm
and bright to-night with fire and lamplight the little
French photographer was busily mounting his photographs ;
moving now and then to the window that he might look
out upon the night-scene when the moon should ride
unclouded, and revelling with all his artistic nature in its
"weird and stormy beauty ; then walking back to his work
with a softened step and a look of grateful wonder in his
tyes as he glanced round the bright and comfortable room.
" How beautiful it all is," he said, with a clasp of his
hands which proclaimed his nationality at once ; " wild and
magnificent without, easy and luxurious within ! Oh, Marie,
my cherished, you little guess what a life your father leads
just now ; and Monsieur has not said, even yet, that it is
finished, this life of abundance and of pleasure for me. Oh,
he is good and generous ! But," concluded the little F; -~ich-
man, with a sudden, prompt resumption of his task, " this
is idle ingratitude, this dreaming of mine. I have one more
gtill to mount, and then I shall be at liberty for my nightly
letter to Marie. Ah, I forgot that negative I spoiled this
morning. I must see to that first."
Verrien took the glass up cautiously, and held it against
the light.
" Ah,'' he exclaimed, after a long, close gaze, " now I see
how it has happened."
It was a photograph of one portion of the great entrance-
hall at the Toweris, and at a glance it was evident that the
negative was a defective one. True, the carving and the
frescoes were developed with almost as much artistic beauty
as is possible in a photograph. Every leaf and fruit and
flower in the fretwork, and every broad design in the mosaic
pavement, were clearly and tellingly defined ; yet there could
be no doubt about the picture being a failure, and the littlo
Frenchman's eager eyes had found the cause now. During
the seconds of exposure the real and technical time of
taking a door in that part of the hall had been opened
suddenly. The whole thing was easily explained on
examining the negative ; yet it was long 'before Monsieur
132 OLD MYDDELTON'S MOITET.
Verrien's eyes were lifted ; and, when they were, there waa
a still deeper puzzle in them.
" I I did not know," he murmured, to himself, drawing
his handkerchief tenderly over the surface of the glass, " that
there was a lady here. I do not know why I should have
taken it so entirely for granted that there should not be a
lady here ; it was absurd of me, to be sure. There ther
naturally would be a lady here naturally naturally."
Monsieur Verrien repeated the word again and again with
growing emphasis, and yet he did not put aside the negative,
nor raise his eyes from that defective part.
" It was a lady's form there is no mistake about that,"
he mused, softly and slowly ; " a lady's, and a young lady's,
I wonder I wonder why I have never heard her spoken ot
here."
Another silent gaze, and then the Frenchman made a
rapid, characteristic gesture of self-disgust.
" Is this my affair ? " he muttered, in his broken English.
" Would these domestics of their own will talk to me of the
ladies of their master's house me whom they treat so well,
and who speaks so little to them and need Monsieur him-
self inform me ? Pah ! it is absurd ! "
As if to calm himself after this little ebullition of self-
reproach, he put down the damaged negative, and began to
turn over and admire, for the hundredth time, the mounted
photographs with which he had undoubtedly been successful.
" Ah, this is the one, this is my pride ! " he cried, taking
one up with an extra tenderness in his hard little stained
hands. " This no one could have taken better no one. I
chose this aspect of the house, and I chose this attitude for
Monsieur. How well he looks ! He always dots look well ;
but still I like this one beyond the others. How proud and
eolitury the figure looks, and yet how beautiful and natural
there on his own threshold ! Solitary ! His life, for all its
generous goodness, does seem solitary ; and yet if"
The sentence was not finished, but the Frenchmau'ssideway
glance at that dimly-developed figure in the spoiled negative
betrayed the purport of what he had intended to say.
" I will put it away," he said, presently; " it distracts me.*
He was glad one moment afterwards that he had done so ;
for scarcely had K laid it out of sight when the room door
OLD MTDDELT3N'S MONET. 183
was opened and Mr. Keith e T .-ered. He came up to the
table at which the little Frenoman was at work, and, half
sitting, half leaning there, watched him, chatting now and
then in an idle, pleasant way.
" I think, monsieur," said Verrien, presently, the words
having evidently been studied beforehand, and being uttered
now by an effort, "that I have completed all the views you
spoke of ; and when they .13 all transferred to-morrow, I
mean, monsieur I set out."
Royden, looking kindly and inquiringly into the photo-
grapher's anxious face, saw what this stay at The Towers had
been for him ; and although, as Verrien said, all the in-
tended views had been taken, he answered promptly that
there was more to do, and he hoped Monsieur Verrien would
stay a little longer.
" Monsieur Monsieur Keith," the little foreigner was
standing before Royden, his breath hurried, and his face full
of pathos in spite of its dark features, and the tortoise-shell
spectacles pushed high on his bald head " Monsieur, I do
not know how to say it. Even in my own language I could
hardly say it as I mean it. But I have done the photo-
trraphs you wished for, monsieur ; and if you order more,
it is only because because I am poor, and you are pitiful."
Royden laughed merrily.
" You have not mastered our language yet," he said,
shaking his head. " Let me translate that sentence for you.
Say it after me : ' Monsieur, if you order any more, it is
only because I am successful and you are satisfied.' There
that is what we call correct English."
"Monsieur Keith, will you let me say just one word
more ? "
" One," said Royden, smiling at Verrien's evident and
almost painful anxiety, " but only one."
" I meant to say that, if you had dismissed me a week
ago, you would still have been most kind ; but now I ought
to be sent "
" More than one, and a waste of time, monsieur. Now
for business. Show me what you have taken to-day."
Royden's generous, kindly tact had, by this speech, set
the anxious and humble Frenchman at his ease again,
was to be transacted, and business was uia
IS I OLD MYDDELTOITS MONEY.
province. Two minutes afterwards he was engrossed by the
photographs, and so excited by Mr. Keith's criticisms, and
BO happy in his praise, that Royden could hardly help
Bailing at the sudden change.
"To-morrow," he said, at last, when he had made hip
gnest most thoroughly content, " there are two important
views to take, and in the evening I shall be here as usua
to see them, and to decide upon the next. Now, Verrien
whnt about home news ? How is your daughter, for I saw
you had a letter to-day ? "
" Yes, monsieur, a letter from Marie herself ; she is just
the same just the same, I know, though she writea
cheerfully ; and she is getting on quite well, she says, with-
out me."
" A good thing," remarked Royden, understanding exactly
what the unselfish girl had said ; " she will not be vexed
then at my keeping you longer. And how are the ladies at
East Cottage ? "
"Mrs. Disbrowe is very ill, monsieur fading fast to the
grave, Marie says, but quite content it is so, and nursed BO
tenderly, monsieur, by Miss Craven as Marie says.",
" Miss Craven is not in London even yet, then ? "
" No, monsieur."
" And what about Mrs. Payte ? "
" Mrs. Payte, monsieur," said the little Frenchman,
without a tone of interest in his voice, " is just as ever,
Marie says ; so I suppose she is sharp, and scolds she
always did, monsieur."
" Not quite always," said Royden, laughing. " Have you
news of anyone else in Statton ? "
*' Only of Miss Honor, monsieur, as I said."
" Anything more about her, then ? "
Royden asked the question in so easy a tone that it wonld
have taken a keener perception than Verrien's to distinguish
the interest that lay so deep below it, or to detect the fact
that all the news of Statton centred here for him.
With a pride that was almost comical in its intense
solemnity, Monsieur Verrien drew his daughter's letter from
an inner pocket of his coat, and began to read aloud one
long passage devoted to Honr. The phraseology was un-
gruuiuiutical and discuuneaeu, ,uiu the reader was obliged
OLD MYDDELTON'S MOXEY. 185
to make continual pauses for the finding of his place
amongbt the small scraps of paper which had been av
Marie's command ; but, for all that, the father had i
listener who, by his quiet, concentrated interest, increase^
tenfold bis pride in his daughter's literary achievements.
" That is all of Statton news, monsieur," he said, gather-
ing the papers proudly into the envelope again ; " you wiL
not care for the rest, as it is about the garden, and the cat
and some old photographs of mine that she likes to look at,
poor child."
A little longer Mr. Keith stayed chatting with the
Frenchman ; then, lenving him to write his letter home, he
descended the stairs, his thoughts still so busy with those
trifling items of news that, when he reached the open door
of the room for which he was bound, he paused a moment,
as if he would recall his thoughts and chase from his face
some trouble which he felt to be there.
It was a beautiful apartment which he entered, not very
large, but furnished with exquisite taste and a most
thorough appreciation of comfort. Reclining on a low
chair by the fire sat an elderly lady in a lavender -coloured
silk dress, with lavender ribbons in her cap. She rose when
Hoyden entered ; and though she took her seat again at
his request, there was no rest in her attitude. The nervous-
ness must hare been new to her, for it struck Royden in a
moment.
" Are you alone ? " he asked, gazing round the room.
" Has Alice left you, Miss Henderson ?"
The lady thus addressed had no need to reply. At tho
first sound of his voice the curtains which hung before one
of the mullioned windows were moved aside, and a lady
tame from the embrasure out into the room.
" I am here, Roy," she said, in a voice so low and timid
that it seemed hushed in fear. " I have been wondering
where you were."
" Only in the green sitting-room, watching Verrien at hig
work. Have you wanted me, dear ? Have you been ill ?
Or" she had come into the full light now, and stood
looking anxiously at him " frightened ? "
"Yes, frightened," she answered, almost in a whisper.
" I cannot bear to tell you, Koy, for you are worried so 5
186 OLD MYDDELTUN'S MONET.
but still I must, because you can always make it right for
us. I am so weak and timid, and you are so cool and calm."
" What fresh worry have you now, Alice ? "
He had held out one hand to her when he saw the fea*
which had overcome her the fear with which she had not
either the spirit or the strength to battle and she seized it
between her trembling fingers, as she answered
" It is a man, Roy den a man who has beem here before.
I have seen him once myself, in the dark here, prowling
a small man in black very small thin, as well as short,
and he is here to-night. I saw him first, Roy ; and Miss
Henderson has seen him. I took her to one of the west
windows, and we saw him go through the shrubbery ; anc
now my maid has seen him too, and she says he has beer
here before. She thinks he is a friend of one of the men
servants, but I do not. I know he is here to spy. No inaL
would haunt this house but for that purpose. Oh, Royden,
what shall I do ? "
" Do not be afraid, dear. Show me where you saw him.
With an unhurried step, and a cool, rather amused face,
he walked up to the window at which she had been standing
hidden when he entered, and he laughed a little when he
met her piteous eyes ; but, for all that, there was something
in his face which, if she had been less weak and anxious for
herself, it might have frightened her to see.
" There," she whispered, below her breath, as, closing the
heavy curtains behind them to shut out the light from the
room, she pointed with her finger, drawing back her hand
again timidly, as if afraid of even that slight movement
"There just passing over the flower-bed! There
towards the back of the house ! I saw him quite plainly
when the clouds passed from before the moon quite
plainly, Roy, for he had not time to hide among the trees.
He is at the back of the house now somewhere ; at least, he
has not passed back where I could see him. It is the same
man indeed it is who was here before. He was here to
watch us then, and he is here to watch us now else why
should he haunt the place ? Oh, Roy, do not be angry
with me in this dreadful time ! If they find out ' :
"My dear," he said, most gently, "why should ,[ be
aii'-ry "with YOU ? And do .you not know very well that we
c> j *
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 187
are not going to let them find out ? Though there is ona
thing," he added, laughing as he came back into the room,
" which I am going to let them find out."
" Oh, Hoyden, you will be careful ? "
"Very careful," he answered, laying his hand for
moment reassuringly upon her shoulder ; " very careful,
dear, for your sake ; and you must be brave for mine."
" Mr. Keith," said Miss Henderson, coming forward for
the first time, her voice betraying her own anxiety and
unrest, "would it not be better to move no hand in
this ? Would it not be safer and wiser ? How do we
know who this may be, or what whispers may have got
abroad ?"
" Oh, I know him," said Royden, throwing back his head
with a hearty laugh, which did more towards giving them
courage than anything else could have done just then. " I
know him as a harmless little spy, whose power is certainly
not vested in his own person. You have no need to fear,
Miss Henderson do feel assured of that ; and, Alice, do
not tremble so. Sit here, my dear, and wait for my return.
It is just the night for fears and fancies, is it not ? But
we will set them all at rest. Ah, it would have done you
good, as it did me, to hear the poor little Frenchman up-
stairs talk of the beauty of this wild night, and read to me
of a woman who has lived for ten years in constant acute
bodily suffering, working hard in poverty all the while, yet
who writes from her sick bed that for him to be happy is
the only longing which her Father's mercy has let her feel.
Alice, from such hearts there are lessons for us to learn.
Heaven grant we may not waste its teaching when it comes
in such disguise."
" You never could," she whispered ; " and I am trying
oh, I do try, Roy !"
He answered only with a kind and gentle smile, and
then h- 1 . turned away.
All trace of this smile was gone before he reached the font
jf the wide, lamplit staircase, and his lips were firm, and his
eyes dark with anger. The " gentleman's gentleman " and
the portly butler (who ruled at Westleigh Towers with a far
greater and wider despotism than ever its master thought to
ezercise) were enjoying a glass of punch together be lure a
188 OLD MYDDELTUN'S MONEY.
great fire in th pantry, when the unexpected entrance of
their master surprised them.
"You are wise," he said, in his pleasant tones, as he
walked up to the fire. "On snch a night as this we have no
excuse for not keeping ourselves warm. I want to know,
Evans, whether all the house-servants are indoors to-night."
" I fancy so, sir," the butler answered, putting a chair
towards his master. Most of them are in the servants'
hall. Mrs. Hart is in her own room, and the house-steward
is with her this evening, and the lady's maid, I think."
" And the rest are in the hall ? "
" Yes, sir."
" That will do. Draw your chairs to the fire again. 1
thought I should need you, Evans, but, as Burton is here "
(Burton was the house-steward) " I will go to him."
" Shall I fetch him, or send him to you, sir ? "
" No ; I want no fuss."
If the appearance of the master had caused surprise in the
butler's pantry, the surprise was ten times greater in the
housekeeper's room.
" Go into the hall for me, Burton," he said, quietly re-
turning the respectful greetings ; "I want to know if all the
men are there men and maids, indeed. Find out if anyone
is missing, and I will wait here."
He stood before the fire in the housekeeper's snug little
room, while she wondered what the master meant, and why
he should be anxious to know that all the servants were
together. It was so unlike him.
But she had forgotten her passing sense of injury, and was
entertaining him to the best of her ability, when Burton re-
turned to say that one man was away a new servant. He
was in the harness-room, his fellow-servants thought, as he
often sat there at night with the grooms. Should Burton
go or send to see after him ?
" I will do it myself, I think," said the master, quietly.
" If I go through this west door, you can bolt it behind me."
Pausing at the great arched entrance to the stable-yard,
Royden turned and looked round. The wild gloom of the
night oppressed him unaccountably, and for the errand he
bad taken upon himself he had a strange and angry repug-
nance ; yet at that moment, as he looked up among the
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 189
heavy clonds and away across the heaving sea, one memory
rose and filled his eyes with a warm love the memory of
those words which had been read aloud to him an hour ago
and which told of Honor.
The harness-room, to which Hoyden at once made his way
was a long room running at angles with the gateway. A
large fire blazed in the grate, but the only occupant now was
a young groom standing at a distance from the fire, and
whistling merrily as he trimmed and lighted his small hand-
lantern.
A few words told all he had to tell. The man the m aster
sought had been there, but had left quite an hour ago. Yes,
he often did come in to have a chat, but he had not st;i\ ed
long to-night ; in fact some friend or relation had called for
him and taken him out.
No, the groom could tell nothing more. It was.qniti
possible the two men had gone to the village alehouse, but
really he could not tell ; he had not noticed this visitor who
had summoned his fellow-servant away ; nor had he cared
to ask where they were going. He had only by chance heard
and understood that the man had been urged by this visitor
to go and make an evening of it. Perhaps the groom did
not know, but thought it possible they might be in Mat
Burke's cottage. Mat was quite deaf and known to brew
good grog. Mat lived near The Towers too ; and, after all,
it was not very likely they would go to the village public,
where the servants from Westk'igh Towers were so well
known, and where everyone understood well enough how
little the master would like to hear of his men sitting
there at night to drink. No, it would not be the same at
Mat's. Mat was a quiet, honest man, and stone deaf ; only
his son's brig brought over a cnsk now and then, and Mat
made a sly bit of money out of it when he could.
Quietly setting aside all offers of further information or
personal attendance, the master went back to the house.
Ten minutes afterwards, with the fur collar of his long
Russian coat buttoned over his chin, he left the dark, wet
avenue, and turning into the high road, walked swiftly on
against the cutting north-east wind. Royden knew Mat
lin ike's cottage well, and, in spite of the scarce-broken
daikneas, made his way direct to it. A torn cotton curtain
190 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
was drawn before the window, but Royden could see that
the kitchen was brightly lighted ; and he could hear a
roice he recognized a weak, raised voice, the sound <>(
which made him pause for a moment with a feeling of cold
repulsion utter his own name with a laugh.
He gave a prompt, loud rap upon the door, but in the
game instant he opened it, and stooping to pass the door-
way, entered at once into the bright, untidy room. The
sight of three men drinking at the fire was no surprise to
him ; but to those three men the entrance of the master of
Westleigh Towers was more than a surprise.
Mat Burke rose as quickly as his rheumatism would allow,
and, pulling a lock of his white hair, began an abject and
long-winded apology for having again disobeyed his master's
orders, rambling oft' into an entreaty not to be turned out
of his cottage even this time. The young servant-man from
The Towers rose and stood back upon the hearth, his expres-
sion a ludicrous struggle between fear and defiance ; but
the other member of the trio did not rise at all. He had
been sitting with his back to tiie door when Royden
entered, and, after one swift glance round, he had main-
tained his position, and kept his face turned in the opposite
direction. In this attitude the short, pinched figure of Mr.
Bickerton Slimp betrayed nothing of his sense of humilia-
tion and defeat, or of the malevolent designs which warred
tempestuously within his limited person ; and his narrow,
col urless face was void of all expression.
Mr. Keith gave not one glance across at his own servant,
and only silenced the old man with a gesture. He stationed
himself at the small round table, and looked down upon the
lawyer's clerk. A long, steady gaze it was, and, though
Mr. Slimp made most praiseworthy efforts to appear un-
conscious of it, there was unmistakable evidence of its
Causing him an unpleasant sensation.
" This is not a public bar. Are you here illegally, of
ire you here as a friend ? "
Several answers and several alternatives rushed through
the mind of Bickerton Slimp, when this question was
asked, but he knew that, in order to keep up the rok he had
assumed with these men, there was but one answer he could
give, if he gave any ; BO he gave none.
OLD MYDDKT/TON'S MONET, 191
**A8 you do not answer, I presume my footman to be ft
personal friend of yours ! "
" I met him to-night by chance," returned Mr. Slimp,
with affected ease.
" Did you ? Chance has before taken you into my stable-
yard, I believe, though it is considered rather difficult of
access to strangers. You must have such a very strong
attachment to your friend that I am induced to remove all
impediments to your constant intercourse. I would not be
ungenerous enough to separate two such close allies. As
Mr. Slimp values your society," he added, turning his eyes
upon the young man, who stood as far back as he could in
the small kitchen, " he is welcome to it ; and as you have
been willing to place yourself at his disposal, do so entirely ;
for a divided service is a treacherous service always. Go*
with your friend, for I will have trusty men about me, and
not sneaks. Now," he added, addressing the lawyer's clerk
with easy scorn, " you can pursue your inquiries and cement
your friendship undeterred by fear to which feeling, I
believe, you are not quite a stranger. But you had better
not trouble yourself to seek another friend in my household.
A personal castigation, however exciting, will hardly repay
you the fatigue of the journey which lies between here and
your headquarters in Kinbury.".
A retort, laden with threats, reached Rovden's ear as he
turned from the cottage, but fell most harmlessly.
He re-entered The Towers by the postern door, through
which he had gone out, and when he walked up-stairs again,
in his evening dress and amid the warmth and lamp-light,
there was no trace visible of his anger and disdain. On
entering the room where he had first heard of Mr. Si imp's
espionage, he saw the elder lady sitting unemployed before
ttie fire, just as he had left her ; but the younger one was
talking restlessly to and fro between the window and the
door. At sight of Royden she started forward, her thin
white hands clasped eagerly.
" Oh, Roy, I have been so frightened," she cried ; "sfl
frightened ; and yet I did not know why."
"Nor do I," he answered, lightly, while with great gentle-
ness he unlocked her strained fingers. " There was no need
for fear ; and, bejond that, you promised me to Ve brave."
192 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
" And yon ?" she questioned, below her breath.
" I ? I have discovered that one of the servants hn
weakness for straying in the darkness. Is that anything
to cause fear, Alice ? Now play to me."
" I wish," she said, wistfully, as she turned to the piano.
"I had not worried you, and given you this alarm for
nothing."
" Worry and alarm ! I hare had neither, dear. Now
play."
She went gladly, for she well knew that it was the only
means by which she ever could really soothe or even sym-
pathise with him. The elder lady, sitting opposite ROY den
at the fire, saw his eyes close, and thought he was asleep.
She whispered this to Alice.
" You have soothed him to sleep, dear ; I am glad, for
he seemed tired and harassed to-night."
But Alice knew he was not sleeping, and she only nodded
gently, and played on.
" My dear," whispered Miss Henderson, at last, lifting
one of the thin hands from the key-board, "you must go
to rest, or you will be ill to-morrow after this fear and
excitement. Stay, shall I ring for tea ? That will rouse
Mr. Keith."
Hoyden opened his eyes, and lifted his head from its
lazy position in his clasped palms.
" Were you tired, Alice ? "
"No I am not tired of playing to you," she said. " 1
never am, because you like it. I only wish I could do it
better. Somehow my fingers are so weak like my health
and my spirit, Roy."
" Weak, are they ? " She was standing near him now
upon the rug, and as he spoke he took up her left hand
" It is not nearly so thin as it has been I am very thank-
ful for that but I want to see it as it used to be ; I want
to see the ring as tight as I remember it at first."
With a sudden, irresistible impulse, she drew her hand
from his, and pressed her lips upon the plain gold ring
which turned so easily upon the third finger. And, while
she held it so, she burst into uncontrolled and piteoiu
weeping.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONKT.
CHAPTER XXI.
From the bed where now she li( s,
With snow-white face and closed eyet,
She ne'er must rise again.
PROFESSOR W/xsow.
THE long December nighb was drawing to its close. A
covering of untrodden snow lent its white, hushed silence
to the scene. But that hush of death which is the deepest
hush of all descended slowly too upon its silent wings.
In one hour more the dawn would break above tht
snow ; in one hour more the pulse of life would throb
again throughout the land. But for this waiting soul a
fairer dawn would break, and the fevered pulse would cease
its throbbing.
" Honor," whispered the dying voice, " you have been
very good ; always patient, watchful, kind ; and for all
return I can only pray that God will bless you, dear, in His
own way in His own way which is best."
Mrs. Payte stood at the bedside of her old companion,
firm and upright. There was no abandonment in her
prief ; there was even no appearance of the grief ; but
Honor knew it was held back with iron will ; and the girl,
purposely leaving the old friends together at times, knew,
when she returned at their call, and found the restless old
lady bustling about as was her wont, that it had not been
go in her absence.
" Edna " the failing voice faltered in its last appeal,
and the nerveless hands relaxed in their last clasp " you
have been wise ; I see it all plainly now, though I thought
it wrong. I have been a great trouble to you, Edna ; but
you have been very good. I knew you best. Honor, she
was always kind and good to me ; and now you will comfort
her, you will help her, you will love her ?"
" Always."
The word was uttered with all the earnestness of truth,
and Honor's hand closed firmly on Mrs. Disbrowe's nervous
hVgers. But Mrs. Payte only muttered, curtly, that it was
better to make no rash promises, and then turned away and
stood beside the fire, with her back to the dying woman.
194 OLD ilYDDELTON'S MONEY.
Softly fell the snow-flakes past the curtained window ;
softly broke the dawn in the far east.
" Father, into Thy hands " Honor's low voice faltered,-
for in the patient, watching eyes had broken the glory of
the End. Pure as the snowflakes, softly flying downwards,
yet untainted, rose the free spirit to which no taint of earth
could ever cling again. Fairer than the dawn beyond the
hills, broke, for the patient, waiting soul, the Morning of
Heaven.
" Is this" the girl's eyes were lingering softly on the
eyes she had so gently closed, and her tears were falling
fast" the end ? "
" For us the end," Honor answered, turning and taking
on her breast the drawn and ligid face of the woman who
had lost her one companion, and looking into it the while
with the steadfast bravery of faith ; " for her the beginning
of the bright and painless life."
" Don't touch me as if you loved me ! I have been hard
and exacting, rough and impatient. Leave me with her."
Through that hour's thought beside the dead, no sound
broke the silence ; no cry for pardon passed the stiff, dry
lips ; Mrs. Payte's regret, after all, seemed to hold no
remorse for her own harshness. It might almost have
been that that long backward thought brought no
remembrance of injury to the dead.
The hour had barely passed, when Honor, entering softly,
took the old lady by the hand, and led her down into the
warm sitting-room, where, though the blinds were drawn,
the morning light fell clear ; where a bright fire sent its
cheery glow and pleasant hum to meet them, and where, on
the breakfast-table, lay one fresh sweet rose, carrying its
matchless lesson of the Resurrection of Life.
Then it was, and not till then, that tears welled up
inddenly in the shrewd eyes of this little old lady to whom
grief had seemed an impossibility, and she turned her face
and hid it on the cushions of the couch ; while Honor in
her girl-wisdom, knowing it was well such tears should
have their way knelt beside her, soothing her ouly with
mute caresses, and the silent strength of sympathy
*******
" Don't stay with me. child. Of course I'm lonely, and
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 195
of course I'm heart-broken ; but don't stay with mo. or
you'll lose, byond hope of recovery, every chance of a share
in old MyoMehon's money."
This was Mrs. Payte's almost hourly plaint, during the days
that intervened between Mrs. Disbrowe's death and funeral.
" Of course I like you with me, child ; bat you ought to
go, for your own sake."
Honor detected no selfishness in the speech. She saw
hat the old lady's feeling of loneliness was unfeigned, and
4he never hesitated in her own decision. Mrs. Payte had
made arrangements to leave Statton on the day after the
funeral. She had not quite decided where she should
finally settle, but for a time she was going amongst friends.
Once away from East Cottage, she said, where the rooms
were haunted by memories of her old friend, she should
stand a chance of regaining her spirits.
So, without a pang of selfish doubt or hesitation, Honor
made her plans too. She would stay with the solitary old
lady through those few sad days at East Cottage, see her
comfortably off upon her journey, and then feel at liberty
herself to join her relatives in London.
" I wish you had gone when the others went," whined
Mrs. Payte, as they sat together over the fire on the night
before the funeral ; " I am sure you are regretting it at
this moment. What claim had I upon you that you should
deny yourself for me ? "
"I was not thinking of Lady Lawrence," said Honor,
gently. " I was thinking of Mrs. Disbrowe."
" I know old Myddelton's sister will be enraged with
you," continued Mrs. Payte, not heeding the girl's reply.
" Probably she will refuse to see you when you do go."
" Then I shall come back."
" And you don't regret it ? "
The tone was sharp, and the glance was a suspicious
glance j but Honor did not notice either.
" No, I do not and never shall regret it," she answered,
Bimply.
Then, to her great relief, the subject was dropped for the
last time, and the old lady received, almost in silence, the
girl's sympathy and attention during that chilly day of the
funeral.
196 OLD MYDDELTOS'8 MONEY.
" Poor Selina," muttered Mrs. Payte, as she and Honor
entered the cottage after the dreary ceremony, " I shall misa
her greatly. There was plenty of good in Selina plenty ;
though she was weak and incapable. She was no relation
of mine ; but still I shall go to the expense of wearing
mourning for her when I find myself in a civilized' neigh-
bourhood, where I can get a gown made to fit. Till then
this will do very well. Eh, Honor ? "
The girl's lashes were heavy with tears, "Was this the only
requiem for one who had been so patient, and loved so much ?
" It was very thoughtful of you to put on a black dress for
X)-day," continued the old lady, " but of course it was un-
necessary. Everybody knows that Selina was nothing to you.
If they had been at home at The Larches or at Deergrove,
they would have laughed finely. Now, child, let us have a
cup of tea and arrange about to-morrow. Somehow, I don't
care to part with you."
" "We will not part until you leave Statton, Mrs. Payte,"
Baid Honor, gently, as they entered the sitttng-room, and
the maid-servant came in to change her mistress's boots ;
*' I shall first see you off on your way to your friends."
Honor drew the old lady's chair and footstool up to the
fire, and handed her her tea. True she was pettish and
selfish and complaining, but was she not old and solitary ?
And, in spite of all her harshness, could not Honor see the
lines of grief and anxiety upon her face ?
Early next morning, Mrs. Payte, with her arm in Honor's,
was waiting on the station platform. She had found out
that she must travel by this early train, as she would have
to change at Langham Junction, she said, and might have
to wait there.
" I shall hardly take any luggage at all," she decided j
"what need ? I shall get my mourning where I am going,
and of course I shall have to send back to East Cottage.
When I have made my plans, I shall let you have my address.
Now, what about yourself, Honor ? "
" I shall go home after you have left, Mrs. Payte, but I
Bhall be quite ready to start by the mid-day train for
London. I have very little to take. We are not invited to
stay with Lady Lawrence, you know ; only to meet her there
for the will to be made."
OLD MYDDELTON'g MONEY. 197
u And jon intend, after all, to go in that startling grey
and crimson dress ? "
" Yes, Mrs. Payte ; it is my best."
" Senseless child, when Mr. Stafford so particularly said
that old Myddelton's sister liked simplicity. Well, it's no
use arguing further about it. Where is that stupid woman
with my rug ? "
The stupid woman Mrs. Payte's very patient maid-
servant came up with shawls and cloaks, and put them
into a first-class compartment with her mistress. She her-
self then took a seat in a second-class carriage, provided
with a plentiful supply of cold chicken and claret for her
own refreshment during her journey ; and the train roiled
(slowly, on its way.
Honor returned to East Cottage in the fly which l.ad
taken them to the station. For more than an hour she
stopped to cheer and to help Marie Verrien, who was alone
now. After that she went home to make her own prepara-
tions. They were quickly finished, as she had said ; then
the servants (though they were on board wages) brought her
in, unasked, a mutton-chop and a cup of tea. So, by mid-
day, she was again waiting upon the station platform.
" Why, my dear Miss Craven," exclaimed Mr. Romer,
meeting her tliere, " I thought you started this morning
with Mrs. Payte ? "
" Oh no," smiled Honor ; " she went by the seven o'clock
train. I am going to London, you know."
" Of course I know ; that is why I felt sure you were
gone. Why, if you had taken her train to Langham Junc-
tion, yon would have caught the up express, and been in
Kensington before now."
"Oh, what a pity ! " cried Honor. "I never thought ol
it, nor did Mrs. Payte."
" Ladies never do understand anything about trains," re-
marked the Rector, merrily. " Now let me see you snugly off."
He chose a seat for her, brought her a paper, had the
water-tin refilled, and saw that she was well prepared in
svery way for her cold journey. Yet from that moment It
was a miserable journey to Honor, for she could not find
Lady Lawrence's address. She remembered having had it
ill her hand at the station, when she had been there in tha
o
198 OT,D MYDDELTON'S MONET.
early rooming with Mrs. Payte ; she was quite snre of that,
because the old lady had read it, and had told her to be
careful of it, saying it was of too much value to be trined. witn.
When she reached London, Honor earnestly interrogated
the porters, and even ventured out to question the cabmen.
Did they happen to know what house in Kensington had
been Sir Hervey Lawrence's, or in what house Lady
Lawrence lived now ? " Though I am afraid you do not,"
added Honor, naively, " for she has only just returned from
The 'men were willing enough to take her to find the
house, but in no other way could they help her. Lady
Lawrence was urn dame inconnue; but they knew Kensing-
ton from end to end, of course, and they would soon find
the house. .
A tedious two hours Honor spent, driving slowly from
spot to spot in Kensington ; but at last her destination was
found. Her heart beat fast when the cab stopped for good
and all this time before a grand and lofty mansion. She
had had no thought yet but for her own carelessness and
the awkwardness of her position ; so that now the meeting,
which for so long had been looming afar, seemed to have
come upon her with a sudden rush.
In answer to the cabman's ring, two powdered footmen
came out to meet this visitor for Lady Lawrence.
" That is all my luggage, thank you," she said, while
she drew out her purse and almost shyly tendered a half-
Bovereign to the powdered Colossus. " Will you pay him
forme.?"
The man bowed, and passed on the money, while an
elderly man in black led Honor upstairs, and left her in
the care of a lady's-maid, who looked almost a lady herself
in her beautifully-made black dress, with a delicate square
of lace upon her head, and a tiny apron of fine muslm WJth
black bows upon the pockets.
Almost unwillingly, Honor accepted her deft and E
help The girl longed to be alone for these -few minutes.
It was all so strange to her, and so oppressive. In the
immense, sombre house, no sound broke the grand and
dreamy silence ; and even the very tread of her own loot,
soft and muffled, seemed strange to her.
OLD MYDDELTON'B MONEY. 199
" I am ready," she said ; and it struck her oddly that she
was schooling her voice to these new surroundings.
She followed the maid along the corridors, until a gentle-
man in black, carrying a white wand, met her, led her with-
out a word to the door where he had stood, and, throwing it
open, announced, " Miss Craven," in a clear, imposing voice.
At first Honor felt too shy and dazzled to look round.
She could only walk on into the high, long room, dimly
conscious of the presence of others. But presently, when
she was greeted by voices she knew, she recovered her old
ease, and looked round for Lady Lawrence. Evidently
Lady Lawrence was not there, and she was simply amongst
the old friends with whom, or near whom, she had spent all
her life.
Captain Trent came forward to meet her with only half
concealed eagerness, and Lawrence Haughton watched her
keenly from where he stood, though too angry or too proud
to advance one step towards her. Mrs. Trent nodded from
her couch ; Theodora exclaimed, with an incomprehensible
smile, that she knew Honor would take care to be in time,
after all her apparent indifference ; Miss Haughton put out
her hand and let the girl kiss her ; but Phoebe jumped up
and gave two kisses for Honor's one, delighting evidently in
the interruption.
" Oh, we are so tired of waiting, Honor," she exclaimed,
impetuously, "it is so dull and disappointing. Lady
Lawrence has not left her room yet. She did not come at
all till we had been here for days and days. She had not
reached England, so even we were in good time, let alone
Theo, who was so much earlier. She came in tremendous
style, rattling up in a private chaise, with four horses and
four servants, but she could not see us then, she was so
fatigued, and she has not left her room since. Oh, I wish
she would make haste ! " *
" Then I am in time ? " said Honor, really astonished.
" Exactly in time, for we are to dine with her to-night ;
and, if she does come in here before, as she is expected to
do, you will still be in time, you see."
" Lady Lawrence will decide that," said Theodora, her
harsh tone betraying a little of the mortification which had
for days been consuming her, " for Mr. Stafford cuine in
200 OLD MYDDELTON'fi MONET.
this morning for the names of all who were here, and
especially of those who had arrived first. Of course, youri
could not be sent at all."
"Of course not," absented Honor, promptly.
" And I do not think," added Mrs. Trent, " that Ladj
Lawrence will be very much pleased to find that her invite-
don, and indeed command, has been set at defiance by the
very youngest of all her connections."
" Oh, the youngest cannot much signify in any case,"
rejoined Honor, merrily ignoring the contemptuous
innuendoes.
" Mr. Stafford said," added Theodora, " that of course
the first arrivals had paid Lady Lawrence the highest
compliment ; and he inquired particularly why one should
be absent. We had great difficulty in explaining your
perversity."
" Had you ? " questioned Honor, as she stood before the
fire warming her hands. " I should have fancied it easy.
But how strange you all look ! "
" It is you who look strange in this house, Honor,"
remarked Miss Haughton. " Do you not see how sombre
everything is ? And do you not recollect what Mr. Stafford
told us about the simplicity of Lady Lawrence's taste in
dress? You heard it as well as the rest of us. If you
choose to forget it, or defy it, you must take the conse-
quences."
" I do not think," observed Honor, looking slowly round
upon the group, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes,
" that you any of you look quite natuial."
" We are trying to please Lady Lawrence."
"But I do not think she wished to see us feigning other
natures than our own, or even other habits ; so I came as I
usually am."
Lawrence rose from his lounge near one of the windows.
Ever since Honor's entrance, his eyes had been fixed
upon her. The young figure, in its bright and picturesque
dress and in its perfect ease, and the lovely face, so entirely
without self-consciousness, had come like a charm to him in
this sombre room and among these factitious surroundings ;
yet now suddenly it began to anger him, as the presence of
clear-judging truth will ever anger masked deceit.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 201
He turned and looked moodily and persistently out upon
the quiet wintry gardens. If this feeling of wrath against
Honor were to be encouraged, he knew he must not follow
he? with his eyes. The influence which, even from a child,
her presence had exercised over the hard and austere man o'
the world could not be hidden while he watched the beau-
tiful changing face he loved so passionately.
" How are the servants at home behaving, Honor ? " in-
quired Miss Hau^hton.
Honor looked curiously for a moment at her guardian's
sister. From her, at least, she had expected an inquiry for
the poor sick lady whom she had stayed behind to nurse.
" Very well," she said, speaking rather heavily in her dis-
appointment. " Phoebe, I am sorry to say your bird is dead;
you forgot to leave any particular instruction "
"Hush !" exclaimed Phoebe, ecstatically. "What is that ?'
She had arrested her attention in this manner a hundred
times before, but Honor did not know this, and so of course
she listened.
" I heard a step, I am sure," said Phoebe, apologetically,
when no sound reached any other ears ; " and I thought it
was Lady Lawrence, Oh, Honor, what a pity about my
bird ! " and for the space of six minutes Phoebe mourned her
lost canary.
" Honor, how are the old women at East Cottage ? " in-
quired Mrs. Trent, feeling that any news might serve to
pass the time.
Honor told her in few words ; then, for a time, silence
eettled among them; and Honor, from her low seat near
the fire, surveyed the group in puzzled wonder. Hardly one
of them looked or acted as she had been accustomed to see
them look and act, and she tried to make the change clear to
herself. Even Mrs. Trent had adopted the simple attir*
which Lady Lawrence was supposed to affect, and of the
whole group perhaps the greatest difference was observable
in her. To miss the voluminous silks, the laces, flowers, and
jewelry, was to miss Mrs. Trent herself.
In Theodora the change was almost as great. She was
a different person {without her brilliant toilettes, with their
manifold minor allurements ; but just at this time Honor
could note another change. Miss Trent's patience was
202 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
exhausted. The languid placidity had given way to a worried
peevishness as a normal expression. Only now and then,
with sudden recollection and alarm, could she call back her
complacency. But her moods were too uncertain to retain
it, and the fretful look was resumed unconsciously.
To Honor the whole thing was a comedy. Jane's rigidly
Quaker attire ; Phoebe's studied simplicity Phoebe, to
whom ribbons, and feathers, and frills had hitherto been
the necessaries of life ! the affected geniality of Mr.
Haughton's expression when sudden moments of recollec-
tion visited him ; and the utterly unsuccessful attempt of
Captain Trent to be devoid of affectation just for this
once.
So they sat at their several occupations, in the immense
room in which they seemed so few, where the rich glow of
firelight fell upon a profusion of valuable Indian furniture,
and where the silence was as dreamy as was the silence
without, while the December afternoon drew to its close.
So they sat, minute after minute, waiting.
" How sick I am of expecting her ! " observed Theodora,
speaking almost unconsciously as she threw down her work
and moved to the window. " Ah ! "
But the door had been opened only to admit Mr. Stafford,
Lady Lawrence's lawyer. Though Miss Trent's first feeling
was disappointment, she could but hail his coming as a relief
to the monotony, and she roused herself to engross him. He
chatted merrily among them for a time, and cracked various
good-natured jokes about his idle client.
" She takes an unconscionable time to sleep off her
fatigue," he said, " but I suppose she will really be down
presently. She will dine with you to-night without fail.
A-h who comes here ? "
Two gentlemen entered the room as he spoke ; one being
Lady Lawrence's chaplain, and the other a swarthy, fine-
looking young man, in an embroidered silk cap a man who
was evidently Indian by birth, and who though this
certainly was not evidenced in his martial bearing or foreign,
appearance was Lady Lawrence's private secretary. His
advent was a treat for Theodora. She wps keen enough to
detect the signs of " caste ; " and what a relief a little flirta-
tion would be in this tedious waiting !
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 208
Abont half an hour after the entrance of these two gentle-
men, and when conversation was getting lively and general
in the long drawing-room though Mr. Stafford, the chief
talker, had been for some minutes absent a slight old lady
alighted nimbly from a cab at the door of Lady Lawrence's
mansion, and, much to the surprise of the powdered footmen,
inquired for Miss Craven. One of them gravely consented
to inquire, and, in consequence of this concession, the gen-
tleman-usher appeared again at the drawing-room door, to
inform Miss Craven that a lady waited to see her.
" The most curious little person I ever chanced to en-
counter," whispered Mr. Stafford, happening to return at
that minute. " I would not go down to see her, Miss
Craven, if I were you. Had she been a real lady, the ser-
vants would have been quick to see it, and she would have
been shown in here before me."
But Honor rose at once to go, though she had no need to
do so. Almost before the .lawyer's words were finished,
Mrs. Payte herself, in defiance of the usher's hesitation,
appeared in the high doorway, and, frowning a little, as if
either the size of the room or the glare of the firelight
dazzled her, stood there for a minute gazing around her.
" A curious little person," well might Mr. Stafford say ;
and never had she looked so curious as she did now. She
wore still the shabby black costume which she had assumed
for Mrs. Disbrowe's funeral, and this was surmounted by a
broad-brimmed black hat, for which in June there might
have been some excuse, but which in December was ridi-
culous as well as hideous.
Altogether, Buch a figure as this must assuredly h&ve
startled the select and aristocratic neighbourhood, and such
eccentric shabbiness must be a new spectacle to the stylish
and immaculate retainers in Lady Lawrence's household.
Still, however ludicrous the scene, this visitor's name waa
announced with just the same solemn arH res^iectlul gravity
with which the others had been
"Mrs. Payte."
204 OLD MYDDELTON'S MOSEY.
CHAPTER XXII.
There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath,
For a time.
THEODORA. TRENT turned her back most unmistakably
upon that excited little lady, and began an energetic con-
versation with the secretary, who listened and conversed
most deferentially, but yet had an amused twinkle in his
long Indian eves, as if he understood a little more than she
expressed to him.
" I wonder," she said, with well-feigned ignorance,
" who this person can be who has taken the trouble to seek
Miss Craven here ? I always knew that Miss Craven was
an odd girl, and had odd acquaintances, but I should
hardly have supposed she would encourage them to follow
her here."
The Indian bowed gravely. Her ladyship would be sur-
prised to find such a visitor here, doubtless, he said.
" I hope," put in Theodora, smiliug, " that she will
understand it to be Miss Craven's affair entirely."
" Her ladyship shall be made to understand," he an-
swered, gallantly.
Then, Theodora resumed her flirtation, with her mind at
ease.
"Honor," whispered Captain Trent, "despatch her
quickly, for Heaven's sake ! Just suppose Lady Lawrence
came in now ! "
"Mrs. Payte," remarked Mr. Haughton, coldly, " I have
no doubt Miss Craven will come downstairs to you."
" I don't want her downstairs," retorted the old lady,
with all her characteristic brusqueness ; " I want her here,
because I have heard there is a London lawyer here.
Honor, are you listening ? "
" I am listening, indeed, Mrp. Payte," said the girl, who
had not only gone forward and clasped the old lady's hand,
but, because she saw the enperciiioius glances cast upon her,
held it still.
** Very well, my dear ; then I will say what I want, and
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 205
yon will help me. I found, on my way, that there was a
trifling law business that ought to be settled at once, now
poor Selina has gone, so I changed my mind and came to
London to get it done. Wasn't it lucky that I chanced t<?
keep Lady Lawrence's address this morning when you showed
it me ? I have got rooms near here, for I must stay till it ia
settled. I know you will call upon me eh, child ? "
" Indeed I will, Mrs. Payte," said Honor, cordially.
" And now I have another thing for you to do," resumed
the old lady, in a lower tone. " I want to find some
lawyer a London man, else I should have appealed to my
learned friend, Mr. Haughton who will do this business for
me, moderately as well as wisely. I heard there was a
lawyer here. Which is he ?"
" The gentleman by the fire," whispered Honor, half
laughing, " Mr. Stafford, of whom you have heard us speak
at Statton."
"Oh!"
" Shall I introduce you ? "
"No, child ; I had rather you arranged the matter for
me. I don't like strangers. Tell him I have need of a
solicitor's advice and services, but that I am anxious not to
be led into much expense. Ask him if, under those cir-
cumstances, he would give me the benefit of his help."
