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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 JUtO 
 
 L161— O-1096
 
 HEVEE COUET.
 
 HEVEK COUET 
 
 BY 
 
 B. ARTHUR ARNOLD, 
 
 Author op "Ralph," etc. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 BRADBURY, EVANS, & CO., 11, BOUVERIE ST., E.C. 
 
 1867. 
 
 [The lii(jht of Translation is rcscrvcd.'\
 
 [Reprinted from "Once a Week."] 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 EKADEURY, EVANS, ANP CO., IKlNTrBS, -WHITrFRIAnS.
 
 
 o 
 
 (~f. 
 
 JnscrtSrti 
 
 TO 
 
 MY DEAR WIFE. 
 
 <^'
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. — CLAEA 
 
 II. — CONTENT AND DISCONTENT 
 
 III. THE " MAUVAIS SUJET " OF EINGWELL 
 
 IV. — LOVE IN A COTTAGE 
 
 V. IS.VAC AND ISHilAEL 
 
 VI. MRS. PEICKETT LETS THE CAT OUT OF 
 
 THE BAG ..... 
 
 VII. "HE LOVES; HE LOVES ME NOT " . 
 
 VIII. — IIEVER COURT " EN FETE " 
 
 IX. — CLARA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION 
 
 S. — A TRL^Ji WITH CLOSED DOORS 
 
 XI. — LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS AND AN OVER 
 THROW ..... 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 10 
 
 27 
 
 39 
 
 56 
 
 69 
 
 79 
 
 93 
 
 106 
 
 122 
 
 140
 
 ^'I'l CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XII. IX WHICH WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION 15G 
 
 XIII. — IX WHICH, AS USU.il, EROS WAITS OX 
 
 PLUTUS 175 
 
 XIV. "THE W03IAX I LOYE, AND THE WOM^iX 
 
 WHO LOVES me" . . . . . 194 
 
 XV. — A FRATEEXAL EXCOUXTER AT HE^TIR 
 
 COURT . . . . . .212 
 
 XVI. EDWARD PROCEEDS TO MAKE HIS EOE- 
 
 TUXE IX LOXDOX 239 
 
 XVII. EDWARD FIXDS A GOOD IXVESTMEXT . 257 
 
 XVIII. — MR. SXODGERS FORMS A LIMITED COMPAXY 275
 
 HEVEK COUET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CLAEA. 
 
 " The White Horse, by Thos. Smithson," 
 meaning not the artist but the host, was 
 certainly the most prominent object in the 
 village of Bingwell. Between the courtyard 
 of the inn, which was rarely unoccupied l)y 
 the vehicle of some thirsty traveller, and 
 the dusty turnpike road, this well-known 
 sign-board swung on a little gallows of its 
 own ; while a ragged patch of green beneath 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 2 HEVER COURT. 
 
 seemed to Avarn irreverent wheels from too 
 familiar an approach to this emblem of 
 hospitality. 
 
 For miles round, and far to right and left 
 along the high road, the Smithsons were 
 consequential people, far more important 
 among waggoners and drovers than almost 
 anybody, except perhaps the last notorious 
 murderer. This was because everyone knew 
 them, and they formed a common subject of 
 conversation for passing acquaintance, and 
 not unfrequently a ground of introduction. 
 Tom Smithson, " Old Tom," as he was 
 famiharly called, had but recently died. He 
 was still spoken of as a " very 'spectable 
 m.an, a rare judge of a glass o' ale," but 
 Mrs. Smithsou was most often the subject
 
 CLARA. 3 
 
 of conversation. If the speaker were favour- 
 able, she was a " comfor'ble 'ooman, with alius 
 a word to say for herself ; ay, an' a sharp 'un 
 too ; " but if perchance he had rudely felt 
 the force of ]\'Irs. Smithson's tongue, she was 
 " Mother Smithson, as warn't none too good, 
 and throwed all her money on to that there 
 gal o' hearn." 
 
 Clara Smithson was a niece of the land- 
 lady of the White Horse : she had been for 
 some years an orphan, and had occupied a 
 position as lady's-maid in a nobleman's 
 family before coming to live with her uncle 
 and aunt. Rarely indeed do the rustic 
 visitors of the tap-room catch a sight of 
 Miss Clara, but they often talk of her 
 haughtiness and her beauty. For hers is 
 
 B 2
 
 4 HEVER COURT. 
 
 the beauty they admire, strong and intoxi- 
 cating. She is just now approaching the 
 door, apparently returning from a walk. 
 Through the gauze of her short "fall," her 
 dark rich brown eyes shine out as if they 
 were unveiled, and her massy black hair 
 contrasts well with the bright red feather in 
 her hat. She is well dressed, has a firm, 
 graceful step, and a foot and ankle, the first 
 sight of which condones the coquetry of the 
 looped-up black silk dress, and rather short 
 and very highly-coloured petticoat. Her 
 face is beautiful ; but at this moment she 
 is paler than usual, and the lower part of 
 her countenance, which has its bad features, 
 appears somewhat heavy and prominent. 
 Paying no attention to the shy nods of
 
 CLARA. 5 
 
 one or two men standing about the door, 
 Clara walked hastily through the house and 
 up-stairs to her own room. When the door 
 was shut and locked, she seemed to free 
 herself from an effort of • self-control too 
 great to he long endured. 
 
