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 " 
 
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