Though Mrs. Pajte might possibly be under the delusion
that she was conducting this conversation privately with
Honor, every word was distinctly heard by the other
occupants of the room, and this was made sufficiently
evident. Theodora gave a short, sarcastic laugh ; Mrs
Trent murmured an astonished " Dear me ! " Hervey
muttered a few words, of which the only audible ones were,
" Ton my soul ! " and Lawrence Haughton turned away
with an air of thorough disgust.
Honor glanced shyly towards Mr. Stafford. If he would
but come forward, she thought. He must have heard just
ae much, and as plainly, as the others had ; yet he stood, to
all appearance, engrossed in conversation with the chaplain,
"Ask him," repeated Mrs. Payte, pettishly. " He will
do it for you of course he will, because you are a possible
heiress of Lady Lawrence's."
" Oh, hush ! " whispered Honor. " He will hev ."
206 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET
She moved towards him as she spoke, but Hervey in-
tercepted her.
" Let that vulgar little creature do her own work, Honor,"
he urged, in a low tone. " For goodness sake dismiss her ! *
But Honor went on, and, standing shvly and earnestly
before Mr. Stafford, asked him if he would be so very kind
as to promise to help "her friend" in dealing with a
|uestion of law.
" I scarcely know what to say," returned the lawyer,
looking keenly into the girl's face, first through, and then
over, his glittering spectacles. But, after that hesitation,
he added, genially, " Yes, I will do it, Miss Craven."
"Thank you," she said, with unfeigned gladness, "thank
you. You hear, Mrs. Payte ? Mr. Stafford promises."
" That's a relief," observed the old lady, without, how-
ever, much evidence of gratitude. " I can manage now ;
and you will come to see me ? I don't ask any of you," she
said, looking round upon the group with inimitable
effrontery, " because I don't feel quite sure that I have ever
seen you before. If I have, so great a change has taken
place that it renders recognition difficult. Honor, good-bye.
I will give you my address as soon as I aoi settled. You
we sure you will call ? "
" Quite sure, Mrs. Payte."
" And now," concluded the old lady, with a shrewd, slow
glance around her, " I will wish you all good day."
She waited to note each separate reception of her fare-
well, her dark little restless face full of keen observation.
Only a view vouchsafed any reply. Theodora took no more
notice of her presence than if, just then, she had been a stool
upon the carpet. Mrs. Trent slightly bent her pompons
head, but did not move her lips. Phoebe said, "Good
morning," as she might have uttered a forced apology which
she loathed to utter. Captain Trent bowed his most formal
bow, and Mr. Haughton hurried through a rough " Good
day to you."
The other gentlemen bowed without a word, while Honor
walked to the door with her old friend.
"Don't come downstairs," said Mrs. Payte, arresting
her. " This is not your own house, you know, child, and
you had better act as the others act. Turu back, and let
OLD MYDDIiLTON'S MONEY. 207
me go my way alone. Make haste, and you will ha^e the
fun of seeing them smooth their ruffled plumes."
At dusk, when the servants came in to light up the room
and shut out the fading daylight, the spirits of every one
fose, and expectation grew keener every second. This was
the time Lady Lawrence had promised to join them, and
there was no fear of a disappointment to-day. For the
years of anticipation as well as the week's waiting in
London, they would all be rewarded in a few minutes' time
Every eye was on the watch ; every ear was strained to
the uttermost ; for it would be hard to catch the rustling
of a dress through these thick walls, or the fall of a step
upon the velvet carpet.
Complacency had returned now to every member of the
family, and smiles were ready to their lips. The influence
of this eager and expectant watchfulness had so wrapt
Honor too that when at last the door was thrown wide
open, and a voice announced " Lady Lawrence," she felt
with what a sudden start and quiver she rose, as all the
others rose, to meet the advancing figure.
There was not one of old Mr. Myddelton's possible heirs
who was not, and had not for years been, familiar with the
portrait of his sister, the Anglo-Indian, who was to be the
arbitress and distributor of his almost fabulous wealth, and
on whose return to England so many hopes were centred.
All were familiar with the sketch which had been sent them,
as well as with the girlish portrait at Abbotsmoor, and
built upon these some had formed a fancied portrait of thif
important dame, in whoso power it lay to make them rich.
Familiar to all were the portly figure in its stiff, plain dress,
and the smooth, sleek face with its low braids of dark hair,
its sleepy thoughtful eyes, its intellectual chin, and its wide
and firmly-closed lips. Not one but knew this picture well,
and knew that this was the Lady Lawrence whom they should
rise to meet. So there was not one who did not start back
in visible alarm and consternation when they saw that it waa
another and a very different figure which entered after that
slow announcement of " Lady Lawrence."
A small figure this, in a rich black satin dress, heavily
trimmed with crape, and wearing an exquisite little lace cap
ipoc the crisp grey curls ; a small old lady, with keen eyes,
208 OLD MVDDELTON'S MONET.
a dark restless face, and lines of cynical amassment round
her thin, mobile lips.
"My dears, I am glad to see you all very glad to see
you here," ehe said, advancing towards them, with her smaH
hands outstretched. " I have ke.pt you waiting a long time,
and for that I owe you an apology. But I intend to d^fei
it until after dinner, and in the meantime how do you do,
all of you?"
If a thunderbolt had fallen in their midst, the family of
old Myddelton would have been less surprised, and would
have stood less breathless. There seemed no life or motion
left among them. On that quivering, joyous expectation
with which they had risen to preet Lady Lawrence, had
fallen, in one moment, an awful numbness, a maddening
sense of utter defeat and helplessness and despair, and withal
a bitter, stinging consciousness of what might have been.
For, instead of that imposing figure for which they had
looked, there had entered the tiny one which, half an hour
before, had come in to them in broad black hat and shabby
dress, to be disowned, and discarded, and insulted ; instead
of the stranger they had looked for, had entered the insig-
nificant person who, for months before that day, had lived
among them as a poor and unknown gentlewoman, able
only to afford cottage lodgings, but who, in this cottage-
home in their midst, had had every opportunity of studying
their characters, whilst before her they had not cared to
wear disguise.
It was strange that now, in her handsome dress, and in
her own beautiful rooms, all could readily detect the inborr
aristocrat. Brusque, eccentric, excitable, she might be, but
still she carried with her the marks (and the consciousness,
too) of high birth and lofty position. A true patrician was
Sir Hervey Lawrence's widow ; a true gentlewoman was
old My ddel ton's sister. And yet to think it should be in
her hands that the fabulous wealth lay for distribution !
Hers the thin, restless hands of this little old lady,
whom, up to this moment, they had known only as ALri.
Edna Payte !
OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONET. 203
CHAPTER XXIII.
"Will you lend me your mare to po a nuleP"
" No, she is lame leaping over a stile."
" But if you will her to me spare,
You shall have money for your mare."
" Oh, ho ! Say you so Y
Money will make the mare to go."
OLD GLEE.
LADY LAWRENCE stood beside the couch from which Mrs.
Trent had risen. She had not attempted to Beat herself,
and none of those who had started up at the sound of her
name had moved from the attitudes in which their great
surprise had found them.
" I see," she said, as she glanced from one to another of
her startled guests, " that you did not expect to meet me
here. You cannot recognise my face and form with th^t
portrait of Lady Lawrence which you all know so well. No
wonder, for I bought it a fancy sketch, costing something
under fifty rupees because it was as unlike myself as any
woman's portrait could be. I meditated, even then, this
pious fraud, and I knew the portrait would put you off the
scent, even if any chance speech or occurrence should after-
wards awa-ken suspicion. I think no suspicion ever has
been aroused, and no plan could have worked better than
mine has done. I have heard from all of you such frank
and undisguised opinions of old Myddelton's sister that no
doubt could ever rest in my mind. I never questioned your
right to judge of her without knowing her, but I chose not
to judge you until I did know you ; a mere matter of t;isto
either way, and surely we all have a right to our own
opinions. I have gained my knowledge, and I fear you are
not so glad of having known me before this meeting as I
am for having known you. It was not your conduct to
aiyself which was to be the test I sought. I had a wider
motive, which you will soon understand. You are yery
kind to have met me here. I have delayed making my wili
as long as I think it safe to delay it. I am an old woman,
ami you know, all of you, how another old woman, who had
beeu my companion for twenty years. has> died withm the
210 OLD MYDDELTON'S MOXET.
itew months you hare known me. True, I am heal thy-
brisk and active, as most of you have remarked; but a
certain old proverb insinuates that a door on strong hinges
is not to be depended on. Remembering this. I ha v e
determined to make my will without further delay. I
shall be glad of your presence, for I do not intend to omit
one name ; so to-morrow morning, Mr. Stafford, we will be
ready," she added, with a merry sparkle in her eyes ; "for,
you know, you promised, an hour ago, to settle this little
legal matter wliich brought me to London."
" Dinner is served, my lady."
"With a certain dignity, which seemed now to belong to the
old lady, in spite of her restlessness, she paired off her guests.
Out of consideration for them, dinner had been thus early
and suddenly announced, to excuse dinner-dress, which
neither she nor the gentlemen of her household had assumed.
Mrs. Trent, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable, not only
mentally but (in consequence of her unusual attire) physi-
cally too, left the room gloomily on the old chaplain's arm.
Jane Haughton, more rigid than ever in her mortification,
walked like a pillar in the escort of the cheery lawyer.
Theodora Trent tried to call up her old smiles for the benefit
of the Indian secretary, but her mind was too full of anger
an anger which was wide, and vague, and directed against
every one but herself.
"Mr. Haughton," said Lady Lawrence, her keen eyes
moving from one to another of the group, "I will trouble
you for your escort ; and, Captain Trent, you will doubtless
be proud to lead both these young ladies."
There was a curious pucker in the corners of her mouth
when she said this, almost as if she knew how unwelcome
this position had ever been to Captain Hervey.
The dinner was an elaborate and ceremonious meal, yet
the old woman's constant easy chatter, and the genial and
ek.il ful conversation of the gentlemen of the house, overcame
the heaviness which might so easily have settled on the
party^ Besides which, there were one or two of old Myddel-
ton's relatives who, in their pride, made a strenuous effort
io appear thoroughly at ease ; and these efforts, though
painfully evident, were not without a partial success.
Alter dinner, Lady Lawrence retired to her own room,
OLD MYDDELTON'S MOXET. 211
and her guests seemed all glad to follow her example. It
would be less unpleasant to sit alone by the fires ill their
chambers than to have to discuss together the events of
the day.
Next morning Lady Lawrence appeared at breakfast, and
again made the meal a social and cheerful one. When it was
over, she led the way to the library ; and neither the chap*
lain, nor the lawyer, nor the secretary, followed her now.
" I bring you here," she said, as her guests took their seats
about the room, and she herself appropriated a large chair
which stood beside a writing-table, " to hear my intentions
regarding my will. Mr. Stafford is with me for the purpose
of drawing it up, and he may possibly make that a long
process lawyers always make everything lengthy and
elaborate but we need not be delayed by that. I have
promised Mr. Stafford to give him notes of my wishes this
morning. In three days' time the will is to be complete, and
he will read it to me here to me and to any of you who
will wait to hear it. I have promised him the directions at
once, not only because I want the fuss over, but also because
I should think it unfair to keep you longer in uncertainty,
dancing attendance on my whims. Whims I call them,"
added the old lady, with a shrewd twinkle in her bright grey
eyes ; "but not quite idle whims, mind. It is true that I
have practised a fraud upon ycm, but it was with a purpose
solemn enough to legitimatise it. I have in trust an enor-
mous sum of money, besides property of other kinds, and
this trust is not to be lightly disposed of. So, for this fraud
of mine, I offer no apology ; those among you who know
that Lady Lawrence, coming in style to Statton, would have
found you only as Mrs. Payte, in her nameless insignificance,
found you, have nothing for which to blame me. Those
who have one nature for the poor and another for the rich
if there should be any such among you would not merit
apology ; so, as I said before, I offer none. I have had
good opportunities of studying my kinsfolk's dispositions,
and those opportunities have been of inestimable value to me.
I am not quite a Myddelton at heart, and I have a great
wish that the family wealth shall be neither squandered noi
selfishly amassed. I want a pure and generous hand to wipe
away that uurse which rests upon old Myddeltou's money, and
211 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
I should like to think that, from the moment I give it ti^v
the good which it shall do will bring a light and blessing ou
it, and redeem this wasted time and power abused. Now
for the items," continued the little old lady, dipping her
quill into the ink, and ecrawling a date upon the blank
white paper before her.
"You can help me considerably here, for T am not quite
inre of your baptismal names, and I wish to remember
everyone. Of course I naturally should. My greatest
difficulty at present" as she spoke, she raised her pen, and
looked quizzically into the faces around her, reading their
expressions at a glance " my greatest difficulty is in recog-
nising you as the Statton friends who were so invariably
hospitable and courteous to the commonplace old woman at
East Cottage, and so kind and attentive to her sick com-
panion. Still in this change I recognise the compliment
paid to the rich old aunt, and I appreciate it at its full
worth. Mrs. and Miss Trent, for instance," resumed the old
lady, the cynical lines deepening about her mouth, "how
could 1 at first be sure I saw the ladies from Deergrove, who
have hitherto appeared so diiferently before me ? But J
understand the respect they pay me, and that shall be re-
membered."
" Phoabe Owen, too. Let me congratulate yon, child, on
looking better in your plain dress than I ever saw you look
before. Surely for such a denial as foregoing your finery
for a few days, you deserve some recompense, and you shall
be recompensed. Miss Haughton, yesterday evening, for
the first time, I saw you bestow a pleased smile of greeting
on me. It was at the moment my name was announced,
and before you had seen me. I was unfeignedly surprised
to detect it, and though it should be the last as well the first,
it deserves to be remembered in my will. You, too, Mr.
Haughton, were just then waiting with a smile for Lady
Lawrence. I caught a glimpse of it, and it made me forget
how few smiles you had, half an hour before, bestowed on
the little old woman who had intruded into your presence
here. You are a clever man, Lawrence Haughton, very
clever I have not lived near you so long without discover,
ing that and I know that the money I leave you will noi
be frittered away in any rash, Quixotic manner. As for you,
OLD MYDD ELTON'S MONEY. 218
Hervey Trent, you must of course be remembered too, for
the part you play so well is an expensive part. 'Pyramui
is a sweet-faced man, a proper man as one shall see in
Bummer's day a most gentlemanlike man ; therefore you
play well the part of Pyramus/ As for you, Honor Craven
the old lady's eyes swept over the girl with the greatest
unconcern "you have voluntarily forfeited your place in
Lady Lawrence's will, as you are perfectly aware. Now, if
you will excuse me for ten minutes, I will write my direc-
tions for Mr. Stafford."
It was a strange and puzzled silence which held the group
for those ten minutes a silence freighted with anxious
thought, and broken only by the crackling sound of Lady
Lawrence's pen upon the thick white paper. Honor stood
looking out into the chilly garden, conscious of no feeling
beyond her great astonishment. Again and again, as
through the night before, she was going back to those days
she had spent at East Cottage, wondering why she had
never suspected any cause for Mrs. Payte's always inexpli-
cable interest in old Myddelton's family.
Lawrence Haughton took down a book and buried himself
in its pages, his face as inscrutable as was the lace of Lady
Lawrence while she wrote. His sister watched him with an
anxiety which, for her, was almost eager.
Captain Trent, leaning back in his chair with an attempt
at his characteristic listlessiness, looked over with the
greatest unconcern for its contents a large album, which
stood on an ebony stand near him.
Mrs. Trent had brought in her wools, and was knitting
busily ; but in her face there was a curious, restless watch-
fulness, only equalled by that which glittered in Theodora's
eyes as, every two or three seconds, she raised them quickly
and surreptitiously, and fixed them upon the engrossed face
of the old lady.
It would be impossible to describe the thoughts of any
of the group, because over all still lay the shadow of selfish
anticipation. So much depended on the words wl.ich that
quill was forming ! Until they knew them, how con Id they
judge of Lady Lawrence, or how could they form, an opinion
as to tfceir own parts in the past or future ?
The Ua minutes had stretched themselves to twentv,
214 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
when Lady Lawrence put down her pen, and raised her
head with a glance which took in the whole room.
" That is finished," she said, in the quick tones which
reminded them of Mrs. Payte. " Now let me read you my
bequests."
Her mot : ons were as rapid as her words, when phe took
up, one after another, the sheets of paper, which she had
covered only on one side.
" To Mrs. Isabella Trent, of Deergrove that nnme is right,
I know I leave one thousand pounds, to defray the expenses
of a short and fashionable mourning for old Myddelton's
Bister. Though I do not suppose she will ever again be
tempted to lay aside her naturally expensive habits, I hope
this sum may be sufficient for the purpose. To her daughter,
Theodora My ddelton Trent is that name correctly entered ?"
" Quite correctly," answered Theodora, in a faint, anxious
Toice.
" I leave one thousand pounds, in acknowledgment of
the delicate attention she paid me in being here first to await
me. To Phoebe Myddelton Owen'' the busy voice paused
after each name, waiting for its corroboration, then con-
tinued, as if uninterrupted " 1 also bequeath one thousand
Vounds. Her wardrobe is at present an anxiety to her, and
^his sum will add fifty pounds a year to her allowance, and
Bave her, perhaps, from future debt or trouble. To Jane
Myddelton Haughton I leave the same sum, knowing it will
be cautiously and scrupulously garnered ; and feeling that
to be garnered so one thousand pounds is as useful as one
hundred thousand. To her brother, Lawrence Myddelton
Haughton, I bequeath two thousand pounds, with which he
can speculate (according to a fancy he has) for his clients'
benefit."
A flame of wrath rose in Lawrence Haughton's cheeks,
but no one connected it with anything beyond the natural
anger excited by this legacy.
" To Hervey Myddelton Trent," continued Lady Law-
rence, unmoved, " I leave the same sum. To one who has
been so confident of a large fortune, I know it will appear
trifling ; but it may possibly supply him with cigars for the
term of his natural life and a good cigar, he ouue told me,
wui the essence of comfort."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 215
** I think I have remembered you all, save Honor Craven,
and I decline, for reasons of "my own, to accept her as a
legatee. There are other bequests here," continued the old
lady, glancing down one of the well-covered pages, " but
they will not interest you, referring as they do only to those
who have served me faithfully. As to the bulk of my
property, and the whole of old Myddelton's money for
these legacies are to be paid from my own jointure I have
now to speak of that. As you are aware, my brother's
wealth has accumulated to an almost fabulous extent ; and
now the fortune, destined for the heir I choose, amounts to
more than a million of money, besides other property. You
may judge, then, how anxious I have been to return to
England in time to choose my heir, and how anxious too
that I might meet with one in whose hands this wealth
would be well, would be safe, and I can scarcely say more
than that. I knew that two ot my relatives were young
men, and I felt that my choice would lie between these two.
I would choose a man of honest thought so I determined
a man of blameless life and earnest purpose ; simple,
manly, natural ; one who knew the good that could be done
with such vast wealth, and would be brave and earnest to
do it. So the curse shall be removed, I said, and a blessing
fall upon the money which I hold. And if both are generous,
upright men, the money shall be shared.
"Lawrence Haughton and Hervey Trent, you know
whether I found you such men as I have described. Neither
of you has any idea of the true value of money its highest,
noblest use, I mean or the great responsibility it brings.
One of you \wuld gave and amass it as my brother did,
serving his own ends the while, and using it only for his
own purposes ; the other would calmly smile and sleep, and
let it all melt through his idle fingers. One would tyrannise
over the number of hirelings and dependents which such a
position vonld bring ; the other would forget their very
existence^ except as ministrators to his ease and comfort.
Was it strauge that, seeing this, I should feel that I must look
around once more, and choose an heiress instead of an heir ?
" I did look around, thoughtfully and anxiously, among
iny women relatives. I saw who would devote it to her-
self, and 1 saw to wiiom another would give it, I saw who
fclfr OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY.
knew no more than a baby that money was not all coined to
be spent on women's dress, and I saw who would grind her
tenants and servants, whatever number she might have.
I saw who was ready to pour into any sfrange ear com-
plaints of those who made her home, and 1 did not wish
to feel that, later on, just such complaints would be as
naturally uttered of myself ; and I saw who treated her
mother almost as her slave, and I had no wish to choose one
who presently should treat me so.
" But I saw more " the old lady's eyes, which had been
bent upon the desk, were raised here, and everyone could
.see liow warm and earnest they had grown " I saw more,
and again I need not particularise. Those whom these caps
fit will feel them just the same whether I distribute them
or not. I saw the dying bed of my old friend brightened
by one girl who had chosen to love as in our seeming
poverty, and I felt that I should like my dying bed I am
an old woman, and such thoughts come naturally now to
be brightened just so ; with the same gentle and unweary*
ing hands, by the same sweet and loving voice, by the same
good and pitiful face. I saw one who was guided by simple
duty, and that love which is the truest love of all, in that it
holds no thought of self. I tried her in many ways ; day
ufter day I made fresh trial of her patience, and her pity,
and her love ; and she came bravely and brightly through
all. Day after day I made fresh trial of you, I would be
equal and unprejudiced to the end. Did I not test you all
even at the very last, witn a faint hope of finding you more
kind and courteous here. You know with what guccess I
made that last trial. This" the little old lady laid hej
right hand emphatically on the last sheet of writing " em-
powers Mr. Stafford to will all my own property, miens the
legacies aforesaid, with old Myddelton's money entire, to
Honor Myddelton Craven."
" No oh, no please."
"Old Myddelton's money," repeated the old lady, un-
heeding Honor's pleading tone, " I bequeath entire to
Honor Myddelton Craven."
A long and terrible silence fell upon the room after these
words. Honor's face was hidden in her hands ; over the
b a different passion seemed to pass with every second.
OLD MTDDELTON'S MONEY. 217
" Honor knew the deception, I am sure. Honor has un-
derstood it all along."
The words burst from Theodora's lips in a perfect torrent
of wrath. Lady Lawrence's eyes fixed themselves slowly,
and rather amusedly, upon her.
" Do not excite yourself unnecessarily, Miss Trent ; it
does not become you. Unfortunately Honor Craven's in-
telligence in this matter was no keener than your own ;
and where yours, and your mother's, and Mr. Haughton's
were at fault, are you surprised that Honor's should be ?
There, that is all I need prepare for Mr. Stafford. Those
who wish to hear the will read will stay with me ; to those
who do not, if there be any, I suppose I must say farewell
to all save, at least, Honor. She will, I hope, stay with
the solitary old woman, who needs her now and here, as
eorely as she needed her in that cottage where she first saw
her. Possibly we may all meet again. When we do, I hope
that old time will be forgotten."
No need to say that Mr. Stafford was never called upon
to read his client's will.
CHAPTER XXIV.
As she goes all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty ;
And enamoured, do wish so they might
But enjoy such a sight
That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.
* *******
Have you seen but a bright lily grow"
Before rude hands have touched it?
Have you marked but the fall of the snow
Before the soil hath smutched it ?
Have you felt the wool of the beaver,
Or swan's down ever ?
Or have smelt i' the bud of the briar,
Or the nard in the fire P
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
Oh, so white ! Oh, so soft ! Oh, so sweet is she ?
THE entrance into society of the Anglo-Indian millionaire
and her adopted heiress was one of the grand events of that
218 OLD MYDDELTOK'8 MONEY.
year, when, after a few months' travel on the Continent, the
splendid mansion in Kensington was thrown open to the
London world, beautified to suit those fair spring days, but
retaining all its old substantial pomp and heavysplendour
The old lady's shrewdness and eccentricities had almost
as much power as had her marvellous wealth,to make her one
marked out in any crowd ; and Honor's beauty, with that
nameless charm of varying moods and girlish piquancy,
made her, even independent of her vast expectations, the
atar of the season.
Although her introduction into the highest society of
Europe had been so sudden, nothing in the girl's manner
betrayed this. Just as much at her ease was Honor, when
presented at Court, as she used to be when she performed
the imaginary ceremony in Phcebe's bed-room, stooping to
make her dress very long, and bringing down on her devoted
head the " How ridiculous ! " evolved from Phoebe's common
enpe. The freshness of her enjoyment, the thoughtfulness
that ran below her brightest speeches, the true self-forget-
fulness, the total abstinence of vanity or affectation, the
perfect impossibility of either spiteful or inane speeches,
and, perhaps, above all, her winning, watchful care of the
old lady, her bright, exhaustless patience, and her constant
tender remembrance of her, were an irresistible charm about
the girl, and it was little wonder that hands and hearts were
at her service everywhere. Little wonder that introductions
were sought as precious boons, and that, in the crowd which
waited for her smiles, men of the noblest name and highest
rank with those who had won their country's honour^ too,
or won themselves a fair, undying lame should struggle
eagerly.
_ It was in a strange spirit that Honor received this adula-
tion ; sometimes to all appearance unconscious of it; some-
times brightly turning it aside ; sometimes gently, and
almost pleadingly, resisting it; never proud of it; never
meeting it willingly, and never, above all, encouraging it.
44 Honor," remarked Lady Lawrence one day it waa
towards the close of the season, and the old lady, after one
of her crowded receptions, threw herself on a couch in her
dressing-room, and looked up quizzically at Honor, who had
come in, pieiiy bejoud words, in her dressiug-robe of
OLD MYDDELTON'F MONET. 219
qnilted satin, with her bright brown hair let down, and
curling heavily and richly at the ends " Honor, do you
regret my decision for to-night ? "
" Kegret it ! " echoed Honor, as she sat beside the old
lady, and leaned her head against the arm of the couch, with
a pleasant brightness in her eyes, " I will not say I am quite
certain, auntie, but I think that, even if you had left the
choice with me to-night, I should have stayed at home. It
is after midnight now, and we have had a day of ceaseless
excitement. No, I am really glad we did not go to the
Duchess's ball ? "
" Nonsense, Honor. I know how thoroughly you would
have enjoyed it."
" I know I should," eaid Honor, her lips as well as her
eyes smiling now ; " but I am enjoying myself here too.
"What a rare thing it is for us to have any time to sit alone
together ! "
" Very rare " the old lady's voice was low and grave, but
her eyes filled with a great tenderness, as she put out one hand
and laid it caressingly on the girl's head " so rare that it
is of great value to me, my dear. Old people need some
pauses in the busy march when the evening time is come.
The present is not everything to them, Honor, when the
great future is EO near."
Without a word Honor took the little caressing hand
within hers, and held it fondly.
" If I saw that your heart rested only in those gaieties and
excitements which I see that you pleasantly enjoy, I woulc 1
not take you away, my darling, even as I have done to
night ; but I know it is not so. Your love for your old
aunt is no hollow love. I lean upon it ah, my dear, you
hardly know with what firm and pleasant trust I lean upon
it. As little as you could understand, in your simple truth-
fulness, how severely I was making trial of you last year, so
little can you guess what your love was to ine when it came
so richly and lavishly in my lonely old age."
" And you," said Honor, " can never guess, auntie, what
your love has been to me, who never knew till now what a
mother's love was like. Ah ! no ; you can never guess."
" Honor " there had been a pause after the girl's low
aud Ladj Lawien.ce broke it now with a nw tone oi
220 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
anxiety in her voice " Honor, one thing has struck me
often since we have lived together, and to-night I am going
to speak of it for the first time. I can keep no secret from
you, my child ; not even this thought of mine, for I know
it can never obtrude itself as a barrier between my child
and me. I told you I felt weary to-night, and that it was
natural for an old woman to do so. It is that feeling for
it comes often, dear, and will not be ignored which brings
me sometimes a great anxiety for you. Only sometimes,
for generally I can feel strong and content, knowing in
whose care you will always be ; but sometimes, as I said, and
to-night is one of those times. Of course I could not have
this anxiety if I knew I should leave you in a husband's
care, but I have noticed that such a thought as choosing
among those who sue for your hand seems as far removed
from you as if you were a young wife enjoying her first
triumph, or even as if you had told your seventy years, as I
have. Honor, tell me why this is so ? "
The girl's eyes had softened to a dreamy sadness, and the
smile had died utterly from her lips. " I I cannot care
for them," she faltered ; " not for one, I mean, more than
others. That is my only reason, auntie."
" The only one ? " The old voice faltered like the young
one ; the dim eyes on the pillows had grown as wistful as
had those radiant ones beside them. " Is that the only
reason, Honor ? Do not wonder at my doubting it do not
be hurt by my suspicion. If I did not know you so well, I
might read nothing in your eyes and tones ; but I do know
you well, my dear, and I can see that the reason why no one,
in this new life of yours, has won this heart \\hich is so
true, and so worth winning, is because they were too late.
Honor, for months we have been separated trom that old life
of yours, but we will bridge the separation over, if it would
give you happiness. For whom, in that old home, does
your heart yearn ? "
" I should like to see Phoebe," replied Honor, a little
amusement in her low tones.
" Phoebe ! " The exclamation was scornful, truly, but
the note of relief was audible. " Only Phoebe Owen ? We
will manage that some day ; but you know, as well as I do,
that Phcebe would rathjer stay with Lawrence Haughtoo
OLD MYDDELTO.N'S MONEY. 221
than comb to you. IB there no one else you long to
see
v "
; No," said Honor, speaking very readily when she
detected the pain in the question.
" That is well ; but I think that I never had any real
fear, Honor. You would never wed with either Lawrence
Haughton or Hervey Trent ? "
" Never," said the girl, in simple and surprised dissent.
A long pause, and the words the old lady next uttered
were in a different tone.
" Honor, how many times, during the season, have we met
Royden Keith, of Westleigh Towers ? Very few times, eh ? "
" Very few."
The answer was so quiet and so easy that there seemed
DO cause for Lady Lawrence's swift glance into the face
beside her.
" Very few, as you say. How many times has he been
here ? "
" Not once, auntie."
The answer was so slow and calm that there seemed less
reason still for the half-smile.
" Not once, as you say, Honor. When I was a poor in-
significant old gentlewoman, sharp and shabby, Royden
Keith always behaved to me as a courteous gentleman ; he
was always attentive and generous, thoughtful both for me
and for my sick friend, and kind to both. When we lived
in cottage lodgings, he spared no trouble to himself if he
could serve us ; seeing no shame in being the friend of such
as we seemed then ; bravely facing ridicule to make our
lives a little less cramped and dull than he fancied they
might be. And so patient and pleasant was ho always
with Ah, my darling, my little darling, tears at last !
Yes, lay your head here think it your mother's breast, my
child, fancy these your mother's arms about you, and
whisper it to me presently only presently. I know so
much that it will not take you long to tell. Dear, could I
have lived with you so long, and so closely taken you into
my heart, if my love could not teach me that secret ? No,
do not look into my face just yet. I I will wait a little.
It has brought back so many thoughts from that far past ;
und aud Uoia tlie iuture, dear, which may be so near.
222 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
Honor, oar separation will be hard to bear, but I think itf
chief terror will be gone when I can leave you in his strong
and tender care. My darling, why those anguished eyes ?
Ah, we will let the story rest to-night, and to-morrow all
will be clear and bright before us once again."
CHAPTER XXV.
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike.
POPS.
LADY LAWRENCE and Honor spent the autumn of that year
in Italy. The old lady's health was fading slowly, and so
they went. It was no pain to either to leave England. Each
took her truest friend, and the absence involved no sad and
bitter parting.
Since Honor had told her life's one secret to this warm,
motherly friend, the two had been, if possible, drawn more
closely together. To the old lady's comforting voice there
had come a tone of cheering hopefulness too ; and this
hopefulness, ever since, had moved her on this subject.
" I have no fear," she said. " You did wrong ever to
credit as his such absurd words, Honor. I heard Theodora
Trent tell you, but I never thought you could believe them,
because I could not do so myself. But I think that will all
be made clear in good time. You are true and steadfast,
and there is time."
Such words as these she would say whenever as only at
rare intervals they would talk of Royden ; and such words
she had been saying on that last day, when the sun glanced
brightly on the waters of the Adriatic, and the fair Southern
morning seemed to bring health and vigour with it.
" Honor, I could have left you in his care without one
fear or doubt ; but it is not to be. Still, darling, wait and
hope. If you can never give your love elsewhere, I know
that you will never wed elsewhere. Be brave and true, my
dear, in either life. Remember the great responsibility you
hold, and, above all, remember Who alone can help aud
guide you."
This was the last time Lady Lawrence mentioned her
OLD MYDDELTON : S MONEY. 223
wealth, or Hoyden's name ; and Honor never forgot the
words.
Before nightfall on that day Honor was alone.
Both Mr. Stafford and Lady Lawrence's chapla ; n were ir
attendance upon her when she died, and they with the
courier and the servants took every responsibility and
trouble from Honor, yet that knowledge did not prevent
Lawrence Haughton hurrying over to Italy the very hoir
in which' the news of Lady Lawrence's death was receiven
in England. For the first few minutes, Honor's surprise at
seeing him was a pleasant surprise, for she was in a strange
country, in grief, and this was a face from her old home ;
but after that his presence only added every hour more and
more heavily to her grief.
His old unwearying pursuit of her had been as nothing
compared with this new eager courtship, which haras-ed
and distressed, and, even in all her heartfelt grief, angered
her at last beyond all words. His old pleas were more
persistently urged, and his old efforts were redoubled. She
was his old love, the only otfe for whom his hard and selfish
heart had ever yearned. She was even more beautiful now
than she had been in those old days, and she was mar-
vellously rich " the richest girl in England," as he assured
himself with unctuous reiteration and so to win her to
win her, while other men tried so hard in vain he could
count no effort poor Honor ! too mean or base.
So it was that, upon that journey home, when he was, as
Mr. Stafford and the old clergyman supposed, travelling
with them to be a comfort to his cousin, he struck the blow
which his suspicion and his jealousy had threatened long.
It was but seldom that Honor allowed herself to be alone
with him, so weary was she of the old plea, but on this day she
could not help it. He had urged his suit, of course (what
opportunity did he ever let slip?), but he had been slow and
cautious, evidently determined not to allow himself to lose
the command over his temper. Most firmly, yet very quietly
and wearily, Honor had answered him ; and when at last
ehe rose to leave the room, the indecision which had caused
his mind to hesitate over this last blow all vanished, and
whatever wound his words could give was to be given now.
Honor Bteod and Jictened, her eyes fixed wonder ingly
224 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
npon his face, but before he had finished, her cheeks nacl
grown as white as death.
" Why do you say this to me ?" she asked, slowly, "whj
do yon come to me to talk of Royden Keith ?"
" I hardly know," he answered, with an absurd assumption
of ignorance, " except that you used to be curious about
him. I thought you would be glad to know who he was."
" I did know who he was," she said ; " I have known Mr.
Keith, of "Westleigh Towers, for a long time."
Lawrence Haughton turned aside his head with a
momentary laugh.
" If you felt sure, Honor, you would hardly utter the
assertion BO eagerly ; and you really believe, as strongly as
I do, that Royden Keith and Gabriel Myddelton are one."
" I do not ! " she cried. " I never could " But there
the words broke off, and the flash died suddenly out of her
angry eyes.
" You mistake your own feelings," said Mr. Haughton,
in his slow, convincing tones, " and I have no need to glean
proofs for you."
" Proofs ! " she echoed, " you spoke of proofs before, when
you hinted at some sin you would lay to his charge. If you
have any to lay now, bring your proofs. You have none
of course you have not nor will you ever have ; but I ask,
how dare you assert a gentleman to be a criminal from only
your own base, suspicious convictions ? How dare you
do it to me ? These are calumnies built on your own mean
jealousy and hatred of one who never injured you ! Ge
from this room, Lawrence ; I am mistress here."
He smiled a little a smile of bland consideration for
her youth and excusable petulance a smile of pity for an
apparent infatuation a smile which brought the passionate
crimson into her white cheeks.
There was a pau?e then, while she tried to regain her
voice and ease, and while he, in cool defiance of her order,
stood gazing down upon her, with this maddening smile
Btill hovering on his lips.
"You take this information oddly, Honor," he said, at
last, " as if you had a most particular interest in Gabriel
Myddelton. It would be a pity if you had, because he is a
mamed man."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 225
" Can cousins take no interest in each other if they are
married ? "
Lawrence, in all his spleen and selfishness, started at
these words. The tone in which they were uttered was so
heavy with misery that the feigned lightness was almost
terrible.
" What is it, Honor ?" he said, advancing towards her in
sudden fear. " Do you feel ill ? "
"III? no! Have you did you say proofs of your
last assertion ? "
" No. No proofs yet, but I shall have them."
"Shall have them !" she echoed, proully. "Then per-
haps your words may have some weight. Why did you
not procure them first ? Will not one blow satisfy you, but
you must wound and wound, to show what pain can be ? "
" Honor, you ought to be grateful to me for pointing out
to you where treachery "
But she had left him then, and the words were useless.
" I shall never mention it to her again," he muttered,
angry with her, but doubly angry with himself, "until I
can bring in my hand the evidences of his guilt. How
strangely she took it all ! Had she expected me to tell her
that he was a married man ? As for his identity with the
murderer of old Myddelton, that hardly astonished her ;
she will believe it presently, though she is so set against it
now. It was the last news which bore her down most, and
yet somehow it struck me that she was not unprepared for
it. I wonder how that could be. But my plan must work
*t last, and Honor shall be made to listen to me."
*******
It WIB the nk'ht of Miss Craven's return to England, and
the mansion in Kensington wag lighted, and warmed, and
carefully prepared for her, yet it was but a sad and solitary
home-coming after all. In every room, and through every
minute of that long evening, Honor missed the step, and
voice, and smile of the old lady whom she had learned to love
BO well, and who had given to her so generous and so trusting
an affection. True, every comfort and luxury awaited her,
and servants came and went at her bidding. Yet it was a
dreary home-coming after all, and the girl of nineteen, in
her deep mourning looked so small and solitary in the larga
2i?o OLD MYDDELTOS'S MONEY.
drawing-room when Mr. Stafford joined her after dinner
(leaving the chaplain and the Indian secretary happy over
the letters and papers which had awaited them), that he
plunged into what he had intended only to say by-and-hy.
" Miss Craven, what immense rooms these are ! This one
wants at least half a dozen forms about it, and half a dozen
voices to break its stillness. And that reminds me" it
was quite as well to say that that reminded him as to say
that her black-robed figure in its solitude had reminded him
" that it falls to me, now Mr. Haughton has left us, to
propose that you engage a lady as companion, Miss Craven.
May I undertake the preliminary steps for you ?"
"Not quite yet," said Honor gently ; " I will ask first if
my cousin Phoebe will come and stay with me."
"You will write to her then, or shall I go down to
Statton ? "
" No, thank you " Honor hesitated unaccountably over
the reply " I shall like to go down to Statton myself."
Mr. Stafford could not understand the tone.
"She is changed a good deal," he mused to himself,
"since I suppose since Lady Lawrence's death and she
looks changed too : not by her mourning, but by something
else. TJnlesg it was Haughton's visit, I cannot make it out.
There is some purpose in her mind, some decidedly real and
earnest purpose. What is it ?"
"I trust," he added aloud, "yon had no ill news from
Statton in the letters you found here, Miss Craven ? "
" No."
" That poor little French photographer is dead, I hear."
" Yes ; and one of my other purposes for the journey to
Statton is to bring his daughter back with me. There is
abundance of room for her here, and I can take care of her,
and perhaps lighten her suffering a little."
" One of my other purposes," repeated the lawyer to him-
self, watching her rather observantly. " To fetch her
cousin if she will come, one purpose ; to bring back the
nick girl, another ; and what is the third ? The important
one, evidently ; I can see it in her face, poor child ! "
The lawyer Lady Lawrence had chosen was a man of
large, warm heart, and just sufficient self-esteem to know
how valuable was his advice and help.
OLD MYODELTON'S MONEY. $27
So he said, in his kind tones, " If you have any purpose
in your visit to Kinbury in which my help can be of use to
you, my dear Miss Craven, I hope you know your old friend
John Stafford well enough to trust him."
She looked up into his face, in doubt only for a moment,
then a great relief shone in her s/es.
" Will you help me ? " she asked, almost below her
breath.
" I will, my dear young lady ; believe me in this I
will."
The promise was prompt and spontaneous, but it was
none the less true for that ; and she in a moment trusted
it, and felt what a support and rest this help would be.
" I am going," she said, her hands clasped in her lap, and
her lips trembling a little as the words passed them, " with
this purpose do not laugh or scorn ; ah ! please do not, for
it is a purpose I cannot give up, tbough it will seem hope-
less to you I want to find the real murderer of old Mr.
Myddelton."
CHAPTER XXVI.
But, when I plead, she bids me play my part ;
And, when I weep, she says tears are but water ;
And, when I sigh, she says I know the art ;
And, when I wail, she turns herself to laughter.
SPENSER.
HONOR'S unexpected appearance at The Larches, a few days
after her return to England, had a very curious effect upon
Miss Haughton. If an opportunity had been given that
lady of declining to see her young cousin at all, she would
gladly have availed herself of it ; but Honor guessed some-
thing of this, and so sent no notice of her intention to visit
Station.
Mr. Stafford travelled with her to Kinbury, then she
walked alone to East Cottage, and Marie Verrien but for
the mourning dress, and for something in Honor's face which
gave it a new, sweet gravity felt that Miss Craven might
jnst have walked in from The Larches to chat with ter aa
la old
OLD MTDDELTON S MONET.
And this was really the millionaire about whom the village
had had so much to say, and of whose first visit here so many
wild conjectures had been framed 1 Marie gazed in wonder
preater even than her admiration. They had told her Misa
Craven had become one of the grandest ladies in England,
that she had visited all the kings and queens in Europe, and
that the greatest gentleman in the world was wooing her.
Yet here she was, sitting quite naturally in the bare little
kitchen, and talking just as she used to talk. And ah I
was it a dream ? Surely it must be a dream ! she was pro-
posing to take back, to her own beautiful, wonderful home,
jhe lame, useless woman whom others thought a burden.
Was it any wonder that Marie, after that, could not utter
one single connected speech through Honor's stay ? Honor
herself made all arrangements for the removal. A neighbour
who came in every morning and night to assist the lonely
/oung Frenchwoman would help in this. The cottage
could be given up at once to the old man who had the lodg-
ings, and who, at her father's death, had expressed a wish
to take the whole cottage. So Marie was to be ready to
leave Station on the next day but one.
After a bright hour for Marie, Honor continued her walk
to The Larches. The distance seemed nothing to the girl,
BO busy were her thoughts, and so thickly memories crowded
about her. Ten years of her life had been spent here in
uninterrupted routine ; then had followed the two great
events of her life. She had refused the only love she had
ever prized or valued, and had won the vast wealth which
made her life so different a one from that which they now
lived who had formed her home in old days.
With her thoughts buried in those past times, she walked
slowly on along the highway, and those who met, and knew
her, stood to watch her out of sight, marvelling because, like
the young Frenchwoman, they had built their own romances
of Miss Craven's coming to Station some day with half a
dozen horses to her carriage, and men in scarlet riding
beside it, passing under arches of flowers and evergreens, to
the music of the volunteer band from Kinbury. And this
^as the way she had come at last !
All unconscious of the disappointment Phe was causing,
Honor greeted tiieae Tiliagers with her brigkt words and
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 229
smiles, and seemed to forget just then that her home was
not among them as it used to be.
Before she reached The Larches, she was overtaken by
the Rector, who hurried cordially up to her.
- " Mrs. Romer will be delighted;" he said, " you will come
and see her, Miss Craven ? You will coine and stay with
us a little ? "
"I should like it very much, Mr. Romer," said Honor, with
a readiness, and even gratitude, quite unexpected 'jy hiin ;
" 1 only intend to be in this neighbourhood two days, and 1
am going now to The Larches do you think they will ask
tne to stay ? "
" Promise to come to us to-day, Miss Craven, do ! What-
ever they wish, let them know that you have given me the
prior promise."
" Yes, I will promise, Mr. Romer. I see that you fp el
sure they will not care to see me, and I am very muub
obliged for your invitation."
And this was the return of the millionaire !
" Mr. Haughton has grown more morose than ever durin?
the last few days, Honor," the old name slipped out so
naturally when he found her just his little favourite of
old days "and Miss Haughton more wrapped up in her
brother, or herself, or both. It will not cheer you to stay
there, my dear."
" And Phoebe ? "
" Phoebe is just what she always was, and probably what
she always will be. You are sure to have heard all about
the others," continued the Rector, looking down into her
face, " as Captain Trent hurried to town to put himself at
your service."
" Hervey's service," said Honor, laughing, " is pre-
eminently a summer pastime, Mr. Romer. It is not
wearying process for him."
" I suppose Lady Lawrence discouraged his visits ? "
"Yes, and he did not force them upon us."
" That was well, but it will be different now. Shall yc '
go to Deergrove to-day ? "
" Oh, no ! "
" That is well, too. Mr. and Mrs. Trent are not generous
to she memory of Lady Lawrence, or "
Q
230 OLD MVDDELTON'S MONET
" Or to me," smiled Honor.
"Of course you are going over to see Abbotsmoor. Tot
will hardly know it."
"I hope not," she answered. "Mr. Stafford is staying
in Kinbury, and will drive over for me to-morrow. I intend
to spend a whole day at Abbotsmoor, as I want to go over
the cottages as well as the house."
" The cottages, eh ? " laughed the Rector. " There will
Dot be much pleasure for you in that. The Abbotsmoor
poor are a benighted set."