 " Fool," she exclaimed, flinging off her hat 
 and mantle, " what a fool I am ! " Then her 
 lips quivered with an emotion portending 
 tears, but Clara shed few tears, and her eyes 
 now defied the suspicion. 
 
 She was staring at herself in her looking- 
 glass, conscious of every good point in her 
 rounded figure ; her face was fresh flushed 
 with shame and anger, with jealousy, for she 
 was in her thoughts now comparing her fair 
 face with that of another girl about her own
 
 6 HEVER COURT. 
 
 age, whom but a half an hour since she 
 had seen riding with a young gentleman 
 in a wooded lane not far from her aunt's 
 door. 
 
 " How I do hate her ! " she muttered, and 
 then stepping quickly to a drawer, she took 
 out a photograph of a very young man, 
 standing, but certainly not at ease, in the 
 imifonn of a yeomanry regiment. His face 
 bore just the pencilled promise of a mous- 
 tache ; his features were regular, handsome, 
 and manly, but refined rather than strong. 
 His eyes could scarcely prove of such deej) 
 ultramarine as the photographer's artist had 
 given to them, but the sun could not have 
 been an untrue witness to the straightness 
 of his nose, or the delicate curves which gave
 
 CLARA. 7 
 
 a womanly sweetness to his moutli and chin, 
 nor did it seem that the waving curls of his 
 brown hair were merely artistic — they were 
 too natural, too graceful, to be anything but 
 real. 
 
 It was a wretched performance, and the 
 trumpery gilt frame in which it was set was 
 remindful of the itinerant artist ; but evi- 
 dently it was one of Clara's greatest trea- 
 sures. As her eyes fell upon it, a passionate, 
 longmg love seemed to overspread her 
 countenance ; she appeared to have forgotten 
 her jealousy. In a tone of relenting languor, 
 " Edward " left her lips. Then, as if her 
 recent anger again swej)t across her mind, 
 she clenched the little portrait, and flinging 
 it to the ground, stamped and stamjDcd upon
 
 8* HEVER COURT. 
 
 it till her sharp brass-armed heels had 
 pounded it into an indistinguishable ruin. 
 
 " Why does he — how can he love that 
 
 straw-faced little " But Clara was in 
 
 too great a rage to be able to. find the 
 epithet she wished to aj)ply to her rival. 
 And just now the sound of horses' feet 
 cantering along the road outside her window, 
 gave another direction to her thoughts. 
 
 She flew to the window in time to 
 receive a laughing nod from a young man, 
 evidently the " Edward " of the photograph. 
 Hesitating how to acknowledge it, she saw 
 by the quick turn of the young lady, at 
 whose side he was riding, that he had 
 spoken of her. Shrinking from the recog- 
 nition of the face she hated, Clara stej^ped
 
 CLARA. 9 
 
 backwards until tliey had passed out of 
 sight. 
 
 " I never thought of having him myself ; 
 but if I don't, you sha'n't, Miss Lucy Den- 
 man, I will prevent that." 
 
 And after this vindictive resolution, Clara 
 smoothed her hair, and went doAvn-stairs to 
 join her aunt in the parlour of the inn.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 
 
 Mrs. Smithson looked quite at liome in 
 tlie parlour of tlie White Horse. The little 
 round tubs, so brightly green, and bound 
 with gilded hoops, were not less angular 
 than the stout hostess, but the low drizzle of 
 their tiny taps faintly resembled the loud 
 laugh of Clara's worthy aunt. She had often 
 tried upon some of the greatest topers in 
 Bingwell to mark the line between refresh- 
 ment and intoxication ; and often her hand 
 refused to draw more beer for some akeady
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 11 
 
 staggering sot. Yet in these matters Mrs. 
 Smitlison's line was not a hard one. Indeed, 
 she had often said "she'd no objection to 
 draw for them as went home quiet, and slept 
 it off, but she wouldn't make them as was 
 natural bad men, wiolent to their wives and 
 little uus with drink." Her oood nature 
 was proverbial, and her reputation for popu- 
 larity stood high in the village. 
 
 No One else had, or seemed to have, the 
 slightest influence over Clara. And to her 
 aunt the girl was a, puzzle. Her affection 
 came in gusts, variable and uncertain. At 
 one time she would l)e disdamful to all 
 around her, and soon afterwards ready to 
 take the humblest share in any household 
 duties. But the old woman loved her niece
 
 12 HEVER COURT. 
 
 as the only person left to her large tender 
 heart, and was secretly very proud of Clara's 
 haughty • and, as she thought, superior 
 manners. 
 
 She saw at once by the girl's pouting lips 
 and flushed face that something had occurred 
 to ruffle her temper, and with her accus- 
 tomed shrewdness J\Irs. Smithson at once 
 united cause and effect, as she remembered 
 the noisy hoofs of Edward's and Lucy's 
 horses, which, through the narrow opening 
 between the two red moreen curtains, she 
 had seen from the window but a few mo- 
 ments before. 
 
 Soothingly the aunt asked " what had put 
 her out," and lovingly called her " Clarey," 
 wanting to touch and kiss her pretty niece.
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 13 
 
 but Clara flung herself down upon a chair, 
 replying, " Oh, nothing, aunt ! " and then, 
 when further pressed, " Oh, bother ! " So 
 the disappointed hostess waddled out of the 
 parlour upon a pretence of something to do 
 elsewhere, leaving her niece alone with her 
 vexation. 
 
 Restless in her seat, Clara seemed to be 
 lookmo; around her with disoust at tlie 
 accessories and furniture of the parlour. 
 Her mind was not sufficiently elevated in 
 sentiment to hate the place because it reeked 
 of intemperance, and was suggestive of 
 nothing but toping ; she was fretting with 
 misery because her surroundings were not 
 those which appertained to a " lady." For 
 Clara was aml)itious as she was Avilful and
 
 14 HEVER COURT. 
 
 lieadstrong. Hers was not the refinement 
 tliat was positively ofFendecl by tlie odour 
 which came from the bright pewter sink 
 beneath the beer eno-ine. If it had been the 
 fashion among duchesses to draw beer in 
 this manner for themselves and their house- 
 holds, she would have admired this article 
 of furniture. If the dining-rooms of the rich 
 had been placarded with tinselled advertise- 
 ments of " Kinahan's LL," of " Cream Gin," 
 of " Bett's Patent Capsuled Brandy ; " with 
 the highly-coloured announcements of " All- 
 sop" and "Bass," those that hung in her 
 aunt's parlour would not have been such an 
 annoyance to her now. They seemed to be 
 staring at her ; these gay, hateful placards, 
 which her aunt thought so beautiful and
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 15 
 
 dusted so carefully, jeered lier and her long- 
 ilia's to rise above sucli associations as tliose 
 of a village public house. 
 
 She had inherited much of her elegance 
 from her mother, who had been lady's maid 
 in the same family in which Clara herself 
 had served. Her father, Mrs. Smithson's 
 brother, a loutish butcher in comfortable 
 circumstances, had been easily won by a few 
 words of her mother's ; but no one who had 
 known them could understand how so pretty 
 a woman had bestowed herself upon Bill 
 Smithson. Not much had ever been known 
 concerning the l^irth or parentage of Clara's 
 mother. "There was a good deal of the 
 quality about her," the hostess of the AYliite 
 Horse had told her niece, and so no doubt
 
 16 HEVER COURT 
 
 there was. No one believed that both the 
 maternal grandfather and grandmother of" 
 Clara were people in a humble station of 
 life ; and some accounted for her mother's 
 marriage with Bill Smithson by a story- 
 touching her disappointed love for a more 
 highly-bred admirer. 
 
 So it may be that Clara was born with an 
 instinctive claim to a higher position than 
 that which circumstances had given to 
 her. 
 
 Lady Anne Dunkeld had been a kind 
 mistress to her, and Clara had well weighed 
 the relative advantages of the two situations 
 when her aunt's pressing invitation to share 
 her home as her adopted daughter came to 
 her at Lord Dunkeld's London house.
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 17 
 
 Love for her aunt had nothing to do with 
 her decision. She balanced the pleasant and 
 congenial atmosphere of a nobleman's house, 
 the liberal wages and perquisites which re- 
 warded her not onerous service, in one scale, 
 and the boorish society of the Biugwell tap- 
 room, the unappreciating clodhoppers, with 
 no soul for the elegant adjustment of ribbons 
 or the millinery in which Clara was an 
 adept, and independence, in the other. And 
 she chose independence and the White 
 Horse, reasoning that she was more likely to 
 " get on " from such a base of operations, 
 than from the very definite condition of a 
 lady's maid. 
 