" Then it is high time, is it not, that some one lived at
Abbotsmoor ? "
" High time, indeed, and a good day it will be for Abbots-
moor, Honor, when you go."
They had reached The Larches now, and the Rector, with
a last reminder to Honor of her promise, opened the gate
for her.
She looked eagerly up at the bare windows of her old
home, as she trod the familiar drive to the front door No
sign of any face looking out ; and she knocked with a hand
that trembled a little.
Yes, Miss Haughton was in, and Miss Owen the house-
maid was anew servant, and did not recognise Miss Craven.
Miss Haughton entered the room presently in her stiff
black dress (it was a matter of pride more than courtesy in
all old My ddel ton's relations to assume mourning fur Lady
Lawrence), and held out her hand to Honor, as if offering
the limb for voluntary sacrifice.
" I concluded it was you," she said, in dull, cold tones,
which brought Honor's childhood back to her with a rush
of self-pity, " though I wonder you have leisure or inclina-
tion to return here."
" I left London for the purpose of visiting Abbotsmoor,"
said Honor, honestly, " but I could not be so near, and not
come to see you. Are you quite well, Jane ? "
The girl soon found she had set hersel f no easy task in
opening a genial discourse with Jane Haughton, and
Phoebe's entrance after a time was a great relief.
" Why, Honor ! " exclaimed Miss Owen, rushing up to
kiss her* cousin, " I had no idea it was you, else I should
X)t have waited a minute."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 231
I shall leave you girls together now," observed Jane,
rising. " Shall I send in a glass of wine, Honor, or are
you going to stay here this evening ? "
With a great effort Honor thanked her guardian's sister
for this cordial invitation, and explained how her promise
had been given to Mr. Romer ; then Jane, with great un-
concern, wished her good-bye and left the room.
" Phoebe," said Honor, standing with both her hands upon
her cousin's shoulders, " will you come back with me ? "
Looking down into the broad Dutch face, Honor saw a
vivid scarlet spread from chin to brow.
" Oh, Honor ! " she faltered and then stopped.
" Is it no ? " asked Honor, sadly.
" I cannot come."
" Phoebe," said her younger cousin, presently, " just listen
to me for a few moments. I can see from your manner that
Lawrence and Jane would be angry scornful, too, most
probably if you proposed coming to live with me ; and
now, as in old times, you would not for the world act
against Lawrence's wish. And besides that," added the
girl, gently, "I suppose it is still happiest for you where h
is. But if the time ever comes when you think differently,
Phoebe, remember what I tell you now, I shall be as glad
to have you then as I should be glad to have you to-day.
Be sure and remember this, dear little Frau ; promise."
" Yes, Honor. It would be beautiful to live with you
in such grandeur, and with no shortness of money, and
scoldings, only "
" Only you would rather wait," concluded Honor, kindly.
" But be sure and remember what I tell you, Phoebe."
" Oh, Honor ! " sobbed Phoebe, with a new trouble,
" Lawrence is harder than ever now."
Of course the very mention of his nameunsealed the slightly-
guarded fount of Phoebe's tears, and they flowed freely while
she enlightened her old companion on the subject of her
guardian's increasing indifference and general moodiness.
" Since his return from London, Honor, a week ago, he
has been far, far worse."
" Never mind him," said Honor, in her honest contempt,
as she recalled the reason of this " Talk of some one else,
little
f32 OL_ JlYDDELTON'S
A lone 1 hour, which Phoebe did not make a very c! eerful
one, the girls spent together ; then they parted with a
renewal of that promise of Phoebe's, and a request from
Honor that when Mr. Stafford drove over from Kinburj
next morning, Phoebe wonld send him on to the rectory.
A pleasant reception awaited Honor at the rectory, .and,
indeed, any little pleasure which she was to glean from the
visit toStatton was tobe dueto the cheery Rectorandhiswile,
except that generous pleasure it gave her to see the intense
happiness of Marie Yerrien in her preparations for departure.
The day she and Mr. Stafford spent at Abbotsmoor was
a disappointing one. True, the house was growing com-
fortable and beautiful, but then the girl's real motive for
(he visit (that search among the cottages for Margaret
Territ), was as much in vain as had seemed that search of
Royden Keith's so long before.
"You must entirely give np your Quixotic idea, Miss
Craven," remarked the lawyer, as they drove back to Stat-
ton. " Why, even if the woman could be found, she could
not remove the guilt from Gabriel Myddelton. So do you
not see it better to let the subject lie in its long oblivion ? "
" No," said Honor, with a repretful shake of her head,
" I do not see it better, Mr. Stafford, even now, when we
have tiied all day and met with no success."
" Well, I have given you my advice, my dear young lady ;
but still I need not remind you I am at your service even in
this Quixotic search."
This was a gala evening at the rectory. Sir Philip and
Lady Somerson had heard of Honor's advent, and driven
over from the castle to spend this evening with her. And
they all did their best to make this ni<.>ht a festival, just as
if they understood how little Honor had been welcomed
among her own connections.
Next day, with Mrs. Romer as her guest, she returned to
London, and Marie Verrien was installed in a pretty little
room, which seemed to her a perfect fairyland; containing,
us it did, delightful devices for her comfort, pretty things
fr her to look upon, and materials for many a different and
attractive work. What happy, placid hours Marie was to
epend in this room ! sociable ones, also, to which the poor
French girl had been but little accustomed. One or two at
OLD !TYDDKtTON*8 MONEY. 233
A time the servants would come and sit and chat with her,
bringing her something to see, or to discuss, or to laugh over.
Just as the servants in Roy den Keith's household
following their master's example, as servants usually will
bad been kind to, and considerate for, her father during
that happy visit of his to Westleigh Towers, so were Honor's
servants following her example thoughtful for this
afflicted girl. But the brightest hours of all her life to
Marie were those which Honor herself spent in the pleasant
room, entering with her soft step arid merry greeting, and
sitting down, just as if the rest and the change were as good
to her as to Marie. She would take the same interest as the
sick girl did in a new pattern, or a picture, or a buok ; and
sometimes she would sing to her, as dying ears had loved to
hear her sing ; while at others she would sit in silent
interest, gently wooing Marie to talk of her father ever
the poor girl's one sweetest subject of thought or speech.
It was at these times that Marie often and gratefully
mentioned the name of Royden Keith, and it w.is at these
times that Honor's silence was so long and so unbroken
Thus time sped on in the mansion at Kensington. Honor,
though going into no society > was still sought after most
persistently. Her mourning dress was no armour against
the constant entreaties to join certain friends, "quietly ;"
to visit just this old friend, who would ask " no one " to
meet her ; to allow that old friend to visit her, only bring-
ing a son or brother, as the case might be. and " no one
else." In her quiet, pleasant manner a manner which
never could give pain, whatever firmness it betrayed
Honor resisted these advances -, and though she found it
quite impossible to live as quietly as she wished, she
certainly lived as quietly as she could. She had engaged a
chaperon now, a stately widowed " Honourable," whose
husband had held no moral claim to a like title, but who, in
dying, left her all he had his debts , after the payment of
which she was glad and grateful to accept Honor's generous
offer. But Honor still hoped that Phoebe would live with
her ; indeed, the feeling had grown to a perfect certainty.
There was one person belonging to Honor's old home
who, through this winter, haunted her constantly, and thi
was Captain Trent.
234 CLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
Since her return as no longer heiress, but possessor, of old
Myddelton's money, and Lady Lawrence's fortune, his
attentions had been unmistakeable and increasing ; and
though she invariably treated them as a jest when she was
forced to notice them at all, that fact had no power to
weaken or diminish them. Sometimes, even in reality, they
amused Honor, for they were too selfish and too shallow to
cause her a shade of pain ; and her bright laugh would break
the silence of the great house in the very midst of his most
elaborate speeches and most carefully selected pleas. His
sighs and pathos she turned into fun ; his devotion alto-
gether was a merry jest, too trivial and too hollow to be
aught else. Nevertheless, as far as Captain Hervey under-
stood the sensation, he felt himself to be thoroughly in love,
and he played his part in that capacity to the best of his
somewhat limited power. But still he could not make the
part a manly one, nor prevent the ludicrous element being
that which always struck Honor first and irresistibly.
Yet how was it, as Captain Hervey constantly questioned
to himself, that his wooing would not speed ? Other girls
valued his languid attentions, and met them go readily that
he had none of this sense of fatigue and defeat which he
constantly experienced with Honor. Other girls took the
wit on credit when they listened graciously to the words
which issued so correctly from under the silky moustache ;
other girls laughed when he wished them to laugh, and
questioned in great interest when he waited for them to
question; but Honor did really necessitate his exerting
himself in a most unusual and uncharacteristic manner
' And yet for all your disregard, I am sure I shall never
love anyone else as I love you, Honor," he would urge,
"and as I have always loved you."
" ' Since you were rich,' why do you not finish your
sentence, Hervey ? "
" It is too bad of you always to say that, Honor," he would
urge, " for it is not true t Indeed, I used to love you just
the same when I was "
" ' Telling you about my probable marriage with
Theodora.' See, I have to finish all your sentences for you.
Oh, when you used to lecture me on my gaucherie, you were
most seriously in love with me, Hervey were you not ? "
OLD MTDDELTON'S MONET. 235
Ye?," answered Hervey, the more fretfully because he
knew bow truly the girl had read him even then. " And
you could have no husband choose where you might who
would be more devoted to you, Honor ; and we are connecx
lions, you know, and we have known each other all our
1 ves ; and I am not a bad-looking fellow, as other women
8ay ; and I should make you a good husband indeed."
" For a hot and idle summer mood," would Honor say,
when forced to answer this weak proposal ; " but for sad
moods and heavy moods, and, above all, for earnest moods
and solemn moods, you would not make me a good husband
at all, Hervey."
" But try me in earnest, Honor ; do net take it always as
a joke."
" It is a joke," the girl would say, in gravity ; " and, if
I ever cease to take it as a joke, we could not be old friends,
because, however earnestly I beg, you will not leave off
these silly speeches."
No Hervey was not to be rebuffed. As time went on
he only made himself more and more ridiculous in his un-
manly persistence ; and, but for Honor's intense kindness
to him as to one and the only one near her belonging to
her old life, she would many times have been tempted to
forbid him her house.
But the strongest reason for not doing this was a mixture
of pity with her kindness, for there had stolen into her mind
a fear that his pursuits in town were not merely useless onos,
such as they used to be when in graceful indolence he
awaited landed estates and a million of money. Now
Captain Hervey's magnificent expectatioc? had dissolved in
air. He had all his time upon his hands ; and the seven
hundred a year, which had been a satisfactory income to
trade upon before the arrival of Myddelton's wealth, was a
poor fortune for a man of idle habits and expensive tastes.
Those acquaintances who, during the years of his great ex-
pectations, had gathered round Captain Trent preparatory to
Bupporting and guiding the millionaire, had, after their brip*
relapse, gathered about him now, to encourage him for his
next move; and making him dissolute and extravagant like
themselves, though they could not make him either so crafty
or so keen they spurred him on in his pursuit of Honor.
286 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
If he could win her and all her wealth, he would be
one of the most important men in England, and certainly
the lion of society they had not studied Hervey's nature
for their own purposes, without knowing its weak points
and how he could laugh at the defeat of richer and nobler
men, if he could win the beauty for whom everybody strove.
Thus they spurred him on, and his weak, selfish plans
fitted so admirably with theirs, that he learned his lesson
easilv and well. And whilst this great move was pending,
other tasks were learned, into which he readily fell, seeing
them only as other forms of worship for his old idol of
" Good Form."
And in this worship, Hervey was slowly sinking to the
level of an habitual gambler, when another London season
began, and Honor, obeying an urgently expressed wish of
Lady Lawrence's, opened the Kensington mansion, and
once again entered into society, to be more sought after
and flattered even than before, though so much more grave
and quiet, and wearing still no colours.
Everyone noticed the undefinable change in her, the
deepening of that thoughtfulness which had ever lain below
her dainty merriment ; but everyone noticed, too, how there
sc.il! clung to her the old power, which she had ever pos-
sessed in an intense degree, of both giving and enjoying
happiness.
One morning, early in the season, Honor pat poring over
a very unusual and rambling letter from Phoebe. It seemed
both to pain and please her, for, though the tears wr*
standing in her eyes, she folded the letter with a smile when
she had read it.
" It is pitiful," she murmured, " and yet I am very glad.
Then her thoughts wandered to others belonging to her
old home, and at last fixed themselves sadly upon Hervey.
Gradually, all through the winter, he had been growing
more and more idle, listless, and extravagant. Gradually
he seemed to be losing his self-respect ; and, in the
intervals of his suit, be would entreat her to interest herself
for a " capital fellow " he knew, who said she could, by a
word, get him a certain appointment for which he had a
talent and a wish ; because the men in office would be glad
enough to have the opportunity of obliging her, and proud
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 207
to do it too. Then when very firmly, though always
kindly she would refuse all help that was not for himself
aloLe, he, rehearsing his lesson, would borrow for himself
Borne sum, " just only for a few days, Honor." At another
time he would tease her to allow him to introduce thefii
friends of his, until she would turn upon him with her old
spirit, and tell him that their influence over him was quite
enough to prove their worthlessness. But Hervey, im-
pervious to hints, wearied her day after day with the old
story ; and still, in her good-natured scorn, she met it as a
jest, because she wished to save him from what he might be
tempted to seek.
She was thus thinking of him, with Phoebe's letter still
in her hand, when he came into her presence in a state as
nearly bordering on excitement as he could reach. Honor
glanced up and smiled. He had not been near her for two
days, and she fancied that he was at last trying to pleasf
her. But his first words dispelled this fancy.
" I have been away for two days, Honor," he said " and I
declare it seems a year. They sent for me to Deergrove to
arrange about my taking a house for them. They are coming
for acouple of months. It is a great bore; but that is not what
I came to say. I find an invitation from Lady Somerson
for to-night, and I want to know if you are going, Honor ? "
" Yes ; she is my oldest friend, you know."
" I thought you would. How many dances will you
promise me ? "
" One, as usual."
" Then 1 cannot go. It is hateful to be laughed at for
getting nipped whenever I ask you."
" Then why do you ask me ? "
"Because 1 cannot help it when I am near you. But I sup-
pose I can if I stay away, so I will go with the other fellows."
" Where ? " asked Honor, gravely.
" To oh, you would not understand."
" I do understand," she said, and her voice was full of
sadness. "I have seen this habit growing upon you,
Hervey. 1 have seen it from the very first, and I tell you
plainly now, as I have tried to make you understand before,
that you must either give up that habit of play, or you
give up coming here."
Iv3 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
"I cannot help it," said Hervey, moodily; "I am so
miserable always now. You will not listen to me, and
people always taunt me for following you everywhere, to DO
purpose ; and you only laugh at me ; and what can I dc
but amuse myself some other way ? "
" Very well," said Honor, with a quiet scorn in her grave
voice. " Go; only, in the leisure hours between your games,
do not come here."
" I never go further than a gentleman should, Honor,"
said Captain Trent, feebly grasping at her good opinion with
what had always been his strong argument. " You do not
care to see me, you know you do not," he added, plaintively;
"else I would do anything to win your good opinion."
" To win that," said Honor, quietly " you must leave off
these I will not say, as you do, ungentlemanly, but most
unmanly pursuits."
" And if I do ? "
" If you do, we are friends still, and yon shall come as yon
have been used to do."
" But Theodora will be in town presently," said Hervey*
with a sigh of recollection ; "and I am always so terribly
bored when I am not with you ; besides "
" Besides what ? " asked Honor, looking up with sudden
fear. " Will you let the old habit hold you still ? "
" Not if I can help it," he said, uneasily ; "but sometimes
it is even necessary . I have more debts than I imagined, and
paying them off rmikes a sad hole in my paltry income. I Lave
so much time on my hands too ; and Theo will be so dull."
" Hervey," she said, " would you like an employment for
some of these wasted hours, employment (as you would say)
suited for a gentleman ? If you would, and if you are really
steady and anxious in the wish, I will buy for you that bank
partnership Mr. Stafford told us of when you were here last.
Take these months, while Theodora is in town, for making
your choice ; do not hurriedly do it I will not bias you in
any way. If, when the time is over, you have not left the
old ways, or have decided you would rather have your time
to yourself, then we will forget this plan. If you have
decided that twenty-four hours in every day is too much
time to waste ; and that easy, light occupation for five of
tnose, would make the others pleasauter, and preveut your
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 239
life being such a listless, drifting career ; and if you feel that
the extra income which you need, would be more honestly
enjoyed by being earned than by being robbed from others
why, then the partnership shall be yours. You cannot
complain of your income then, Hervey."
" Oh ! Honor," he cried, astonished; " how good you are !'*
"No," she said, shrinking a little from his excitement,
" I know that you used to to depend upon inheriting what,
fell so strangely to my lot ; and I should like to do a little^
towards making this up to you ; only I want none of this*
money which I hold in trust to be wasted, or, above all,
used for evil purposes. So you understand, Hervey, why I
wish you to take this time to think it earnestly over. I
would not like you to take this post, and then regret it ; and
I would Hot like you to refuse it now, and afterwards feel it
beyond your reach if better thoughts should follow. So
remember you have the time of Theodora's stay to make
your choice. I shall not see you then so much do not
interrupt me, please but if you continue this horrible
gambling, as I said, I will not see you at all. If you do
not, Hervey, we are old friends still ; and this is a home
for you in leisure hours. At the end of the two months
bring me your choice, and it shall be all right at the bank."
"Oh, Honor, how good you are to me ! " he cried again;
" and may I come with you to-night ? "
" Yes. Now tell me something of Kinbury and Statton,
Hervey ; then I will give you my news. Did yon go to
Abbotsmoor ? "
" Certainly. It is getting on magnificently. It will bf
a beautiful place, or rather it is. But, Honor, what won-
derful improvements there are, independent of the house !
I never saw such comfortable cottages in my life, and then
those almfihonses for the Kinbury poor, and that one long
pretty building far away in the park. I really believe
Koaaer made a fool of me when he told me what that is.
He said that you would have it full of starved or hard
worked London people ; that when you saw those who
looked as if they never awoke to any day without its work
and want, you would send them there. He said there would
be a housekeeper and servants, and flowers, and games, and
everything lor every season, and I did not believe it, Honor "
240 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
" Yon ought always to believe your clergyman," smiled
Honor, while the colour faded which had risen at his worda
" Now, what is yonr news, Honor ? "
" You have soon finished. Never mind ; I shall hear
more to-day, for and this is my news, Hervey Phoebe is
coming to live with me for always."
" For always ! " echoed Captain Trent, with a pleading
glance which Honor did not even see. " What on earth can
^induce her voluntarily to leave Lawrence Ilaughton's home ?
She will come to the ball, I suppose," he added, his con-
vet sation unconnected as usual. "Oh, Honor, do give me
more than one dance."
" I do not think," she said quietly, " that I shall dance at
all, except that one dance with you. If I do, it will only
be because because some old friend may chance to be there
and to ask me. Come in and dine with us at eight, Phoebe
will be glad to see you. She arrives early in the afternoon.
Now, good-bye, for I am going to get a dress for her."
" May I not come ? "
" Certainly not."
" Then what am I to do, for I said if I came back I
would go "
" What a weak and helpless promise," said Honor, sadly.
" Then come with me. Go and tell Marie the latest news
of home, while you are waiting for me."
So, for this time, she had rescued him from temptatioa
Not by love, for her heart, with all its warmth of kindness,
could hold no love for this vain, weak cousin, but with th*
generosity which was natural to her, the wide pity for all
weakness, and the longing to reclaim from sin.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Mothers all proffer their stainless daughters;
Men of high honour salute him "friend."
BAEEY
LATE in the afternoon of that same day, Eoyden Keitb
arrived at nis hotel in Jermyn Street. He had been at
OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONEY. 211
Westleigh Towers for a few days, but had, according to a
promise to Sir Philip and Lady Somerson, returned in time
for their first ball. After dinner, as he sat over bis wine,
he opened the letters which had collected for him. They
were nearly all alike in their messages, however differently
worded, and Hoyden laid them aside, one after another.
"These gracious invitations," he said to himself, "and
tho gentle intimations that so many people are at home to
me, are all directed to Royden Keith, of Westleigh Towers.
How many of them did I receive twelve years ago ?"
He pushed the letters and the enamelled cards carelessly
aside ; then, leaning his head upon his hand, he fell into
thought, so vague and visionary, that presently his eyes
closed and he fell asleep.
Five minutes afterwards Pierce entered, with his noiseless
etep, and looked upon his master curiously.
" Odd," the valet mused to himself ; " he has been over-
worked or over-harassed at The Towers. One, if not both,
for it isn't like him to sleep even after dinner. But it is
just as well he should ; he has had a good deal of travelling
to-day, and will be up all night. But then what shall I do
about Mr. Haughton ? I can keop him a few minutes, at
any rate."
Pierce went out to Mr. Haughton's cab, and told that
gentleman that his master would be at liberty in ten
minutes' time ; and having said that, he knew he must, at
the end of the ten minutes, admit the visitor into his
master's presence on his own responsibility.
Just as Mr. Haughton dismissed his cab, Captain Trent
strolled up and accosted him. As usual, Captain Hervey
was in no hurry, and so Lawrence, for reasons of his own,
selected to spend these waiting minutes strolling to and tro
with him.
"I had no idea you were in town," Hervey said, after
his rather astonished greeting. " Have you been to Ken-
sington ? "
" No," returned Lawrence, very stiffly, " nor do I know
that I shall go. I have come to town on business a word
you do not understand."
" What husin' ss ? " inquired Hervey, languidly.
Lawrence smiled with scornful insolence. The notion of
242 OLD MYDDELTONS MOSEY.
enlightening Captain Heryey Trent on his business affairs
amused him somewhat.
"Are you not engaged ?" he asked, perhaps for a reason
of his own, perhaps only superciliously turning aside the
other subject.
" Not until night," rejoined Captain Trent, with conscious
pride. " I am going to escort Honor to Sir Philip Somer-
son's."
" Who is likely to be there ? "
" Oh, everybody, I suppose."
" I remember," said Lawrence, with a well-assumed in-
Jifference, " that fellow, Keith, who came to Kinbnry for
the shooting, two Septembers ago, was very great at the
castle. He will be there to-night, I suppose ?"
" Sure to be, if he is in London," said Hervey, really in-
different at present upon the subject. " He is always asked
everywhere, so they say."
" I daresay in London, as in Kinbury, what they say is
generally a lie."
Captain Trent looked astonished into his cousin's face.
He could not understand the moody and vindictive tones,
though he did not associate them with what he himself had
said, either of Honor or Mr. Keith. Therefore, in his
usually complacent drawl, he enlarged upon what he had
already said, and gave Mr. Hau^liton a graphic description of
the spirit in which Royden Keith was received into society ;
rot only as far as he himself had been able to observe it, but
also as far as or perhaps a little farther than he had heard
from other men.
" I suppose," concluded Hervey, unobservant of the effect
of his words, " there is no fellow who is considered so good
a parti this season. There are wealthier, I know, and men
of higher birth, of course ; but, taken all together, there is
no one who can rival Keith with match-making mothers or
marriageable daughters. He is attractive, they say, in a
hundred ways, besides being wealthy and of good position.
Jle is undeniably handsome for these who like that style,"
concluded Captain Hervey, softly pulling his fair moustache j
" and he is clever, I suppose people say so, at any rate
and he seems up to all manly exercises, and has travelled a
great deal. Whatever it is," acceded Hervey, with grucelui
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 243
dismissal of the subject-, "he is certainly as much thought
of and sought alter, only of course in a different way, a--
Honor is ; and really, if I wore not a privileged person in
that quarter, Lawrence, I should never get near Honor, go
much in request is she always."
Lawrence smiled a little grimly ; he was not a man to be
taken in by Hervey's arrogant conceit, and knew Honor far
too well to heed the insinuation ; but the very knowledge
which prevented any fear of Captain Trent, made him feel
all the more what Hervey had told him of Koyden, and
made his jealousy more keen and bitter in that comparison
jetween Honor and Mr. Keith.
"There's another matter which aoVls to Keith's popu-
larity here," said Hervey, though Lawrence had turned
sharply round, as if the conversation had become tedious ;
" that is, the current report of the good he does on his estate
at Westleigh. I dare eay the rumours are as much exagge-
rated as other rumours but they go down. Here you stop,
do you ? "
Yes, Mr. Haughton decidedly stopped here. He had
enjoyed Captain Trent's society quite long enough, and
even Captain Trent himself would have been roused to a
little anxiety if he had been able to perceive the harmful
effect of his words as a preparation for the visit Lawrence
Haughton intended to pay.
When Pierce entered his master's presence to announce
Mr. Haughton, Ro^den was wide awake again, and had
already answered one or two of those letters which had con-
tained something more important than invitations. He
glanced up in surprise to see that Mr. Haughton personally
followed his card ; then he slowly rose, with a grave, cold
bow, and waited for Mr. Haughton to speak.
" Doubtless you are surprised to see me, Mr. Keith ? "
" Very rarely," said Eoyden, with his quiet courtesy,
" does anything surprise me, Mr. Haughton."
"When I saw you last, or, rather, when I last called
flpon you," resumed Lawrence, plunging at once into the
subject, as if he saw how unnecessary any introduction
would be, " I made come inquiries, if you recollect, about
your possible cognisance of the hiding-place of Gabriel
Myddelton."
244 CLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
I recollect it well."
Mr. Keith had resumed his chair ; but the lawyer had
pushed his aside, as if he saw an advantage in standing
sternly on the rug.
" Since then," he resumed, in his harsh, elaborate tones,
* I have myself obtained a clue to the present whereabouts
of old Mr. Myddel ton's murderer."
A slight change in the handsome dark face opposite a
change to surprise, and even to fear, but so slight that
Lawrence, a moment afterwards, could not feel sure that he
had seen it.
"You merit my congratulations," remarked Royden,
coolly, "in having at last achieved your object. Of course
you know your clue to be worth following, or you would
not waste your valuable time."
The lawyer was gazing with unfeigned astonishment into
Hoyden's face. In all his professional experience no man
had ever puzzled him as this man did.
" I would first ask you," he said, less for the purpose of
gaining time than in his desire to feel his way cautiously to
a certain point in the conversation, " whether you have not
yourself sufficient knowledge on thig gubject. If so, my in-
formation may prove wearisome."
"No information on this subject," observed Royden,
frankly meeting the lawyer's supercilious gaze, "can be
wearisome to me, Mr. Haughton."
" Then I will tell you what I have heard." Lawrence
had seated himself at last, but he sat firm and upright,
determined to exhibit in every way the inflexibility of his
nature, and his gaze was so fixed that no change upon his
listener's face could escape him now. " I have heard that
Gabriel Mjddelton is, and has been for some time, in
England."
]S'o answer.
"In England," repeated Lawrence, forcibly.
" Bash," remarked Mr. Keith, with easy unconcern. " fefc,
ever since Gabriel M}ddel ton's story was related to me, 1 havfl
given him credit lor a caution which amounted to tiiuiiiity."
" And not only do I believe him to be in England," con
tinned Lawrence, hardly able to suppress his wrath, " but I
believe him to be here in London."
OLD MYJJDELTON'S MOSEY. 245
** Naturally," remarked Royden, with the utmost compo-
lure. " It is considered easy to escape detection in a crowd."
" lie is not in London for that purpose," returned Law-
rence, with keen emphasis, "for before coming here he
Brayed for a time close to the very scene of f-he murder."
" Still more rash ! "
" In a very i^crowded country town," concluded Mr.
Haughton, with greater emphasis.
" Kinbury ? " inquired his listener. And at this moment
there broke upon his lips one of his rare smiles a smile
which certainly Lawrence llaughton could not understand.
" Yes, in Kinbury," repeated the lawyer. " Gabriel Myd-
Jelton was, I hear, staying during the latter months of the
year 71 at the Royal Hotel, in Kinbury."
" Strange," mused Royden, slowly raising his clear and
thoughtful eyes, " for I was myself staying at the Royal
Hotel, in Kinbury, during that very time."
An inexplicable and ominous pause. Mr. Haughton's
gaze intent and watchful ; Mr. Keith's questioning and a
little quizzical. The whole suspicion of the man before
him was read now, as well as the jealous, passionate purpose
which stirred him more than the suspicion. Yet Lawrence
could read nothing beyond the one humiliating fact, that
his own motives and designs were comprehended fully anil
entirely. But surely the fact he had just affirmed must
Btir this man to the very soul. Could he attempt to keep
up any deception after this ?
Waiting to see, Lawrence maintained a marked silence
Thp pause would betray as much as any speech, and he
.. .uld rather his companion's words should break it. But
Royden had evidently no intention of breaking it.
" Yes," remarked Lawrence, having waited as long as he
could afford to wait in vain, "you were staying at the
Royal Hotel in Kinbary at that time. Is it odd that, know-
ing this, and being unaware of any other stranger sojourn-
ing there, too, I shculd connect in my mind the man of
whose presence I there heard, with the man whose presence
there I saw ? "
" I hardly follow you* B0 distinct, if vou please, in con-
sideration for my ignorance on this to^ic. With wnoee
presence did > v>u connect mine '?
P
346 OLD MYDDELTON*8 MONET.
" With that of Gabriel Myddelton."
The words, especially the last two, were tittered with
unusual distinctness. Lawrence, though COIIHMOUS of
reserving in his own hands the final move for checkmate,
did not enjoy thei-e constant preliminary checks which his
companion dealt him in so leisurely a manner.
" Gabriel Myddelton ? " Royden repeated the name
lazily, stooping his head the while to pick up a letter which
had fallen to the carpet" Was he staying in Kinbury
during a part of September, October, and November, of
1871?"
" He was, so I am assured."
" Were you aware of it at the time ?"
" I felt confident of it even then," returned Mr. Haughton,
imitating his companion's manner, now that he felt it was
his turn to cry check ; " but my proofs then were not so
strong and conclusive as they are now."
" May I inquire if they are quite strong and conclusive
now?"
Mr. Haughton's face darkened perceptibly. This question
touched his one weak point ; the attempt to strengthen
which point had employed him, and held back this infor-
mation, for nine months.
"May I ask you," repeated Royden, compo?edly, " if your
evidence now is quite strong and conclusive ? "
Lawrence no longer hesitated over the answer which was
his move for checkmate.
"Yes."
" Then I wish you had told me at the time. I should
yery much have liked to see him."
Lawrence rose to his feet in an outburst of wrath, which,
though he did not know it, was leavened heavily with fear
of defeat.
" What does this mean, this parry ii.g of words ?" he asked,
in his stern, harsh tones. " You make me speak out, while
the hint would have been sufficient for any other man. From
your own deductions, if you cannot catch mine, Gabriel
Myddelton was staying at the hotel in Kinhury while you
were there ; yet one fact is gleaned from the hotel books
oniy one stranger put up there for that unusually lengthy
Then you and Gabriel Myddeliou are ono."
OLD MYDDELTON'a MONET. 24?
He had said it at last. The suspicion of nearly a year's
growth had found language now, and neither the pallor nor
flush of conecious guilt had, in that moment, found its way
to Royden's handsome face.
" And you have your proof now ? " he questioned, as he
rose and laid his fingers on the handle of the bell.
" I have my proof," retorted Lawrence, staunchly, as he
stood upon the rug trying to shake off his uneasiness both
of face and attitude.
" That's good," observed Royden, with the glimpse of
South America which sometimes peeped out in tone and
accent ; and as he spoke he pulled aside the bell-handle.
" When you make an assertion it is good to be able to prove
it. I conclude from your last remark, Mr. Haughton, that
it was from you I received, some time ago, an anonymous
letter threatening me with the law if I did not leave this
country. Yes, I rang" he had turned to the servant
then, and his tones were not more easy and unconcerned
than they had been before " Call a cab for Mr. Haughton."
" The answer to that cowardly and unsigned letter," he
resumed, when Pierce had closed the door again, " I will
give you now. I do not choose to leave any country at your
bidding. You offered, I believe, in that letter I had not
the patience to read it through, but I understood so much
to keep this onerous secret of my identity with the murderer
of old Mr. Myddelton of Abbotsmoor, if I would leave
England at once. But you threatened, if I would not do so,
to betray my real name to other members of your family ;
especially if I understood aright this was a very emphatic
especially Miss Honor Craven. I do not ask you for your
motive, because it has been clear to me from the first, but I
give you my answer once for all. I shall not in any way,
either by my absence or promise, tamper to your own base
ends and purposes. As for that one fact of my identity with
Gabriel Myddelton, bring your proof when you are bold
enough to repeat the assertion."
" I will," cried Lawrence, in a voice of suppressed rage ;
*'* and remember that after I have left your presence to-day,
it will be too late for you to avail yourself of the immunity
I have offered you. I shall go from here at once to Misa
Craven I say to her first." amended Mr. Haughton, the
218 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
colour rising in his moody face, as he brought forward thil
nntrue excuse, " as being now the most in^uentinl member
of the family; and I shall lay the whole deception before
her. From there I shall go "
" Your destination is a matter of no moment at all to me,
sir. And your cab is waiting."
" Then you refuse this compromise ? " blurted out Law-
rence.
Deficient in proof as he felt himself to be, he knew that
a mutual agreement would be a much safer and speedier
arrangement for him than the arduous following up of this
intangible clue.
" I refuse all idea of compromise with you, Mr. Haugh-
ton. I do not even understand the term as applicable
between us. You are at liberty, so far as I am concerned,
to go where you choose and to say what you choose. You
have, for months, been paving the way for this disclosure ;
pray finish the work you have in hand. Need I remind
you once again that your cab is waiting ? "
" You understand", then," observed the lawyer, with a
hard, long gaze into his companion's face, " that your real
name and character are known to me, and, before this day
is over, shall be known to others. After I have left you, it
will be too late for you to attempt further dissimulation."
" If you utter one word move ot' this kind to me, sir,"
interrupted Royden, raising himself from his leaning pos-
ture against the chimney, and facing Lawrence Haughton
with his long dark eyes aflame, "you shall answer it in a
way you little anticipate. Possibly your confidential clerk
and ally has informed you how he was punished for dogging
my footsteps practically as you have dogged them theore-
tically. Let his example be a warning to you, for there is
but one way of dealing with dastardly insinuations."
" I shall consider now," exclaimed Mr. Haughton, his
clenched fist shaking in his wrath, and his lips compressed
<md hard, " that you have brought upon yourself all that
follows. I would, if you had accepted my very simple con-
ditions, have guarded your secret. If you had left England
and no one knows better than yourself how dangeroui
for you is every hour's sojourn here I would have buried
tiie troth u safely as you yourself could do."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 24o
"A lawyer,! believe," observed Royden, carelessly, "under-
stands the meaning of such a term as misprision of felony."
" But but," cried Lawrence, waxing hotter and hotter,
in his rage at the insinuation, and because there dawned no
fck r n of acquiescence in the proud, still face opposite him,
"if you choose to persist in passing yourself off as a man of
unblemished character, and "
" Be silent, sir," interrupted Royden ; " my character is
not in your hands to clear or blacken. I will thank you to
understand that our interview is at an end. I have no word
further to say to you, unless I express the hope that in
your further search for old Mr. Myddelton's murderer you
may be able to secure a more able auxiliary than your
cowardly little clerk, and" Royden's eyes under thei?
heavy lashes were bright, for a moment, with quizzical
amusement " and a victim more easily cowed, and duped
and driven, than myself. Good evening."
With the last words he turned and sauntered to the win-
dow, opening the door as he passed it. The lawyer could
not fail to understand the scornful hint, and he walked
towards the door, his heavy step heavier than usual.
" Good evening," he said, answering with a scorn equal
to Royden's, though savage instead of cool. " All which
follows this interview, you have brought upon yourself."
No answer from the figura standing at the window, and
Mr. Haughton left the room in a passion which, though
suppressed, boded a thorough willingness to inflict all the
suffering which lay in his power to give.
The soft dusk of the May night filled the room where
Royden sat ; the letters were still unwritten, and the in-
vitations still lay unheeded. Pierce had twice been in to
rouse his master from his reverie, but Pierce's master was
not to be roused. And, if Lawrence Haughton could just
then have re-entered the handsome room, his feelings of
mortification need not have weighed so heavily upon that
exhilarating consciousness of approaching revenge.
" Nine o'clock, sir. Will you not dress ? "
The valet had lighted up the rooms now, and knew it waa
high time to disturb his master in earnest.
Royden changed his seat, aud drew a sheet of paper before
biuu
2wC OLD MYDDELTON'K MONET.
"Not yet, Pierce," he said. "T will ring in an hour's time
If I ring twice, I shall want one of the grooms to dispatoh a tele-
gram forme. I have not decided vet whether I will go myself."
" But you promised to go, sir, and returned on purpose,*"
"Where?"
Pierce explained sedately. It had never struck him that
his master could have meditated any journey beyond the
drive to Sir Philip Somerson's London house.
Royden looked absently up from his writing while the ex-
planation was given. Then he said he had not decided.
With this unusually curt reply, the valet had to be content ;
but so unused was he to any changeable conduct in his
master, that his surmises were many.
" He returned on purpose for this ball," so the valet's
musings ended ; " and I don't see what need have changed
his decision. I wish I hadn't promised Mr. Haughton
admission until I knew it was the master's wish to see him
I always dread those telegrams for Westleigh, because 1
believe he'd bear anything rather than harass her. I don't
like that quiet, haughty look of his to-night ; it mean
Buffering for the master."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
We have received your letters full of love . . .
And in our maiden council rated them . . .
As bombast.
Love's Labour Loti*
HONOE was holding a kind of festival at the Kensington
mansion, on the arrival of Phoebe Owen. When it was
possible, Honor always did make her welcome quite a
festive! ; and many an extra grain of pleasure and of happi-
ness could she thus infuse into the visits which were paid
her. The freshness and earnest cordiality of the girl'a
nature showed themselves in a strong light this evening,
while she devoted herself with an almost comical excitement
to make this arrival a matter of rejoicing.
And even Phosbe, through all her wondering admirntioi
of Honor's grandeur, and iu the midst, of her 0*11 self-con
OLD anDDELTON'S MONET. 251
centrated anticipations, could still notice how the old quaint
brightness clung to Honor still, and wondered, almost to af
earnest purpose, why Honor should make a fuss over thfc
coming of her poor cousin, when there were so many servant* 1
in the house,
"Aren't we snug, Phoebe ?"
The question came from Honor, as they sat at tea together
in one of her own private sitting-rooms a bright and
luxurious apartment, glistening with satin and silver, and
looking like a fairy palace to Phoebe.
" Yes, very snug," she said ; but the tone was almost
dubious in her wonder. Could it really be Honor, looking
so lovely, and moving about so thoroughly at home in this
beautiful house ? And could it really be herself who was
entertained here so grandly, and yet made to feel as if she
had reached her own home ?
" I hadn't any messages to bring you, Honor," she re-
marked, presently, with her characteristic want of tact ;
" neither Jane nor Lawrence sent any, and I saw no one
else who knew I was coming."
" Were Lawrence and Jane at home when you left ? "
" No ; Lawrence went away yesterday. He had said,
from the first, that I was welcome to go where I chose. But
Jane was at home when I started, and she barely touched
my hand. Oh, Honor ! "
And for the second time since her arrival Phoebe burst
into excited tears.
Quietly and soothingly Honor led the conversation away
from their old home, guessing how sore Phosbe's heart
would be at any reminder of her guardian's neglect. She
never for one moment suspected that Phoebe had come to
her with any hope of being nearer Lawrence than she hud
been in the chill and distant reserve of his own house ; she
only understood, what Phoebe herself told her, that the old
home life had grown unbearable, and that her cousin had
come to her for a refuge, both from Lawrence Haughton'i
morose neglect and his sister's hard displeasure.
" As for Hervey," said Phoebe, a smile struggling through
her tears, as Honor led her so talk of the family at Deer-
grove, " we don't see much of him. He is always with you,
isn't he, Honor ? "
252 OLD MYDDELTOV8 MONET.
" Tf so, he will be with you too," smiled Honor ; " BO yon
will see. At any rate, he is going with us to-night to Lad/
fctomerson's."
" Oh, I cannot," gasped Phoebe, the old affliction strong
opon her ; " I have no dress."
" Wait and see," said Honor, with a kiss; " there are some
garments in your dressing-room, little Frau, which we are
going to investigate presently ; and if you don't look "
She had paused to take a card from the salver which a
footman, entering softly, handed to her. Her eyes had
fallen carelessly enough upon the name, but then they had
darkened, and as she took np the card her finders covered it.
" I will come to the library," she said, dismissing the
man with a glance. " I must go downstairs for a few
minutes, Phcebe," she added, rising and holding the card
still hidden in her hand. "Take care of yourself until I
come back in a few minutes' time."
Phcebe nodded from her large arm-chair, still full of
wonder at the quiet, gracious bearing which seemed natural
to Honor now, while she was still just the bright and girlish
Honor of old days.
" If I had changed my dress I could have come too," sh
remarked, plaintively.
" It would be too bad if, in the very hour of your arrival,
you began helping me to receive my visitors ; you will have
abundance of such tasks presently. But see," Honor con-
tinued, as the door opened again, " you are to have the task
of entertaining, after all. Hervey, I am glad to see you
though you are very early. I said ' Dinner at eight.' "
" 1 know," said Hervey, deprecatingly ; " but you told
me I might come early, and of course you knew I should."
" I am very glad you came. Phcebe will give you some
tea while I run away for a minute."
" A lady has called to see her, I think," explained Phcebe,
as she took her place at the tea-table, with a new shyness
which gave her a new gentleness too.
" No lady," rejoined Captain Hervey, moodily. " It 11
Uaughton, who is waiting for her below."
Phcebe raised her wide, round eyes in alarm, and forgot
Oaptnin Trent's tea a mutter to which he was utterly
inditlorenL
OLD MYDDLLTON'S MONET. 253
" Oh, Hervey," she stammered at last, " he has come for
toe!"
" Not he," said Hervey, quite indifferently, though with
out his old lazy scorn of her speeches.
" Oh, what shall I do ? 1 f must see him ; and yet, if
he takes me back to Jane ! Oh, Honor will be so vexed if
he is come for me ! "
" Less vexed, I should fancy," rejoined Hervey, anxiously
turning his eyes to the door, " than if he had come for
another purpose. Don't fret, Phoebe," he cried, with
kindness ; " there is no fear of Lawrence taking you back to
Jane."
She had collected herself then, and made an effort to do
tfie honours gracefully. Hervey Trent, standing upon the
rug, and longing for the return of Honor, had yet time to
notice that Phoebe was not so heavy as she used to be, and
that perhaps, if she dressed like Honor, and did not fall back
on her old ecstatic tricks, but could, by some marvellous
means, acquire a composed demeanour, he should not object
to take her under his wing, just occasionally, when Honor
particularly wished it.
" Of course it gives a man prestige to take Honor," he
mused ; " and, if Phoebe improves, she won't do much harm."
Wondering how far such improvement might be possible,
he condescended to exert himself a little during their tete-a-
tete ; and Phoebe, too much astonished at any attentions
from her languid cousin to exert herself at all, pleased him
more than she could ever have done with her exclamator,
style of converse. So they were friendly and easy, as Honor
had hoped they would be, almost before she had closed the
library door behind her, and stood in the presence of her old
guardian, fresh from that mortifying visit of his to Hoyden
Keith.
Lawrence stood looking from the window in the handsome
library, just as he had stood in his fear of looking at Honor
when she came, in her beauty and her freshness, to the
wearied, mortified watchers for Lady Lawrence ; and jusfc
as he feared to let the old weakness master him then, he
feared to let it master him now, but with a still more
lUiugerous and guilty purpose.
Some faint fear of his purpose she gleamed from his face
254 OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONET.
when he turned to greet her, and for a moment she wished
khe had not answered the request upon his card to gee him
alone. Only for a moment ; then her courage came back
to her, and she waited quietly for what he had to say.
" Honor," he began, making an effort to put aside one
certain thought, and ask with ease a question whose answer
might make that thought unnecessary " Honor, all my
letters to you have been so long unheeded that I am come
myself now for their answer."
" There is no answer," said Honor, quietly.
" No answer ? " He repeated the words sharply, while he
jaoved towards her with a quick, impatient step. " What
do you mean, Honor ? "
" I mean simply what I say," she answered, raising her
clear eyes to his face. "They all told the same old story ; and
from the first, as you know full well, that story wearied me
beyond words."
" You were a petulant child then, Honor," he said, curb-
ing his yoice with a strong effort ; " you are a woman now,
and can appreciate such devotion as I offer a man's strong
aid deeply-rooted love, not a boy's wayward affection "
No answer in his pause, and he came still nearer to her
on the hearth, his chest heaving, his fingers clenched as his
hands hung beside him.
" Honor, you will recall this day with pity for yourself, if
yon send me from you with such answer as you try to
utter now. I am not one to lightly give and take my love.