 She could trust to the easy good-nature of 
 her aunt to allow her time to be entirely at 
 
 TOL. I. C
 
 18 HEVER COURT. 
 
 her own disposal ; she would be at no one's 
 call, she could make journeys as "Miss 
 Smithson," speaking of her aunt as a person 
 of some property " down in the country ; " 
 and as matrimony in the shape of a success- 
 ful match was always in C'lara's mental 
 horizon, she thought, too, that her chances 
 in this respect would be consideral)ly im- 
 proved by leaving Lady Anne's service ; 
 " for though," she argued with herself, 
 "lady's maids see a great many gentlemen, 
 yet it doesn't often happen that a lady's 
 maid marries a gentleman." 
 
 Surveying her field of operations at Bing- 
 well, she had long since fixed u^^on Edward 
 Frankland as the most valuable prize within 
 her neighbourhood, but by the working of
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 19 
 
 her strong passions upon lier self-interested 
 will and intention, she had come to love 
 most intensely this man for whom at the 
 first she had thoug-ht from ambitious mo- 
 tives. His imao-e had dwelt in her mind 
 until she almost conceived that she, and she 
 only, had a right to him. That he should 
 be loved by, or should belong to another 
 woman, she was inclined to resent as a 
 personal wrong done to herself. 
 
 "' Why don't you get out of this nasty old 
 place ? " she said, sullenly, to her aunt, who 
 now re-appeared bearing a jug full of gin to 
 fill the little green tub appi'opriated to that 
 " cordial." 
 
 " What ! leave the Horse ! Why, Clarey, 
 what should I do w4th myself ? " Mrs. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Smithson stood, jug in hand, full of astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Do with yourself ? You could be a 
 lady, and keep a pony carriage, and all 
 that." 
 
 " Lawk ! Me in a carridge ! " Mrs. 
 Smithson's laugh burst out as she tried in 
 vain to look at her waist. 
 
 " We shouldn't be insulted then, perhaps," 
 Clara mumbled ; " looked down upon as 
 dirt." 
 
 " Why do yer worrit yerself about 'em, 
 and whether they looks here or looks there. 
 Taint no use trying to make gentlefolks o' 
 me. And I b'lieve I should die." 
 
 There was a touch of melancholy in her 
 aunt's last words intended to appeal to
 
 COXTENT AND DISCONTENT. 21 
 
 Clara's love. For the old woman delighted 
 in her business, was proud of her position, 
 and would have been quite happy if she 
 could have made Clara contented. But 
 already she began to comprehend that this 
 was out of her power. She continued : 
 
 " Well, s'pose you had yer pony carridge, 
 what then ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't be a barmaid any longer." 
 " Did I ever ask you to touch the ingin ? 
 Hain't I always kep you off from it ? Was 
 
 I " 
 
 Clara interrupted her aunt with a gesture 
 of impatience. " Oh, T am not complain- 
 ing," she said, impatiently, rising from her 
 chair and walking up and down the little 
 parlour, her aunt's eyes following her sadly
 
 22 HEVER COURT. 
 
 with all the regularity of a pendulum. It 
 was hard for her to understand that Clara's 
 ambition soared above the AVhite Horse. 
 To Mrs. Smithson this parlour, with all its 
 bright drinkmg apparatus, was a place of no 
 little state and dignity. Her mind was 
 even now running back over the many, 
 many happy days and years she and her 
 husband had passed in this house ; and 
 slowly, painfully, and sadly realising the 
 difference between Clara and herself. " If 
 she could find such a husband for her as 
 ' Old Tom ' had been to herself, would this 
 make her niece happy ? ^' JNIrs. Smithson 
 felt no confidence that any man of Old 
 Tom's stamp would satisfy Clara. Shrewd 
 and sensible as she was, the hostess perceived
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 23 
 
 that Clara's was a complaint for which she 
 could prescribe no remedy. But she would 
 do her l)est, and obeying the instinct of her 
 kindly heart, laid her big, red hand on 
 Clara, and coaxed her into a seat. 
 
 " Never mind, dearey ; " Mrs. Smithson 
 laid her face against the girl's, " tell me all 
 about it. I ain"t a lady woman, but old 
 creetur as I am, I've knowed well what it 
 was to " 
 
 Clara looked up quickly, and with a half 
 angry expression of face, but the e^ddent 
 reality of sympathy in her aunt's fat face 
 at once melted her, and caused her arm to 
 steal round Mrs, Smithson's neck. 
 
 " You dear old aunt ! *' she said, and then 
 a flood of tears relieved her.
 
 24 HEVER COUUT. 
 
 "Tell me, my lovey," the old woman 
 went on, " has he been saying anything to 
 you ( 
 
 " He ! Who ? " 
 
 " Master Edward, to be sure ; you ain't a 
 crying for nobody else, I know." 
 
 "I'm not crying for him," replied Clara, 
 proudly, lifting herself a little from her 
 aunt's tender embrace. 
 
 " Take care you don't, Clarey, there's no 
 good can come of it." 
 