It must be successful, after these years of waiting, or I can-
not calmly stand aside and see my love give her hand to
another as I have known idiots do. Why should I alone
be miserable, when the misery is your fault ? I have given
you too much to be patient at no return, I have not loved
you for your wealth you know that ; and you know it
of no one else I loved you years ago. I gave you all
the love I had, when you were poor and almost friendless
Who else has done so ? Those men who fawn upon you now
care nothing fdr yourself; it is your wealth they court"
" Lawrence," she said, stopping him with an appealing
gesture, and a look of real pain upon her face, "please do
not talk of this. I must make once more my old request.
Slou were iuy guardian, and BO 1 have borne from you what
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 255
I would have borne from no one else. But you must not
speak to me so again, or our friendship must be broken for
ever."
Keenly watching her as she spoke, he read aright so wel 1
he knew the face he loved the hopelessness of his ambi-
tion. And then the cruelty of his despair and jealousy rose
up and took his words in its sole charge.
" If you had listened to me, and answered me differently,"
he cried, "I would have spared you all I could. I would
have spared you every knowledge, and even thought, of
crime and deception. As it is, you shall know what I know j
then you will see, perhaps, whose love is worth accepting,
and then Ah, Honor," he cried, once more weak in his
passion, " it is not too late yet I have not spoken. I never
need speak, if you will only promise at last to repay my
years of devotion."
" What have you to tell me of crime and deception ?"
She spoke firmly, but her hand had seized the back of a
chair beside her, and her eyes had gathered a terrible fear
under their drawn brows.
" What I will tell you to-night now," he cried, passion-
ately. " You have raised the fiend within me, and you shall
know all that I know, if if you really refuse to listen to
my love."
So he broke off once more to plead, in the madness of this
selfish and ambitious passion he called love ; and still she
answered him with kindness in her firm refusal.
Then, in the heat and anger of this blow, for which he
even yet. was unprepared, there came from his stern lip?
that information on the effect of which he built his last
desperate hope that the one man whose name she never
uttered to him, yet about whom his suspicion and jealousy
had wrapped themselves with a strength and tenacity which
might well convince him of their truth, was the man con-
victed, eleven years before, for the murder of the old miser
whose wealth she now possessed.
" The man who, from the cell where he lay under sentence
of death, had craftily escaped ; and now, at large again, was
continuing his rascally career."
" You have told me this before," said Honor, " only per-
haps not quite so decidedly and circumstantial lv. I asked
256 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY
you then for evidence to prove the trroa of what yon
asserted."
" Yes ; I told you before," exclaimed Lawrence, mor
hastily than he would have done if he had felt full relianc
on the strength of the clue he handled sc eagerly and un-
certainly ; " and, as it is the truth, I have told you again. I
feel myself your guardian still, Honor ; wid I cannot let
/on be duped and deceived before my very eyes."
" There is no fear," said Honor, quietly ; " and this you
\rnow."
"I told you something else of Gabriel Myddelton, last
time we spoke of him," blurted out Mr. Haughton, nevtr
trusting himself to pause between his speeches. " I told
you he was a married man, and that I can prove unless he
is guilty of another crime, as base in some men's eyes as
the murder itself. Ah ! you had guessed this ?" he cried,
excitedly, as he read her face with shrewd iutentness ; "you
are moved at last, to feel that you have counted among your
friends a criminal and a debauchee ? "
"I was moved," said the girl, knowing how, for one
moment, her courage had deserted her because her thoughts
flew back to that one day she had spent at Westleigh Towers,
" I was moved by an old memory. Please leave me now;
I do not want to hear another word of Gabriel Myddelton."
"Nor to see him again do you, Honor?" cried Mr.
Haughton, in the excitement of his sudden, selfish hope.
" You must shrink even from looking on a man who forces
his way into society under false pretences, with a f'a'-e name
and false character a reckless scoundrel who dares his latu.'
" Of whom are you speaking, Lawrence ? "
He started at the cold, proud tone.
"Of Gabriel Myddelton, or Roytien Keith as v<- -rill ?"
"You say Gabriel Myddelton is daring his fate under ihe
false name of Royden Keith, of Wsstleigh Towers ? Then
is the society in which he is received so blind, and dense,
and easily duped as that ? Tell me how this name and the
estate of Westleigh Towers belong to Gabriel Myddelton ?
Would not any account of the landed gentry show you the
pedigree of Royden Keith, of Westleigh Towers ? "
" No," said Lawrence, with a ready sneer, " else do you
think I would have been for one hour in doubt ? The last
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 2,">7
possessor of "Westleigh Towers, an old man in his dotage,
having no heir, left his estate and property to a young man
who paid him all sorts of interested attentions during the
last few months of his life. They met in Germany, where
old Mr. Keith died. He belonged to a good family, and tho
young man to whom he took this idiotic fancy, and to whom
he left his name as well as his wealth, reaps the benefit ot
that. What is stated as his previous name is of course of
no importance to us, as it was in his power to give any lie
he chose ; and as for the pedigree they may have chosen to
.nvent for this unknown, nameless fellow, why, only an idiot
would rely upon it."
" Could you not trace it without regard to printed state-
ments ? " asked Honor, carried away by her own earnestness.
" Could you not prove Royden Keith to have been an
honourable English gentleman before he took the honoured
name he bears ? "
" No," returned the lawyer promptly ; " no one could
prove that."
" Can no one, at any rate, prove who he was ? for you
have not done so, Lawrence."
" I have satisfied myself,'' returned Mr Haughton, be-
traying his own weak point by the very impatience of his
reply ; " I can do no more."
"In that case," said Honor, gravely, "/will have it done "
He gazed at her steadily and keenly ; but the swift
thought that she must be in jest could only live for one
instant He read in her face the earnest purpose which
(though he did not know it) had been for so long quietly
pursued ; and he saw that her motive was generous, and that
her search would be directed so that no shadow of suspicion
should rest where he had crowded it. Reading this, he saw
more plainly than he had ever seen them, even in his fre-
quent moments of depression, the flaws in his own evidence,
and the yawning chasm which broke his straight advance
towards the longed-for identification of old Myddelton'a
Murderer with Royden Keith.
" Honor," he cried, with a sudden desperate appeal, as he
felt his hold sliding from him, and knew that only truth
tad justice could weigh aught with her, " let this subject
reat between us. He is not worthy of one thought of
258 OLD MYDDKLTON'S MONET.
yorrrs ; and and, Honor, I will say no word of his
again if you will only give me the love I ask. He shall go
nnconvicted and unsuspected I promise it. I swear ir,.
No one in England shall know that he is other than the
man he pretends to be, if you will only give me the answer
I have sought in those letters. "Will you, Honor ? Will
you, my darling ? "
" Long ago I gave you my answer to those letters," she
aid. " I have no other to give now or ever ; and you will
not, I trust, ever write such to me again, for I do not like
to have to burn my cousin's letters nnread, and such aa
those I must treat so."
" Then, if you burn my letters,'' cried Lawrence, pas-
sionately, " I must come myself, for you shall listen to me
at last. You shall feel that no one could ever love you as
I love you."
" That is enough, Lawrence. When I have found the
clue I seek, I will send to you."
"I could help you in this, Honor," he urged, eagerly;
" you will need such help as I can give. Take my services,
and I will promise "
"No, thank you," replied Honor, gently ; and she stood
with an unmistakable desire for his departure.
But, if he saw the hint, he did not take it. Once more,
and as desperately as if he felt it would be the last time, he
urged that wearisome plea of his, every repetition of which
hfrknew to be real pain to her.
And still she parted from him kindly at last, remember-
ing that he was her cousin, and had been her guardian, and
forgetting, by a generous effort, that he was the selfish and
jealous suitor " whose love-suit had been to her as fearful as
a siege."
CHAPTER
I, then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
To be BO pestered with a popinjav,
Answered neglectingly I know not what. Henry IV*
LADY SOMERRON'S balls were always amoeg the pleasantest
and most brilliant of the season, and no one felt that thii
OLD MYDDELTON'B MONET. $6)
first ball of the spring of '72 would be an exception to the
rule. As host and hostess Sir Philip Somerson and his
lady had no rivals. To their perfect courtesy and high
breeding they added a hearty geniality ; to their thorough
experience of the world of fashion they added real freshness
of enjoyment ; and beyond their abundant wealth and op-
portunities, they possessed the tact to discern what element*
would blend in their assemblies, and form one gay anc
harmonious whole. Dancing was never allowed to grow
wearisome in Lady Somerson's house, but was as fresh and
keen an enjoyment as it is possible to be in May and June ;
music was never pressed upon those who did not care either
to listen or perform, but was a treat and rest, as music
should be. Conversation never seemed to drag or droop,
but brightly and pleasantly passed through the different
groups.
" I should not wonder" so her ladyship had remarked to
her husband when discussing this ball " if it does not turn
out eventually to have been the best ball of the season."
" Nor should I, my dear," assented Sir PhiJip, cordially ;
"yours generally do."
But this was only an anticipation, and whether this had
been the best ball of the season could only be decided when
the brilliant rooms had shrunk into a dejected condition o(
holland and cobwebs, and the tale of some few lives had
been told.
But who could dream to-night of cobwebs in these rooms ?
Who could picture a weary ending to these^ives ?
" I think," mused Lady t'omerson, looking round upon the
brilliant scene, with a dancing light in her kind eyes, " that
I never saw more happy faces."
" Mrs. Trent Miss Trent Captain Trent."
The start which the hostess gave was even perceptible to
the group around her, but in an instant she moved forward
to greet her guests, and her courteous manner betrayed
neither surprise nor want of cordiality.
Mrs. Trent and Theodora had been, from time imme-
morial, invited regularly to Lady Somerson's balls, aa
country neighbours of Sir Philip's ; but on this occasion
Mre. Trent had written her reply from Deergrove, regretting
that she and her daughter were not likely to be in town oj
9<tt) OLD MYDDELTON 8 MONET.
that date. So Ladv Somerson, with a sigh that sotmoei
laden with relief, had given up all expectation of their society ;
and, forgetting that the note had been so worded as to leavi
the invitation open, had overlooked their possible presence
until their names were thus suddenly announced.
Of course she did not utter a word of surprise on seeing
these guests, but she did remark quietly to her husband,
that she could not understand why Mrs. Trent and bet
daughter should come up to London so suddenly ; and that
she did not like what she could not understand.
Sir Philip laughed a little over her logic, only observing
that it was rare to find women doing what one could under-
gtand.
"No, I do not like it," reiterated his lady, evidently
puzzled. "And I am vexed, too, that Mr. Keith IB not
some. I suppose it is too late to expect him now."
Sir Philip laughed again.
" Of course he will come, for he promised. But why are
you so covetous ? You have plenty of young men here now,
wealthy, young, and marriageable. There is the Duke of
Hartreigh, what more can you wish ?"
" I wish for Mr. Keith."
The host and hostess separated then, and presently Lady
Somerson moved aside to speak to Captain Trent, where she
could not be overheard.
" The arrival of your aunt and cousin was a surprise "
Hervey," she said. " Had you known they were in Londun ? ''
" Had not the faintest idea," returned Hervey, raising
his fair eyebrows. " Only last night I left them at Deer-
grove."
" Indeed ? "
Lady Somerson said no more, and to Hervey the word
Mid her ladyship's glance were totally devoid of expression
" They telegraphed for me as soon as they arrived, and ot
course I was obliged to go and escort them here, though
Honor had told me I might come with her "
"A disappointment," smiled Lady Somerson, "but soot
over. It was all one when you reached here."
" Not quite," began Hervey, and his hostess understood
the insinuation, though she thought it best to ignore it,
because, for the time, both he and Mrs Trent were her own
OLD MYDDELTCXtt'S MONEY. 261
guests. She walked away with a gvnile, her eyes followin
his fretful gaze.
Honor Craven, her beauty matchless among many bea
tiful and graceful forms, her dress unexcelled in its fairy
elegance, though no colour relieved it, sat in a perfect crowd
of solicitous cavaliers, foremost among whom was the young
Duke, on whom the hopes of so many mothers and
daughters were fixed.
" The girl enjoys it," mused Lady Somerson, the smile
Btill on her lips ; " and it is but natural to her girlhood that.
6he should. Yet in this adulation, constantly reminded as
she is of her surpassing beauty and her marvellous wealth,
she is just the girl she was in her guardian's home ; always
gentle, and obedient, and unselfish ; always bright, and
perhaps a little saucy. Yet even now I can see that she
has not reached her height of happiness. Yes, though sh*
is the same girl I loved years ago in her lonely orphanaue.
she has grown years beyond me now, and I feel as if her lite
must hold many a pain I could not comprehend ; but it will
hold joys too joys too, if God please."
Captain Trent had kept beside his hostess, and his face
brightened with the realisation of his hope when she paused
in the coterie surrounding Honor, and the girl joined her
with delight.
" Listen ! what a valse ! " cried the hostess, presently,
with a mischievous glance at Hervey, who was making
strenuous but futile efforts to exhibit himself as a shining
light in the jest and badinage which made the group so
merry a one. " I must not forget myself and linger here ;
but I shall return presently to see if you have all f jund
partners."
And so saying, Lady Somerson glided on, to assist shy
men and bashful maidens. The Duke of Uartreigh, in a
state of sudden excitement, apparently awaking to the fact
that the blissful hours were passing away, and he had not
/et had one dance, pleaded with Miss Craven for the honour
of her hand. Hervey came forward, more eagerly still, to
claim now the fulfilment of her promise to him ; and a host
of other partners stood waiting for her refusal, that their
own claims might be advanced. Pleasantly, though promptly,
Honor declined his Grace's arm ; but his Grace utili
26!! OLD MYDDELTOS'S MONEY.
bovered beside her, finding a greater charm in her proximity
thun any which the brilliant suite of rooms could otherwise
afford him.
" Mr. Keith."
In the midi-t of his flattering nonsense, the young duke
paused with a sadden surprise, which all his native courtesy
failed to hide ; for, when the simple name of this late guest
had been announced, Honor's face had inexplicably, yet
unmistakably, changed ; over its glowing brilliancy a
strange, still look had fallen ; her beautiful eyes had
saddened, although it was only for one moment that they
had left his face ; and her lips had met in a quivering com-
pression. Now, when she set aside his entreaty to dance,
she did it even more quietly than before ; but he felt,
beyond a doubt, that this negative was decisive.
The Duke stood moodily watching this late comer. He
knew him well, and liked him very little, for in his presence,
as in the presence of no other mn, the Duke of Hartreigh
felt a sensation of jealousy which was as unusual to him as
it was unpleasant. Yes, he could even be jealous of a
man who looked so often, as he looked to-night, chastened
in heart and soul ; because he always stood, as he stood to-
night, pre-eminently distinguished even in a distinguished
throng.
" Honor," entreated Captain Trent, " do give me this
valse you promised me one."
" Do not ask me, Hervey," she urged gently, and almost
adly, " I could not valse just now."
A few of the hopeless satellites moved away to seek other
partners for the dance ; and Honor, turning aside where her
eyes could not fall on Royden, let Hervey lead her where he
would.
It would be impossible to say exactly how it happened,
but as soon as Royden Keith and his hostess separated, he
found himself beside Theodora Trent, taking her outstretched
hand, and answering the many questions which flowed in
succession from her smiling lips. Mrs. Trent pointed her
fan affably to a vacant seat beside her, and Royden, in hia
easy courtesy, took it, and entered into a merry hall-room
conversation. Acting up to her long education, the matron
gradually drifted from the discourse, leaving Theodora ID
OLD MYDDBLTON'S MONEY. 263
her desired position. Miss Trent chatted for a time on
trifling subjects, using all her powers of winning, for she
would keep Mr. Keith beside her at any cost. But even
Theodora, in all her self-conceit, knew that she daro not
hope to keep him so for long, though she might use every
winning power she possessed. She had resigned her one
faint hope for this valse with him, but still she thought she
miirht delicately convey a hint as to future dances.
" I know no band in London so pleasant to dance to,"
she observed.
" Nor I," he said, his eyes absently following the gliding
figures ; "it surprised me to find you sitting, Miss Trent."
Theodora flushed uncomfortably. During the whole of
the last season the unpleasant consciousness had been dawn-
ing upon her that she was not so thoroughly what her
mother called successful in society as she used to be.
Whether the fretfulness, which in her nature was conse-
quent on hope deferred, had more effect upon her face than
she wot of, or whether fickle partners had grown a little
weary of her superficial beauty and shallow remarks ; or
whether the halo of old Myddelton's wealth had not had
something to do with her previous triumphs, was not even
known to Theodora herself. The only fact certain was
that, in spite of her regular features and stylish toilettes,
in spite of her own talent and her mother's Macchiavellian
skill, she was not unfrequently observed sijting moodily
aside now, while plainer girls took her old place in the
dances she was so fond of.
" I reserved this one," she answered, with her old dis-
regard for truth. " I shall have quite sufficient later on to-
night."
" Doubtless," said Royden, quietly.
He was watching a distant group, and his eyes were
grave and intent. Theodora's followed them, then returned
with angry swiftness.
"Do you notice, Mr. Keith" sha asked the question in
a soft, deliberate tone, looking imto his face with a smile
"how my cousin has been spoiled by her extraordinary
acquisition of old Myddelton's money ? I remember her
quite a nice, unaffected girl when she lived at The Larches,
and had only forty pounds a year of her own, Indeed I
264 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
grew quite fond of her then, and asked her to come to our
house as you may recollect."
" The first time I met Miss Craven was at your house. 1
recollect it perfectly."
Theodora glanced furtively up into Hoyden's quiet face.
His eyes were still on the distant group, and the easy tone
it was impossible to read.
" But now" added Miss Trent, then paused with a
slight, and not inelegant, gesture of disgust. When, in the
few seconds of silence which followed, the mortifying con-
sciousness forced itself upon her that both the gesture and
the insinuation had been lost upon her listener, she had
recourse to speech again. "Everyone notices this change,
I grieve to say, Mr. Keith ; and one can but regret that
unexpected wealth, and mixing in society to which she has
not been accustomed, should have had such an injurious
effect upon her."
" To what injurious effect do you allude ? "
Theodora laughed softly, a laugh that was not good to
hear.
"Now. Mr. Keith, you must have noticed the change in
Honor, nnd you ought to own it."
"Yes, I have noticed a change in Miss Craven."
Miss Trent sought curiously for an explanation of the
new intonation in his voice, but sought in vain.
" Of course you have," she said, graciously betraying a
full comprehension ; " many people remark upon it. Hervey
says it pains him very much."
" To all appearance," remarked Royden, in her interroga-
tory pause, " Captain Hervey enjoys pain."
Theodora's lips were set in angry compression as she saw
--what she knew that he saw how utterly and eagerly
Captain Trent was at that moment devoting himself to the
girl whose changed conduct had pained him.
" I think," observed Miss Trent, in a tone whose resent-
ment, though suppressed, was sufficiently evident to her
companion, " that you, Mr, Keirh, must see men are BO
much quicker to detect weaknesses in our sex than we our-
ielves are how persistently Honor tempts my cousin to
i ppear everywhere in her t-hadow. Of course this is easy for
her now ; Hervey sees how her wealth procure* her
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. V^
where the services of all ambitious and money-ioving men ;
and of course he is pleased to appear in the train of the
wealthiest girl in England. But though Honor nndei
stands exactly how it is, she flirts a great doal too openl/ 1
with him. Why, he is for ever with her ! "
" He is fortunate."
"I assure you he himself does not think so," put ia
Theodora, with spiteful eagerness ; " he thinks it often a
great bore ; and besides that, he has a perpetual fear of her
betraying her want of education, and humiliating him in
public. When Honor was a girl at home, he very kindly
instructed her in the usages of good society, and now, having
entered society at last, she of course entirely depends upon
him. Indeed, I tremble to think what blunders she would
perpetually make but for his constant and timely advice.
Knowing this, he is sorry to leave her unsupported."
" Do you think, Miss Trent," inquired Koyoen, leaning
forward, in his seat, and bringing his eyes slowly from the
group he was studying, " that the Duke of Hartreigh and
those gentlemen whom we see hovering about Miss Craven
DOW, eager for a word or glance men of title, wealth, and
celebrity are all actuated by this generous feeling, or ia
Captain Trent a particular exception ? v
" Everyone knows their motives," retorted Theodora, for-
getting her gracious languor in the sudden jealous fear which
seized her ; " she is the personification of old My ddel ton's
money, you recollect."
"Oh!"
* Of course, as I said," resumed Theodora, wondering over
his short reply, " the temptation which she can offer is not
one which even Hervey can very well decline, though the posi-
tion bores him. Like other men, he is easily led on to make
his attentions conspicuous when he sees how very openly they
are encouraged. If you lay this to Honor's ignorance, of
course it is very generous of you ; but I cannot help griev-
ing over the marked change in her, and regretting that she
has so little pride and modesty."
"As?"
" As to give encouragement to a whole crowd of suitorg,
and so demonstratively accept and parade in public the
devotion they offer to her wealth."
266 OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONET.
" I know more than one man, Miss Trent," observed
Hoyden, " who has devoted himself to Miss Craven, not only
without encouragement, but literally in the face of stroug
d/scouragement and 1 believe Captain Trent to be doing so
at this moment."
Theodora, whose gaze had been fixed on Captain Hervey'a
leaning figure, raised her head with a swift, vindictive
glance, which she could not suppress in time.
" Honor Craven," she said, with cruel deliberation, "is, as
everyone says, arrogantly proud of the money of which she
BO illegally obtained possession ; and is, besides that, a most
unprincipled coquette."
He had risen from his seat as she spoke, but waited beside
her until the last word was uttered, then answered, with
quiet composure :
" On this subject it is utterly impossible for ns k> agree,
Miss Trent, so it is better that we should not speak of it. I
consider Miss Craven as far opposed to your description as
light is opposed to darkness ; and so you understand how I
must answer you, if I answer you at all on this subject."
He stood a moment or two after he had ceased speaking,
then, with a bow, he walked away.
It was as he passed on his slow way from group to group,
that presently he joined the coterie which lingered about
Honor, and she put her hand into his, and smiled her beau-
tiful smile, "Set, even in his first momentary glance, he
read the truth. Lawrence Haughton had told her what he
had threatened to tell. Afterwards, when he was alone, he
tried in vain to remember how he had read this fact. Her
gmile was not flashing in its brilliancy as it used to be, and
her words were not prompt and piquant, as of old yet it
vas not these facts which told him. There had been no
word or glance of suspicion, or even of curiosity ; no signs
of coldness or repugnance ; yet, as Royden sand to himsel'
ajrain and again in his solitude, she had heard Lawrence
Haugh ton's story.
It was because he saw this in her face that he stayed be-
side her only for a few minutes. Knowing what history
Bhe had heard as the history of his past life, he knew that it
must be painful to her to feel him near her. Knowing how
.his story hud ben told her, and by wiiom, he realised thf
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 267
fact that evermore there must be an im passable barrier
between them, and that it would be kinder to leave her
untroubled by his presence.
The ball was only half over when Royden Keith bade
adieu to his host and hostess, sorely against their wish. But
he had not descended the staircase when Cap;ain Hervey
Trent came up to him.
" Keith," he began, with a rather eager assumption of
familiarity, "stay a moment, will you ? Honor has been
asking me where you were, and she will be pleased with me,
I daresay, if I take you to her. Will you come ?"
"Thank you," returned Royden, showing no impatience
for the speaker ; " but Miss Craven did not, I fancy, send
you to summon me."
" Oh ! certainly not."
" If she had done so, I would have returned with you at
once. As it is, you must excuse me."
" She did really wonder where you were," persisted ITer-
vef. "They were talking of something nobody seemed
to know anything about, and she said you would tell us, if
you had not left. I know she would be glad if I took you
back with me. Come."
Quietly, and in a very few words, Royden resisted the
warm, familiar invitation ; but still Captain Trent was not
to be so easily shaken off.
" Why is it, Keith," he asked, very skilfully, as he fancied,
treading ground which led to the solution of a trouble-
some speculation of his, " that you have avoided Honor all
night. Has anything occurred ? "
" Anything occurred ! " repeated Mr. Keith, with a glance
of slow and grave inquiry into his companion's face ; " I do
not understand."
" I mean," explained Hervey, not comprehending this
glance, " I mean you will not mind what I am going to
say, I hope " he added, blushing like a girl, although they
were in comparative solitude on the staircase, " 1 mean,
have you, or I should say, is there anything serious between
you and Honor ? You won't mind my asking, because I
really am so anxious on this point."
" Ar.y affairs of Miss Craven's which she wishes you to
know she will doubtless tell yen herself/"
268 OLD MTDDELTON'S MONET.
" Bat just assure me of that," persisted Hervey, with hit
characteristic density ; " it will not makeany real difference
\o you, and it might make a world of difference to me."
" I fail to see the possibility."
" Stop," cried Hervey, overtaking him as he walked slowly
down the stairs and linking one arm in his ; " don't be
vexed, for after all it is a natural question, and would give
you no trouble to answer."
No trouble ! Just then, too, when he had formed that
determination never to seek her companionship again, even,
as it had ever been, only for a few minutes at a time.
" Let me, as the elder man, Cfiptain Trent, advise you to
leave every man to manage his own affairs without inter-
ference."
But Hoyden's reticence and this advice availed him
nothing. Hervey Trent was so determinately bent upon
setting his own mind at rest upon this one important point,
and so terribly anxious to hear from Mr. Keith's own lips
that Honor Craven and he were nothing to each other
b' yond ordinary acquaintances, that he intruded his com-
pany upon Royden up to the last moment such a thing was
feasible, and reiterated, in various forms, his urgent request
to be enlightened.
His heart, sore and troubled in its newly-gained know-
ledge of that barrier which, perhaps for ever, must be reared
between them, Royden answered with a sadness which waa
yet free from sarcasm or scorn.
But up to the last instant, Hervey was impervious to this.
Each one of his selfish, persistent questions touched an
open wound, and Royden, but for the strong command he
put upon himself, would have shaken the young man from
him with contempt. But though his heart was sore and
troubled, he bore this probing quietly, answering only with
negligence where he might have answered with passion and
contempt*
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 269
CHAPTER XXX.
Over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.
THAT London season was a perfect dream of delight to
Phcebe Owen. She had never been accustomed to indulge
in fancies of any kind, but if she had, the wildest flight of
her fancy could not have soared to such splendour, and ease,
and variety, as that in which she revelled now in Honor's
shadow. But not until months afterwards did she under-
stand how much more of this happmessand unmixed pleasure
had been owing to Honor herself than to the constant round
of gaiety and brilliancy to which she gave the credit.
Never had Honor's nature held a grain of selfishness, but
in this wealthy, courted life of hers the fact was more ap-
parent to Phoebe than it had been in those old days at The
Larches. Perhaps this was because Phrebe's perceptions
were widening a little, now that the one idol on which for
years they had been centred was unwillingly, forsooth, but
not the less ruthlessly : being withdrawn ; but perhaps it was
because the power which now lay in Honor's hands was broad
and great. In any case the Kensington house was a home
of almost unreal happiness and splendour to Phcebe, anr 1
the example of her cousin's life was of untold benefit tx?
her.
Nor was she the only one to whom Honor made the grand
old mansion into a beautiful and tempting home. From
what, by her bright unvarying kindness and gentle steadfast
help, she had rescued Hervey, he could only fully recognise
a year afterwards, when he declared, with a humiliation
which was new to him, yet of which he felt no shame
"I can often see the pitiful sight of idle men lounging
about town, who are only just what I myself should have been
if Honor had not saved me ; and, if I could do for them
what she has done for me, I would ; but then it ie only the
few who can do it."
Thus, for Hervey and for Phoebe, Honor made a home t#
270 )LD MYDUELTOX'S MONK7.
which they were brightly welcomed, and in its happy light,
and under her loving influence, the old idle and selfish
habits fell from them, too sickly to bear this pure, bright
atmosphere.
But this was not all the good that Honor did, even in the
very heart of that world of gaiety and unrest, while she
reigned a queen triumphant, wielding her three-fold sceptre
of beauty, youth, and wealth. Few who met her in the
brilliant saloons where she was ever the prominent figure
worshipped openly as one whom it was natural to worship
could have guessed where many hours of the day had been
Fpent, or how those hours had been used. Few could have
guessed what generous gifts had been distributed quietly by
the small white hands which it was a privilege to touch.
Few could have guessed what comforting and strengthening
words had been uttered by the lips whose smile was reward
for hours of indefatigable attendance, and tew could have
guessed how anxious to do good was the girlish heart whose
zest in all amusements was as fresh as if that heart were not
strong and steadfast for its work in the solemn battle of life.
No ; few could have guessed, although there were times
when the girl drooped wearily under the burden of her great
responsibility, and could almost longingly recall that old
life, whose only gleams of brilliance had been day-dreams of
wild and sweet impossibilities. Her dreams were of future
Btill poor Honor ! when she allowed them to come at all ;
but her own was not the central figure now, as it had been
in those old times ; indeed, her own was rarely there at all ;
and these dreams were all grey, and ahill, and lonely. Now
and then, but rarely, came back to her that autumn day
when she had walked beside Royden while he told her how
he loved her ; or that evening, when, in his own home, she
had turned with negligence from the same story. But when
such memories did come, she stifled them as if they hurt her,
and then returned those haunting dreams of the future, in
which she saw him always alone, solitary, and unhappy ;
watched and suspected ; always alone in the crowds which
clustered about him, and even in whose merriment he joined
a man standing apart, *So she saw him, chastened in
heart and intellect ; and it was this constant haunting
thought of his grave and solitary life which brought that
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 271
dreamy sadness to her eyes so often, and kept at bay all
thought of love and close companionship.
They met often. In the whirl of life into which both
were so eagerly tempted, it was impossible it should be
otherwise ; but there was always now a barrier between them
which, though invisible, was inexorably impassable ; and
which it must be impossible ever to pass again, because
neither could speak of it unless in that horrible alternative
of Lawrence Haughton's carrying his threat into execution,
and making his suspicion public. As yet Mr. Haughton
had taken no step towards this result, beyond one more
threatening interview with Honor, in which he had shown
her the burnt scrap of paper which he had so long guarded
under lock and key, and of which he had before only told
her. Honor, standing opposite him, while he insisted on
showing it to her, bent and examined it, though apparently
the scarred fragment possessed very little interest for her.
Lawrence could not see her eyes, and waited so long in vain
for any remark which might betray her conviction or fear
that at last, in despair, he reminded her harshly of this in-
controvertible evidence. She raised her face slowly, and
answered in her usual tones.
* Dear Gabriel, those are the words you bid me read ;
but I see no interest in them, Lawrence. I might easily
write such words of my own cousin Gabriel, if I chose to
any one," she added, with peculiar emphasis.
And then she turned away, muttering that the room was
BO warm it made her feel faint ; and putting her hand to
her head, she closed her eyes one moment, turning white aa
death.
" The letter," observed Mr. Haughton, while he watche 1
her narrowly, " was written to the man who calls himself
Royden Keith, and it is so commenced dear Gabriel in a
lady's hand."
" i do not think so," replied Honor, in that quiet tone of
dissent to which her old guardian should have been accus-
tomed now. "We women, as a rule, use capitals in such
a case. 1 think these words came in the middle of the
letter."
" Absurd," interposed the lawyer, with impatience. "Yet
even if it were BO, what diiferen 00 would that make ? U
272 OLD MYDDELTOX'S MONET.
she must call him 'dear Gabriel' in the middle of the lettel
as well as at the beginning, like a love-sick "
" I do not understand the necessity of discussing this,
Lawrence."
" Yes, } ou do you must," he retorted ; " and yon would
be mad to pretend that there is any loophole for escape
from my conviction. To address the one to whom you write
as 'dear Gabriel ' is a pretty incontrovertible proof that
Gabriel is the name of the person to whom the letter is
sent. You see it so yourself, as plainly as 1 see it."
" Gabriel is not a a very uncommon name," said Honor,
and Mr. Haughton's hopes rose a little, for he read th*
anguish of suspicion which she tried in vain to hide.
The interview had not ended there, for the old suit had
been again desperately urged, and the old promise repeated,
in vain ; but after this he had taken no further step for-
ward in his threatened bringing to justice of old Myddel"-
ton's murderer ; and Honor rightly surmised that her old
guardian was too astute a lawyer to make his accusation
public until he held an unbroken thread of evidence.
Sometimes Honor and Theodora Trent met in society,
but not very often, as there were limits to the circle in which
Mrs. and Miss Trent displayed their graces, and even within
these limits Honor Craven's presence was eagerly sought.
Except for a passing regret that old ties and memories could
be so ruthlessly snapped by jealousy, it made no difference
to Honor when Theodora happened to be in the same
assembly. She invariably spoke to her, though no longer
like an old friend, as she used to do, for Miss Trent's
marked glances and innuendoes could not be misunderstood.
If it had been possible, Theodora would have robbed
Honor of the admiration and the love she gained so easily ;
but being utterly impossible, Miss Trent was fain to content
herself with dropping casual and infectious hints, or express-
ing all that looks and gestures could express. And it could
hardly be that these poisonous words and glances could fall
as harmlessly on everyone as they had fallen on Royden
Keith.
In those meetings, which were so brief, between himself
and Honor, sr\e was ever very quiet, just as she might have
been if the had feared to trust herself. And he, noticing
OLD ilYDDBLTOJCr S MONEY. 273
that always at his coming there would fall over her face a
stillness which looked like weariness, made those meetings
fewer and more brief, as the London season neai ed its zenith.
Even Phcobe noticed that this silence fell upon her cousin
even when she only mentioned Royden's name, and it
taught the girl a new experience, and even a new wisdom.
Her cousin, whose love and brightness had made the
only sunshine her life had ever held, who was so much
better, and wiser, and brighter than herself, though five
years younger, had some soreness at heart, in spite of all the
splendour and the luxury about her, in spite of her beautiful
houses and her host of lovers, in spite of her talents and
her great beauty.
The only relief for sorrow of any kind, which had come
within the radius of Miss Owen's imagination, was recipro-
city ; yet Honor did not avail herself of this. Whatever
this soreness at heart might be, Honor bore it silently and
alone, letting no shadow of her grief fall upon the path she
made so bright for others. It taught the elder girl a
lesson, too, of patience and Unselfishness ; not unneeded,
though Honor's daily example had made her now a pleasant
companion, sympathetic, if still excitable, and kind in her
harmless pursuit of pleasure. She was, as Hervey told her
one day, in a tone of approval which was equally new and
pleasant to Phoebe, "losing her gushing proclivities, and
was wonderfully the gainer by the loss."
And Hervey meant what he said. He had forgiven her
intrusion into the Kensington mansion, because, under
Honor's skilful management, he was made to feel only the
pleasant effect of her society ; and it was impossible, seeing
Honor's treatment of them both, for him to dream of Phoebe
as an interloper. So, gradually he grew to believe what
Honor had meant him to believe that it was altogether a
pleasant arrangement. True, there were still times when he
wished for nothing on earth so strongly as Phoebe's absence ;
^ut then the feeling wore itself out as Honor's conduct to
himself still continued to keep all lover-like ambition at bay,
and still more rapidly wore itself out as Phoebe's silly moods
grew rarer ; as common sense leavened her ecstacies, and
.he desire to please, rather than charm, lightened her ome
what heavy aud disjointed converse.
274 OLD MYDDELTOK'S MONEY
So life went on in London, and Honor, ever working
ceaselessly and patiently to probe that secret of old Myddel.
ton's murder, was still gay, and sweet, and piquante in the
society in which she was courted, walking as it seemed ever
brightly in her path of roses, though the burden of a pum>
unshared and unspoken of, pressed upon her.
She had arranged to go to Abbotsuioor early in July, and
though Phcebe could not look forward with unmixed
pleasure to leaving the London world, which was so fall of
delight for her, she could still find solace in the prospect of
reigning with Honor in the now beautiful mansion which,
in their childhood, had seemed to them an Aladdin's palace
in its shroud, behind whose rust and cobwebs slept a wonder-
ful grandeur. In this grandeur she was to be almost equal
to Honor, and there would always be guests and gak-ry,
although Honor would be sure to work there in carrying out
those curious projects of hers for the good of the poor, who
had been so long neglected by the possessors of old Myd-
delton's money and estate, and even for the good of many
who, in this great city, struggled upon the hard highway
of life, or fell and fainted on the battle-plain.
"And i all these things I shall be useless," mueed
Phoebe, not to her credit in her unwillingness to help,
but in the consciousness of her own incapacity. " But "
and this washer consolatory conclusion " June is not gone
yet."
The certainty of this fact was especially refreshing to her
on the morning before the ball which Honor was to give in
her mansion at Kensington, on one of the last days of that
hot summer month.
" It will be such a superb party," Phoebe exclaimed in
rapture ; " won't it, Honor ?"
Honor, smiling, said she hoped so ; and then dreamed
over it quietly, seeing most clearly among the crowd that
one figure which, in those dreams of hers, always seemed to
stand apart. " Surely for this night he would come," she
thought. " "We are going away so soon, and he'has accepted
my invitation. Oh, he is sure to come."
Merrily all that day the girls ran about the great house,
taking such a fresh and childish pleasure in the prepara-
tions, that great was the astonishment of the solemn
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 275
servants, as well as of the workmen and women, who found
it hard to ply their hammers and their needles with a
beseeming gravity.
"What are you thinking of, Honor ?" inquired Phoebe,
when they sat resting over their afternoon tea.
" I was recalling," said Honor, sitting lazily opposite her
cousin, who, in a state of suppressed excitement, presided
over the exquisite little tea equipage, "I was recalling the
parties rare as old china which we used to have ac The
Larches. Weren't we always in a state of ferment, little
Frau ? and wasn't our anxiety intense over our dresses ? "
"Mine was," modified Phoabe, with honesty. " And do
you remember how angry Jane used to be when you pro-
duced some unexpected game or luxury, on which you f.iid
surreptitiously spent all your pocket-money, hoping to glean
a little fun from it ? "
"Such humble purchases, too," mused Honor, smiling.
" They seem so now," returned Phoabe, looking round the
beautiful rooms, and thinking of the gorgeous and lavish
preparations for Honor's ball ; " but we thought them tre-
mendous then, and Jane always pronounced them absurd
and ruinous extravagance."
"I remember once, before a dinner party," said Honor,
laughing, " I went into Kinbury and speculated in a box of
crackers. It was Christmas time, and they looked pretty
and might provoke a laugh, I thought. I hid them away
when I got home, only intending to bring them out at the
last moment, for fear of not being allowed to exhibit them,
but of course Jane found them, and forbid me to put them
on the table. Picture woe like mine ! "
" I remember," said Phoebe, growing dismal over even the
recollection ; " and I cried, and told Lawrence, and he
scolded Jane, and ordered them to be put just where you
chose, and you were vexed with me, and hid the crackers.
And don't you remember, Honor, that we found them the
autumn after, a,nd took them with us to the Statton Woods
when we went to sketch ; and Hervey joined us. Oh,
you remember ! " cried Phoebe, springing up to look if
Honor's cup was empty, " and he wanted to crack them
nil with you, and pretended the mottoes were true. Such
ft contrast to Mr. Keith, who came witii him that day,
276 OLD MYDDELTON MONEY.
and never offered to crack one with you, but all the
while turned to me. It was a novelty for me," con-
eluded the elder cousin, smiling, " because Hervey was
always eager to join with you in everything ; and as for
Lawrence "
But Phoebe paused there. Not even yet could she finish
calmly any allusion to her guardian's indifference to herself,
and undisguised love for Honor, though each day as she
herself was now aware it was growing easier for her.
" How many dances have you promised Hervey for to-
night ? " inquired Honor, simply for the purpose of turning
the conversation. And from that point the girls' talk
hovered merrily about the coming ball, until their sociable
afternoon rest was over, and they ran off again to inspect
the hanging of the silver lamps which gleamed in purity
among the flowers.
"All finished now," said Honor, smiling at Phoebe's
ecstatic gestures when they paid their last visit to the re-
ception-rooms, which from end to end were like a fairy
palace of brilliancy and beauty, with softly-treading servants
moving here and there like phantom forms which should
vanish when the dazzling figures of the guests should take
their place. " All finished, little Frau, and this may be a
very happy night ?"
" Why only may be ? " asked Phoebe. " Of course it will
be ; every single person you care for has accepted your in-
vitation, Honor. Why are you doubtful ? "
" Because," said the girl, bringing her lustrous gaze, from
the vista of drapery and exotics, " because I feel that this
night must be very happy, or very Come, though, let
us decorate ourselves, little Frau, now that the rooms are
decorated," and she turned and raced iway from Phoebe,
just as she used to do when they were children, and thp
sturdy limbs of the little Frau had no chance against the
speed of her willowy little cousin.
Though Honor's rooms seemed filled with guests that
jight, for her there was one great vacancy. The girlish
hostess, in her bright loveliness and thoughtful cordiality,
seemed happy and content amid her guests, yet her heart
beat painfully as every name was announced, and her eyef
saddened for a momeut in the silence which followed.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 277
Eleven twelve one two three. The dawning of the
June morning, and Honor's guests folding their cloaks about
them or allowing their partners to do so and telling each
other that they never had enjoyed themselves so much
before, or that they were tired to death, as the case might
be. The sleepy coachmen drawing up their horses in the
wide and silent street, where the fair light of morning fell
already.
Fourl The last guests gone ! the last sleepy footman
closing hig carriage-door upon torn lace and crumpled
flowers ; and the last sleepy coachman driving his horses
from before the lighted mansion. A chilly silence, which
must have crept in with the dawn, had fallen upon the
gorgeous rooms. Phoebe was actually shivering when she
ran back into the deserted ball-room to look for her cloak.
In an instant her searching gaze was intercepted.
" Honor," she whispered, hurrying anxiously up to where
her cousin sat with her face hidden among the pillows of
a couch. " Honor, darling, what is it ? Honor, dear,"
ehe pleaded again, in the silence, " what is it ? "
Her vocabulary was not varied, but her tone was anxious,
and Honor raised her head and smiled.
"Is it," questioned Phoebe, inquisitive in all her sym-
pathy, " because Mr. Keith did not come ? "
" I am tired, Phoebe. I think that is all."
" And no wonder you are tired, Honor, I'm sure," ex-
claimed Miss Owen ; "such a splendid ball, and you did
your part so nicely, too." "But still," she added, watching
Honor's efforts to cast off this dreamy sadness, " it is strange
about Mr. Keith. He accepted your invitation, and sent
no excuse afterwards. Yet he has always been so courteous
that if he had known he could not come, I am sure he would
have"
" He did not care to come, I think," said Honor, and rose
as wearily as if half a century, instead of half a day, had
rolled over since she had raced up and down the stairs with
Phoabe.
" Oh ! Honor," cried the elder cousin, quite ready to turn
the conversation, " what a successful ball it has been 1 As
Eervey says, everything you arrange must be a success.
He says he never enjoyed a ball so much in his life, and
J78 OLD M TDD ELTON'S MONKY.
though my experience hasn't been very large, HO yon wiil
pay, 1 say so, too, as seriously as he said it. How kind you
were to him to-night, Honor, and yet "
" What ? " asked Honor, absently, when she paused.
" I was going to say," replied Phcebe, " and yet you never
leemed before so utterly unconscious of his attentions, and
were only kind to every one the same."
" You were kind to Hervey, too, I'm glad to Bay, dear
little Frau," said Honor, ready, as she always was, to sympa-
thise with every feeling of others, let her own thoughts or
pain be what it would.
" To-morrow," whispered Phcebe, when the girls parted
at last in Honor's dressing-room, " Mr. Keith is to be one
of Lady Somerson's party for the opera, and he will explain
his absence to-night."
" Yes," said Honor, gently, as she returned her cousin's
-kiss, and knew the words had been said to cheer her. " Per-
haps he will."
It may have been that anticipation which had brought
the brilliance back to her eyes when she stood beside
Phoebe's bed, in the bright summer noon.
"Up alieady ! " exclaimed Miss Owen, rising to a sitting
posture, and gazing astonished into the bright, sweet face.
"I have been up a long time," smiled Honor ; "I have
been walking in the gardens. It is such a beautiful moru-
ing, Pho3be."
" We have four engagements for to-day," cried Miss Owen.
"Oh! I'm glad you woke me, Honur. I will ring at
once."
All that day there was an excitement about Honor which
puzzled Phcebe not a little ; an excitement which made her
beauty dazzling to many eyes that night, when she sat in
Lady Somerson's box at Drury Lane, and waited, to all
seeming, only for the rising of the curtain.
" Honor " Sir Philip was whispering to her from his seat
behind " Keith was to have joined us here to-night, but I
suppose we shall be disappointed, as we were last night.
Of course you understand his absence, though we do not ? "
"No, Sir Philip."
A look of surprise passed between the baronet and his
wile.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 279
"Then who can do so? " wondered Lady Somerson.
" I " but Honor's answer broke off into a subdued ex-
clamation as the orchestra struck up the opening bars of
the overture. " It is Faust! I I forgot."
Lady JSoraerson looked down wonderingly into her
favourite's face. She had no remembrance of that night at
Deergrove when Eoyden Keith had asked her to sing as
Margueri'e to his Faust; and she could nob understand why
the girl's face should grow so white and sad. Of course
Honor had heard the opera often, both abroad and at home,
but never, as now, had it brought back, with a vivid reality,
that summer evening wl-en, in his quiet, masterly way, he
had made her sing witn him, and made that singing different
from all other singing she had ever joined in.
Lady Somerson grew unaccountably anxious and ill at
ease ; and but that she saw Honor had no wish to leave the
theatre, she would willingly herself have forfeited the opera,
that she might take the girl away. No ; though so white
and still, Honor sat engrossed, breathed softly, and drinking
in, with intense sympathy, the passion and the pathos of the
music, and of the scenes before her.
The curtain fell at last, and the hearts that had ached,
and the eyes that had wept, met each other with smiles and
jests. But Honor's face had not regained its colour, nor
had the dreamy sadness left her eyes, though she received
with pleasant thanks the eagerly offered attentions of the
gentlemen who clustered into Sir Philip's box, hating each
other piously during the doubtful moments before Sir Philip
came to the fore, and frankly chose her an escort.
"You will go home with Lady Somerson to supper, Honor,
won't you ? " whispered Phcebe. " She asked us because we
are going with her to Lord Selie's, and it will be so nice.
Will you ? "
" If you wish it," said Honor, gently ; and they went.
But Lady Somerson, in her kind-heartedness, saw more
than Phcebe did, and more than Hervey, who, to his delight,
was included in the invitation to Sir Philip's " opera
aupper." She knew, too, what Honor would like ; so, when
the time came for them to adjourn to Lord Selie's assembly
(in which she knew only too well that the old programme
would be repeated, and tnat Honor must receive the ever-
280 OLD MYDDE I/TON'S MOXEY.
recurring rontine of flattery and pursuit), Lady Somerson
coolly announced her intention of staying at home, smiling
a little, jast as if she had done a clever thing, when she
placidly received Honor's request to stay with her.
As the girl's own chaperon was not of Lady Somerson's
party that night, Phrebe was placed under Sir Philip's
^special care, but, at the last moment, she turned with a
touch of self-denial which Honor was quick to appreciate.
" Let me stay with you," she whispered, " or let us go
Mome together. I can see that you are tired, and not well.
I would rather go home with you, Honor."
*' Why, my dear little Frau," said Honor, brightly. " I
am staying at home for my own pleasure, and it will be
quite spoiled unless you go for yours. Good night. Good
night, Hervey. No need to say I hope you will enjoy your-
selves."
Captain Trent stood dubiously and dolefully beside her,
trying in vain to make her comprehend how impossible for
him was any enjoyment in which she did not participate,
and how much happier he would be to stay with her. But
this was Lady Somerson's house, and he had been invited
with the understanding that he was engaged afterwards, as
were the whole party. So Hervey, still a salient worshipper
of good form, knew that such communication would be in
bad taste.
Sir Philip Somerson had, for the first few minutes, won-
dered over his wife's change of plan, but her motive had
then dawned upon him, and he took Phoebe under his pro-
tection, in his courtly, genial way
When she and Honor were left alone together, Lady
Bomerson, moved by some incontrollable impulse, put her
arms about the girl who, though so rich and idolised, was
young and motherless. Then she kissed her softly, and
be^an to chat in a tone which seemed quite easy in its
intense kindness.
" Now, Honor, darling, you and I are going to have a
jjuiet, enjoyable time ; but I am so liberally endowed with
that essentially feminine virtue which laid Eden waste, that
J must take one step before I can experience any ' peace of
inind, dearer than all.' Firet of all I ring for tea ; no two
ever did Bit down to spend a few hours together
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 281
without reqniring tea, did they ? But I am ringing for
another purpose, too, 'for I want to send a message of
inquiry to Jermyn Street."
She did not glance towards Honor either as she spoke
or while she gave the message to the footman, but when she
did look she fancied there was more relief upon the girl's
face than surprise.
"Yes," she continued, standing at the tea-table, as the
door closed behind the servant ; " I must satisfy my
womanly inquisitiveness, and I do not expect one of my
own sex to blame me remember that, my dear."
A whole hour passed before the man returned with his
tidings, and that hour the two friends spent pleasantly, as
two friends can spend an hour in ease and indolence, when
no gaunt secret or mist of suspicion and distrust hovers
between them.
" What is it ? "
The servant had returned, and Lady Somerson turned
her head lazily, as it seemed, for his message ; yet she need
hardly have schooled her face, for Honor's eyes lustrous in
their great and speechless anxiety were fixed only upon
this possible bearer of a message from Royden Keith.
" I saw Mr. Pierce, my lady, as you wished. He was
very anxious. He had sent off one of Mr. Keith's grooms
to Westleigh Towers to inquire if his master was there, and
another to Kinbury ; he himself was just coming here to see
Sir Philip even late as it is. He is alarmed, I think,
my lady, about his master."
" What do you mean ? What did he say exactly ?"
Honor's eyes had not stirred from the man's face ; her
hands were locked together in her lap, and her breath came
quickly and irregularly as she waited.
"He said, my lady, that last night, just as Mr. Keith
was going to start to Kensington, to Miss Craven's ball, a
message was brought him which was to be delivered
specially and privately to himself, and so which of course Mr.
Pierce did not hear. He said, my lady, that this message
must have changed all his master's plans, for he went out at
once with the messenger, never mentioning where he waa
going, or when he should return. The messenger was a
woman, my lady, which Mr. Pierce thought very curioua
282 OLD WYDDELTON'S MONET.
and suspicions ; and he is sure his master intended to
return directly, because he only put an overcoat on, and
went as he was, in full dress. Yet he did not return, my
lady he never has returned."
CHAPTER XXXI.
Suffer love : a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I lore
Ihee against my will. Much Ado About Nothing.
IN the pretty bine sitting-room, to which only a very few of
Miss Craven's friends ever penetrated, Phoebe Owen sat
next morning, looking out upon the passers-by, yet without
criticising or studying their dress, as it had been her wont
to do. In fact, she only looked down upon them by force
of habit, and hardly saw them as she did so. There lay a new
novel on the window-seat beside her, but for almost an hour
its pages had not been turned.
Phosbe was thinking. It was a new art she had acquired,
and it sat rather unfamiliarly upon her, but still the power
lent her fair Dutch face a charm which it had never pos-
sessed while all her thought had been concentrated on her
own shallow plans. Phoebe could feel now how those old
years had been wasted ; and while she felt, as she often did,
that the evil could never be undone, she was unconsciously
undoing it. That regret for her own selfish and useless
girlhood had only fluttered regretfully through her thoughts
to-day, for they had been centred in loving anxiety upon
her cousin.
" I cannot understand it," she mused, leaning her head
upon one plump hand, " I wish I could, and I wish I could
help her. But somehow it seems as if no one could help
jner ; while she, even in her own anxiety, seems helping ua
all. She never even pretended to go to bed last night this
morning, I mean, for I was late returning, though Honor
had promised to wait for me at Lady Somerson's. / went
to bed and fell asleep at once, never guessing that Honor
OLD MYODELTO**- MONEY. 233
was not in bed too. And her maid says she changed her
dress, and sat quite still in her own room, reading and
thinking, until it was possible to semi for Mr. Stafford,
Does she really think that he can explain this mysterious
disappearance of Mr. Keith ? Why should it alarm her
for that it does, I am quite sure, though she smiles and only
says, 'Perhaps he was called suddenly abroad.' .As if that,
were possible, and his valet not even know of it. How I
wish Honor would come in here ! She said she would, so I
will wait, but she is a long time. Mr. Stafford has been
here an hour or more. I wish she would come ; but I wish,
above all things, that I could help her."
And the wish was earnest and unselfish, as few of Phoebe's
wishes had ever been before, and she had 'little idea as she
mused of the change in Honor of the still greater, though
so different, change in herself.
" Yes, I will wait, because Honor said she would come."
And, for the twentieth time, she took up her book to read,
while her eyes were raised to the door every minute, and her
ears were open for the sound of a light footfall.
Phoebe had said truly that the lawyer had been far more
than an hour closeted with Honor, but even when he rose
to go, he had not dispelled the puzzled sadness on her
face, and had gathered a great concern on his own.
" It is too long ago, Miss Craven," he said, again and
again, most regretfully. " Except in the very improbable
case of a confession from a possible murderer, no clue to hang
suspicion on another can arise now. I have done all that
can be done, so far as I may say so, but I have not met
with the faintest shadow of success, and I fear I must add
that I do not expect ever to do so."
" You will not cease this effort you are making ? "
urged Honor.
" I will not indeed," he answered, with gentle cordiality,
grieved to see what he thought such futile earnestness, and
know ; g that, in spite of his great anxiety to serve her, he
was powerless to do so in this matter.
** I know you will not, I know you are very kind," she
said wistfully and humbly enough to show that it was pos-
sible to be young and beautiful and wealthy, yet to have
the longing'of the heart unsatisfied ; " and I feel that it
2 84 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
will be possible only so very hard to prove at last th
innocence of Gabriel Myddelton, my cousin."
With a new curiosity in his keen gaze, the old lawyer
looked down upon his client.
" It would be wiser, my dear Miss Craven, to let the
matter rest. But as you evidently think otherwise," he
added, changing his tone when he saw her eyes sadden, " I
will think otherwise, as far as I can at any rate, we will
do all that is possible. One of my clerks is at Abbotsmoor
now, but, as I told you, his searches and inquiries seem
utterly unavailing.
She thanked him for all his help and promises, and he
made a kind, vain effort to cheer her ; then he went away
with his thoughts so full of the sad young face and earnest
voice that he started from his long reverie in surprise to
find that he had been driven two miles beyond his office
door.
Left alone again, Honor tried to draw her thoughts away
from this haunting subject.
" I will go to Phoebe," she said, and yet ehe lingered in
her solitude, struggling with her restlessness and uneasiness.
"You know whom alone I could ever ask to-be my wife ;
and knowing this, you understand what a lonely life mine
will be."
The words came back to her just as Royden had uttered
them at Westleigh Towers nearly two years before, and she
could not shake off their memory. She sat down to the
piano and began to play, hoping that the chords might silence
these words, but somehow they fitted to them all. Sud-
denly she rose with a sigh of pain, for her hands and
thoughts straying after melodies she knew had uncon-
sciously fallen upon the Bad but exquisit' 1 funeral music of
Lucia di Lammermoor, and its pathos aua tenderness were
more than she could bear just now.
Covering her face with her hands, she tried to shame
away these haunting thoughts of Royden. She tried to
bring him before her as a man who lived with a false cha-
racter, under a false name and false pretences, but he would
Dot live so in her mind even for one minute, and she knew
that, under all her pain for him, most strong and steadlaat
was the longing to see him.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 265
"I will go to Marie," she said at last, rising and pushing
fche hair from her white face ; " she will wonder why I have
not been."
Marie Verrien rose from her work when Honor entered
the neat and pretty little room, and moved to meet her.
This she did each day now, to show, in eager gratitude, how
her strength was truly though so very gradually return*
ing to her, in her new life of ease and abundance.
" A little farther again to-day, Marie," said Honor, her
own sorrows set aside, as they always were, beside the sorrow
and the joy of others. " It is wonderful ; you will walk
downstairs soon."
" It is a little farther to-day, Miss Craven," said the lame
girl, looking proudly back along the few yards she had
walked. " I had grown frightened, wondering why you did
not come, and that made me walk farther, being so rejoiced
to see you coming in."
Honor gently led the girl back to her seat, then sat with
her, talking of her work, her reading, her thoughts, a
hundred things which cheered Marie, and made the time
pass delicious! y, until the hour for the poor girl to be
wheeled out into the sunshine, as she was wheeled at Honor's
wish every day, this change being an inexpressible treat to
one who had so much of " lying still" in her life.
" You have been writing, I suppose, Marie ? " said Honor,
pointing to an open desk, which had been a present from
Lady Lawrence to the girl to whom she had often chosen,
tor purposes of her own, to give hard words.
" No, Miss Honor," said Marie, with one of her frequent
attacks of shyness, " I have not been writing. I have only
been looking at my photographs. I have but three, hut
those three I can never look at too often. You remember
this, Miss Craven ? "
As she spoke she took from her desk a photograph Honor
had seen one day in the little kitchen at East Cottage, and
she laid it gently in Honor's outstretched hand.
" I have seen it," said Honor, hurriedly, and passed it
back.
But in the next instant she had drawn her hand tmvarda
her again, and had bent her eyes gravely on the picture.
There sat Hoyden on his own wide solitary hearth, with his
86 OLD MTDDELTON'8 MONEY.
c'o^a aboat him, and a deep thoughtfulness within his eyes ;
rud UP she looked, those words rushed back again, and filled
her eyes with tears
" Knowing this, you understand what a lonely life mine
mnst be."
With a lingering gesture which was pitifully tender, she
laid the photograph back in its place. Then she took up
an inartistic portrait of Marie's father, and talked brightly
and pleasantly of the little Frenchman, until Marie's
heart was full of loving pride and pleasure, and until a
servant came to summon her, and Honor nodded a bright
good-hye.
Phoebe was not alone when Honor joined her after
Marie's departure. Captain Trent had just been admitted,
and was now, like Phoebe, watching the door for Honor's
entrance. She welcomed him with all her old brightness,
though not with her old raillery, and in a few minutes the
cousins were chatting pleasantly together, though Phoebe's
curious eyes were not satisfied with Honor's smile, nor did
the ears of Captain Trent deceive him when he missed some
ring of brightness in her tone. So thoroughly happy she
made them in her presence, though as she always could
do that they were only half convinced of their fancies.
The Duchess of Hartreigh, a pompous old lady, whose one
strong effort through this season had been to forward her
Bon's eager courtship of the girl-millionaire, called at
luncheon time, and so Hervey stayed too, and they had
quite a merry meal ; but nothing would persuade Honor to
accept the duchess'e urgent entreaty that she would take a
seat in her carriage for the Park, wher^ a<ter allowing due
time for her shopping the wily old lady knew that her son
would be waiting to join them.
" But you will go with t/s, Honor ? " pleaded Phoebe,
when the ducal vehicle had rolled pompously away. " Our
presence was your excuse, so it will be quite natural for yon
to go with us."
" Quite natural," assented Honor, tiredly ; " but I would
rather I do not caie lor that crowd in the Park to-day,
Phoebe."
Still, when she saw a cloud fall on Phoebe's face at this
refusal, the changed her mind. It would give her cousin
OLD MYDDELTON'S MOXEY, 187
real enjoyment, which it always did, and the chief pleasure
which Honor's unselfish nature knew was that of rendering
others happy. So, with a smile and kiss, she promised to
go ; and, as they drove round and round the well-woro
track Hervey, only one now of the many gentlemen who
sought a footing for himself or his horse beside the splendid
carriage many an envious thought and glance were given
her by hearts far lighter, and eyes that had never known
such tears as Honor had shed that day.
" May I come in to-night ? " asked Hervey, when he
parted from them at the door. " I am under a promise to
dine with my aunt and Theodora, but may I come to you
afterwards ? "
" No," smiled Honor, " you ought to stay with them. I
suppose it is of no use my sending any message to Theo, she
has quite cut off all old acquaintanceship with us ? "
" Lucky thing for you," put in Captain Trent, briskly.
" So has Jane," continued Honor, not heeding his remark
" I have had such a very emphatic refusal of my last invi-
tation to her."
" Another lucky thing for you. I shall come, Honor,
please," he urged, with perseverance. " If the house is
closed, I can but go back to my own quarters."
CHAPTER XXXII.
I will (he cried), so help me God ! destroy
That villain Archimage (the demon of indolence).
THOMSOW.
HONOR and Phoebe were alone together when Captain Trent
came in, after his visit to Mrs. and Miss Trent in Harley
Street. The girls had spent a quiet evening at home, and
though Phoebe had looked upon herself in the light of a
voluntary martyr when she had insisted on staying at home,
because Honor would, she found she was very thoroughly
enjoying the novelty of an unengaged night.
She looked into Hervey's face when he entered, and in a
Z88 OLD MTDDELTON'8 MONEY.
moment betrayed her surprise, for it was evident that he had
been terribly excited.
Honor had looked up too when he entered, and saw thf
change in an instant ; but this change hardly seemed to
surprise her. The traces of angry excitement improved him,
and the restraint which he had evidently put upon himself
gave a new strength to his features, and a glimpse of steady
courage to his face.
" Are they well in Harley Street ? " asked Honor, when,
without his characteristic languor, he had taken a seat
beside her.
" Yes, quite well thank you, Honor."
The last words were uttered in his usual tone, but the
first were sharply, almost viciously, spoken. Then he fell
into a moody silence, while Honor wondered whether he
wished to tell them what was vexing him, or whether he
might think it an intrusion on his thoughts ; and while
Phoebe sat quite still, and by the absence of her vague and
gushing quest ons showed to him, more plainly than auht
else could have shown it, the change which these last few
months had wrought in her.
" I was afraid you would have engagements for to-night,"
he said, presently.
" Honor did not wish to go out," replied Phoebe, quietly,
"BO I would not."
Another proof of the change in her, and Bervey was not
slow to appreciate it.
'* I have had a nice evening," he said, sarcastically
betraying at once not only his willingness to tell all they
could wish to hear about himself, but even his anxiety to
dp so. "Honor, just think of my aunt seizing upon me
directly I arrived, and hinting very strongly hinting, if it
could be called anything really short of plainly speaking
out that it was high time for me to arrange about my
marriage ! She supposed I never should be any richer or
a more desirable husband than I am now, and so it was
childish to wait any longer. Of course she had hoped that
I should have been old Myddelton's heir 1 but that
since "
" Never mind," said Honor, quietly, when Hervey,
trundling the words upon his lips, roee excitedly and paced
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 389
to and fro in the room. "It would be better not to tell us
au all, Hervey ; but certainly do not repeat what relates to
me."
" How she dare say it ! " fumed Hervey. " I it was no
wonder I lost command over myself, and told her a little
I'm sorry now to remember how little it was of. my
opinion of her."
" Hush, Hervey do not tell us that."
"I must," he cried; "I must tell you, Honor, I must
tell both of you, for the words seem bursting from me, and
and there are resolutions struggling behind, which I must
utter aloud to you. No one ever helps me but you, Honor
do let me tell. Theo herself came in then, and and I
really do not quite know what she said. She supposed that
we were to marry ; she had always supposed it ; and it was
just as well it should be now a marriage in the season was
a little less of a bore than a marriage out of the season ;
and as it had always seemed to be an, arranged plan
Bah ! I can repeat no more of her cold, seltish, heartless
words. Honor, there has never been one word of marriage
uttered between us never, on my honour as a gentleman ;
and why should there be now, when the prospect of a future
spent with Theodora would hang over me like a curse. I
told her" -
" Hervey," pleaded Honor, gently, " I wish you would
not tell us."
" I must," he answered, stopping to entreat her patience
by a glance. " At least," he went on, modifying his words,
when he saw how thoroughly she was in earnest, " I will
not tell you all she said, for it is too contemptible even to
be remembered ; but I must tell you that I did not utter
one taunting remainder of her pursuit of Royden Keith,
when she taunted me of , taunted me, and stung me
almost to madness."
" Sit down, Hervey," said Honor, gently, " and ring the
bell, please. We will have one of the petits sobers you
like so much."
" Oh. Honor," he panted, standing before her for a
moment, " such a scene as that would have roused any man.
To be expected to live all your life with a woman who
eauuot utter one kind word of those that are dearer to you
290 OLD IfYDDELTON'S MONET.
than life itself, and to find so suddenly that yon are as mnch
to blame as she ! Oh, Honor, what a lazy, inert, selfish
life I have led ! How can I blame Theodora for taking my
bondage for granted, when I made no effort to prove myself
free ? It all came back to me so wretchedly to-night ; and,
but for the lessons I have learnt in this dear home of yours,
I should have been more unmanly than I have ever been.
But your lessons and your help have not been all in vain,
Honor ; and, though I grew half maddened there, I did not
speak a word that even you might not have heard ; and
though, in my anger, I declared I should tell you what they
gaid of you, I have not done so I would not have done so,
even if you had not silenced ine.. As for what Theo said
of Phoebe"
" Does not your promise of silence hold good as regards
Phoebe too ? " inquired Honor, smiting, as she laid her hand
on Phoebe's.
" Yes. I told them I wished they could see how different
she was from "
" Come, Hervey, do ring. We are hungry. See how late
it is ; and Phoebe has been playing to me for hours."
"Honor always pretends she likes me to play to her,"
put in Phoebe, deprecatingly ; '' but of course she only pre-
tends. Mine are all stupid pieces, and I play them generally
wrong, too."
"Phoebe," said Hervey, pausingbeforeherandspeaking with
a glimpse of simple, courageous earnestness, which showed
him in the colours of true manliness at last, " neither you
nor I can ever know why Honor is so good to us ; for, in
old times, I galled her with my shallow patronage, and you
allowed her to deny herself perpetually for you. "We we
can only gratefully accept her goodness, and try as I will
try harder than ever from to-night to repay her in the way
she likes best. Don't cry, Phoebe," he added, while the
tears were very near his own eyes too ; " don't be offended
with me for the thoughtless words I have said to-night. Let
us be good friends always. May we ? "
" Yes, yes," cried Phoebe heartily, as she laid her plump
little hand in He-'vey's proffered palm ; " and you will not
think of me according to what Theodora says, Hervey ? "
" Never. I will think of you only according to my OWE,
OLD MYDDELTON'B MONEY. 291
/ndgment ; or, better still, according to what Honor
says."
" You think of Honor," whispered Phrebe, softly, " as
pour good angel, Hervey."
" I do," he answered, thoughtfully ; " I have cause to do
BO when I recollect from what she saved me. I have tried
to be different I have, indeed but from to-night I will
try harder still. I will waste no more days in self- love and
indolence no more ! Will you take my hand, Honor, in
registration of that vow ? "
Mutely Phoebe sat and waited. After Honor's ready
hand-clasp and cheering words, would he seek hers too ?
Yes ; he came towards her in this new, quiet earnestness
of his, and held his hand for hers.
" I think," said Phoebe, poftly, " that you will not regret
this scene with Theodora, Hervey."
Nor did he.
The dainty little supper was quite a cheerful meal, while
still Honor's ears were, as they had been all day, keenly
and painfully alive to every sound, and her eyes had a
dreamy, waiting look, lying ever behind their warm, bright
smile.
The cousins were standing together, about to separate,
when the peal of the visitors' bell woke the silence of the
house. Honor, unconscious what she did, started back with
one quick, indrawn breath ; and both to Hervey and to
Phoebe, then, was it plain that she had dreaded tidings of
some kind. They saw her face grow deadly white, though
the name announced was a friendly aud familiar one
" Sir Philip Somerson."
They saw her strive, as she went forward to meet him, to
hide the anxiety which burned almost feverishly in her
beautiful eyes. They saw that the Baronet met her very
gravely and very pitifully ; and, seeing this, they knew that
the tidings which he bore could not be happy ones.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MO.Nfcl.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small ;
For the great God loveth us,
He made and loveth alL
COLERIDGB.
Two nights before this, Royden Keith, just as he had
finished dressing for Honor Craven's ball, had been inquired
for by a stranger.
u A woman, sir and she will not give her message to
me."
So Pierce had said, and Royden, without demur, had sent
for her to his presence.
" I am come, sir," said the woman, giving her message a
little hurriedly ; " from one who is dying, and who prays to
see you first. She bade me give no name. I was only to
say this Would you give further help to the mother whose
child you once saved ? "
" I remember," said Royden, without any hesitation. " I
will come."
He did not give utterance to the surprise he felt at
hearing that the woman who had seemed to shrink from
him each time he saw her at Abbotsmoor, and had secretly
eluded him at last, to escape to London, had yet sought him
out, and sent for him in her last hour. He saw that this
messenger was in total ignorance of all save her own errand;
and he saw, too, that she was anxious to return. So he
threw a loose grey coat over his evening dress and followed
her. She started on in front, as if she knew only the task of
acting as guide, but he soon overtook her and called a
cab.
"Please stop in St. Paul's Churchyard,'* she said to tho
cabman, in a quick, business-like voice ; and Royden won-
llered how it could be that the timid, country-bred woman
from that cottage in the green lanes near Abbotsmoor could
have voluntarily come to live m tne very heart of the City.
" I told him to stop here," Royden's guide said, when
they left the cab, and turned into Dean's Court, because the
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 2'J3
wheels sound so noisy sometimes, however high up the
rooms may be. This way, please, sir."
They walked for a few minutes along narrow thorough-
fares, whose only radiance was their tavern windows, then
stopped before a tall, gaant house, whose lower windows
were all dark.
Following the light his guide carried, Royden climbed the
steep, bare stairs, flight after flight, until she stood before a
c)osed door, and waited for him.
"This is the r< om, sir," she whispered ; " I am not
coming in, but I will be ready if you want me. I live a few
doors lower down the street, but she and me" (pointing to
the closed door) " made friends a bit, finding trouble had
visited us both. I like to do all I can for her, just as 1 be-
lieve she would hare done it for me ; BO I'll wait below, sir,
and be ready if you call me. Margaret my name is so is
hers, and that drew us together a bit, too. It takes no
stronger a tie than that, sometimes, to draw together two
that, but for each other, might starve up here, and die with-
out a friendly word or glance. Margaret, sir, don't forget."
She turned away without waiting for any answer, and
Royden looked after her pitifully. Surely here a helping
hand and heart were needed !
He quietly opened the door to which he had been guided,
and found himself in a small room, neat and clean, but
hohling no occupant. Opposite him another door stood
ajar, and when he had knocked upon that, a slow and heavy
voice bade him come in.
In this room a woman lay upon a small bed, facing the
open window, before which a candle burned steadily in the
heavy city atmosphere of the June night. In a moment he
recognised the face upon the pillows, though the cheeks
were gaunt and hollow, and the eyes (beyond their old
nunted look) had a feverish fire in their depths, as they
rested fixedly upon a child who* lay sleeping in a tiny bed
beside her own.
" I am come," said Royden, in his kind and quiet tones ;
and he laid his fingers on the burning hand which rested
heavily upon the coverlet.
The dying woman's eyes turned swiftly from the child,
and fasieued themselves upon the handsome, pitiful face
294 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY
beside her. Royden drew a chair up to the bed. and m\
there easily just as if waiting were not wearisome to
him.
" How is the boy ? " he asked, pleasantly meeting the
steady gaze.
" Well," she answered, the word dropping slowly from he)
dry lips. " "Well, but you saved him only to be left-
alone at last."
" Alone ? Is there no one "
" No one," she answered ; the words were a terrible efforf
to her, as her eyes grew wider in their speechless question-
ing. " What can I do ?"
" Your kind neighbour," suggested Royden, his thoughts
wandering from the words he uttered.
" No," she answered, moving her hand backwards and
forwards in its heavy, restless weakness. " I have no
neighbours. I was afraid of them. You mean the one
who fetched you. She is poor and sickly. It would be
cruel."
" Do not fear, then," said Eoyden, very quietly. " Your
boy shall be taken care of. I promise this."
" He he has a little money a little his father's," she
said, a momentary feverish joy brightening her eyes, and
fading again as suddenly. "I shall not leave him in
poverty. But alone, and in this great world of"
" He shall not be alone," said Royden. " He shall have
care and guidance while he is young, and help when he is
older."
She did not answer this, and he even fancied that the
longing terrible in its keen anxiety of her feverish
eyes, grew more and more intense now that his promise
was given. Some anguished doubt was weighing on her
eyes, as he saw ; but how could he help to fathom it,
unless he uttered words which should betray his own BUS.
picion ?
" The money is there," she said, pointing to a worn bank-
book which lay beside her on the bed. " Take it, and
dying I know you will keep your promise. Two years
ago, when you saved him I trusted you ; I could not help
it ; but when you asked me "
A sudden pause, for her voieg farted , but in the long
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 295
silence that searching gaze grew inexpressibly painful in its
:uute questioning.
" Margaret," said Royden, bending above the troubled face,
nnd speaking very low and kindly, " you have something to
tell me which you ought to tell before you meet your Judge
in Heaven."
A spasm of pain shot across the hot face, so rapid that in
one second it had passed.
" I cannot ' The words faltered and fell brokenly now
through her stiff lips. " I cannot nor dare I meet my
Judge."
If it had not been for this unexpected message, Royden
Keith would now have been participating in a scene of
brilliancy and mirth most utterly opposed to this dying
hour, and he would have been gay amongst the gay. But
he had no thought now for that scene no memory of it
even. His post of duty lay before him here, and in that
earnest, steadfa t faith which belonged to him, he was able
to brighten and cheer this dying bed, and gently Lead the
groping soul a little nearer to its God.
" It is a mist," she said, raising one hand for a moment,
as if she would cut through the space before her, while
Royden whispered to her of Him who is always waiting to
pardon and save ; who not only standeth at the door iu
His great patience, but knocketh untiringly.
" I know He is there I have known it for years, but I
I want to feel His hand, to see His face, and something is
between us."
Again the words ended suddenly and shortly, in the
raised, feverish tones, and the mute, eager question of the
dying eyes spoke vaguely and miserably in the silence a
silence broken presently by Royden's voice, as, on his
knees beside the bed, he pleaded with the Father for this
troubled child. The woman's hard, quick breath was soft-
ened as she lay and listened.
" Oh ! my dear Lord," she sobbed, when Royden's voice
*as hushed, " accept that prayer for me."
When he rose, he took a Bible which he saw lying open
on a chair, and softly read to her the Saviour's precious
words of pardon and of promise. And while he did so,
the eye; which he could not see, lost sornewhat of their
296 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
troubled fixity of gaze, and there straggled into them a
gleam of hope.
" She read to me," the woman faltered, with a faint ges-
ture towards the closed door, "but she read of other things.
There was always the great white Throne always ; and
I could see Him there a Judge, my Judge ; and she rend
it might be only once, but 1 heard it afterwards in every
line that all liars shall have their part ah ! I forgot it
all while you read. I I saw Him a Father ready to
pardon me waiting to pardon me. I shall see other
things clearly if if you help me still."
And while the quiet hours of the June night stole on,
Royden's own kind words, and those calm and wondrous
words he read, did help her.
The candle had burnt down to its socket, and the faint
Bummer dawn was creeping through the open window, when
the neighbour who had fetched Royden entered with a cup
of tea for the sick woman. Instinctively he made a move-
ment then to leave the room, but suddenly all the wistful,
troubled eagerness returned to the wide eyes upon the
pillow.
" You go, Margaret," the dying woman cried, with an
entreating gesture ; let him stay. I I have something
to tell him."
Yet still, when left again with Royden, she lay in silence,
and told nothing.
Then the hours crept on again, until the light fell straight
from heaven upon the dying face to which no sleep had
come ; and to which no sleep could ever come again, until
one last touch should close the troubled eyes for ever.
Just as Royden returned to the bedroom, after carrying
away the smouldering candle, the little boy awoke ; and,
waking just as he had fallen asleep, with a vague sense of
misery and loneliness upon him, he stretched out his hands
to his mother, and sobbed as if his little frame could not
rontain its load of fear and grief. The mother, powerless in
her weakness, saw Koydun take the child tenderly within
his arms, and hearr. the nobs grow faint and few at last
upon his breast. Then her long watchful silence was
broken sharply, a light broke across the fixed gaze, and with
sudden feverish strength she rose in her bed,
OLD MYODELTON'S MONEY. 297
* 1 want a magistrate ! " she cried, and clasped her
burning hands. " It is all clear before me now. My child
it was for my child I feared but he will not suffer. I
read that in your face. Ah ! God is good so good and
it is not too late ! Let me see a magistrate ! "
" I will bring one," said Royden, gently putting the child
out of his arms.
" No, no," she cried again, " not you, for it may be too
late. Let her go. Call her ; say ' Margaret,' and she will
come. Let her go. She will understand, and she knows
London. She will manage, as she managed to to bring
you."
Almost like one in a dream, Eoyden returned to the sick-
room, after having despatched the neighbourly woman who
waited to be useful. Was the end of his long search near
at last ?
" Will he be in time ? " moaned the sick woman, when
once more he took his place besi le her, and the little bo,y
crept up and climbed to lay his head upon his shoulder.
" I think so. He will soon be here."
" But I am dying fast, am I not ? "
Not for the world would Koyden have concealed the truth
from one whose every breath might be her last, but he
uttered it so kindly, and touched with such faith upon the
happiness beyond, that a glance almost as peaceful as a
emile shone in her eyes when they met hie.
" Let me bid him good-bye."
Hoyden laid the child upon the bed, and turned away
That long, last parting between the mother and son waf
most sacred in his eyes.
" You have promised," she whispered, wistfully, when
Roy den came presently to take the child from the bed*
" You have promised to help him that his life may be
different from his mother's. There is the book it is but
little yet his father wished "
" It shall be used wisely for him," Royden said, holding
a cordial to her lips when her voice failed. " Rest in per
feet peace. He shall nevei feel himself uncared for whilst
I live."
And now a real smile lighted up the thin, worn faco.
" .Now if he will only come in time that is all."
f)8 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
He came almost-, as she spoke alight-hearted gentleman,
who looked upon all magisterial duties as the comedies of
life ; and yet the dying woman's solemn earnestness infected
even him.
" I am much obliged to you for coming," she faltered 4
humbly. '' I will not keep you long. I know what to do
my father told me. I " moving her hand restlessly
about the pillows " have it here. Margaret, where are you ?
I can scarcely see. You put it here, when I bid you bring
it from my box for me to burn before I died. I meant
to burn it. I left it to the last ; but I meant to burn it
sealed as it is. I cannot now. lie saved my only child
he helped me, and will help my boy. But for him I
should have burnt it, and the truth could never have been
known. "Where is it ? where is it ? My strength is
going."
Murmuring soothingly the while, the woman who had
brought in the magistrate moved the pillows one by one,
until she found a packet tied and sealed.
" There, there," cried the dying woman, trying to grasp it
in her hot, weak fingers, and looking eagerly up into
Roy den's face ; " you will understand it. I do not forget
how you questioned me of Gabriel Myddelton the ques-
tions from which I fled. It is for you let me leave it
with you but I have something to do first. Father told me
of it. ' In the presence of a magistrate,' he said. Now I
m ready."
Formally, with little need of help or direction, and
jlt-arly, in spite of her failing breath and feeble tone, she
rook the packet in her hands ; and tenderly touching the
LJible which they gave her, she testified on oath to the truth
of what the documents contained. Then, with a sigh which
sounded almost happy, she gave the packet into lioyden'p
hand, and turned away her face.
The sun was shining high above the city roofs before the
tast heavy breath was drawn. She had begged that the boy
might not see his mother die, so the neighbour who had
been BO kind and anxious carried him away to her own
room, and Royden was watching alone when the end came,
for the doctor hid left her, knowing he had no power to do
anything further.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 293
Just as Royden closed the dim, wide eyes, the woman
who had called herself Margaret noiselessly entered the
room.
" Gone ! " she whispered sadly. " She did not need me
at the last, then, but she needs me now. They are not
kind to her downstairs they never were. They shall not
come near her now."
" Then can you, and will you, wait ? " asked Eoyden
anxiously.
" I will be with her," she said, quietly, touching the white,
dead face. " She was always solitary, but she would some-
times like me with her for a little even then. I would not,
like her to be left alone at all now, and yet, when I have
finished here, I must go back to my own room, to leave the
little boy safe, and do one or two things more."
" I see," said Royden, as he left the inner room j " then
T will wait for your return."
He wrote a few directions to leave with his card ; after
which he saw the mistress of the house, and took upon him-
self the responsibility of all expenses consequent on the
death of the poor solitary woman, and the temporary care of
her boy. Then, when he was left alone, knowing he had
done all he could do, and that his feelings, whatever they
might be on opening the papers given him, could not inter-
fere with this duty he had taken upon himself, he sat down
in the outer room, and broke the seal and cut the string of
the packet left with him.
It contained two separate papers, and though the hand-
wviting on both was the same, the signatures were
different. One was unintelligible ; the other, written
evidently by the hand which penned both papers, was
" MABGABBT TERRIT."
OLD MYDDELTOH'6 MONET.
CHAPTER XXXTV.
It is great sin to swear unto A tin,
But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.
ONE o'clock ! The bell of St. Paul's clanged out the note
like the opening chord of a great military band, and, in the
quavering key of an old man's querulous negative, a Dutch
clock upon the stairs of the lodging-house answered the
single note. There were more footsteps below than there
had been through the morning, for clerks were hurrying to
their mid-day meal, and, now and then, a porter hastened
past with a solitary chop upon a tray for a few of the
masters in those grim offices did not leave their posts until
the office doors were locked at five o'clock, and they came
forth to dissolve in the great misty crowd, and lose all
identity until, casting anchor for the night in their seveml
suburban retreats, they assumed an especial individuality in
a moment.
Country visitors were strolling to and fro in the cathedral,
Bilent and open-eyed, but wearing, withal, the encumbered
and distrait expression peculiar to sight-seers who follow
conscientiously the beaten track. In the shadow of the great
dome, that inexhaustive process of shopping wns pursued
indefatigably, its linked sweetness drawn out to its longest
capacity. The confectioners were briskly aware that the
business of the day had begun in earnest for them now,
while wistful eyes feasted through the glass upon unat-
tainable luxuries.
But, like its shining herald, the day is earlier in the east
than tn the west, and even then the guests who danced, and
laughed, and jested at Honor Craven's ball last night, had
not all risen, though the whirl of carriages had begun, and
the critical crowd at Burlington House was already leavened
with its dainty sprinkling of uncritical beauty and fashion.
Not a few among this crowd looked anxiously for a frit nd
they missed last night ; not a few were (later on that day)
to look in vain among the faces and figures in the park, for
one whose absence was as disappointing a* it was inex*
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 80i
plicable. Guesses were hazarded, varied and wide apnrt
enough, yet none fell near the truth ; for who could guess
that one of the idols of this London season, watched for,
waited for, longed for, sat in an attic in this city thorough-
fare, deaf to all sounds, and blind to all sights around him,
his grave eyes following, with a terrible earnestness, the
badly-written words upon the paper, and his left hand lying
upon the unread one, while his mind grasped promptly,
word for word, the one to which was affixed the man's un-
certain signature. And these were the words it bore
" I, the undersigned, Benjamin Territ, miner, living in
Abbotsmoor, and being dangerously ill, yet, nevertheless,
possessing all my intellectual faculties, and finding that I
am soon about to appear before the judgment seat of God,
wish to appease the remorse of my conscience, and to do an
act of justice, by retracting all I said upon oath against
Gabriel Myddelton, in my deposition made at Kinbury, as
to his being the murderer of his uncle, Squire Gabriel
Myddelton, of Abbotsmoor. I declare before God that that
deposition was not true, and that I retract it with all my
soul, before God and before justice, and implore the
Sovereign Judge, in His mercy, to accept this retractation
as being the whole truth.
" This, as well as the following confession, is written by
another hand, on account of my inability to write, from
accidents received in the mine ; but it is signed by me in
my cottage at Abbotsmoor, on this fifth day of December,
one thousand eight hundred and sixty-four.
"On the seventh day of March, one thousand eight
hundred and sixty-one, young Mr. Gabriel MyJdelton told
me of the quarrel he had had with his uncle, and how his
uncle had made a will which had disinherited him. He
often came to my cottage, partly because he could never
bear solitude, and my company was as pleasant, perhaps, as
that of any of the fanners or cottagers upon the dismal
estate ; and partly because I encouraged him, hoping that
I could turn to account the interest he took in my daughter
Margaret. She was a handsome girl, fur above other girls
on the estate, and to the manor there never came a young
pirl-face at all. If Gabriel Myddelton would marry
Margaret, I thought, I would even promise to loavo the
302 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
neighbourhood, for I knew the young squire (easy-going as
he might be) would! not care to acknowledge a miner as his
father-in-law. I should be free to go to what world I chose,
and I would take care that Margaret's husband provided
me with the money I should need. And if I grew tired of
that life abroad, I could still come back and have a farm
here ; for I knew young Gabriel Myddelton could be easily
intimidated.
" But on that day I speak of, he brought an appalling
tale. He had quarrelled with his uncle, had been disin-
herited, and had left Abbotsmoor for ever. He told all
this, more to Margaret than to myself ; and the girl sat
beside the window where he stood, and looked as if some-
thing had turned her to stone. But I sat behind, and ate
my supper slowly, and did not put in a word. But for all
that, when I got up from the table, I had made my resolu-
tion ; and it was not my way it never has been to go
away from any resolution I may have made, whatever stood
in the way.
" They were early people at Abbotsmoor, and I knew
that by ten o'clock the house was always silent and darkened
for the night. I knew the low window of the old squire's
business-room the corner window opening on the bit of
level lawn between the shrubbery and the house and that
window I easily opened with my own tools. I remember
that I rather enjoyed the work, for I had not much cau.se to
do anything but hate old Squire Myddelton, and I did hate
him heartily. I doubt if there was a man, woman, or child
on his estate who did anything else ; for what had he ever
been to us to maKe us feel otherwise towards him ?
"I had but little trouble in forcing my entrance into the
room ; very little even in opening the secretary where the
will lay ; but just at the moment when I grasped the
packet, and turned to effect my escape from the house, the
inner door of the room was opened, and there was the
squire, advancing towards me with a candle in his hand. I
acted on my first impulse what else could I do in the
surprise of the moment ? I acted on my first impulse, as I
have done all through my life. I dashed the candle from
his hand, and then in the dense darkness, when I felt he
could not recognize me I struck him one deadly blow from
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 803
my hammer ; and, knowing it would do its work on the
weak grey head, I left him there upon the floor, and
escaped from the window, with the will in my possession. *
fled across the lawn, but in the shrubbery beyond I paused
a moment to secure the parchment on my person. Then
came an instant's horrible shock ; the old man, whom I
had left for dead, had pursued me ! He came up to me
running, and I could see the crimson streaks upon his face,
and the thirst for vengeance in his failing eyes a fearless
old man in all his meanness. I stood a moment facing
him, then, with one well-aimed blow, laid him dead upon
the grass, and there was no stain of blood upon my hands or
clothes.
" I left him lying there, of course, and, hurrying through
the wood, reached my own cottage an hour afterwards, from
quite an opposite direction.
" Gabriel Myddelton could better tell the rest, as his
counsel told it for him at his trial, when my words and
Margaret's, and the facts which others added, made the tale
of no avail. He had retir ned from Kinbury that night, to
ask his uncle's pardon. He had taken his way through the
wood, intending to gain admission to the squire's room
through the very window I had opened, that the servants
might not kno*w of his return at all, if his uncle did not for-
give him. In the wood he had found his uncle lying, and,
astonished and alarmed at what he thought must be a
sudden illness, he had raised the old man's head in his
arms. What he saw I need not tell, though I am dictating
this confession as fully as possible, for a relief to my
burdened conscience.
"A horrible fear seized young Gabriel Myddelton that
the suspicion of this foul deed would fall upon himself.
He saw even then the chain of evidence against him
which really brought him at last to the cell of a doomed
criminal.
" Timid as he was by nature, there was but one course he
could decide upon, lie fled from that spot in the wood aa
( his uncle's fate awaited him there ; and he never stopped
/n his flight until he reached my cottage, and found
protection and help as he fancied. He washed the blood
Irum his hands, burned his stained wrist-bands, and changed
804 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
the coat on which the old man's head had fallen and left its
traces.
" Margaret told all this at the trial, and I stood by, and
knew the words would hang him. But he himself h;t I
another explanation of the tale to give, and now I swear th:it
his was the truth ; and ours, though in many respects tru^
to the letter, held a lie in every word.
"I helped him that nijjht, simply that I might know
where he lurked ; for, from the first, I had determined that
suspicion must rest upon him. All my old plans were
frustrated by this unnecessary and inconvenient murder,
and personal safety now was my one motive in every action.
In my first fear, I had begun to destroy the will, but I now
thought of a fiendishly skilful plan. The fragments of the
will which disinherited him should be found in his posses-
sion, and he should be overtaken in his endeavour to escape.
This, with what my daughter and I could tell, would fix
the crime upon him ; and not for a moment did the betrayal
of his confidence weigh with me beside my terror lest my
own guilt should be discovered.
" The rest all followed as I had planned and foreseen.
What I have told is known only to myself and my daughter,
and I have heard her folemn' oath that she will add her
confession to mine. After I had sworn to Gabriel Mjddel-
ton's guilt yes, from the very first I grew a changed and
miserable man ; and this excruciating daily death which I
have suffered since the clay fell upon me in the mine, is, I
know, but a just punishment for my crime.
" Now solemnly, as if in the presence of my God I
swear thnt this is truth, and confirmed, upon oath, in
the presence of my daughter Margaret, in whose hands I
leave it.
" (Signed) BENJAMIN TERRIT."
Royden raised his head, and for a minute or two looked
dreamily around the room. The door of the chamber <-f
the dead was locked, as he had locked it. The sounds in
the street below were but faint and far-off. Without >.
change in the intense gravity of his eyes, he leaned forward
again in the silence, and read the second paper.
" Possibly these words will never be read by any eyes save
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONBY. 305
my own, for I only -write them because ray father ext.orfeJ
an oath from me that I should do so, and leave them to be
made public after my death. "With whom can I leave them?
Gabriel Myydelton, even jf he is still alive, is too far away
to be either hurt or helped by this confession even if it
were made public to-morrow. I am young and strong,
and may wait years for death to visit me. And when it
does, who will be near me to bear this release to Gabriel
Myddelton ?