 " Why not, aunt ? " 
 
 "Why?" Mrs. Smithson released her, 
 and stood apart in amazement. "You 
 wouldn't set yerself up to be the Squire's 
 wife ? " 
 
 "I wouldn't be anything else," replied
 
 CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. 25 
 
 Clara, with perfect self-confidence, and then 
 relapsed into her bad humour. 
 
 " That's what they all say, my dear ; you 
 mind where you're going. But why trouble 
 your mind with such as him 1 There's 
 James Logan, the wheelwright, as upstand- 
 ing a man as any in Bingwell ; he worships 
 the ground you walk on, he do, and you 
 won't so much as speak a word to him. I 
 don't say nothing about Will Campbell, as is 
 only a by-blow of the old Squire's ; he ain't 
 altogether to my mind, but 'pend upon it 
 them's the happiest that keeps closest to 
 their own sort o' people ; and though 
 there's no denying you've the Avays of a 
 lady, yet you know you ain't quality 
 born."
 
 26 HEVEK COURT. 
 
 Clara had listened with growing dis- 
 pleasure, and before the hostess had finished 
 her speech, her niece had left her alone in 
 the parlour.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE "MAUVAIS SUJET" OF BINGWELL. 
 
 Hever CoufiT had been the residence of 
 the Franklands for centuries. But the house 
 had been rebuilt about a hundred years ago, 
 and was one of those roomy, square, red- 
 bricked mansions which one associates with 
 moderate wealth, high respectability, and 
 great comfort. The year's mourning, which 
 was customary in the family for the de- 
 parted owner, had nearly been accomplished 
 for the father of the " young Squire," as the 
 present incumbent was called. Mr. Edward
 
 28 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Frankland, whom we have seen riding past 
 the " White Horse," lived here with his 
 widowed mother ; and the gossips in the 
 villao;e said that soon after the mournino; 
 was over, he was to marry Miss Lucy 
 Denman, the daughter of Sir John Denman, 
 an old friend and neighbour of his father's. 
 The grief of Mrs. Frankland and her son for 
 the loss of their husband and father was, 
 perhaps, rather dutiful than real. He had 
 married late in life, and had always been 
 extremely cold and reserved in his manner, 
 even towards his wife and child. He and 
 Sir John had been companions and friends 
 in youth and early manhood, and many 
 strange stories were whispered throughout 
 the neighbourhood as to the reasons which
 
 THE " MAUVAIS SUJET " OF BINGWELL. 29 
 
 made Mr. Frankland so very uncommuni- 
 cative. 
 
 But one fact was so well known in the 
 village, that it had ceased to be thought a 
 scandal. There was no doubt that Will 
 Campbell, who was better known as " hand- 
 some Will," was a son of the late Mr. Frank- 
 land. His mother was well remembered by 
 the Bingwell gossips. Amy Campbell was 
 the pretty daughter of the village school- 
 master, who brought her father to grief, and 
 at length, it was said, to his gi-ave, by run- 
 ning away from him with the young Squu-e. 
 After a year's absence, during which her 
 
 friends had no tidings of her, and only 
 suspected, from previous gossip, her intimacy 
 with Mr. Frankland, she returned to Bing-
 
 30 HEVER COURT. 
 
 well with her baby boy. She was lovingly 
 received by her father, who was in his last 
 illness. Hever Court was then in the care 
 of the housekeeper, and uninhabited by any of 
 the family until Mr. Frankland's subsequent 
 marriage with the mother of Edward. Amy 
 had no story to tell, or would tell none ; she 
 said she had not been married, but the 
 avowal was evidently made with great re- 
 luctance ; that she had quarrelled with Mr. 
 Frankland and left him ; that she never 
 wished to see him again, and that all she 
 feared was lest he should take her boy away 
 from her. But her health was very feeble, 
 her beauty faded ; and before Mr. Frankland 
 saw his home again, she and her father had 
 died, leaving little Will in charge of a
 
 THE "MAUYAIS SUJET " OF BINGWELL. 31 
 
 neighbour, who promised to be a "mother 
 to him." And it was rumoured that on her 
 death-bed she had made strange confessions. 
 Perhaps it was not Mrs. Prickett's fault 
 that Will had become the notorious mauvais 
 sujet of the village. She was a woman who, 
 as she described herself, " got her own livin' 
 by doing a bit o' nussin', and a l^it o' charin', 
 and what not, though she had a bit o' money 
 as her old man left her, when he was took 
 bad and died with the fever." But Mrs. 
 Prickett had a stron^•er sense of natural 
 rights than of self-interest, and very early 
 in Will's life she had quarrelled with Mrs. 
 Frankland, who did not like that he should 
 associate in any way with her child, and 
 neither the good ^\ashe^womall nor the lady
 
 32 HEVER COURT. 
 
 were notable for conciliation. It may be 
 owing to tliis circumstance, and to a sus- 
 picion whicb Mrs. Prickett always enter- 
 tained that poor Amy bad been married to 
 Mr. Franklaud, that she had, unconsciously 
 perhaps, made Will an idle, discontented 
 man, hating his father's family, and regard- 
 ing them, to some extent, as defrauding him 
 of his natural rights. 
 