" But I have promised it shall be written, and I will keep
the oath my father made me swear, as I kept that other
path he wrung from me three years ago. The task of writ-
ing his confession has been hard and sore, but to write my
own will be far harder. My father looks upon his bodily
Buffering as his punishment ; but no punishment which
could be given me on earth could relieve me from the load of
guilt which has been secretly and slowly killing me since I
met that one glance of Gabriel Myddelton's, whilst the judge
pronounced upon him the sentence of death. My father
almost seems to feel that he is pardoned for his share in this
vile deed ; I wish I dared to hope that when I stand upon
that awful threshold of the door of death, I might feel that
I, too, am pardoned. The weight of guilt has borne me
down and isolated me among my fellow creatures, and it
will weigh me down and isolate me to the end.
" I have very little to add to my father's confession.
What I told at the trial about Mr. Myddelton's assuming a
disguise at our cottage was true in every particular. What
I did not tell, was his confession to us, so honestly given,
nd which my father has related. He threw himself upon
our mercy, and we betrayed him, and swore away his life.
That thought stings me, even now, with a pain worse than
death !
" It was an unnatural and unencouraged thought of mine,
but I should have said, up to the day of that trial, that I
would have laid down my life for Gabriel Myddelton. Then
I proved its falseness by laying his life waste instead ; nmi
my fear of my father's threats and anger, and my submi&siua
to Lis command of obedience, are no excuse for me.
" I heard the sentence of death parsed upon him. Through
three heavy days and wakeful nights I pictured him within
306 OLD MYDDELTOIT8 MONET.
those walls, a convicted felon, and I thought my life had
burned itself out in the passion of that anguish, and that
my d<>om was sealed as certainly as his.
" I had a lover then who was warder in the Kinbnry jail,
and though I had never listened to him before, I listened
now, for one plan and resolution had filled my mind. If he
would save Gabriel Myddelton's life so I told him I
would be his wife when he chose. Ah ! surely that was the
least I could do for the man whose name we had blighted,
and whose life we had lied away.
"We helped each other, and until the last moment came,
no other thought was allowed to either of us. It was no
new thing to me to lie awake at night and think of Gabriel
Myddelton, but it was new to him, and I saw the change
telling upon him, though I was proud to feel that no sense
of either fear or honour would turn him from my will.
" The day and the hour came at last, and though my face
was white as death that morning when I rose, I felt more
nearly happy than I had felt since that night when Gabriel
Myddelton's confidence in us had been so vilely abused.
" My husband he was my husband on the following day
hired for me a large, low dog-cart, closed at the back, and u
fleet but very quiet-looking pony. In this cart I drove
myself alone into Kinbury, and, calling a boy who stood in
the yard of the jail (a boy brought there by my husband
for this especial purpose, though he looked to be only idling
there), gave the pony into his charge. He stood steadily at
its head, his back to the door and to the vehicle, and I
passed in with the order my hnsband had obtained foi
me, and was admitted by himself into the condemned cell.
What could be feared from me, wheu it was so well known
that I had done most of all to bring the criminal to that
cell?
" I wore two shawls and two dresses exactly the same, one
concealed below the other ; and under my skirt I had
secreted a bonnet, veil, and gloves, precisely the same aa
those I wore myself.
" My husband had been for days cleverly acting his part,
and his fellow-officials now knew him to be thoroughly
imbued with a disgust for old* Myddelton's convicted mu*
derer, and a demonstratively staunch belief in trie justice of
OLD MYDUELTOITS MONEY. 302
riifl sentence. So it was that no breath of suspicion attached
to either of us, and permission was readily granted me to
eee Gabriel Myddelton, on the plea thab I had lived near
him all my life, and we had been children together.
" By skilful means, my husband attracted the turnkeys
a& far as possible from the passage to the cell, though of
course they stayed where they could see me walk back to
the dog-cart. I passed out, and then passed back again to
the cell.
" Forgotten something," muttered my husband, turning
carelessly away, " but at any rate I'm glad she is going.
Poor lass ! How bitterly she cries I AVell, he was lord of
the manor, you see, on which she has lived all her life.
" It was as I seemed to pass weeping from the cell, that
my husband, by a great effort, kept the attention of the men
engrossed by describing and illustrating very elaborately
the breaking of the window through which the murderer
had passed into Abbotsmoor. Then, after a few minutes, a
sudden recollection struck him, and he turned sharply round.
" Of course you are watching," he said suspiciously, to
one of the men.
" Of course," was the answer, though the man's eyes could
not have done double duty. "I've seen her pass backwards
* id forwards two or three times, but she is back in the cell
now, and you had better go, for her time is up."
" They watched my husband pass into the cell, and then
led me out, crying still. They watched him help me to
my seat in the dog-cart, and give me the reins, and asked
if I feared to go alone. They all spoke kindly to me, and
Etood to watch me drive away alone as I had come.
" And so the tale was told next day, by others who had
seen me. I had driven away alone, as I had come. How
were they to know that Gabriel MyJdelton, dressed exactly
as I had been, lay in the back of the low, old-fashioned
vehicle ? That in that going to and fro, between the dog*
jarb and the cell, there had been one time when mj
husband's energies were put to their severest test while a
female figure (weeping bitterly) had passed out and slipped
into that waiting cavity. Ib was just one minute afterwards
that my husband fetched me, and helped me to my seat.
" I had a fresh disguise ip * he dog cart, and in tliat Gubrief
308 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
Myddelton parted from me, when I had Driven him as fat
as I dared to venture on the high road to Liverpool.
" Not until late at night was the prisoner missed, and
then he was safe. My husband knew a man in Liverpool,
who earned his livelihood by helping those who strove to
get abroad in secret, and he had been prepared and bribed.
So we heard from him of Gabriel Myddelton's departure
for America. Since then no tidings have ever reached me,
and now I know that they never will. I feel that after my
death it will be too late for this confesion to benefit any one,
yet I dare not make it known before.
" This is the declaration which I have sworn to make, and
to enclose with that which my father has dictated to me in
this his mortal illness, and which he has charged me to
make public when I feel my own death drawing near. I
must, he says, confirm its truth upon oath, and leave it with
a trusty person.
"My husband is dead, my father dying, my little one
seems following them. What trusty person can be near me
at the end ? So I have a feeling that some day I shall
destroy these papers with my own hand. But I have written
the whole truth, as my Father in Heaven is my witness, and
this is my signature.
" MARGARET TERRIT.
" Signed this fifth day of December, one thousand eight
hundred and sixty-four."
CHAPTER XXXV.
If he has friends that love him,
'Twill set them weeping all.
The Nibelungen-Lied.
FOB a few minutes after Royden had finished reading, he safe
like one in a dream ; then he slowly rose, and folding the
two papers, placed them carefully in the breast-pocket of
tiAti coat which he had worn all ni^ht over his evening dreea.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 309
Tiled buttoning it, to guard as safely as he could the
precious documents, he went softly into the further room,
and, looking down for the last time upon the dead face,
gave one backward glance along the marred life whose
secrets had now been disclosed to him.
A step in the outer room aroused him ; gently laying
the sheet back over the worn, calm face, he went oat to
meet the woman who was now at liberty to take his place.
A few minutes they talked there ; and Royden waited, as
if his time were of little value. But when all had been
said, and he had left the gloomy house, he glanced up at
the dial on St. Paul's, and hailed a passing hansom, as if
his life depended upon speed
" To the Great Western Station," he said, in his quick,
clear tones. "A sovereign if you do it within fifteen
minutes."
Out of the hubbub of the City, the man took the quiet,
unfrequented streets ; the horse sped on with its inevitably
unsteady perseverance, and Hoyden was in time for the 2'iO
train to Langham Junction.
All through the journey, he sat quite still in his corner of
the carriage, his thoughts intensely busy, while his heart
was full of gratitude and rejoicing.
" To see her face when I show her these ! " he murmered
to himself ; " to think of the truth lying here at last in my
hand ! "
So he was thinking picturing the brightening of one
pale face at the tidings which he bore when the train
stopped at Langham Junction, and he stepped hastily down
upon the platform.
" Where for, sir ? "
" On to Westleigh by the 6'30."
Just in his cool, natural tones, Royden answered the ques-
ion ; yet, as he did so, he glanced across to where the
Westleigh trains were wont to start, with an intense
anxiety.
" The Westleigh train left half an hour ago, sir ! "
Half an hour ago ! and that was the last ! No later
train stopped at the little road-side station, for which at
any time so few passengers were booked, save thosp For
Westleigh Towers. Royden Keith stood in hesitation jusl
K
J1C OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONET.
for two or three seconds. The road from this 6tation to
Westleigh was a long twenty miles, and the station built
only for the junction of the lines was so far from the
town, that he would not be able to get a conveyance of any
kind. True, it was possible to reach The Towers more
readily by taking a bridle-path, which he had daringly
taken once before, even though for several miles it ran be-
tween the sea and the cliffs, and was covered at high water.
Bnt then to walk this distance was impossible, with the
tide upon the flow ; and he had no hor e here.
Yet, how he had dreamed of Alice's glad reception of
nim, and her untold gratitude and joy at the tidings he
hi ire, the tidings he had sought so long, and, having found
r.t last, had hastened to bring to her himself. Must he give
up even now, when he had come so far, and seemed so near
lier ? No ; not even in such a case as this could Hoyden
turn back from his earnest purpose.
" There is a farm," he said to himself, as he stood recall-
ing an old house lying a mile or so along the cliff way,
" where I can get a horse. On the huh road I may have
to walk ten miles before I can obtain one. I will manage
it, if it is within man's power.
It was within this man's power ; and, an hour after the
London train had passed on iis way northward, Royden
roda from the old farm where he had promptly bought a
horse, which its master had never hoped to sell so profitr
ably. The animal was young and strong, and fresh from
its stable ; and Royden had mounted with a pleasant sense
of its power and will to carry him fleetly along the dan-
gerous shore.
The master of the farm, as well as his old father, urged
Mr. Keith not to atteu.pt the ride. The tide was treacher-
ous, they said, and the distance across the bay much greatei
than it seemed. But Royden, shaking the men by the
hand in his quiet, cordial way, told them he had no fear,
jnly a great anxiety to get to Westleigh Towers that night,
and mui'h confidence in his new horse.
" I know the way well," he added, in his pleasant, earnest
voice, " and it is a grand June evening."
The two men stood watching him from the farm crafft.
He understood a good horse when be saw one. there was QO
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 311
doubt about that, and they puessed at once that he must be
Mr. Keith. He was just what they had fancied the Squire
of Westleigh Towers.
" But," said the elder man, as they turned away after
watching Hoyden out of sight, " it is a dangerous feat he
tries to-night."
Royden knew this well. It was not in ignorance that
he started on that ride. But the horse he had bought was
fresh and fleer, and the flood-tide two hours distant yet.
Sitting straight and firm in his saddle, his fingers tight
npon the rein, Royden galloped along the narrow and un-
even path, while the passengers he met looked after horse
and rider wonderingly.
On and on, while the sun slowly neared the water.
On and on, until it set, and Royden breathed a sigh of
relief, for the path had reached the shore at last. He paused
one moment, and gave a look around him first over the
fading sea ; then up the dark, precipitous cliffs ; then
higher still, beyond the fading sunset streaks. When that
moment's pause was over, leaning forward in his saddle, he
pressed his knees against his horse's flanks, and dashed
along that treacherous road beside the sea.
Once or twice the young horse faltered in his pace, and
once or twice he slipped, and would have fallen but for the
strong, restraining hand upon the rein ; but still he made
his way bravely under the frowning rocks.
" On, good fellow, on ! "
Now with caresses, now with strokes, did Royden urge
him, while the tide rose and rose. That bay was reached
at last of whose danger, at the flowing of the tide, he had
told Lady Somerson and Honor, as they stood at that win-
dow looking down upon the spot. Ah, it was so near
home ! It almost felt like having reached home, to have
reached this well-known spot, on which the windows of The
Towers looked. But it was two miles across the bay, and
Jhe tide was rising, and a mist gliding northward from the
eea, and slowly shrouding horse and rider in its chilling,
darkening embrace.
But for an instant, just before it reached them, Royden
strained his eyes to see the further limits of the bfiy, and
Rli ! yes, the waters lay seething there, falling back a little,
312 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
and glistening for a moment, then darkly lifting themselves
in their power, and swaying broad and deep across the only
way which lay before this solitary horseman.
Royden's hand fell gently on the horse's foaming neck,
and for a moment his eyes fell too, resting from that gaze
which had pierced the gathering darkness.
" There is no passage before us. If we can find no
possible way inland, this hour means death for you and me
poor fellow ! "
Urging him on, now by cheering words, and now by
lharp, swift cuts, Royden rode to and fro within the arms of
the bay, searching among the rocks for a possible way of
euress ; but the cliffs rose precipitous from the beach, and
Royden saw that any hope of passing them was vain, while
the sound of the waters, nearing the horse's hurrying feet,
grew literally deafening in its horrible portent.
Brave and strenuous efforts did the young horse make, as
Royden led him backwards and forwards, in this vain and
futile search ; but the pace grew slower into a walk at
last, while the tide rose and rose. So swiftly the enters
rushed in at last, sweeping over that wide crescent, hidd< n
in the mist, that in one second, as it seemed, horse and rider
stood surrounded in the flood-tide.
Then the frightened animal started wildly on his own
career, galloping backwards and forwards, to left, and right,
without aid or motive ; racing to and fro in the very mad-
ness of his panic, as he tried to escape the grasp of the
hungry waters ; racing to and fro until at last, quite
suddenly, he stopped in his wild gallop, stood trembling for
a moment, with his eyes wild and strained, whi!e the waves
broke under his raised head, then, with a cry that was
almost human in its anguish, he threw his head back, and
Royden knew that he alone lived in that rush of rising
waters, and that his only chance of safety was to cling to
his dead companion.
At first the effort to keep his seat engrossed all his
nergies, but gradually that tension relaxed, while now he
held one hand upon the breast of his coat, guarding that
lately-won paper in its grip. Dreamily, with a consciousness
of utter helplessness which was almost a relief after hia
"estlesB, feverish exertion, he flouted on the surface of tut
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 813
ride ; recalling brokenly, as one sometimes recalls a dream,
how one man, years ago, carrying an infant in his anus, had
been drowned within this bay ; languidly wondering over
the exact spot, and morbidly trying to imagine the scene.
Then, there came into his mind still softly and vaguely
the story of a wreck upon this coast, and, looking out to
sea he tried to guess the spot where the ship had foundered,
and wished that he could float far out to sea, and fall just
there.
One minute he was piercing the misty darkness with his
eyes, and calculating how long it migh be possible for him
to live, and in the next he bent his head against the beating
spray, with a faint smile upon his lips, and dipping his hand
into the water, laid it upon his burning brow and lips. But^
through all, his fingers never once relaxed in their close
clasp upon those papers he had borne so far in. safefy so
far!
Just before the dawn of the Jane morning a group of
fishermen slowly passed along the silent, dewy park to the
locked door of Westleigh Towers. They were men to whom
this beautiful park had been lent as holiday ground ; they
were men who had learned to love the master who ha i
treated them as brothers, and not serfs ; and so no cheek
was dry when they trod noiselessly under the whispering
leaves, bearing him among them, still with his fingers tightly
closed upon the paper he had borne so far.
Gently and regretfully these men disturbed the sleeping
household, and, with hands that were delicate then, if they
had never been so before, they laid him in one of his own
beautiful rooms. And when a girlish figure crept in and
stood beside him, appealing mutely and tearfully for tidings,
they whispered, in hushed and broken tones, that, sailing
past the bay as the tide went down, they had found him
there upon his dead horse, benumbed and motionless, as he
miifit have floated for three hours at least.
Benumbed and motionless ! These were the words the
men chose, because they saw the fear and horror in the pale
face they gazed upon. But Alice knew what they left
unsaid, and when she bent above the prostrate form, seeking
in vain for some faint sign of life, a cry of terrible despair
escaped her parted lips.
814 OLD MYDDEJ.TON'S MONET.
White and still the brave face lay ; nerveless and power-
less was the strong, tall form : yet still the wet stiff fingere
of the right hand held their firm grip upon that packet
Bafely borne through all.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Kothing can sympathize with Foscari.
Braoir.
THREE weeks had passed since Hoyden Keith rose from that
long and death-like swoon, and, neglecting his sore need of
rest, returned to London, only two days after he had been
brought home unconscious. But the tasks which hud
taken him to town were all completed now, and he had come
home to wait. For three weeks he had fought with his
terrible suffering and weariness, when one day the slow
afternoon train, passing through Westleigh, deposited at
that sleepy little station two passengers, who had a more
engrossed and business-like air than the generality of people
who halted at that rural spot. They gave their tickets to
the solitary porter without a glance towards him, and they
walked from the station together without a glance beyond
the few yards of dusty lane which lay before them. One was
a man of middle age, broadly built and well-dressed, but
having the air of one who did not too fully comprehend th
aim he had in view, or the way in which that aim should bt
pursued. The other was a small and wiry person, with
ginger-coloured hair and complexion, and he decidedly did
possess the air of knowing whither he was bound, and on
what mission he was bent.
" Is it far along this baking lane ?" inquired the elder
man, without glancing into his companion's face.
" Only a brisk ten minutes' walk," rejoined Mr. Slimp,
rubbing his short hands together, as if in the enjoyment of
a private joke ; " and if it took us ten hours, instead of
minutes, the fatigne would be repaid us with interest."
" If ii is not," replied Lawrence Uaughton, " our walk
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 815
back cannot be too long, if that happens to be what yo?j
mean."
Bickerton Slimp smiled affably. Perhaps this was to b
considered as a smart repartee of his employer's.
" This preliminary stroke will be over in a couple of hours
now," he observed, adopting an impressive decision in hi?
shiirp, weak tones.
No reply from the lawyer, and the clerk continued, with
a still more evident assumption of assurance
"The fact is the man has not a leg to stand on."
" I don't know," put in Mr Haughton, with gloomy stiff-
ness ; " I would not, even now, take too much for granted ;
and if this last move does not answer "
"Not answer ! "exclaimed Bickerton Slimp, coming to adead
halt in his walk, " how can it help answering ? What can
prevent its answering now ? And the sum he will give us to
Vp silence will set us going again more prosperously than
ever ; after that I'll engage that the firm shall become the
richest and the sharpest in the county."
" If he does not offer us this bribe," said Lawrence, with
no appearance of being carried away by Mr. Slimp's enthu-
siastic anticipations, "the practice and something else
with it too cannot be saved, as you know."
"Of course I know." assented Bickerton, with a chuckle,
" but there happens to be very little substance in that ' but.'
You seem unusually and rather uncharacteristically tiinid
to-day, sir ; an unfortunate mood to have happened to fall
into just now, when we want all onr sharpest wits about us.
Mr. Keith is no idiot, and even with truth and justice on
our side, we must look sharp to intimidate him."
The two men walked on in silence now, and to judge by
the expression of one, the truth and justice which had
ranged themselves on his side were not animating or
encouraging companions.
" Here we are," cried Mr. Slimp at last, in an airy tone of
stimulation ; " this is oar gate. Now, Mr. Haughton, don't
yon go and look down in the month, or our game will sutfer,
and our practice be nowhere. Depend upon me. I shall
fook you up, and when yon are at a loss, you must just leave
ti/i- iirtla aifair in my hands."
The insolent familiarity of the confidential clerk was bj
S16 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
no means tasteful to the stern and concentrated nature of
fhe master, yet some consciousness of the man's power over
him kept all reproof from Lawrence Haughton's lips. So
he walked up the park in silence, Mr. Slimp acting as guide,
and showing a very suspicious knowledge of the place.
With an air of bustling complacency, he advanced to the
preat arched door of The Towers, and pulled the heavy iron
bell which hung beside it, while Mr. Haughton followed,
not by any means so thoroughly at his ease.
" Mr. Keith," demanded Bickerton, impressively, and the
door was opened wide upon the visitors ; but the man who
nshertd them in wondered a good deal what acquaintances
of the master's would come in this curt manner, without
prefacing the name, or expressing the wish to see him ; and
he confided this wonder to Mr. Pierce, by whom he passed
on the message.
So the valet appeared alone at the door of the room in
which the lawyer and his clerk waited.
His master was not well, he said, and would rather not be
disturbed, unless his presence was very particularly desired.
Lawrence Haughton, seeing that the man had taken this
course upon himself, answered, with angry sternness, that
his master's presence was very particularly desired, and that
as his own time \as valuable, he should be glad to have his
message delivered with promptness.
Pierce retired without further words, and Lawrence
Haughton looked curiously around the beautiful room.
"Yes," he thought, with a feeling of self-gratulation
almost equal to that in which Mr. Slimp was at that momen*
indulging, "yes, he can afford to pay well."
When at last Mr. Keith entered the room, the self-gratu-
lation even of Mr. Bickerton Slimp was turned for a minute
into another channel. This man, who had horse-whipped
him on one never-to-be-forgotten occasion, and who had often
goaded him to the very verge of madness by his haughty,
unassailable scorn and rather amused, but always evident,
contempt, was ill, and had been ill. He came slowly and
wearily into the room, and, leaning against the chimney-
piece not from habit, but in real need of the support he
turned to them a face which betrayed intense physical
Buffering.
MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 817
There was much satisfaction to Mr. Slimp in that, for the
consciousness had not yet forced itself upon him that the
face betrayed just the old courage, and the strength which
was so firmly built upon great patience.
Lawrence Haughton made an effort to plunge at once
into his errand, but the course was too thoroughly at vari-
ance with his professional habits to allow him to do so. In
his own way, therefore, the words curt and strong, the
manner stiff and elaborate, he apprised Hoyden Keith, there
upon his own hearth, that he, Mr. Lawrence Haughton,
solicitor of Kinbury, possessed of all needful information in
the case, was then on his way to inform his Government
that Gabriel Myddelton, the criminal condemned eleven
years ago to the gallows for the murder of his uncle, Mr.
Myddelton, of Abbotsmoor, bad been tracked, through all
disguises and false pretences, by himself and his confidential
clerk, and was then in custody of the police at Westleigh
Towers.
" Here ! Have you the police here ?" inquired Boyden.
looking round him.
" They will be here in two hours' time, or less ; at any
rate, they will be here before we shall choose to leave," said
the lawyer ; adding, after a pause, as if the idea had just
struck him, "unless we are able to save you from this
public degradation."
He repeated the offer presently, roore boldly and unmis-
takably, tacking to it an impressive reiteration of the
threat. His courage was evidently equal to the occasion,
and Mr. Slimp (his mind at ease now on that score) felt
that he might stand aside and enjoy the scene. He had no
fear for the success of their plan, for was not Gabriel Myd
delton standing there in the utter silence of dejection, con-
sequent on defeat ? And was he not incapable of raising
his eyes, either in surprise or contradiction ?
" Have you nothing to say ? " inquired Mr. Haughton,
impatient now for his crowning success.
"Nothing," rejoined Hoyden, still without looking np.
" You understand my present plans ? at once to make
public your crime and duplicity, in a quarter from which
there can be no appeal."
" I understand."
818 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
" And," continued Lawrence, his voice raised more and
more eagerly, " to have you taken into custody at once."
" I shall not attempt to turn you from your plan. I toV
fou once before, if you recollect, that I was willing yo|
should pursue it to the end, if you thought it prudent on
ycur own part."
" Then, in little more than an hour's time you will be in
custody," cried Lawrence, unable to hide his gathering
passion of disappointment ; " and, by this time to-morrow,
your- identity with the condemned murderer (who was, only
by a woman's craft, saved from hanging) will be a house-
hold word all over England in every home in which,
under the cunning mask of your wealth and your new name,
you have obtained a footing. But," continued Lawrence,
with the crafty assumption of friendliness which sat so ill
upon him, "I am willing to listen, if it strikes you that
this fatal publicity could be in any way avoided " He
hesitated, trusting that the conclusion of the speech might
be anticipated for him ; but he waited in vain. " If not,"
he exclaimed, savagely, " I shall let the law take its
course. If not," he repeated, emphatically, as if to oblige a
reply.
" Is it by your wish, Mr. Haughton," inquired Hoyden,
with a brief glance towards the fidgetty figure of Mr.
Bickerton Slimp, " that your clerk is present at this inter-
view ? "
" I have assisted and advised Mr. Haughton throughout,"
wtruck in the embryo partner in the luture firm, with
rather abortive attempt at easy self-possession, " and I wish
to see him through it."
" You shall have that pleasure, then, with my hearty
consent. I only desired Mr. Haughton to understand that
it is not by my wish that you are made cognizant of the
private affairs of his own family. You have, as I am fully
aware, been for a long time engaged, both for him and with
him, in this search, and I am quite willing that you should
be present at its conclusion ; after that, I shall thank you
to leave this house at once, and to bear in mind that, if you
attempt a second ingress, I shall have you dismissed by
the shoulders."
A pause then, and Lawrence, in a sudden access of imp*
OI D MYDBEI/rON'S MONEY. 319
tience, reiterated his old threat, again insinuating the one
chance, from his own generosity and compassion, which
remained for his victim.
Royden broke the ominous pause which followed, speak-
mg in quiet, weary scorn.
" You intend, you say, to make public your conviction
that you have discovered Gabriel Myddelton, the murderer
of the Squire of Abbotsmoor ? Let me save you from the
unpleasant ridicule which you would incur by so doing. I
have read the document which proves that young Gabriel
Myddelton was innocent of the crime for which, eleven
years ago, he was tried and condemned."
" The the devil ! " panted Lawrence Haughton, in
uncurbed passion. " What do you mean ? "
" I have seen and read," repeated Royden, calmly, " the
confession of the real murderer one Benjamin Terrir.,
miner, of Abbotsmoor confirmed by affidavit, that the
document is true upon oath."
" Where is the forgery ? " cried Lawrence, his face con-
Tulsed with wrath. " Where is this perjured scoundrel and
his lying document ? "
" The document," returned Royden, too weary or too ill
to be roused to either passion or amusement, " with a com-
plete history of the case verbatim el literatim drawn up
by a famous solicitor, nas been placed in the hands of the
Government, together with a petition to the Home Secre-
tary." Royden paused here, though only because his
breath was short and hurried ; but in that pause Lawrence
Haughton felt the ground give way under his one spot ot
safety. " Before this time," continued Royden, glancing
from the lawyer to his clerk, " the Home Secretary has com-
municated with the judge I felt that to be necessary,
because judgment had been formally recorded against
Gabriel Myddelton on evidence and the decision of a jury
which judgment is now, of course, respited- I hope you
follow me and Gabriel My ddelton's innocence is established,
legiiliy and technically."
" These papers," shouted Lawrence, his passion entirely
overmastering him, " are foul and lying forgeries ! "
" On the contrary," put in Royden, his quiet tones broken
ft little by evident suffering, "these pf? ij V8, which prove
380 OLD MYUDELTON'S Momsr.
the innocence of Gabriel Myddeltou, have been endorsed
by the Home Secretary, and now lie at the Home Office, at
your call, Mr. Haughton, or at the call of anyone who
desires to witness the issue of this long-contested matter."
A pause again, while Mr. Haughton and his clerk
struggled with many varied and uncomfortable emotions,
among which was pre-eminent a very natural wish that they
were at that moment beyond the park gates of Westleigh
Towers.
" I will look into this," cried the lawyer, presently ; " I
will soon lay bare this vile fraud."
" Thus, as I said," continued Royden, as if he had heard
no interruption, " Gabriel MydJelton's innocence is legally
established with his Government. As for his friends if he
has any they must maintain what opinions they choose.
But you understand that the papers are at their call, too. I
have given you all particulars I choose to give. Now
complete your long-cherished plan, if you think it well, Mr.
Haughton."
" I am not easily hoodwinked," remarked Lawrence,
Bnppressing his passion by an immense effort, as he moved
towards the door, " and I will disclose this knavery."
Royden's eyes, with something of their old quizzical
glance, were fixed upon the uncomfortable figure of the
little clerk, and he did not seem to even hear Mr. Haughton's
threat.
When his guests had left, he rose slowly from his leaning
posture, a smile crossing his lips as he pictured the very
comical position in which Mr. Haughton would have been
placed if there had chanced to be a grain of truth in hia
assertion that the police would follow him.
In the meantime, without uttering one word to eacTi
other, the baffled lawyer and his clerk returned to Kiu-
bury ; after which Mr. Slimp was despatched to the Home
Office, and Mr. Haughton went through his books for the
twentieth time, reading on every page the one word
ruin!
Striving against his growing weariness, yet as composedly
as if he had been alone all the afternoon, Royden went out
to meet the carriage when he heard the sound of wheels.
With a smile of greeting, he helped the two ladies to
or/.) MYDDELTON'S MOJSEY. 321
alight, and the younger one stood at his side until they were
alone.
" Oh, Roy," she whispered then, " you are not getting
better, you are weaker and weaker every day, and I can Bee
how dreadfully you suffer. It is all because you fought so
hard against this illness just at first, when you felt you
had so much to do ; and this was as much for my sake
as"
He stopped her with a touch of his fingers upon her lips,
and a pleasant smile of dissent, but by no words ; and she
went slowly up the stairs and told her sorrow, as she always
did, to the old lady who awaited her.
" He is so kind," she sighed, losing suddenly the look of
pleasure which had brightened her pale face a few minutes
ago, and which would brighten it again when her thoughts
should go back to her one engrossing memory of those
papers now tying in a place of safety which she only vaguely
knew as a depository lor those precious deeds, " so thought-
ful for every one, so full of helpful, generous projects ; and
yet there is this strange solitariness about him ever a
solitariness which it seems as if no one could ever pierce."
" Wait, Alice wait and see, my dear."
For this doubting thought, though a sad one, was a
familiar one with the elder lady, and one which she could
only bear to muse upon in silence.
What was the one thing which he lacked in his noble,
useful life ? Could no one ever make his lot as bright aa
he ever strove to make the lot of others ?
" But while I wait," sobbed Alice, " he is ill, and it may
ouuxe too
OLD JiYDDSLTON'B
CHAPTER XXXVII.
I know not how it is,
But a foreboding presses on my heart
At times, until I sicken. I have heard,
And Irom men learned, that before the touch
(The common, coarser touch) of good or ill,
That oftentimes a subtler sense informs
Some spirits of the approach of " things to be."
PEOCTOK.
THREE weeks had passed since Sir Philip Somerson had
brought Honor the tidings that Koyden Keith had gone
home to Westleigh Towers on the day after her ball, and
was confined there by ill health. Sir Philip and Lady
Somerson were now abroad, and Honor had heard nothing
more. The time was drawing near for the closing
of the mansion in Kensington, and the adjournment of its
young mistress to Abbotsmoor. But who could foresee what
lay between that day and this July afternoon, when Honor
Craven, as she sat reading to Marie, was astonished by
receiving the card of Mr. Bickerton Slimp, on which was
penned a request to see her on most important private
business.
She acceded to this request without hesitation, for,
thoroughly as she disliked him, she could not forget that he
belonged indirectly to her old home and her old life.
When she entered the library, where Mr. Slimp awaited
her, she found him very much changed from the sleek and
fawning little sycophant he had always shown himself to her.
He stood humble and isolated in the centre of the room, ins
clothes worn and dusty, the one word "failure" stamped
legibly upon his person and manner.
Honor sat down, and waited for him to speak. It was
not long before he did so. theueh he was long in finishing
ivhat he had to say. Without any introduction, though
With tiresome circumlocution, he informed Miss Craven
that he had felt it his painful duty to come and lay before
her a few particulars respecting the affairs of Mr. Haugh-
ton, as she was, unfortunately, one among many whom ho
had defrauded; and his (Mr. Slimp's) conscience would not
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 328
allow him to rest until he had striven to make np, in some
measure, for faults in which he (as Mr. Haughton's clerk)
been indirectly though most innocently concerned,
t would appear that Mr. Slimp's conscience rather
eagerly sought rest ; for, without a pause, he diverged from
every point obtainable from this centre, and rang a hundred
changes ou the frauds his late employer had practised, not
only upon her and upon the public, but (in a still greater
and more inexcusable degree) upon his ex-clerk himself
gui'eless and unsuspecting.
Honor listened in silence it was hardly worth while to
Interrupt him and he went glibly on ; making himself
plainly understood, though, in his splenetic excitement, h
made use of one or two expressions which were as Greek to
Honor.
Above all facts, this one was urged and resented most.
Mr. Haughton had made a promise to his head-clerk that
at this present date he would take him into partnership, and
now he had backed out of the agreement ; and the morti-
fied ex-clerk, having discovered that the practice of
Haughton, Solicitor, could not stand, had determined to
take a special revenge for the two-fold duplicity.
Mr. Haughton was now hiding from his creditors, and
Mr. Slimp happened to know his present concealment, and
was willing to betray it to Miss Craven for a consideration.
It was then, and not till then, that Honor allowed him to
see a little of the scorn his words and conduct had merited;
but Bickerton was far too deeply bent upon his own aim
to let this interrupt his flow of pleasant confidence.
" Even if you decline' to remunerate me for this useful
information, Miss Craven," he said, insinuatingly, " I shall
itil". tell you. He has done worse than that to spite me, and
my turn has come now. He has done worse than this to
hundreds of people. If it had been only me he had injured,
I would have been silent, but it is hundreds more, and so
jay duty is to bring him to justice."
" I do not wish to hear any of this," said Honor, in-
differently, as it seemed, "it has no effect upon me at all."
But still she sat quietly to listen, and Bickerton Slimp
could not read the agonising effort it cost her to hear, and
above all to discredit what he said of her old u
324 OLD MYPDELTON'S MONET.
Even if I did not betray his hiding place," resumed
Mr Haughton's would-be partner, it would soon be die
Covered, Ld he'd be hunted out. .He isn't used to making
himself scarce at a moment's notice, and taking different
characters on different emergencies as some are. 1 ^nere 11
be plenty after him, too-mad as blood-hounds when they
know ..hat he's done. No, there's no doubt about his soon
being taken, but I thought it right to warn you n/f > Ml
Craven, because if you wish your old guardian 1< * o ff it
will be easy work for you ; and at the same time, if yo
Think justice ought to be dealt him, you have only to say
the word and make it worth my while. [ always was
wi ^V"^^
glance from Honor had beea more than sufficient to reread
him on what dangerous ground he trod.
"No; there's no doubt he will soon be taken Miss
Sraven by one or other of the victims of his fraudulent
schemes," he resumed, more placidly, ''ana they are many
I could not enumerate, if I tried, the deceits which he has
practised. Many families, whose names even you L could ^re-
member, Miss Craven, are involved in rum by him, though
STey do not know it yet. He has embezzled money he had
to invest, and taken people in !*SS*SRiJS ^
a-aiTi and again suppressed certain deeds, and ettecte
sale of property previously mortgaged. More ttian one poor
dupe has let him have every pound she possessed, to invest
or place on mortgage, and the deeds have represented
nothing b forgeriel One poor widow thinks she has
bounht throu-h him, the house she lives in, while it really
Songs t wealthy builder in Kinbury for Mr- Haughton
suppressed one set of deeds and supplied another. He has
overdrawn his banking account, and borrowed money which
s due No, there can be no help for him, although his
and the
ou Ms Craven, that he is hiding now at the ' Anchorite,'
L Thames Street, and if you have any wish yourself to be
with anger
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 32*
" Yon forget to whom you are speaking," she said, her
tones as quiet as usual, though her manner was unmia-
takable.
Mr. Slimp made an effort to regain the ground he had
lost by this one too daring step. Cunningly, long ago, he
had discovered both the one passion of his master's life and
the indifference with which it had been treated by his ward ;
and, judging by his own contemptible feelings, he had
imagined that Honor might rejoice over an 6pportunity of
repaying her old guardian for the persecution she had
suffered at his hands. But this feeling could only last one
minute, and he knew that it had been injurious to his cause.
Still he could regain his ground, he fancied : and it was an
unctuous satisfaction to him to lengthen his confidence
against his erstwhile master. There was, too, the novrlty
of truth in so many of these cheering disclosures of fraud
and duplicity. But he hurried now over the information,
as if he feared its being still more summarily cut short. He
might well fear. Honor had heard the one thing she wished
to hear, and now no heed was paid to any further word.
" That inn in Thames Street is a capital place to get
abroad from, under foggy circumstances," Mr. Slimp re-
sumed, with spirit ; " and we can manage, if you really wish
me to undertake it."
" I will think of what you tell me," said Honor, quite
coldly, though she was actually trembling in her fear of
this man in his treachery; " I will see you again."
The fear, so proudly battled with, took the form in Mr.
Blimp's eyes of a new courage, and he gazed in servile
admiration on the girl's beautiful, easy figure, now that she
seemed to understand him at last.
" In the meantime pray fix upon your own price " the
word was uttered in the very refinement of scorn, and
Honor's eyes swept over the narrow form of the little traitor
before her " for secrecy, and I will purchase it from you
if your terms suit me."
" To you, Miss Craven, a thousand pounds is scarcely
worth speaking of ; therefore you would not, I hope, think
a thousand pounds "
" To effect my purpose," said Honor, quietly, while sh
raised her clear eyes fully to his crafty face, " one thousand
826 OLD MYDDELTOfl'S MOJS'EY.
pounds would be too little. Make your own terms, and 1
will see you here, at this hour to-morrow."
An expression of immense self-satisfaction settled in Mr.
Slimp's face. He could afford now to be confidential even
on an almost extraneous subject.
" If poor Mr. Haughton's last move had not so signally
failed him, Miss Craven," he began, in atone for which she
could have annihilated him where he stood, " the old and
well-established name and business would have been saved,
and his present difficulties never made public ; but that last
move did fail, and he himself had no power of getting out
of his present ecrape. He felt so very certain of the iden-
tity of Mr. Keith, of WestMgh Towers, with the man who
murdered Squire Myddelton, of Abbotamoor, eleven years
ago, that, even with only the very slight and presumptive
evidence which he was able to amass during almost two
years of search and inquiry, he went in person to infurm
Mr. Keith that the whole proof was- in his own hands, and
that he would at once give him over to the law as the con-
demned and escaped criminal, Gabriel Myddelton, unless he
chose to buy his immunity you understand, Miss Craven ?
That move, as I said, most signally failed ; for a humili-
ating fact which we first learned in Jhis interview the
innocence of Gabriel MyddeUon is now legally established ;
and I myeelf saw the documents proving it. I came up to
town on purpose, and read them all at the Home Office."
" His innocence ! "
Honor had no idea that the two words had passed her
lips, and after their utterance her siler.ce was intense.
" And more than that," resumed Bickerton Slimp, with
an air of jaunty encouragement, " I do not, and never did,
believe in the identity of Gabriel Myddelton with Mr.
Keith of Westleigh who, by the way, seems dying rapidly.
Of course I have helped for my own purposes in fasten -
log the suspicion upon him, but I never saw our way
dlearly to a grain of tangible proof; and I always felt that
if he had been the man whom, for eleven years, Lawyer
Haughton had been trying to hunt down, he could never
have had such doubts about him, or shown such hesitation
and uncertainty in the case. Ee is not one to be delayed
by pcruples, and 1 always understood his one reason for noi
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 327
capturing his man, and the solution of those days and
weeks and months of doubt which he underwent. If he'd
had cause to feel sure in his own mind, the capture would
have been sharp work. As for me, I doubted all along if
this could be Gabriel Myddelton, and now I'll take my oath
it is not."
The words all entered Honor's ears with a clear ana
almost appalling distinctness, and her heart was wildly
beating ; yet she stood there utterly unmoved, until he
departed with an impressive reiteration of his intention to
be at her service next day at that hour.
But the silence and the stillness left her when he left her.
She moved softly and restlessly about the great, silent
room, repeating to herself those words which seemed to
mean so much.
" Not guilty ! Gabriel's innocence ! Not Gabriel not
Gabriel ! Dying ! And Gabriel innocent ! "
Gradually her brain grew confused, and she lost the sense
of these reiterated words, while only that lately formed
resolution of hers held sway. She must see Lawrence ; she
must see her old guardian to-night, for fear it might be too
late.
Then there came over the girl a feeling of loneliness and
dread most unusual to her. She listened and longed for
the sound of Phoabe's return, while still she tried, with all
her strength, to throw off this new and miserable foreboding,
which had fallen upon her with such a terrible weight, and
under which she could not even hope.
What was it ? What had brought this crushing weight
upon her ? Was it fear for Lawrence, or for whom ? Had
it fallen upon her when she heard of her guardian's crimes,
or of Gabriel's innocence, or of that interview which one of
Gabriel's cousins had had with the man on whom he laid so
foul a charge ?
She battled with the feeling, striving to dissect it, that, if
possible, the action might dispel it.
"It could not be," she whispered to herself, " that a
felon's fate should be my guardian's now, as it was
It could not be," she moaned, strangling each thought aa
it forced its way to her lips, "that there should be a fatal
ending to this illness of one who has been wrongly judged,
828 OLD MYDlrELTON's MONET,
|
It cannot be ! Oh ! if Phoebe would but come, and speafc
to me cf other things."
The house seemed so large and silent, and she so solitary,
that when at last Captain Trent came into the library un-
announced, she greeted him with an unfeigned gladness,
frhich tilled his heart with an exquisite delight as unex-
pected as it was delusive.
" Honor," he cried, his joy overmastering him, " are you
really glad to see me are you really ?"
" So glad," she answered, speaking low in the gravity of
her own engrossed thoughts. " Phoebe is away."
The last few words could not damp him, for her greeting
had given him just the sliglit encouragement which was all
he needed; and once more more urgently tlian ever, but
for the last time now he poured out the old story of what
he cal'ed his unconquerable and unchangeable love. He
never guessed what pain he gave her, and she did not blame
him by one thought ; because she saw that, as deeply as it
was possible for him to feel, he felt this.
Softly and kindly she answered him, as she had answered
him often, but she saw how much more earnest he was now
than he had ever been before, and she saw that only one
thing which she could say could prevent this old scene being
repeated. It would be well for Hervey. Once let him feel
that this love of his was hopeless, and he would quietly
submit, and live his new life still more earnestly ; once
feel that he must take this first love from his heart, and he
would seek another love to take its place. No fear that
Hervey's heart would break in solitary suffering
And for herself? Well, it would be best for Hervey,
and she could trust him now. She laid her right haud
gently upon his, and looked up into his face with a glance
so earnest and so true so sorry for him and so sorry for
herself that he felt, instinctively, that whatever words
she uttered would be uttered solemnly from her heart, and
Juust be sacred between them for evermore.
"Hervey, I will tell you the truth to-night, while we are
here alone together, and then I know you will never speak
to me again as you have just done. It will save us both
pain afterward", for you will see how impossible it would
be for me vu to give you a different answer from that
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 329
which I have just given. I have no power to give my love
to you, or to anyone now, Hervey, for it was given long ago.
We are cousins and old friends, are we not ? And when I
tell you this, I trust you with all my heart."
The great astonishment which filled his mind was plainly
written in his face. Could this be possible ? Honor, who
had never seemed to care for anyone in particular, foi whose
love so many strove, and to win whom no trouble could be
too great, no wooing too persistent ! Honor to have given
her love away long ago ! Why, long ago must be in those
old times in Statton, which, in Hervey's mind, had long
been entirely disconnected with Honor's present life. How
could it be, and to whom ?
A sudden fear for her which a minute ago would have
appeared impossible, and a minute hence was to again
appear impossible made him took down questioningly and
almost pityingly into her face. Ah, no, Honor could never
have given her love unsought and unreturned. In all his
Badness and despondency, he could almost have smiled at
himself for the fear.
" Do not ask me," she said, reading the question in hi&
eyes. " It is an old ache. Do not make me speak of it now,
Hervey. You will forgive me any pain that I have caused
you, because 1 bear a sorer still."
" Honor," he whispered, all the earnestness and manli-
ness of his nature rising up to meet this trust of hers,
" thank you for telling me this. As you knew it would,
it has killed all hope within me ; but perhaps it is better
BO."
" Yes," she answered, with another gentle touch upon hit
hand, as she dismissed the subject, " it is better so."
For a few minutes they siood in. silence there in the
silence which only trusted friends can fall into and then
Phoebe returned from her drive, bright and excited. Yet
though the three chatted pleasantly, and even jestingly
together, Phoebe little astute as she' was could detect an
undertone of sadness in Honor's voice, and could read the
new look of quiet hopelessness on Hervey's face.
" Oh, Honor ! " she cried, repeating various items of news
ehe had heard from the friends with whom she had been
driving, " Mr. Keith is dreadfully ill at Westleigh ;. and, oJ
S30 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
course, the girls say it is a punishment to him for having
turned hermit suddenly in the middle of the season, and
buried himself alive in his castle on the coast."
Phoebe's light voice ceased suddenly, and she left the room
as soon as she could, murmuring unintelligible reasons for
her absence.
Hervey had, quite by chance, been gazing at Honor while
these words were uttered, and somehow though he never
afterwards could make it quite clear to himself how it had
been he read, in that moment, the one part of the secret
which Honor had not told, and it made him very silent,
until a question from Honor roused him.
" Hervey," she said, wistfully, " may I ask you to do
something for me ? "
" Anything a hundred things ! " he answered, eagerly,
whilft still the heaviness was in his tone.
" I want," she said, raising her clear, grave eyes to his,
and speaking very seriously, " to see my own cousin, Gabriel
Myddelton."
" Gabriel Myddelton ! "
Captain Trent could only echo the name in his surprise.
" Yes, Hervey ; he is innocent, and has been wronged,
and I long to tell him how sorry I am if I ever, even for a
moment, felt he might be guilty."
" But, Honor, you do not know where he is."
" No," she answered, with deep thought ; " but still I
want this message borne for me. Will you undertake it,
Hervey ? I can trust you best."
" Dear Honor, of course I will ; anywhere, to anyone ;
nly tell me where, and to whom."
" To Mr. Keith, at Westleigh Towers."
* But, Honor"
She stayed his words of quick surprise.
" You wonder," she said, quietly, " why I should send thif
message to him, and why I wish you to deliver it yourself.
Will you wait for your answer, Hervey ? Or am I asking
too much ? "
" Too much ! " he cried. " Why, I would take it to the
world's end for you, Honor ! "
" Thank you, then that is all. Just say to Mr. Keith
that I have a preat longing to see my cousin my own
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 331
cousin Gabriel Myddelton, and that I pray him to help me
to do bo. That," Bhe repeated, slowly and thoughtfully,
"is all."
He asked her no further question, and, when they
separated, he whispered, with an earnestness which waa
totally unselfish
" I shall start early to-morrow, Honor, and I thank yon
from the bottom of my heart for trusting me."
Honor had no need to invent an excuse for avoiding her
engagements that night. Who, looking into her white
face, could fail to see the pain she suffered ? Still she
pleaded so anxiously for Phoebe to go that Miss Owen
consented, though with great unwillingness at first, and
drove away in her radiance, leaving Honor standing at the
hall window in the twilight, smiling a bright good-bye.
Half an hour after Phoebe had arrived at her destination,
the large closed carriage stood again before the door at
Kensington, this time waiting for the young mistress. She
did not take her seat, as Phoebe had done, surrounded by a
fairy pile of gossamer fabric ; but she came from the house
in a quiet morning dress, and taking her seat wearily upon
the wide silk cushions, she gave the order, " The Anchorite,
Thames Street," just as she would have given it to Buck-
ingham Palace.
She had no room in her mind to-night for any thought
of what her grave and powdered servants might surmise.
Lawrence was not suspected yet, and she must see him
before it was too late. That was all she allowed herself to
think.
Yet this haunting dread, this subtle foreboding, which
she had fought against so hard, held her still in its firm
grip. And she gazed from the carriage window with a
pitiful yearning for some sight or touch which should dispel
this feeling, for she knew it to be the presage of some evil
or some agony to come.
33S OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET,
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A more glorious victory cannot be gained over another man
this, that, when the injury began on bis part, the kmdne 3 should
begin on ours. TILLOXSON.
HONOR'S carriage was being driven slowly up and down
before the inn to which Mr. Slimp had unintentionally
directed her, and she herself was making futile inquiries of
an obsequious waiter, when Lawrence Hanghton entered
the house. He came in just as he used to enter his office,
moodily and silently, but still with his head erect and his
step heavily arrogant. There was no shaBbiness in his
attire, no slouching in his gait, no cringing in his bearing,
as there had been in his ex-clerk's ; but still, when Honor
had followed him upstairs, and, after a quiet tap upon the
door of his private sitting-room, had opened it before he had
time to stay the entrance of any one, she could plainly see
ay, though the light was drearily dim that he had a
manner strangely at variance with his old, self-contained
assurance.
If she had not been so wrapped up in her own earnest
purpose, Honor would have been literally frightened by the
effect her sudden appearance had upon him. The swarthy
colour left his face, and beads of perspiration stood thickly
on his brow.
" Honor ! " he stammered, his voice hard and huskf
"Honor you?"
"Yes, Lawrence."
"You !" he repeated, as if the shock had deprived him
of the power of further utterance, while his eyes clave to
her face in almost terrible nervousness. " Here alone 'i "
" Yes," she said again. " I, Lawrence, and alone, of
course, because I came on purpose to see you."
He drew towards him one of the unlighted candles wlriuh
stood upon the table, and taking a box of wax-lights from
his pocket, struck one after another, all equally clumsily.
" No, please," said Honor, staying his hand with <r^ri fit-
ness. " Don't you think there is light enough, Lawiuuou : *
OL1) MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 333
He dropped the last match, and pushed the candlestick
from him ; then he moved slowly, until he stood with his
back against the window, his eyes still riveted upon Honor,
who faced the fading light, beautiful in her gravity and
earnestness.
"Why did you come ?'-' he faltered at last. "Is there
not humiliation enough in store for me ? Of all the world,
why did you come ? "
"I have come," she answered, quietly, " to ask my old
guardian to let me help him now."
He was fighting hard, as she could see, with the feelings
which mastered him ; the consciousness of his plans being
baffled, his love lost, his ambition wrecked ; and in hor
pity she strove to forget everything save her old regard for
him, and her best memory of his care and guardianship.
Looking almost as she u?ed to look in those old days, anil
speaking to him almost as if he were her guardian still,
she told him without reverting to any particular crisis in
his affairs what she wished to do for him.
Kindly and anxiously she spoke, and as he listened, the
faint, wild hope of her affection which had existed in his
mind even to this hour, died a sudden and a hopeless death.
In her pure warm pity, and in memory of those old times
when hrs home had been hers, she wished to rescue him
from poverty, and to clear his name from dishonour. But
there could never be a resurrection-day even for the friend-
ship of those old times.
"You know it all, then, Honor ?" he asked, his lips stiff
and dry. " Of course Slimp went to you at once with hi?
own story."
" He came to me this afternoon ; I hope it was at once,
as you say, because it will not be well to lose time,
Lawrence."
"Time I have no time left me," he muttered, doggedly;
"Slimp will have bruited my affairs all over Kinbury before
this time to-morrow."
" He is to do nothing until this time to-morrow," Honor
said ; " then he will come to know my decision."
" On ? Your decision on ? " questioned Law.
rence, hurriedly. "Has he been offering you the
of 'i "
834 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
"Never mind what he offered," put in the girl, qnietly ;
"his offers, as well as his motives, are too despicable to
occupy us for a moment. In his selfish haste he has done
what both you and I may some day thank him for doing
When he comes to me to-morrow, Lawrence, I hope that
you yourself will see him. It will be kind of you to gir-ro
me another interview with him s and, besides that, he will
understand better from you how unnecessary his interference
will be."
"The little dastardly thief," muttered Mr. Haughton,
between his teeth ; " it is he who has been the one to tempt
me, and to lower me to this pass."
" A poor tempter," said Honor, in quiet scorn.
" Ay, poor enough ; but it is impossible to do business
for years with a wily, double-natured sneak, and not find
his guidance grow easy, whether one stands up against it at
first or not ; especially," he added, with a flash of honesty,
" if one's own disposition is to grind and save and specu-
late."
" It must have been that," interposed Honor, with a
glance of puzzled anxiety ; " for you were never extrava-
gant or reckless in your expenditure."
" No, I have no pleasure in spending on myself or on
anyone else," he answered, bitterly. " You know for you
often said it in old times, Honor that I saved my money
just like old Myddelton. That it was which brought on the
passion of speculation ; and see how it has ended. I am a
ruined man, and my only chance of even personal safety is
cut off now by a traitor who has been my abettor and
encourager all along ; and who turned my ruling passion
avarice to all his own base ends."
" Why talk of him ? " asked Honor, gravely. " Think of
what you yourself wish to nndo, Lawrence."
" It is too late," he said, and put one hand before his
eyes.
" No, not too late, Lawrence, nor is there any risk for
your personal safety, as you say. You will be able to leave
England when you choose, and with your name unsullied.
Tell me if I have done what is right. It was so hard for
me to know, because you and then Mr. Stafford have
managed these things lor me, and left me ignorant. Give
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. SG3
me your advice now, Lawrence. Will yon nave this
uncrossed cheque upon my banker here, and take the money
yourself to Kinbury to-morrow, or will you have this crossed
cheque, and pay it in to your account at Kinbury ? Only
tell me which, and the sum is left tor you to add."
"I I cannot," faltered Lawrence, brokenly.
*' Yes, you can," she answered, with her pretty smile ;
" you will not let a silly pride come between you and your
old ward. We have no need of a lawyer's help, have we ? "
" No need," he whispered, in the anguish of many mixed
feelings ; " but I cannot take it. Oh! Honor, you do not
know the half of my deception."
" I think I do," she answered, thoughtfully ; " I think
that Mr. Slimp would rather tell me more than less."
*' I must tell yon, and tell you all," he persisted.
" Very well, Lawrence, but not until to-morrow : wheu
you come to-morrow you shall tell me all. Then justice
will have been done to those who have been wronged, or are
poor."
" Honor," he cried, moving in sudden haste from the
position he had so closely maintained, " hew can I bear this
to rob you even more than I have done ? 1 cannot. I
will go away. I .will go to-night, as I always meant to do,
If they capture me if, led on by my own clerk, they bring
me back to face the law it will be simple justice after all ;
while this no, I cannot do you such a wrong."
" The wrong has been done to others, Lawrence," said
Honor, sadly ; " what I ask is, that you will repair it as far
as you are able."
" As I am able I" echoed Lawrence, bitterly. " No ; it
is you who would save me from disgrace and publicity, and
I cannot take more from you, Honor. I will leave England
to-ni^ht."
" Not to-night," she said, with gentle kindness, as she
put the cheque into his hand ; " I shall not persuade you
against going, Lawrence, because you may think it best,
but you will not go under fear of pursuit, leaving those
wrongs unredressed, and bearing the terrible consciousness
of having injured those who trusted you."
" BuUt is done."
"Yes, it is done," she answered, sadly; "but we can
3G OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
make amends. All must have what is dne to them ; and,
Lawrence my dear old guardian you can go then with a
name which is not hated and dishonoured."
He stood unmoved while she laid the paper in his hand,
but she knew that this was the chill of agony, not indifference-
"If," she said, with a great effort to speak cheerfully at
last, " if Lawyer Haughton chooses to wind up his affairs
and go abroad, what wonder need it cause ? Such things
are almost of common occurrence now."
" I can I can sell my practice then," said Lawrence,
with a sudden break in his misery. " II I wait in England
to undo this evil, then the practice will be worth what it
was before, and I shall net be utterly penniless."
" That will be pleasant," she answered, with a smile.
"You will come to-morrow, Lawrence, and tell me all u
safe and well. Now I must go."
" But," he said, with a change from his short-lived excite-
ment, " you could not do this, Honor, if you knew what
had been my last effort at degradation you, who ahva\s
thought so kindly of Gabriel Myddelton, and, through all,
believed him innocent."
" I do know," she said quietly, when he paused.
" Slimp told you that too, did he ?" Lawrence Haughton
cried. " And did he tell how I, like others, had been a
blind fool all along, and that Gabriel Myddelton was
innocent?"
" Yes, he told me that ; and he told me " the struggle
it cost her to say these words as she had said the others
was most pitiful " that you were mistaken when you
thought that Gabriel Myddelton had come home as Eoyden
Keith."
No answer ; and she made the words a question, raising
her eyes longingly to his.
" Was that true, Lawrence ? "
" I suppose so ; but Heaven only knows," he answered,
pettishly. " It has been a studied belief of mine for two
years. How can I root it out so suddenly ?"
" But if he had been our cousin Gabriel, would you not
immediately have recognized him ? "
"It is more than twelve years since I saw Gabriel
Myddelton," Laurence answered, moodily, and unoon-
OLD MYDDELTON'8 MONET. 33?
betraying his own doubts. "But, remember,
Honor," lie added, hurriedly, " that if he does prove to bo
Gabriel, and is innocent, or even if Gabriel Myddelton
eventually turns up, you have nothing to fear. 01J
Id yddel ton's money was willed to you, and no man on
earth, even being a Myddelton, can claim it from you.
Remember that, Honor, my "
Bat a sense of the fitness of things was able just then to
restrain even Lawrence Haughton. He could not see her
face plainly now, for the twilight had deepened to the first
darkness of the summer night, and the wiudow was narrow,
and its panes not over clear, but he spoke with a change of
lone.
" Honor, forgive me ; and you will remember what I say,
if I am not here. There is no flaw in Lady Lawrence's will,
and old Myddelton left her the power of bequeathing his
wealth, without any restrictions."
" Yes," she said, absently, as she offered him her hand,
" I remember."
He held it tightly in his own, while the old passion, rising
with a greater strength than ever, wrote its lines upon his
hard, stern face, and while he crushed back with a violent
effort the pitiable confession which rushed with almost con-
quering force to his lips.
" I shall see you to-murrow," he whinpered, " for the last
time; and it might have been that" Then he broke
utterly down, and it was some minutes before he regained
the mastery over himself.
Not another word could he utter as he took Honor dowu
and put her into her carriage, not even in answer to her
kind good-bye ; and when she had driven out of sight, ho
was still standing there upon the pavement where she had
left him, lost in a deep, regretful dream.
In spite of that cheery look and smile, Honor's heart was
very heavy as she drove home ; and through all this doubt
would force itself Was she fulfilling well the trust whiiih.
her great wealth had brought her ? Only her own heart
could answer the question which it asked, but she knew that
nu such hesitation could have stayed her in this visit to her
old guardian.
It was quite early in the afternoon of the next day
838 OLD MYDDELTOff'S MONET.
he came to Kensington ; and, in spite of the weight of
Bhame which bowed him down, when he begged her to let
him tell her of his delinquencies and debts, she saw a
marked change in him, which reminded her of one or two
far days back in her old home, when Jane and Phoebe had
been away, and he had tried to make his favourite happy
without vexing her by any sign or uttered word of love.
She interrupted him continually when he enlarged, with a
morbid self-torture, on the failure of so many of his specu-
lations, which, as she had rightly guessed, had been
maliciously exaggerated by Mr. Slimp ; and they spent a
not unpleasant time together before the time for the clerk's
visit.
"You will come upstairs, Lawrence, when he is gone^
won't you ? " Honor said, when she rose to leave the room
at Mr. Slimp's hour. " I shall wait for you. Phoebe ia
shopping. I shall be quite alone."
She sat and waited for him, without offering to takfc
either book or work into her hands, her thoughts too deeply
engrossed by her old guardian's possible future, and 100
intensely anxious over it. But she had not long to waitj
and she turned with a smile when he entered,
" So soon, Lawrence ! I am glad."
" Yes, he had no wish and no need to stay," said Mr.
Haughton, coming forward with a curious and uncharacter-
istic air of diffidence. " He tried two or three different
experiments ; he tried insinuations, and threats, and,
promises ; but from the first he saw his own mistake*
Honor, you bade me help him for you, if he were poor, bub
he is not poor. He has carefully guarded his own interests
always ; and, though he is baffled and mortified, it is, after
all, his own doing, and he has not left himself in any
awkward circumstances trust him for that."
" Then we may dismiss every thought and memory of
him," said Honor, with a sigh of relief. " And now, Law-
rence, tell me more of your own plans."
They sat together for a quiet hour, talking of these plana
and hopes. It was an hour which even Honor remembered
for years, while for him it was to be of life-long memory,
shining like a star in his gloomy past, and ever leading his
thoughts to those better things of which she spoke.
OLD MYDDELTONS MONEY. 833
His eyes and lip^ had lost their hardness, when at last he
rose to say good-bye. Honor had heard Phoebe Owen's
return, and, with her hand upon the door, she stayed him.
"You will like to bid good-bye to Phoebe, Lawrence ? "
" No," he cried, hurriedly, " no ; let yours be my last.
What is Phoebe's compared with ? "
" Stay one minute, Lawrence," she interrupted, grieved to
gee this momentary return to his old manner. " I will send
Phoele, and yet I will have the last hand-shake. Phoebe
was once your ward, as I was. We have only an equal
claim upon you ; and this, you say, is to be a long good-
bye."
And, before he could answer, she was gone.
" Phoebe," said Honor, watching her cousin's face rather
curiously as she gave her message, " will you go and see
Lawrence ? He is going abroad, and is come to bid us
good-bye. I shall come in to you presently. And suppose
1 order tea ? Lawrence will not stay and dine wi;h us, but
still he may aft'ord to idle a\\ay five minutes over a cup of
tea."
" Is Lawrence really going abroad ? "
The question came from Phoebe's lips, freighted only with
surprise. Honor saw this with a feeling of deep thank-
fulness. The time was come for which she used to long, and
Phoebe's inexplicable infatuation was over.
" Why is it ? " inquired Miss Owen, standing placidly for
her maid to arrange her tunic after the inevitable crushing
of the drive. "Why does he go so suddenly ? "
"You forget that we cannot expect now to be aware of his
plans until they are made public. If he had been intending
and preparing for this for months, we should not have;
known it."
" No, I suppose not," rejoined Phoebe, with the ghost of
a sigh ; " I'm ready. You won't be long, Honor ? "
Honor smiled at the requ 'St. It was so unlike the old
limes, when, to gain a few minutes of her guardian's sole
attention, Phoebe would have exercised herself in any harm-
less stratagem. She waited only a few minutes, timing her
entrance just as the footmen carried in the trays ; and
Lawrence did stay,, and Honor's purpose was successful, for
the purling was an easy, natural parting, and Mr. Hau-hton'a
340 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
feeling was Chat he had left the house of true friends,
had genially and pleasantly entertained him ; not that he
had departed in bitter humiliation, with coals of fire headed
upon his head. This was Honor's intention, and she had,
as usual, brightly worked its fulfilment.
" Honor, how can it be ? " cried Phcebe, when the two
girls were left together again. "To think that I have
parted from Lawrence, and yet am not broken-hearted ! I
can hardly believe it can you ? remembering how differ-
ent things used to be ? I wish he would have told me what
first induced him to form this pi; n."
It was because Honor had feared such questions for him
that she had not left him long with Phoebe ; but it would
seem that Miss Owen had made time for several.
"Jane will be pretty lonely at The Larches," she con.
tinned, " but she will keep the house on, Lawrence says.
Why, Jane never had above a hundred a year of her own,
had she, Honor ? Do you think she can manage to live at
The Larches on that ? Lawrence says Slimp is in London
now, and likely to stay here. I wonder whether his leaving
the office had anything to do with Lawrence's decision ;
because I always thought Slimp would stay in Kinbury all
his life didn't you ? "
So the girl ran on, but Honor managed to evade her
answers ; while f-very minute now, as night drew on, he,r
own iinxiety grew greater and greater for tidings from
Ueryej, or tidings which Hervey might possibly bring.
CHAPTER XXXTX.
It't hame, hame, Lame, to my ain countree.
ALLAN
CAPTAIN TRENT journeyed to Westleigh by the first train
from London, yet it was past mid-day when he pulled the
great iron bell beside the arched door of The Towers. From
the moment this door was thrown open to him, a certain
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 41
hush upon the house made the contrast wonderfully strong
between this day and that merry one he had spent here
before, when old Mrs. Payte arrived so suddenly with
Honor, and the house had been filled with gaiety and
laughter. Yes, Mr. Keith was at home, the grave old
butler told him, and led him to a long, high room on the
right of the hall a room in which the solitary figure of an
old lady, sewing beside the window, looked almost like a
doll's.
" Mr. Keith," she repeated, dubiously, as she came for-
ward to receive Hervey's bow and ir;quiry, " he yes, I have
Jo doubt he will see you ; but he is far from well. You
will excuse the liberty I take, as an old woman, Captain
Trent," glancing at his card, " if I ask you not to let me
summon Mr. Keith if if it is unnecessary, or "
Hervey read the real anxiety in the pleasant face to
read such thoughts as these was not impossible to him now
but he could not guess how rarely had visitors late!/
brought any pleasure to Hoyden.
" Indeed," he said, in what Phoebe called " his nice way,"
M I would not ask to see Mr. Keith at all if I felt that I
were bringing him worry or anxiety. Let me assure you
that it is quite the reverse."
Miss Henderson smiled, partly in relief, and partly in
acknowledgment of the courtesy of Hervey's manner.
" I will take your card," she said, and left him alone in
the long room.
Only a few minutes passed before Royden entered ; and
at that moment Captain Trent experienced the greatest
shock he had felt through all his life, though he little
gueseed how long the effect of this sudden shock was to
hover about him, and have its share in deepening the grow-
ing seriousness of his own thoughts and feelings.
" My God, Keith ! " he faltered, incapable of hiding his
pained astonishment, " have you been so ill ?
" I have not been ill," said Royden, quietly, as he took
flervey's outstretched hand ; " I mean, not worse than 1
am now. If an illness is my doom, it is in the future, not
the past."
" Sit down," said Hervey, losing every trace of his old
i, ii8 he drew forward a large arm-chair, aud,
54f OLD KYDDELTONS MONEY.
taking a seat himself to insure Hoyden's taking hig, tried to
remove his frightened gaze from his companion's face so
worn and pallid, and yet bearing still, even in its weakness,
that wonderful strength of patience and steadfastness which,
far more than any difference in features and form, made the
contrast between these tsvo men so striking.
" How are all my old friends, Captain Trent ? " inqnired
Hoyden, seeing much of the change in Hervey for his
glance, though weary and feverish, had its old keen power
^-and wondering a little over it.
" All well," said Hervey, trying to talk easily. " I hare
A) me as messenger from one of them."
" Are Mrs. and Miss Trent in London still ? "
The question was cool and easy, and the listener could
not detect its motive.
"Yes," rejoined Hervey, with unconcealed indifference,
" indeed they are."
" And your other cousins ? "
" Phosbe," replied Hervey, feeling his way gradually to
the message, " could not be better, I fancy ; she enjoys
three days for every one she lives this season."
" That is pleasant for her."
" But Honor," resumed Captain Trent, not succeeding
in his effort to be quite at ease, "does not seem well, or
happy."
No answer, and Royden's eyes were fixed upon the sunny
grass beyond the open window. But even Hervey could
see that some thought had deeply shadowed them.
"And she bade me," continued Hervey, his voice taking
an earnestness which the memory of her words had brought,
"see you, Mr. Keith, and tell you this message ; I must
say it in her own words, it will be easiest ai d best. She
said, 'Will you tell him that I have a great longing to
see my own cousin, Gabriel Myddekon, arid I beg him
to help me, if he can.' That was her message, Keith,
/nst as she entrusted it to me. What answer may I take
her?"
" You shall take her Gabriel's own answer, ]f yon will,'*
he said, speaking sadly, after a slight pause. " He will be
grateful for this message from the only one of all his house
has erer spcken kindly of him, or doubted his
OLD MYDD ELTON'S MONET. 843
We will be very glad of it, especially if you deliver it your-
elf, as you have done to me."
" But how would that be possible ? "
"Would you go to him if it were possible ? "
"Yes certainly. I would fulfil Honor's wish to tko
letter."
" Then, if you will stay with me to-night, I will give you
an address in Liverpool where, to morrow, you will find
Gabriel Myddelton where now his wife is waiting to
receive him."
" His wife."
" His wife," repeated Eoyden, quietly. "For some time
she has been staying here with an old friend of hers, the
(ady whom you met just now ; but yesterday she went to
Liverpool to await the vessel la which her husband sailed
from America. His life is safe on English ground now, and
he is glad to come."
" How did he know ? " faltered Capiain Trent.
" I telegraphed to him the very hour his innocence was
proved. I hoped to go and greet him when he landed, but
I could not."
Hervey sat in silence, his thoughts growing tangled.
" This is all so strange," he said, when at last one of
those thoughts found words. "Can Gabriel Myddelton
really be landing in England to-day ? "
"Really!"
" And married ? "
" And married, Captain Trent. Even with that brand
upon his name, he found one whonvould link her life with
his, and who but that her health failed, and he entreated
ver to save it for his sake would never have parted from
^im."
" And she has been here ? "
" Yes, visiting me for some time ; we are very old friends ;
and Miss Henderson and she are very old friends, too. I
Should have gone with her, as I said, if had been better. I
noped Miss Henderson would go instead, but she would not
consent to leave me. So Alice Myddelton went with Mr
Romer you have not forgotten what a good fellow your
old rector was, Captain Trent ?"
" Jndeed I have not, though he was never very fond of me."
844 OLD MYDDELTON S MONET.
They talked a little longer, but never alluded again to
those old days in Station ; and presently dinner was an-
nounced. Royden took his place at table, but Hervey
noticed that he touched nothing on his plate, and though
he talked a little, Hervey could see that his strength wns
Boon exhausted, and that Miss Henderson grew painfully
snxious.
With an unusual thoughtfulness, Captain Trent strolled
out alone after dinner, and, when he came in, he devoted
himself to the old lady, and left Royden to what rest he
could obtain.
Captain Trent was ready next morning for the earliest
train to Liverpool industriously and anxiously was he ful-
filling this trust confided to him but early as it was,
Royden came down into the hall as the horses drew up at
the door.
" You will find no difficulty, I think," he said, with a
grasp of his hot fingers. " I am very glad you are going,
and your cousin will be glad too."
" Honor, you mean ?"
' No ; I mean Gabriel."
" Have you any message for Honor ? " inquired Hervey,
hoping that he should not need to tell her how Mr. Keith
was looking.
" No," he answered, without a change of tone, for he
had schooled himself for this. " Her wish ;*ill be fulfilled.
She will see her cousin, Gabriel Myddelton."
From the carriage, Hervey looked back upon the two
stand ing in old-fashioned hospitality to see him off.
" He looks dying," mused Captain Trent to himself,
with an uncomfortable shudder, " and the old lady seems to
know it too. She is not very wise, though, to show so
plainly that she knows it. Even the servants seem under a
cloud. I verily believe he has made them fond of him, in
an old-fashioned sort of style. They do not look like
domestic machines. How courageously he defied his illness
iast night, when he went out to speak to those fishermen,
and how he entered into all they had to say, standing there
wiih his dogs about him. I believe even the doga are
fretting to pee him changed."
Hervey Trent did not arrive in Liverpool until a whole
OLD MTDDELTON'S MONET. 84*
day after the landing of the passengers from the Canard
steamer, and he had little difficulty in finding Gabriel
Myddelton at the hotel to which Koyden had directed him.
The moment he met his cousin face to face, he knew him.
It was the face from the picture at Abbot smoor ; it was the
face, though BO much changed, of the boy-cousin Hervey
could remember playing with, and always envying as heir of
Abbotsmoor, and of old Myddelton's money.
Involuntarily he held out his hand, and welcomed
Gabriel in tones the.'- vere ^usually warm and genial for
Captain Hervey Trent. Of course Gabriel did not recognize
trim at first, and, when he did, his welcome seemed much
colder than Hervey's ; but this was only due to the reserve
which had grown upon him during his twelve years' banish-
ment.
Beside his manner, that of Alice seemed almost cor Jial.
Perhaps much of her timidity had left her, now that she felt
her husband near her once again, and in safety ; bui
perhaps it was the contrast to Gabriel's dreamy reticence.
Hervey had just repeated again, word for word, the
message with which he had been charged, and Gabriel had
answered, with a gratitude which was almost touching, that
he would go in person to thank Honor, after he had seen
Hoyden, when a telegram was brought into the room.
It was addressed to Alice, but her fingers trembled
BO sadly, while she held it, that Gabriel gently took it and
opened it for her ; Hervey, waiting beside them, felt hi
heart sink with fear. The telegram was from Miss Hen-
derson at Wedtleigh Towers, and these were the words it
bore :
" At Mr. Keith's request I send this to stop your return
here. For you in your delicate health, and for Mr.
Myddelton, after his voyage, it would be highly unwise to
come. Ask Mr. Myddelton to let us know where you stay,
and I will write. Mr. Keith even wished me to leave him
too. It is aggravated typhoid fever, Dr. Franklin fears,
but he has telegraphed for further advice. We can easily
guess by what it has been brought on, and indeed by what
accelerated since. Of course I shall not leave. I will write,
but lo not be alarmei if you do not hear very soon. Every
Miate of my day is too little to guve him."
846 OLD MYDDELTOJTS MONET.
" Oh, Gabriel! " cried his wife, clasping her hands nhont
his arm when the telegram fell from his fingers. " What
shall we do ? Oh, poor, poor Roy ? "
" There is but one thing for me to do," said Gabriel, witl>
intense sorrow in his face and voice ; " but, dear wil'e^
where can I leave you ? "
" How do you mean ? "
" That I must go to him ; but I am such a stranger now
in my native land that I cannot choose for you, except that
as he says you must not go to "Westleigh."
Then Hervey came to the rescue.
"If Mrs. Myddelton will let me escort her to London,"
he said, earnestly, " I am sure I could not take back to
Honor any better acknowledgment of her message."
" ])o you think so ? " inquired Gabriel, eagerly. " You
know her best, do you really think so ? "
" 1 am sure, very sure," replied Hervey, promptly ; " here
is Mr. Romer ; ask him, for he knows Honor too."
It was readily settled, and Mr. Romer (who had invented
business in Liverpool most of that day, thinking his com-
pany unneeded) seconded the idea so warmly, and made the
arrangements with such promptness, that the plan was
carried out almost as soon as proposed. Mr. Romer himself
returned, by his own particular wish, to Westleigh Towers ;
and though Gabriel fancied he went as guide to him, the real
reason was the rector's earnest desire to be with Royden now.
They travelled only halfway by rail, and then, fiudingno
fast train would take them on, and no train at all would
stop at Westleigh that night, they posted ; and having four
strong horses they could see the castellated towers of Roy-
den's home rise before them in the melancholy light of the
July midnight
Just at that hour Gabriel's wife sat with Honor Craven in
the luxurious little dressing-room which (as well as the
chamber beyond, with its girlish trifles lying about, and its
soft pink hangings) had been hastily prepared for A ice,
and tried to tell her the story of her life.
" I can tell it to you," she had sobbed in her fatigue and
helplessness, when she had rend the lovely earnest face of
this new cousin, who met her so kindly ar/d made her sa
wonder {'nil v at home, " I wonder why."
OLD MYDDELTON'3 MONET. 3<1?
" Because," said Honor, with her bright, sweet smile, " I
am the nearest relation your husband has, and should like
lo he a near friend of yours."
There was a wonderful contrast between the two girlg at
they sat together before the pleasant little fire which Hono'
hud ordered because the midnight air was chill, and Alice
(partly in fear, and partly in weakness) had been shivering
downstairs. Not in the features alone was this contrast
evident, but, more strongly still, in the natures which looked
from their eyes The strength and steadfastness of the one,
the perfect oblivion of self and wide thought for others, and
the gentle helpfulness, no less than the rich and radiant
beauty, made more evident the nervous timidity, the shy,
mistrusting reticence, and the shrinking from responsibility,
no less than the fair, fragile prettiness of the other.
"I have not much to tell, but I wish I could tell it
better What he has done for Gabriel, I dare not speak of ;
Gabriel must tell it for himself. His has been a long, long
course of kindness, which he has practised just naturally, as
he does all good things. Oh ! if I could only tell you of
these kindnesses for me and for Gabriel if I only could
but I cannot. Miss Craven, what have I said to bring the
tears to your eyes ? It was in Germany, nearly twelve
years ago you have heard of tho old gentleman who left
his name and property to Mr. Keith ? It was just before
that time that I met him first, since (seven years before)
we had been children together, and near neighbours in an
English county. He was a barrister, though he was not
practising just then, and his name was Royden Sydney. He
went to America after that on the same vessel he, and my
father and I. He was a very rich man then, and going to
the New World for pleasure. On that voyage "
" Do not tell me to-night," put in Honor, with a gentle
caress, as she saw the tears gather in Alice's eyes.
" Yes, I would rather tell, please. On that voyage my
father died quite suddenly, and I was left entirely alone in
the world, for I had no other relation I had even no
friend . What a friend he was upon that voyage, and after-
wards, I never could tell you. His care and friendship did
not ( ease when we had landed, and it was only through hia
help (^exerted in so many ways) that I obt-**ued a livelihood.
848 OLD JtrDDELTON'S MONEY.
for my father's income died with him, and I was almost
pennile.iss. One day I remember it as if it might have
been to-day there appeared at the house of the gentleman
whose wife had, at Mr. Keith's request, taken me to be her
companion, a young man who, not having found the master
at the office, had come on to the house, and been admitted
amongst us all. That very evening Mr. Keith (he was an
honoured guest there) had returned from Peru, and he
happered to be with us when this young man entered. I
saw him watching the scene keenly, and I felt that what he
Baw of the new-comer he liked or recognized. The merchant
would not engage a clerk who came with no testimonials
and no recommendations, unless he could give security for
two hundred pounds. I saw the quiet, steady look deepen-
ing in Mr. Keith's eyes it was so sad to me to watch the
anxious face of the young man who, though evidently an
English gentleman, pleaded so urgently for this situation,
that I watched Mr. Keith instead then presently he said
he would pay the security down, and Mr. Hollys, the Boston
merchant, could repay it to his clerk when he dismissed
him. From that time GaJbriel and I "
" I understand," said Honor, softly, when ehe paused.
"And we married soon," resumed Alice, wiping away
her tears hurriediy ; " and we loved each other dearly, and
were very happy, though our lives have known many sor-
rows, and our hearts have often failed and fretted. But
the greater part have all been lightene I for us by that one
kind hand, and our sorrow often turnei to joy by him.
Oh ! how I wish that I could tell you how."
" At last," she went on presently, folding her weak
hands in her lap, " my health Jailed, and Gabriel's heart
ueemed breaking, because they told him that, to save my
life, I must be sent home to England, and he knew he
dared not come. He had told me all the story of old Mr.
Myddelton's murder, and of the trial, every word, before
he won my promise to marry him ; and so, of course, I
knew why we could not go, for neither he nor I had any
English friends ; but again our one true friend came to
the rescue, and he brought me to his own beautiful home.
That was two years a<ro, and I have been getting better
and stronger ever since. .Now that Gabriel has come. I
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 849
know that I shall soon be quite stroner again. I found,
one day, in that foreign land, an old friend of my mother's,
who, through loss of her property invested in mines, wa?
living a struggling life out there ; and quite unthinl*
iugly I told Gabriel, in Mr. Keith's presence, of how I
had traced her. Eoyden remembered this as he remem-
bers all opportunities for kindiiess and, when the question
arose about my going to England, and he said he was
returning, and gave me that offer of a home, he begged
that she should come too ; and you know the rest. Our
home at Westleigh Miss Henderson's and mint -has been
a peaceful and happy one. No word or glance haji ever told
that it was not ours equally with his ; and for those two
years he has tried, ah ! so earnestly and patiently, to clear
Gabriel's name, that my husband might come and live
again in his native country. Gabriel had told him the
whole story when he so generously offered me this home in
England, for we thought it might make him retract the offer.
Yet how could we ever think that of him ? It only made
him determine for he never doubted Gabriel's version of
the story, never to trace out the real murderer, if it were
in man's power to do so. You know that he has succeeded,
as no other man could ; for, but for his pity and his help,
Margaret Territ would have burnt that confession. Oh !
how full my heart is when I B\t,ak of him, and what can I
ever do in return ? What can I ever do, but what the
very smallest child he helps may do as well just pray my
God to bless him."
Honor's head was bowed upon her hands, and it was no'
until Phoebe tapped gently at the door to hasten her, thai
she raised her face again ; then Alice saw the marks of
tears, and wished she had not told any sad tales to-night.
On the next day but one came the anxiously expected
letters, one from Miss Henderson, and one from Gabriel,
both short and very sad.
Miss Henderson told of the fluctuating nature of Royden'a
fever, of the skill of the four physicians, of the calmness of
the Sister engaged as nurse, and of the unfeigned sorrow of
the servants ; finishing with the hope that Alice herself was
better, the letter being evidently a composition studied,
from beginning to end, to k<:ep up her spirits.
850 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
But Gabriel's was different. He told of the violence of
the fever, the awful suffering, and the intermittent attacks
of delirium ; of the total absence of all rest or ease ; the
discouraging opinions of the physicians ; the dulness of the
nurse, and the awkwardness of which he himself was pain-
fully conscious in his own attendance beside the sick-bed.
jUice read this letter aloud, as she had read the other ;
but suddenly, as she reached the end of the sad recital, she
made an abrupt pause.
" I I think I will not read the rest," she said, in her
nervous, frightened way ; it may grieve you, Honor."
Honor gazed at her in mute surprise.
" Grieve me," she echoed, sadly. " Could anything
grieve me more deeply than those words which you have
just read ?"
" This is about yourself that is why I stopped," ex-
plained Alice, characteristically.
" Will you read it, please ? "
" You are sure you wish it ? "
" Quite quit^ sure."
Alice took up the letter again and read ; and when she
had finished, Hon^r answered, " Thank you," very softly,
while Alice wondered over the nature she could not under-
stand ; for these were the words she had read
" Chiefly, in all 1 is delirium, he calls one name Honor.
Can it be my cousin he longs to see ? You had better not
tell her, perhaps, as it is very sad to hear it ; and 1 would
rather not know that she has given him such a deep
unhappiness as I feel him to be suffering, when I listen t
the toue in which he calls her, or speaks to her. It makes
this bitter watching more bitter even than it need be ; and
oh, Alice, I feel now for him as I used to feel for myself
how impossible it is to minister to a mind diseased. ' Do
not tell her,' I said and yet I leave it to you. You will
know best."
A few minutes afterwards, Honor went alone into the
library, where Hervey waited to hear the tidings from
Westleigh. He started when she came in, for she might
have passed through a long illness since he had seen her
last nierlif. But she did not wait for him to question her.
"litncy," she said, "I do not look at me so ; I aas
OLD MTDDELTOK'S MONET. 851
well I only want to speak to yon, Hervey. Phoebe will
tell you of Gabriel's letter ; I will send her to you. 1 ain
going on a journey, and I want to know if you will come
with me. You took the same journey for me once before
for me then, not with me. Cousin Hervey, will you come
with me now to Wcstleigh Towers ? Can you come at
once now, please, Hervey, or we may be too late."
** Honor, dear Honor, I am ready."
CHAPTER XL.
My shadow falls upon my grave,
So near the brink I stand.
Hooo.
WHILE Phoebe was still telling Captain Trent of Gabriel's
letter, Honor re-entered the room, her hat tilted low over
t-r tell-tale eyes.
" Take care of Gabriel's wife," she whispered, her pulses
quickening as the carriage rolled past the window near
which they stood, and the restive horses were pulled up
before the door.
" I wish I had ascertained about the trains," fretted
Hervey, as he followed the girls into the hall, " If there
are none beyond Langham, I don't know what we shall do."
"I have sent a groom on horseback," said Honor,
quietly, " and he is to telegraph on for pose horses. Good-
bye, dear little Frau ? "
Yet for all her quietness, Hervey felt her hand tremble
on his arm, when he led her out to the carriage, and through
the whole journey, though she sat so still and patiently, the
restlessness and anxiety within her eyes were pitiful to see.
And beyond this, there was another misery which Hervey
little guessed of. The consciousness of what might have
been, if she had doubted then, as she had doubted now, those
words which Theodora Trent had represented as Hoyden's.
Doubted! Ah ! no, she had never doubted, even then.
" I I must have hated myself," she thought, " if I could
hrve believed him to have said them even then. But he
/f>2 OLD MYDDKhTuS'S MONET.
took me by surprise. She had only just told me, and not
as if the words were a falsehood."
By Honor's wish, the chaise was stopped at the park gates
of Westleigh Towers, and she and Hervey descended. A
little crowd had collected at the door of the lodge ; women
who had run from their cottages to hear the latest tidings ;
fishermen who had walked straight up from the beach to
hear of the master before they entered their own homes ;
men and women who had walked from the mills to-day
round the high-road, on purpose to hear what might be
learnt from the physicians, as they drove through these
western gates back to the station ; a homely throng, which
drew back when the foaming post-horses stopped at the
gate, and in spite of the anxiety upon their faces never
obtruded an inquisitive word or glance. Honor's sad eyes
rested on them for a minute, then she moved on with a
hurried start, for she dared not trust herself to hear the
words which they might say.
" Hervey," she said, glancing up at the castellated towers
as they neared the house, " how silent it is ! "
" Oh ! that's nothing," asserted Hervey, promptly. " Of
course there's no band playing, and that sort of thing. My
dear Honor, what sound would you have ? "
" It was so different when I was here before."
u Of course, because the house was full of guests."
" But even the dogs are gone ! "
"Yes, strange to say," returned Hervey, making an effort
to speak with a great deal of ease and unconcern, " they
persist in standing or lying about the hall in a manner
ridiculously abject. As if they need conspire to make things
more dismal than they are ! It is a mistake to cultivate dogs."
Hoyden's grave old butler showed no surprise when he
admitted the beautiful young lady, for whose coming no
preparation had been made, but he was conscious of a great
astonishment filling his mind, when he noticed how softly
and quietly she entered the sick-house, and how, as she
followed him across the hall, she stopped to speak by name
to one of Roy den's dogs, and to lay her hand caressingly
upon his drooping head. " She, too," thought the old man,
with a glance into her anxiou-s face, " is distressed about the
master." He was standing then beside the door to which
OLD MYDDEI/TON'S MONEY. 353
he had led her, but just at that moment Mr. Keith's valet
happened to cross the hall, and Honor, who knew him well,
paused, her eyes full of mute and anxious questioning. But
Pierce, with only a silent bow, passed on. How could he
stop there in the full light he, a man of middle age with
his eyes full of tears?
" Hervey," whispered Honor, when the cousins were left
alone in the long drawing-room, " I saw a Sister of Mercy
on the stairs, and she she had no hope in her face."
" They never have," asserted Hervey, glibly, " never, my
dear. They wouldn't be proper Sisters if they had."
Miss Henderson answered immediately the note from
Alice Myddelton, which was given her with Honor's card,
and she came in to greet Miss Craven with the most strong-
minded determination to give cheerful impressions generally,
and to report, with particular cheerfulness, of Royden. But
Miss Henderson was not by any means a strong-minded
person, her heart being some hundreds of years from its
fossil condition ; and so it happened that the moment she
met Honor's eyes she broke down ignominiously, and cried
like a child. And Honor, holding both her hands, and
kissing her now and then in her gentle, pitiful way, cried
with her, while Hervey kept his face turned to the window.
But Miss Henderson had not come then from the sick-
room, and she herself was waiting anxiously for tidings.
" The physicians are in consultation," she said, " and only
the nurse in attendance of course with Mr. Myddelton.
Pierce sent to London for Sir Edward Graham yesterday,
and he is here to-day too, and brought another physician
with him. Pierce says Mr. Keith knew Sir Edw;ird very
well, and often visited him in London. Dr. Franklin, of
Westleigh, has been here ever since the first alarm. But
they all say the same thing," sobbed Miss Henderson, again
forgetting her determination, " that there is imminent
danger in these restless attacks of fever alternating with
inch death-like exhaustion. I, through all those three or
four weeks before the fever asserted itself, was haunted
by a fear of what was coming. He said it was weariness
headache ; he said sometimes that it was nothing. But
I knew he could not look no unless something else was
854 OLD MTDDELTON'S MONEY.
]t was just at this moment that the room door was
opened, and Honor, turning her eyes to see, started to her
feet with a cry which sounded almost glad.
" Gabriel ! "
He, too, had recognised her in that moment, and the
cousins met with both hands extended, while for that
moment there was a smile on each of their faces.
" Honor," said Gabriel, very quietly, " of course I knew
you, Honor."
She told him how she had longed to see him, and how
glad she was that he had come home, though
" Yes," he said, finishing the sentence for her, sadly.
" Though it was so good to come home, this has turned the
pleasure into pain."
Then he tried to change his tone again, and tell her he
had recognised her in a moment from what Eoyden had
written of her, and how he thanked her for her trust in las
innocence, of which Royden had told him too. Bkit her
thoughts would scarcely follow these words, and he knew it.
"I am to await the physicians here," he said, only
glancing at his wife's letter, when Hervey gave it to him,
but putting it carefully into his pocket-book.
" She is well," said Hono' 1 , gently, " only so very anxious."
" She knows," he said, " that we are only watching here
to see him die ! "
" God is so good ! " breathed Honor, softly.
" Mr. Myddelton," put in Miss Henderson, " with a little
sternness in her tone, " you always fear the worst the very
worst."
" How can I help fearing," questioned Gabriel, betraying
the timidity which had been so fatal to him years ago,
" when I think what he has been to me and to my wife, and.
how powerless I am now to help or give him ease."
" Is he always unconscious ? " asked Hervey.
"Always ; as far as we can judge. He sometimes seeing
to wake to a little quickened intelligence, but it is only to
fall back into the old vajue or fevered wandering. Mist
Henderson is right, I do fear the vftry worst. All my old
nervousness and mistrust come back to me in the presence
of this anguish. Yet I had fancied that these long twelve
years, and his help, and his example, had made me stronger
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. sr5
and more trustful. Honor, has Alice told j ou what he has
been to us ? "
" To her," said Honor, every word an effort to her. " She
said you would tell me more some day."