 His doating foster-mother set down all 
 his fiiults as due rather to his father than to 
 himself, and she seemed ready to make any 
 sacrifice rather than that he should be in 
 any way dependent on the Franklands. 
 Time after time Mr. Frankland had made 
 Will offers of employment upon his estate, 
 or of recommendation to obtain a situation
 
 THE "MAUVAIS SUJET" OF BINGWELL. 33 
 
 elsewhere. But Will repulsed them rudely. 
 " He was quite contented where he was," he 
 said, and " Why didn't the Squire want to 
 send Master Edward away ? " and so he had 
 continued lazily to farm the dozen acres of 
 land which Mrs. Prickett held of Bingwell 
 Manor. But it was not upon twelve acres 
 that WiU had become the best shot in the 
 country round Bingwell, nor on the profits 
 of his husbandry that he kept a fast-trotting 
 mare and a couple of lurchers. Indeed, it 
 was well-known that AVill was a deer-stealer 
 and a poacher, and one of Mr. Frankland's 
 most vivid troubles had been lest he should 
 find his son brought as a prisoner before 
 him as a magistrate. But this had never 
 happened. 
 
 VOL. I. J)
 
 3t HEVEK, COURT. 
 
 There were, however, two subjects upon 
 which Mrs. Prickett "had words" with 
 Will. He was not an idle, ignorant, rustic 
 sot ; on the contrary, he was cunning, cool, 
 reserved ; he was never seen to be " the 
 worse for liquor," but he was inconigibly 
 lazy; with immense powers of enjoyment, 
 but little of the honest energy of acquisition. 
 Mrs. Prickett would have had him search 
 every parish registry in England in the hope 
 of finding evidence of his mother's marriage. 
 She was never tired of scolding him for his 
 indolence in this matter; nor did she pa- 
 tiently listen to his yawning assurance that 
 "mother wouldn't ha' died without saying 
 something about it, if there'd been any 
 wedding." But Will had nothing to plead
 
 THE "MAUVAIS SUJET " OF BINGWELL. 35 
 
 for himself when she rated him for his fre- 
 quent visits to the White Horse. Whenever 
 she saw Will making an extra-fine toilet, she 
 broke out at him. For Mrs. Prickett had 
 long ago found out Will's secret. She knew 
 that he loved Clara Smithson — or, to say 
 worshipped her, would be more correct. 
 When his foster-mother told him Clara 
 "would never have him as he was," the 
 sad, conscious truth went coldly home to 
 Will's heart. And when she followed this 
 shaft up by another, directed at Clara's 
 extravagance and expensive habits, saying, 
 that they would "both be in the workhus 
 in a month if they was married," Will 
 couldn't venture to contest the truth of the 
 remark. 
 
 15 2
 
 36 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Mrs. Prickett's friend and counsellor was 
 Mr. Pitcher, the parish clerk and sexton of 
 Bingwell. Many and many a time they 
 had talked together as to the possil)ility of 
 Will's legitimacy. And Mr. Pitcher, whose 
 faith in parish books was profound, often 
 found himself thinking of it while he turned 
 the mouldy pages of the Bingwell archives. 
 About a month ago he had received a visit 
 from a smart lawyer's clerk, representing a 
 firm in Gray's Inn, who wished to refer to 
 the registry concerning the births, mar- 
 riages, and deaths of a family named 
 Talboys ; and Mr. Pitcher, thinking the 
 opportunity too good to be lost, hazarded a 
 question as to "whether there was jDarish 
 clerks in Lunnun ? "
 
 THE "MAUVAIS SUJET" OF BINGWELL. 37 
 
 Mr. Gribble, rejDresenting Messrs. Sur- 
 charge and Stamps, wlio had long since won 
 his spurs as " a sharp young man," very soon 
 saw that Mr. Pitcher had a purpose in his 
 questions, and the conference ended by Mr. 
 Gribble paying a visit to Mrs. Prickett, and 
 leaving her with the con\dction that some- 
 where, probably in London, might be found 
 the certificate of Mr. Frankland's marriage 
 with Amy Campbell. Mrs. Prickett had 
 given him no retainer, but her manner had 
 been so mysteriously confidential, she had so 
 suspiciously impressed upon him the ne- 
 cessity of secresy, of avoiding all advertising, 
 of not giving the least publicity to his in- 
 quiries, which might reach the ears of the 
 family, that as Mr. Gribble walked back to
 
 38 HEVER COURT. 
 
 tlie railway station, smoking a penny cigar 
 and swinging gaily a sixpenny walking-cane, 
 lie tkougkt more and more that there was 
 something in it, that " the old woman could 
 say more if she liked : " in fact, he felt that 
 he "had got hold of a good thing," and 
 would spare no trouble in his search for 
 evidence.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Gribble passed out of 
 sight than Mrs. Prickett was seized with a 
 longing to loosen her mind by converse 
 with her friend the clerk. But it would 
 not do that she should be observed to 
 make a special visit, for though neither of 
 them were young, yet Mr. Pitcher was un- 
 married. So, taking her bonnet from a peg 
 behind the door, and throwing a shawl over 
 her shoulders, Mrs. Prickett sauntered down 
 the little street, hoping to find Pitcher some-
 
 40 HEVER COUET. 
 
 where about his house, that she might avoid 
 the appearance of an intended call. She 
 was not disappointed. As she approached 
 the little wooden cottage where the parish 
 clerk Hved, with his rather ill-favoured sister 
 Betsy, Mrs. Prickett saw Pitcher at work in 
 his garden. 
 
 Now, though Mr. Pitcher was for six days 
 in the week only a second-class agricultiu-al 
 labourer, yet, by consequence of his functions 
 on the Sunday he had become a respecter of 
 persons. He held himself quite above the 
 commonalty of the village. He always ad- 
 dressed Mrs. Prickett as " mum," but then, 
 though she had property, her husband had 
 been his predecessor in office, and therefore 
 there was some relationship between them.
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 41 
 
 In person lie was but a little man, in physical 
 strength so feeble that farmer Styles would 
 only give him eighteen-pence a day for his 
 labour ; but on Sundays he had his sweet 
 revenge upon those great, brawny, more 
 liighly paid neighbours of his. For they 
 trudged to church in buskins and smock 
 frocks, and when they were inside the walls 
 had to sit on a ricketty form in the cold 
 aisle, or were huddled together in the little 
 gallery where they lolled, sleeping on their 
 arms, till one of the singers chalked the 
 number of the hymn on a black board and 
 lowered it over the gallery for the informa- 
 tion of the congregation, then the tuning of 
 Bob Sutton's double-bass awoke them. But 
 Jimmy Pitcher's life was nobler than this.
 
 42 HEVER COURT. 
 
 From a tall gentleman, the former rector, lie 
 had received the gift of a blue cloth tail-coat, 
 a buff waistcoat, and a tall hat. It was 
 Jimmy's delight to wear these garments on 
 Sunday. Far below his knees flapped the 
 tails, — a world too wide for his body was 
 this coat ; his head was half bm^ied in its 
 ample collar, and little indeed could be seen 
 of him when topped by the hat. But Pitcher 
 never doubted that his " buff and blue " fitted 
 him admirably, and during all the six work- 
 ing days he seemed to slink about the parish 
 ashamed of the smock frock and corduroys 
 in which he laboured. 
 
 He spoke with a little, reedy, piping voice, 
 but consequentially ; his features were small 
 and pinched. Along one side of his nose
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 43 
 
 ran a blue scar whicli was tlie torment of 
 Jimmy's life. Not tliat it gave him actual 
 physical pain. But never when it was an 
 open wound had it tortured him as it did 
 now. For Jimmy affected much the society 
 of ladies, and was known to be ambitious 
 of matrimony. But every saucy tongue 
 in the village had wagged with the story 
 of this blue scar. The lady whose hand 
 Jimmy sought should have been encouraged 
 by it ; for it was the standing joke of Bing- 
 well that durino; a misunderstanding with 
 his sister, Miss Betsy had thrown an old 
 saucepan at her brother, and, as he said, 
 " the crock had got into his nose." It was 
 popularly believed that Betsy had quite 
 vanquished the parish clerk in this en-
 
 44- HEVER COURT. 
 
 counter, and tlie gossips said Jimmy wanted 
 a wife that he might escape from the cruel 
 care of his unlovely sister. 
 
 Mrs. Prickett may or may not have been 
 aware of it, but certainly Jimmy had his 
 eye upon herself. So it was not likely that 
 she would be allowed to pass his garden 
 unnoticed or uninvited. The sight of ]\Irs. 
 Prickett induced him to make a brief toilet, 
 putting his finger and thumb into his mouth, 
 and then so " bandolining " the " love lock " 
 that underhung his battered hat. 
 
 " Nice weather for taturs, mum," he said, 
 advancing to the garden fence. 
 
 Mrs. Prickett had now gained her object, 
 the clerk had called her ; she had not visited 
 him.
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 45 
 
 Then he asked her to "come in and set 
 down ; " and as Mrs. Prickett's " legs was 
 tked " she accepted the invitation. 
 