" Let me tell you now, while we can do nothing but wait
here. There may come a time when I dare not speak of
it ; when it will break my heart to recall, in words, his
prompt, unquestioning trust in my innocence of that crime
which banished me ; his patient efforts to clear my name,
and make it possible for me to come home ; his manlike
forbearance when suspicion rested basely even on himself;
his true, earnest help, through these twelve years; and,
abo^e all, that simple, generous kindliness of hi?, which was
.the cause, at last as nothing else on earth could have been
of my innocence being proved. Honor, I can only tell
you now the story of our first meeting, but even that will
tell you much I dare not speak of. You have heard of my
escape from prison, and the rumour (which was true) that
I sailed from England to America in an emigrant vessel.
My steerage passage was taken for me by the man whom
Territ employed to see me on board, and then I had just
five shillings in my pocket, which I slipped into his hand in
gratitude when we parted. Neither my watch nor my ring
could I venture to sell, because the Mydtlelton crest upon
them might have led to my capture. I had left them in
Margaret Turrit's care on the night 1 had changed my coat
at her cottage, but she had given them back to me on my
escape from the jail. She had offered me money all she
had but that of course I would not touch. Even in
America, and even to keep myself from destitution, I felt I
never should dare to part with my wutch and ring, such a
terror of detection was upon me ever.
" That was a miserable voyage, even beyond the misery of
dwelling on the injustice which had forced me to this fliglic.
Of course I naturally shrank from all companionship wiUi
those about me, but I knew I should equally have done sc
if they had been of my own grade. What fellowship had
I now with any man on earth ? The poor wretches around
me, huddling together in poverty and uncleanliness, ha<?
more companionship with one another than I had with any-
one under that wide stretch of sky, which was all 1 cared to
356 OLD MYDDELTON : S MONET.
look upon; fur could I regret the shore I left behind, cr
build one hope upon the shore I was to reach ? I know
now how different it might have been, even in that voyage ;
lnt it was, as I have said, a time of aLUte and morbid
Buffering to me.
" One gentleman among the cabin passengers often spoke
to me when I was on deck, often spoke, indeed, to many of
us. Of all the state passengers, he was the only one who
cuuld spare one of those idle hours on board fur such as I,
or who had a cheery word to give us in our seeming rough-
ness, or helplessness, or squalor. As good to me were
these hours he gave me as was the first glimpse of the old
country's shoies a week ago better, because sometimes, in
the quiet starlight, or the sunset time, he would talk of
another shore which was more surely home.
" When we landed at Levi Point, and I stood alone on
rihore among the luggage scarcely one article of which
belonged to myself hopeless and spiritless, and weighed
down with that sense of utter loneliness which I knew must
be my doom for ever, this gentleman came up to me. His
first- ciass ticket was for Boston, he said, and as he was not
going so far, he would like me to take it, because he knew
the third-class emigrant trains were often a week upon the
road. For one minute I morbidly resented his cognizance
of THV poverty, but in the next I humbly and gratefully
accepted his gift, knowing I could not have provided my-
Beif even with dry bread through that week of travelling.
When we stopped at Richmond, he sought me out
again, and in spite of my workman's dress and sullen
humour took me to dine, and talked with me as with an
equal (yet as no one had ever talked to me before) while
we walked back to the station at nightfall. The third-
class train was just coming m when we reached the station,
and I remember well how, for a few minutes, he stood back,
and, rather sadly and intently, watched the passengers as
they crowded out from the platform. Then he left me,
and moving quietly and easily among these poor tired
creatures, he seemed to give help or encouragement to all,
as God bless him ! I believe it is natural to him to do\
Honor, I remember once, when he had managed to get tea
for a forlorn little crowd innu\ who, like ujv.-,tlf, had uot
OLD MYDDKLTON'S MONEY. 357
penny in their pockets, and women and children who had not
tasted food for four-and-twenty hours, because like myself,
too they had not thought to store for after-use any of
their last meals on board), I saw them actually crying over
him, and touching him with a reverence which, in that
time and place, was terribly pathetic. Could 1 be
ashamed if I, too, were as foolish ?
" lie left the cars at the last station before Boston, and
when he took my hand and bade me God speed, I could
not answer him a single word, because I felt that our paths
in life could never cross again. But I was to meet him
once more in a week's time. Can I ever forget that firs
week in Boston ? Each day was worse to me, I think, than
those I had passed in the condemned cell, under sentence
of death. Every hour of daylight I spent in my pursuit of
work, toiling along every street of the great city, and call-
ing in at every office and every store. I had no need of
guide or directory, for I would call everywhere / I would not
raiss si single door until I either found employment or fell
by the way.
" Those were days of literal starvation, Honor ; and
when the darkness stopped me in my search, I could only
creep into a police-cell, and, with a tin of water for my
supper, lay myself down upon a board and try to sleep so ;
while other men lay near me, poor and homeless as myself.
" Sometimes, with a faint chance of success, I was sent
from one store to another at a distance, but always after
the vain effort I came back to the same spot, and went
on from door to door, never missing one, and often tempted,
instead of my vain request for work, to cry for a mouthful
of food. And often 1 was hurried back into the street with
suspicion, because so hungrily I had been watching the
dollars changing hands in the stores.
" Sometimes I met with men as weak and poor and hope-
less as myself, who had come from the old country with a
store of energy and money too, but had sunk until they
were what I saw them, deep in poverty and gloom. And
aomelimes I saw men rich and prosperous, and was told
that they had worked their own way up, without the aid of
capital or friends.
" Sometimes I mei with one of those who had sailed"
A A
*58 OLD
witli mo, and he would tell me, perhaps, of his bitter home-
3ickness, wondering that I did not own to that ; wondering,
above all, why I should hurry past the post-office, when?
iny own countrymen, in crowds, waited eagerly for news of
home. It is a sad tale to tell you, Honor, at this gad
time, but it will soon be over now.
" A week of this ceaseless work went past, and I was
gaunt and hollow-cheeked ; ill with almost constant ai_ r ue,
and having the appearance, as I knew quite well, of being
only half-witted, in my nervous attempts to conceal the face
that I was almost barefoot. At last, one day, came a change
of thought and plan which saved me.
" I was standing just within the door of a printer's office,
waiting for an opportunity of asking whether they would
engage me on what terms they chose, and leaning against
the packets of paper, ill, footsore, and famished, when a
sound, which had seemed to me the surging of waters about
my head, grew first into raised, distinct tones, then into
phrases which I could follow.
"Two men were comparing their early struggles for a
livelihood, and recalling how one turning-point had brought
them each success at last. In ray weakness, and with that
surging pain in my head, I could not follow the words quite
distinctly, yet this one thing I understood my only chance
of obtaining employment was to seek it as a gentleman
(what a mockery it was to recall my old life now !), and as
if employment were of little value to me.
" I knew what the men meant, and I crept from the
store, and tried to rouse my failing energies 10 think out
this thought, and face my possibility of success. I vat
successful, Honor ; not because these men were right iu
their random assertion, and not because I acted my now
part well, but because on that day Heaven was so merciful
IB to guide me to the one who had helped and befriended
fie before.
" It was my last desperate chance, and of course I was
willing to stake upon it the little I possessed. I even dared
the possibility of being traced, for if it failed what was
my freedom worth ?
" Tn return for my watch and ring I obtained a pnif of
clothes m which I might "begin my new search at gentle*
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 35$
man. It never entered my head to doubt its being worth
what I paid for it, and I was truly grateful to the man who
equipped me. When he asked me to accept a shilling for
my dinner, and, following me to the door, said kindly
that he should be very glad to hear of my luck, I felt
in my new-born hope that I could hardly thauk hiir
enough.
"If Alice told you of our first meeting, Honor, you know
the rest of my story. From the office of a rich stock-
broker, to whom that very day I applied for an engagement,
I was sent on to his private residence. It was the house in
which Alice lived as governess, and Royden Keith was
visiting there that very day. The master of the house
heard all I hud to say, but told me decisively then that he
could engage no man for a post of trust without securities.
He told me afterwards thai he said it chiefly to get rid of
rne, thinking me sickly, and unpleasantly persistent. Some-
how just then Mr. Keith seemed to take the arrangement of
the matter quietly into his own hands, and I was engaged.
Ah, what a night of gratitude and hope that was, and with
what joy I walked two miles next morning at daybreak, to
tell the tailor of my success !
" When I had been in that office only one year, Honor, I
had won my employer's confidence, and the money was
repaid to Royden Keith which he had advanced for me.
Two years afterwards, Alice and I were married, and for a
wedding gift my employer gave me the share in his business
which it had been my ambition some day to buy. Soon
ai'i erwards he died, aud when news came to me, three week?
ago, that I might come home, I was able to sell the business
to my junior partner, and bring home an income sufficient
for our wants.
" Honor, you see that it is not only my liberty I owe to
Roydeu Keith, but all that 1 possess, and even nay life, 1
think."
Honor's eyes were covered with her hand ; Hervey had
walked away again to the window, and there was utter
silence in the room when Gabriel's voice ceased. But
luddenly Honor rose, her whole form trembling, for her
risteuing ears had caught the physicians' steps.
They all three came quietly into the room, t.vo irenilmnen
SCO OLD HYDDELTON'S MOXET.
with white hair and giave, thoughtful faces, and one with
young but careworn features, and an unconquerable ner-
vousness, which yet betrayed no want of skill or decision.
This was Dr. Franklin, of Westleigh, and in a moment he
recognised Honor, whom he had often met at Station
Rectory. When he had spoken to her, and was about to
return to the sick-room with Gabriel, one of the elder
physicians came forward, making his shrewd guess with
promptness.
" Miss Honor Craven," he said, as if he felt that in such
a scene as this there was no need of form, " I could
hardly be a London man and not know you by sight and
name. Will you pardon my bluntness if I ask you one
question ? "
She offered him her hand with a faint little smile, and
while he spoke he kept it in his own.
" Our patient, in his delirium, calls one name persistently,
not consciously, nor with any knowledge that he c;il's it,
but still at any moment it might be that he knew her. It
is Honor. Is she here ? "
" Yes."
The girl's answer was a very whisper, but the old physician
heard it.
" I see. And are you prepared to witness his acute and
restless suffering ? Should you be afraid to see the frequeiit
changes of strife and exhaustion ? Think well before you
speak, for your presence must either do great good or serious
harm."
" You will be unwise to permit it, Sir Edward," put in
the other London physician ; " it is not a post for her. It
is not a sight for one who has never seen life hanging by a
thread."
" I have great confidence," rejoined Sir Edward, with a
sign for his silence, " in a naturally fine and unimpaired
constitution. If he can only have a little sleep "
" If I may go," said Honor, raising her eyes to Sir
Edward, who read their bravery and patience through their
yearning, " I will do exactly what you bid me. I can be
very still and silent, and I am very wakeful. I am used to
sickness ; I am used, even, to death. Please to ieei how
Bteudy uiy hand is."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 861
It was not Hervey only who turned away his eyes, as if
the pathos of her low words hurt him.
" Can you rest first ? " Sir Edward asked, presently. " It
would fit you a little better for your watch."
" The only rest that I can know," she said, " will be to
watch him."
" That is well," put in the strange physician, in a tone of
relief, as, for the first time, he removed his critical gaze
from her face, "it will be well, Graham ; let Miss Craven
go. For her it is kinder to consent than to pretend to spare
her ; and for him we shall see."
"Thank you," she said, with touching simplicity. "I
will do exactly as you bid me. Hervey," she added, la\ ing
both her hands upon her cousin's, " you will tell them the
doctors let me stay ? Give them my love, and take care
of them. Good-bye."
"I think," remarked Sir Edward, aside to his friend,
u that we shall not regret this step."
With Honor's parting words, and Gabriel's message to
his wife, and Miss Henderson's tearful assurance that she
would not Jet Miss Craven over-fatigue herself, and Sir
Edward Graham's remark that Honor's presence was hia
strongest source of hope for his patient, Hervey left West-
leigh Towers that evening.
" I cannot wait to see you after you have been to him,
Honor," he said ; " if it is as Dr. Franklin and Gabriel
fear, I dare not."
So he went, as Honor followed Sir Edward Graham to
Boyden's chamber.
302 OLD MYDDELTON'S MuNET.
CHAPTER XLI.
Friendship often ends in Love, but
Love in Friendship never.
COLTOW.
PHCEBE OWEN had had an invitation for that night, which,
A little time before, it would have cost her a bitter pang to
refuse ; yet she hovered kindly and cheerfully now about
Alice Myddelton, and entertained her pleasantly witl,
desultory chat, which, though it might not be of a deep
or original character, was yet varied withal, and sufficiently
enlivening to make these waiting hours pass easily for
Alice.
Yet Phoebe was, all the time, listening anxiously for the
pound of wheels, or the visitors' bell, or the bharp, double
I aj> of a telegraph messenger. And when, at last, a cab
stopped, and a familiar step ascended the stairs, it was
Phoebe who sprang first to her feet, and it was Phoebe's
eairer voice which uttered the first greeting and question.
" Oh, Hervey, we are so glad to see you ! Where is
Honor ? How is Mr. Keith ? "
" No better," he answered, as he took her hand.
" No better," she echoed, mournfully. " Oh Alice, think
of that, alter our long waiting ! "
But Alice had hidden her face, and was crying bitterly;
so Phoebe's energies were immediately devoted to soothing
and cheering her ; and Hervey (totally at a loss himself
lelt little inclination to treat her excitement with his old
languid contempt.
To his great relief dinner was sorn announced, and
Phoebe turned to him with a simple, but to him rather
comical, assumption of the matronly hostts*.
" Will you take Mrs. Myddelton, Hervey, and I will
follow ? "
Of course he offered her his other arm, but she refused
it, with a remembrance of his old prejudice, and walked
demurely behind them, with no anxiety. about a cover not
g laid for Hervey, so long as any one of Honor's ser-
knew that, he was iu the house.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 363
To each one of the little party the presence of the ser-
vants during the next hour was art lief. The restraint
and the necessity for trivial t-ubjects of conversation were
a preparation for what there was to tell and to hear,
and a pause of rest between the old suspense and the new
certainty.
Hervey did his best to make the meal a pleasant one ;
and Phoebe, at the head of the table, did her best to take
Honor's place ; while the ease of both her guests, and the
active courtesy of one, proved that she had to a certain
extent succeeded. Yet could they not shake off the vague
shadow of fear which brooded among them.
" May I come ? " inquired Ilervey, as Phoebe and Alice
passed him at the door. " I have no wish to stay if I shall
not intrude."
They nodded with a smile, and he followed them to the
drawing-room, for he was, in reality, anxious to get their
questions all answered, and his messages delivered.
" Had Gabriel no hope, Captain Trent ? " inquired Alice,
without introduction, as she stood beside the window, her
liantls locked before her.
"It is a very hopeless household just at present," he
answered, sadly ; " but Honor said I must tell yon
thtt Sir Edward Graham has great confidence in Mi
Keith's fine and unimpaired constitution, and thinks if he
can sleep it may be all right. I fear the other doctors do
not agree with him ; but still Honor told me to tell you
that ; and and she asked me to remind you that the issue
is in Kinder Hands than any of ours, and that if it is
life worih pra\ing for," concluded Hervey, brokenly.
" Had Honor seen him ? " asked Phoebe, pre-ently.
" Not before I left. I would not wait to see her after-
ward?, if I could have done so, because Miss Henderson
told me that if she lov if she felt for him, the sight of his
suffering would be like death to her. I'm sure it seemed to
have had almost that effect upon your husband, Mrs.
Myddelton. Now mny I try to give you his long messnge ? "
".Phoebe!" cried Alice, as Phoebe moved towards the
dnor at these words, " please do not go. My husband's is
no secret message.''
Phoebe stopped and turned, blushing as she met ITcrvey's
864 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONTTT.
gaze, for it betrayed both his appreciation of her thought-
fulness and his pleasure at her return to the gruiip.
The message was soon given ; and then, in softened
roices, as they lingered together, they talked still of Royden.
But after the subject had been broken by the entrance 01
the servants with coffee, they each avoided perhaps in
thoughtfulness for the others a recurrence to it
" Hervey," said Phoebe, very much appreciating her novel
position of the most useful and important member of
the party, " were you not surprised when you heard that
Lawrence Haughton had gone abroad ? "
" Not so much surprised as I was when I called for my
letters a few hours ago, to find that Theo and her mother go
abroad to-morrow. My aunt sends me the information in
time for me to call if I choose."
"And you will ?" questioned Phoebe, with a quick and
inexplicable blush.
"Not I."
" Can you picture Jane alone at The Larches ? " she
asked, with a perceptible lightening of her tone " Honor
is going to ask her to Abbotsmoor, though she has so many
tunes refused to come here."
" But have you heard the latest news of all ? "
" About whom ? "
" Your ex-guardian's ex-clerk. My man told me this
evening when I called at my rooms. It seems that the
day before yesterday Slimp wrote to Mrs. Trent (with
whom Lawrence had always had business intercourse),
paying that as he had a private communication of grcaf
importance to make to her, by which he could save her from
heavy financial loss, he should have the pleasure of wait-
ing upon her immediately after his letter. He drove to
Ilarley Street in a hired waggonette, and just as the driver
pulled up the horse before my aunt's door, something
frightened the animal, and it shied suddenly. Slimp had
been leaning back in his seat at that moment, his neck
against the edge of the rails, and the sudden start in
that attitude broke his neck. He lived for an hour, and
spent that hour in a vain and horrible effort to speak use-
less, of course ; and no one will ever know either what im-
portant information he had been going to give my aunt, or
OLD MYDDELTOX'S MONEY. 365
what possible confession he might, ia that last hour, have
wished to make. I don't know, of course," concluded
Hervey, " but I fancy the statement he wished to make
would have been a betrayal of somebody's confidence, for a
pirpose of his own ; but let us give him the benefit of the
doubt, as death overtook him so horribly."
" It was horrible indeed ! I remember Lawrence told HB
be was in London."
" Yes, and, strange to say, my man saw him going from
liere only a few minutes before he sent the letter to Miss
Trent. I cannot understand it."
Nor of course could either of his companions. Of the
only two who understood it, one was on the Atlantic, and
the other watching beside a sick-bed.
Hervey Trent had decided to go back to Westleigh
Towers next day ; so, before he left, Alice Myddelton weut
away to write a letter to her husband.
" And you, Pboabe ? " questioned Hervey. " Shall you
write to Honor ? "
" No, I think not. You can tell her all I could tell, and
she will not care to have to read letters now."
He was looking curiously at her, wishing he could have
heard or seen her reception of the news of Lawrence
Haughton's departure, which she had told him so coolly
" Phoebe," he asked, standing before her, and laying his
soft white hands upon her shoulders, " are you fretting ? "
"Fretting ! How do you mean, Hervey ! "
" I mean pardon me, Phoebe, because we are such old
friends I mean, are you sorry Haughton has left Eng-
land ?"
A real laugh ran through her lips.
" I did not care at all," she said, honestly ; " I cannot
even understand now how I ever could have cared."
" That's right."
" Why ? " she asked, puzzled more by his manner than
his words. " It would have been quite natural to have
fretted for my old guardian."
" Quite. But still I would rather you did not."
" Why ? " she asked, again.
" You would have fretted for him if you had loved him
still."
8C6 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
"Of course I should."
" And equally of course I would rather that yon did not
fret."
" I thought it unnatural not to feel it more," she snid.
only vaguely comprehending Hervey's meaning, yet feeling
a quiet sense of happiness steal over her, as she read a new
i.iterest in his face and tones.
" Phoebe," he said presently, "do you think that anyone
who has spent a good many years of his life loving one
person with all his heart would be wrong to end by loving
gome one elt-e ?"
" Why should he be ? " she questioned simply.
" And do you think that you could trust anyone who said
he loved you, if he owned at the same time that you were
not his first love, nor nor loved quite in the same way ? "
" 1 do not quite understand you," said Phoebe, her face
suffused with blushes. " Are you throwing back upon me
iny old silly love for Lawrence ? "
He smiled at the feeble barricade through which the fire
of her blushes frankly displayed itself. " I am telling you,"
he siiid, growing more and more earnest, "of a love for
Honor which I have always nourished without a shade
of encouragement. I am telling you that now I know
tin's love to be most hopeless, and I am asking you if you
think that, having feit this love, I have any right to offer
another love elsewhere ? "
It is not to be supposed that Phoebe understood his
nature sufficiently to see that he had never yet felt deeply
enough really to suffer, and that this affection was as likclj
to be lasting as his first ambitious and persistent love. She
only said, in a tone which gave him more hope than could
any other reception of his confession,
" No one could help loving Hooor."
"Thank you, Phcebe," he exclaimed heartily ; "and you
see how hopeless that love is for me, because Honor's going
to Westleigh Towers shows that she loves some one else."
" Yes."
" I knew before," he added, softly. " And I feel as if I
had always known it."
" 1 n*ed fo fancy it, but I was never sure until she heard
of his liiu hs. nd," she added, with a thoughti'uluess
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 3G7
which was new to lier voice, " none of us, who knew Honor,
can believe in the possibility of her loving a second time."
"I never dreamed of that, Phoebe ; never. I have put
away the old love for ever."
Another pause, and then he gently took her hands, and
holding them between his own, asked her oue more
question.
" Phoebe, we know all about each other, don't we ? even
about those other loves which will never be anything more
to either of us and we have been good friends, and we got
on well together. I am not quite the vain and idle fellow
I used to be, and with Honor's gift of the bank partnership
I shall be able to take a comfortable house and live in good
style. Phoebe, will you think this over, and when I come
back tell me if yon would be my wife ? I do not ask for
your answer now," he added, pitiless for her blushes, as he
keyt her there before him, " because it would be unfair, as
you have not thought it over, aiid I have ; but let your
answer be Yes, Phcebe."
" I I forgot something I want to send to Honor," cried
Phoebe, and ran from the room in nervous haste.
" It was best to give her time," mused Hervey, encourag-
ing the pleasant consciousness that (won either now or
then) Phoebe's answer would be a happy little Yes. " It
was more fair, and she will tell Honor before I need. Rhe
is a good little thing, and very amiable. I'm really
she is not handsome like Theo."
CHAPTER XLII.
r would not raise
Deceitful hope ; but in His hand, even yet,
The issue hangs, and He is merciful.
SOUTHET.
A HEAVY, mournful silence brooded over "Westleigh Towers,
but this silence centred and culminated in the chamber
where Royden by. It was lofty, like all the rooms at the
S68 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY.
Powers, bnt not large. Though handsomely, it was but
slightly furnished, aud the old carved bed on which he lay
was shrouded by no curtains.
Beside this bed sat Honor, in her soft white dress ; lovely,
in spite of the pity and sadness on her face. At the window,
Miss Henderson was spoiling lier work with tears, though
she sewed on with a nervous persistency.
Shaded from the light, the dark worn face upon the pillows
moved to and fro unrestingly.
In the dressing-room beyond the half closed door the
nurse sat waiting for a summons, and downstairs the
physicians were again consulting; and still again only
reaching that one reiterated conclusion,
If he could but bleep !
" Honor ! "
The girl's head was raised, and she listened with drawn-
in breath. Again a moment of hope, and then her heart
Bank, as it had sunk a hundred times before, for this was
no recognition, only a part of the terrible and persistent
delirium through which she sat beside him, in the awful
actual pain of her watching and her love, while she was
unknown to him, and unheeded.
"Honor Honor." The whisper, .in its intense and
passionate entreaty, pierced to every corner of the room.
"You said you wuuld not come here to my own house.
But Mrs. Payte promised. Come, dear let me show you
my home. Why stay beside the statue I remember
Leda and and who, Honor ? We talked about it you and
I and then you said you loved me. Ah ! I thought the
joy would have killed me. But joy never kills pain kills
and fire. Put your hand upon my head Honor and feel
the flame."
But when she laid her soft, cool pi<>a upon his brow, he
shrank from her touch, and cried how tjuickly the waves rose.
" Honor Honor ! "
So the name, hour after hour, broke the silence ; some-
times whispered very low in his exhaustion, and sometimes
uttered passionately in fevered strength.
"Yet when she knelt beside him, and met his restless eyes,
he only whispered, with a smile, that she was safe with him
and he would brirm Giibriel back.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET, 369
Pleadingly sometimes she called him by his Christian
name, stroking his hot and restless hands or holding them
gently to her lips. But still he did not know her ; and,
gazing into her troubled face, would cry for Kcnor still.
Sometimes he rose and pushed her from him vith a eudden
momentary strength ; but sometimes he lay as motionless us
dea'h, his eyes so unnaturally large and bright, fixed where
she could riot follow them.
Scene after scene from his past life he lived again in this
delirium, but only a very few of them could Honor compre-
hend. She knew when he was cheering and encouraging
Alice ; she knew when he was answering Lawrence
Hangh ton's base suspicions, and she knew when he was
telling Gabriel how surely his innocence would one day be
acknowledged. But worst of all it was to hear him hasten-
ing his horse through the rising flood of waters, and to see
him hold his clasped hand for hours on his breast, guarding
Gabriel's secret.
Now he was pitiful, now angry, now troubled, and now
glad. Now he would lie for hours, as if wrapped closely in
one all-engrossing thought, and now he would wake the
echoes of the silent house with quick, clear laughter. It
was a terrible time for all the watchers, but far the most
terrible for Honor ; and still that sleep upon which the
physicians built their only hope seemed as far off as ever.
At last there came a day when Honor, watching as ever,
fancied she saw a change in the thin, dark face. Royden
had called her softly once or twice, and when her eyes met
his, so closely and so yearningly, his closed ; and she fell
upon her knees and prayt-d that this might be s!eep. Dr.
Franklin entered the room just then, but, after one glance,
passed back without a sound. Miss Henderson dropped her
work, and sat utterly motionless, us if a breath would wake
him. Gabriel stopped on the spot where he had stood when
Honor's sign arrested him : and Honor, still on her knees
beside the bed, hardly dared to draw her breath. Ah !
Buch a relief it had been to see the lids fall upon those wide
and fevered eyes.
So, in hushed and breathless silence, they waited ; no one
near the bed save Honor, who kuelt just where his gazo
could fall upon }iar when he awoke. "JfhG awoke," as
370 OLD MYDDtt/rON'S MONEY.
Dr. Franklin suid. So, minute after minute and hour aftei
hour went by, and Sir Edward Graham sent various tele-
grams to paiieuts in London and let the trains pass without
him. For more than a week now there had been no deeper
hush at night over the great house than there had been in
the day ; but to-night the silence was so intense that that
past silence seemed as nothing. Miss Henderson shuddered
in her stillness, remembering Dr. Frankliu's " If," and
knowing the silence could not be deeper even then.
Gabriel Myddelton, leaning against the curtained win-
dow, in an attitude of intense stillness and watchfulness,
oever moved his eyes from that sleeping face. Would the
waking ever come ? Would there be r cognition at last m
the fevered eyes, and light upon the dazed brain ? Without
the faintest movermnt, Honor knelt beside the bed, her
eyes patient and beautiful even in their agony of fear, her
hands clasped, and her whole heart pleading \- h her Father.
So the hours passed on, and the silence of the room was
only broken by that fitful breathing.
" Ah ! "
It was Sir Edward's voice, she knew, though it was only
a half breathed whisper. She knew in an instant what it
meant, for she had herself seen something which prepared
her for it Roydcn was awaking. Moved by an impulse
which she could not resist, Honor covered her face. After
all that had gone before, the suspense of those few moments
was unbearable. A sudden pause in the fitful breathing ;
then one word, uttered in an awed and wondering whisper,
" Honor ! "
But that whisper told her that the light had come, and
that he knew her.
OLD MYDDBLTQJT8 MONST,
CHAPTER XLIII.
Hero she ooraal
In the calm harbour of whose gentle \>> \ ust,
My tempest-beaten soul may safely i^t.
DRTDEIT.
THE crisis had past! Who can tell the magic of thos%
words, until without one gleam of hope they have
watched the fierce and awful contest between life and
death ?
It was not for many hours after Royden's recognition of
Honor that they dared to leave her alone with him. A
whole night and day passed, while he lay quite still, his
breath calm now, though very faint ; his eyes always follow-
ing Honor's form if she moved about the room, or cleaving
to her face when she was beside him. But when the quiet
evening-time came round once more, the two were left alone
together.
Then her long and bitter penitence found words, and
very quietly, because all excitement was dangerous for him,
and very humbly, she begged him to forgive her that,
though she had loved him dearly for two years, she had been
perverse and doubting, and had let him fancy that she did
not care for him. Without mentioning Theodora's name,
she told him just a little of the true cause of her avoidance
of him ; but the blame was all for herself in this confession.
She told him that never since that autumn afternoon, when
he had told her that he loved her, had she dreamed of any
other love ; and that even if he had not been drue to her
she must still have been all her life true to her own
unconfessed love. She told him that these last terrible
days had shown her that he had cared for her through all,
out even the pain which she had given him was less than
the pain which she had given herself.
All this, and more, she told him, her low voice stirred
and broken in its earnestness and humility ; and though
for FO long he did nofc answer her one word, she understood
the love and happiness which lay within his eyes, and the
372 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
depth and earnestness of those few words of gratitude which
he whispered while his wasted hands closed over hers.
Though slow, Hoyden's recovery was steady ; and
presently the day came for Honor to leave him. He lay at
the window in his dressing-room, still very weak, though
suffering little pain now ; and Honor, dressed to start,
lad corne back to linger with him to the last minute. Ai
ihe came up to him, he rose and walked a few steps to meet
aer.
" My sunbeam ! " he said, " my captured sunbeam, how
can I spare you even for this little time ? "
" Because it is only for a little time," she answered, with
a smile for him, although the sorrow of this first parting
saddened her eyes.
" I have been trying," he said, as they stood together at
the window, his thin hands wrapping hers, and his great
;ove even strengthening his worn face, " to accustom myself
to the vacant chair, and to the knowledge that the form and
face I love are only here in memory."
" But I did not give you time to succeed, did I ? " she
questioned, brightly. " I could not spare a minute from
this last hour."
" Honor, my sweet, when will you come home ? "
Very simply and earnestly she answered, while the bright
pink spread softly from cheek to brow under his yearning
gaze.
" When you come for me, Royden."
" Even yet it seems too good to be possible," he said,
^ith a long-drawn breath, while his eyes left her face for
the first time, and strayed out among the plenteous summer
leaves ; "for life to have been given back to me in such
fulness, and with it the greatest blessing life can hold ! A
few minutes ago I almost fancied I was going to awake and
fmd that this had been the delirium of fever."
" That delirium," she said, touching his cheek softly with
ber fingers, while a shadow stole into her eyes even at the
mention of it, "has passed for ever, Roy, and God has
given us to each other."
And at her touch his gaze came back, and his weak arms
were folded about her, strong for that moment in their sens*
of ownership.
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 873
A call under the open window, but Honor only looked
down with a nod and smile, while she tempted Royden back
to his couch.
" Hervey thinks, as he has come on purpose to fetch me,
that he must give me constant reminders of the time," she
said, with a laugh ; "but I shall trust to Gabriel. He
is there with Hervey, and he says there is no need of
haste."
" Gabriel knows how precious every moment is oo me."
" It will be such a comfort to feel he is with you, Roy ;
and I will take such care of Alice. But I want to ask you
one question before I go ? May I ? "
*' So doubtful, is it not, my sweet ? "
" I want," she said, her face and voice both full of earnest,
ness, please to understand me, Royden I want old Myd-
delton's money to go to old Myddelton's heir."
"Who is that?"
" Gabriel, of course. He is the only Myddelton ; and he
ought to go back to Abbotsmoor, and make the old name
loved and honoured there."
" Honor, my darling, the power to distribute this wenlth
was put by old Mr. Myddelton himself into his sis-ter'a
hands, and she chose you. Gabriel was not disinherited.
He was to have the same chance as you all had."
" Yes ; but he never had it, because of the injustice which
had banished him. But for that, Royden, I am sure that
Lady Lawrence would have been the very first to acknow-
ledge his prior claim." 1
"True, dear one ; but the fact stands. She left it in no
whim, but with sound judgment, built on long thought
and observation ."
" You are only tempting me, I think, or trying me," she
aid, with a pleading touch upon his arm.
"Am 1?" he asked, with his rare emile.
"Yes; and I believe you really think, as T do, that
tfabriel Myddelton must have Abbotsmoor, and his uncle's
wealth."
" His name is freed from reproach," said Royden, " and cnn
now be borne uprightly. He has sufficient to buy a little
estate to hold himself and Alice, and to keep sorrow trom
the door. He tells me that is the extent of his ambiti.ua.
or/n MYDDELTON'S MONET.
So, even if you offered him this gift, you would only heaf
him refuse it. For years he has believed in the old legend
f theie being a curpe on old Myddelton's money, and one
can sec, even yet, the traces of his old timidity and self-
\strust."
" Royden, I'm wre you are jesting or teasing me. Gabriel
cannot really believe that old superstition ; and does he not
know now that you will help him ? He cannot shrink from
wealth because of its evil, when you have unconsciously
shown him its good. Roy, you are the friend to whom he
will always listen, so you will join me in urging this ? "
" Honor, my darling, if anything could kill the old super-
stition in his mind, it would be the knowledge he is gaining
now of what old Myddelton's money has been in your hands."
"I have never even lived at Abbotsmoor yet," s;iid
Honor, blushing vividly. "The work there has to be
Vegun. I am so glad it is for him to begin."
*' Is there anywhere you have lived where they could not
tell of help, and comfort, and relief, which old Mydc'elton's
money, passing through these gentle hands, has given ?
My sweet, look up ; I will not pain you even by words so
true. But, remember, the money was entrusted to you by
one who was deeply anxious for it to do good. And remem-
ber how many noble and generous plans you have begun to
work out."
" Gabriel is very earnest and very generous," said Honor,
softly, as she rose. ' I know as well as I know how un-
justly persecuted he has been that he will wisely and
kindly use that wealth which ought naturally to be his.
Abbotsmoor must be Gabriel's, of course ; and, Roy, I
think you were only tempting me in jest, because you know
there can be really no doubt about it."
" There can be really a great deal of doubt about it,"
put in Royden, looking into her face with a pride which he
tried in vain to hide, as he maintained his argument still.
* Gabriel will be the first to see this doubt, and all the
fcoiid will see it afterwards."
" Don't you think," she asked, softly, " that he will
rather see that duty bids him make the old name loved and
honoured in the old home ? iioyden, I know you will help
u>e to persuade him."
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONirr. 875
' I am afrftM I shall," he said looking down npon her
with untold love and pride. "And if Gabriel does accept
it, I am quite sure that, in his gratitude and his new
earnestness, he will continue all you have begun. Ah !
his summons already. How soon it has come ! And and
it will be so selfish to fetch you back to me while I at*
such a"
" When you come," she interrupted, laying her fingers on
his lips, " I shall be ready, Eoy. G-ood-bye."
" And this parting is not sad," he said, his thoughts
resting for a moment on another " good-bye " which she had
uttered long ago. " Tour love is mine now mine for ever.
Oh ! my sunbeam, good-bye ! "
CHAPTER XLIV.
Es snmmt, es schwirrt und singt und ring*.
SUCH a wedding it was !
Miss Trent tossed aside the papers when they reached her
in Baden-Baden, and, with much sarcastic embellishment,
told an English gentleman that night at table-d'hote that
Mr. Keith of Westleigh Towers had outwitted the less
diplomatic candidates for old Myddelton's money.
" On the 30th mst., at Station, ly the Eev. Walter Homer,
Honor Craven, to Roy den Keith of Westleigh Towers."
This was the simple announcement which had been sent
to the leading papers ; but it had not prevented the para-
graphs being longer and more glowing elsewhere. The
wedding ceremony spun itself through an entire page in
each of the rival Kinbury papers, and the dresses and the
jewels and the guests were dissected in whole columns of
various journals devoted to rank and fashion.
Honor's dress was as elaborately described as if it had
lent the bride her beauty, instead of having borrowed its
own from hers as a bride's should. The "charming
galaxy of bridesmaids " bad a hundred lines to themselves,
376 OLD MYDDELTON*3 MONEY.
over every one of which the chief bridesmaid laughed heartilj
afterwards, even while the tears stood thickly on her plea-
sant Dutch face. The "crowd of fashionable guests " were
named separately, and admired en masse. The village
decorations had a minute description, and the gifts were
valued at a fabulous sum. And as is the rule prescribed
on such occasions fewest words of all were bestowed upon
the bridegroom ; the Kinbury weeklies only touching upon
his recent illness, and the London dailies alluding casually
to the probability of his leaving his mark upon the times.
Sir Philip and Lady Somerson returned from abroad on
purpose to have their favourite married from Somerson
Castle ; and it was in consequence of their determination
that Honor could not carry out her anxious proposal for a
quiet wedding.
They filled their beautiful country seat with that " crowd
of fashionable guests " whion the papers delighted to cata-
logue. They supported the " charming galaxy of brides-
maids " by a noble phalanx of young manhood. They em-
ployed the whole village in bearing flowers to and fro for
jhe decorations of the church, and park, and village street ;
and yet they never fancied they had done enough to make
this wedding-day a festival.
And at Station Eectory, both Mr. and Mrs. Romer
laughed heartily over Honor's impossible desire for a quiet
wedding. Royden had come the day before to stay with
them, and, from early morning, the village had been filled
by Westleigh people, who had travelled here to see th
marriage of their master. In spite of the three hundred
walking-sticks which had always rankled in Sir Philip's
breast, he threw the park open all the afternoon to these
men who cheered so heartily when Honor passed among
;hem in her youth and beauty, and these women who so
warmly prayed, " God bless him," when Royden led her
through the crowd.
Earnestly Gabriel Myddelton echoed the prayer, as he
and Alice walked from the church slowly, step by step, in
the long line of guests, while the joyous notes of the organ
came surging through the porch and followed them.
"Ay, God bless them both !" murmured the rector, as
the bells clashed out across the autumn landscape, and thert
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY. 877
eame into his mind a few words of one of those poets whose
verses were but feebly linked about the memory of his
college days :
Naught but love can answer love,
And render bliss secure.
No. it certainly had not been a quiet wedding, and Pierce
was not the only one who smiled at the notion, when the
excitement was at its ebb, and the travelling carriage rolled
down the avenue of Somerson Park, followed by countless
and curious missiles. Pierce sat beside the young Italian
courier, looking down upon the four grey horses and the
scarlet-clad postilions, but still he had an ever ready word
or glance for the two women who sat together in the roomy
eeat behind him ; one of these being Marie Verrien, proud
to feel that she was as much Honor's maid as was the plea-
sant girl who lavished constant care and kindness upon her,
and never allowed her to realise the fact that her employ-
ment was merely an agreeable sinecure. This sojour-
abroad which was to restore to Hoyden his old strength-
was also to give the finishing touch to the benefit whicti
Marie had derived from the life of ease and happiness
which she had spent in Honor's home.
CHAPTER XLV.
Oh I the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,
And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed
Around our incompleteness ;
Hound our restlessness His rest.
E. B.
THEY are the "Westleigh bells which are now having it all
their own way with the summer echoes, and telling their
tale to the wind and waves, which, in their turn, laugh over
it among the rocks and leaves.
Two months have passed since, from the tower of Stattoi
3V8 OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET.
Church, rang out the tidings of their marriage, and Royden
and Honor are on their way home to receive this greeting.
It breaks upon them brightly and musically as they driva
into sight of the high towers above the sea, but Honor turns
and hides her face upon her husband's shoulder then,
because she sees that treacherous bay where he waa found
four months ago, and carried home as dead.
The watchers see the carriage now, and a signal gun ig
fired out across the sea. Then, even more merrily still, the
bells peal out ; and presently a band, which Royden himself
organised long ago, among the "mill-hands," marches to
meet them. Now rises the cheering of hundreds of voices,
and in a few minutes the horses are gone ; and, to the music
of the cornets and the voices and the bells all harmonised
by loyalty and summer gladness their own people wheel
the carriage to the door.
The upturned faces greet them in a mass, when they turn
and pause in the arched doorway. Royden thanks them for
their cordial greeting; and while they answer each sentence
with a deafening cheer, they notice how the very mention of
his wife brings a wondrous light into his eyes, beyond that
permanent light of happiness which dwells there now.
And other friends have gathered -within The Towers to
welcome Eoyden and Honor ; friends whom we shall look
upon to-day for the lasttin>e.
There are Sir Philip and Lady Somerson, cordial as of old.
There is Mrs. Romer, bent, as of old, on making a favourite
of Honor ; and Mr. Romer recalling with a smile of self-
congratulation how, from the first, Le had acknowledged
Royden Keith worthy of a hearty and profound respect.
There is Sir Edward Graham, beaming as if he had never
looked on anguish such as that which he had witnessed in
this spot just three months ago. There is Dr. Franklin,
uncharacteristically hopeful. There is the old vicar of
Westleigh, confidentially asserting that there never has been
such a scene as this in the village since he came to live here
fifty years ago. There is his young curate, in whose wake
comes a grave little lad who, for months now, has not only
eagerly devoured the lessons that he gives (the payment for
w! '>-h doubles the y< ung curate's saUry), but has been
with him ever in his walks and in his work. The boy's face
OLD MYDDELTON'S MONET. 379
flushes and brightens into perfect beauty when Roy den, lay-
ing a gentle hand upon his shoulder, tells Honor, " This is
Margaret Territ's child," and Honor stoops and kisses him.
There are Phoebe and Miss Henderson, come together
from the Kensington mansion, where Phoebe is preparing for
her \vedding,in a state of happiness unusually cairn and quiet ;
while Hervey makes ready that London house where she will
enjoy her drives and dresses as well as better things and be
thoroughly happy in her kindly, simple, and prosaic way".
There is Hervey, reading a new translation of his old code
of etiquette ; the tones which used to be so s'ow and faultless
stirred and broken cow as he thanks Honor for that gift of
Deergrove which she bought for him and Phoebe when Mrs.
Trent saw it best to leave the old neighbourhood not that
Hervey values the little estate for its memories so much as
for its proximity to Honor's home ; and because it is such
a relief to him to feel that he need not live only in London
all the year round ; even though his new employment is
easy and pleasant to him. There is Gabriel Myddelton,
inexpressibly happy as a well-employed country squire ;
proud to hear the congratulations which are given him on
the manner he is carrying out in earnest zeal the work
Honor began at Abbotsmoor ; and using wisely and kindly
the half of old Myddelton's money which was all his cousin
could succeed in winning him to accept. There is Alice,
well and strong again, because no secret presses on her now,
and her husband's name is loved and respected.
So those belonging to the old life are all here, save four.
Mrs. Trent and Theodora ars moving restlessly from place to
place upon the continent ; unforgiving (as those often are, to
whom the wrong is due); and Lawrence Haughton's sister
is on her way to join him in Melbourne. At his first invi-
tation honestly though curtly given Jane left the house
in which she had grown to middle-age ; sold the household
gods which for years she had guarded so jealously, and
sailed to a new, strange world for the sake of this brother to
whom through good and evil she had all her life clung
faithfully. Hard and cold she had been ever, but still
there ran through the flint this one pure vein of gold.
The silence of the autumn night has settled ciowD upon
880 OLD MYDDELTON S MONEY.
The Towers. Alone at last, Honor lingers at the window
in her dressing-room ; the curtains drawn back, and the
October moonlight falling sofcly upon her, as she stands
there, still and lovely, in her long white dress.
" Sweet, do you feel that this is really home ? "
Hoyden has come up to her so quietly that his words
seem only a part of that long, happy thought.
" Our home, Roy ; where your love will make me happy
beyond words ; and where I will try "
" And fail," he interrupts, kissing her tenderly, as she
nestles within his arms, " you have made me happy for all
time. You need never try again."
She does not turn her eyes from the moonlit sea, but
they are filled with a deep and full content. How can even
she herself help feeling the difference her love has made in
his life, always so full of generous deeds and purposes, but
now so full of happiness besides ?
"What a welcome they have given ns, M she whispers
presently. " It filled my heart with deepest gratitude to
see how you have made your people love you ; and I
know how it is, Roy. In your daily life, and hourly in-
tercourse with others I mean in little things as well as
great, by trifles which so many of us do not think of you
have won a love which only such a life as yours can win,
my husband, and which never can be otherwise than warm
and true."
" Honor," he says, lifting her face that he may read his
happiness within her eyes, " do you know that Gabriel
and not Gabriel alone has been speaking to me in jus!
such words of you. My darling, are you satisfied with all
you hear of Abbotsinoor, and the working of your plan*
and projects ? "
" Far more than satisfied."
" And you will let me help you here, in your own share
of the work ? "
" Royden, as if I could ever think of anything good
which you have not thought of long before ! "
" Do you remember that first day we spent at Abbots-
inoor, Honor, when it was deserted, and the shadow of a
great crime lay upon it ? Do you remember how we talked
of that old superstition of a curse hanging over the miser's
OLD MYDDELTOX'S MONET. 881
wealth, while neither you nor I could guess in whose hands
would lie the task of scattering it ? "
" Or, whose would lift that shadow of crime from the old
name."
" The task is not finished, is it ? It will only finish with
our lives. But can we not feel to-night, mine own dear wife,
that at last there rests a blessing only upon old Myddel-
ton's money ; and that day by day, through all our grateful
lives, the blessing may grow and brighten ? "
She laughs a happy little laugh, and lifts her arms and
clasps them softly round his neck.
" Oh, Royden, who, in all the world, has greater cause to
try to make others happy than I, who am so happy and BO
blest 1 "
TB BWT3U
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
A 000 043 698