 "'Tain't like your rooms, mum," said 
 Jimmy, looking round the slovenly apart- 
 ment, and making at once an apology and a 
 compliment. If Betsy had not been within 
 earshot Mrs. Prickett would probably have 
 
 let loose some of the hard words with which 
 she could have characterised the housekeep- 
 
 ino; of Pitcher's sister. But the confusion 
 
 which this enforced reticence occasioned was 
 
 at once ascribed to quite a wrong cause by 
 
 the amorous parish clerk. 
 
 " You're wery lonesome sometimes, I 
 
 dessay, though you have got everythink so 
 
 nice about you," said Jimmy, screwing his
 
 46 HEVER COURT. 
 
 queer little face up into a smile, which was 
 intended to insinuate that he was ready to 
 beguile any spare hours the widow might 
 find tedious. 
 
 " Lor bless yer, man, I've hardly time to 
 wind up the clock." And Mrs. Prickett 
 laughed a laugh that straightened Jimmy's 
 face, and caused the blue scar to show out. 
 " But it wasn't to talk fiddle-faddle as I was 
 wanting," she went on ; " I've seen that 
 there lawyer." 
 
 " Yer hev ! And what does he say ? " 
 
 " Well, he seems to think there's somethin' 
 in it." 
 
 " Do he, though 1 " Mr. Pitcher w^as pon- 
 dering over this and thinking how Will's 
 possible legitimacy would affect his own
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 47 
 
 position. If lier wild foster-son were cleared 
 out of the way, so much the better ; but any 
 further rise in life on the part of Mrs. 
 Prickett would lift her much too far above 
 his reach. Yet on the whole Mr. Pitcher 
 thought his best game was to assist the 
 widow in her inquiries with all his power. 
 Ha^TJig a lawyer, a real London lawyer, at 
 work upon the case, was in itself a great 
 fact ; he regarded the matter as half over 
 now that Gribble had taken it in hand. 
 " Yer see, mum, that comes o' people being 
 in orfice ; it was me as that young shaver 
 come to see." 
 
 "I ain't denying that, Master Pitcher," 
 replied Mrs. Prickett, a little stiffly, for the 
 clerk was, in her opinion, taking rather too
 
 48 HEVER COURT. 
 
 nrncli credit to himself. She was quite 
 willing to let him work with her, but 
 it wasn't in her nature to be the sleep- 
 ing partner. " It ain't to you as he 
 looks for the money," she said, taitly. 
 "But how did you become acquainted with 
 himr' 
 
 '"Tisn't no oncommon thing with me," 
 replied Pitcher, stretching his little neck, 
 " to have a genelman like that come to me, 
 and say, I want a buth, or a deth, or maybe 
 a weddin'. 'Tis arf-a-crown for the parson, 
 and sometimes they give me a pint, but 
 as orft'n not. This 'ere one — he was a 
 right smart chap with one o' them squiz- 
 zing glasses — he says, 'Name o' Talboys.' 
 Says I, ' / ain't put nobody in the yard o'
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 49 
 
 that name/ Says lie, "ow many Imnded 
 years hsJ you bin here, old genelman ? ' So 
 I see at onst he was a goin' a long way up 
 the register. 
 
 " Well, he come orft'n on to the Squire's 
 name ; there was Frankland here, and Frank- 
 land there, so he says, ' These 'ere Franklands 
 are great people about here, I spose,' and it 
 was that sayin' o' hisn that made me speak 
 up like I did." 
 
 None of all this was very new to Mrs. 
 Prickett, yet it lightened her mind to be 
 talking of the business with the only person 
 in whom she could confide. She asked 
 Pitcher if he had ever searched the parish 
 books himself with a view to finding out 
 an}i;hing. "Who knows," she said, "folks 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 HEVER COUET. 
 
 is so deceitful about these things ; they 
 might ha' been married here." 
 
 There was scarcely the smallest probability 
 that the event — if the late Squii'e had mar- 
 ried Amy Campbell — had taken place at Bing- 
 well church ; and Mrs. Prickett knew this, 
 but her anxiety to be doing something for 
 her foster-son made her not so attentive to 
 the arguments against this probability as she 
 was in calmer moments. She persuaded 
 Pitcher to go with her alone to the church 
 that they might make a search together ; 
 and he agreed, after he had, ^ith rustic red- 
 tapery, made as much of the concession as 
 possible, in order to increase his claims upon 
 the widow's regard. 
 
 They arranged to go by different paths,
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 51 
 
 to avoid " making people talk," and were to 
 meet in the porch, or rather, Mrs. Prickett 
 was to be in the porch, and Pitcher would 
 enter by the vestry door and then let the 
 widow into the church by a public door not 
 visible from the houses in the street. 
 
 The clerk knew nothing could come of 
 their search, or at least he w^as almost cer- 
 tain of this, but he liked acting officially 
 with Mrs. Prickett, and Jimmy was not 
 altogether insensible to a sort of clandestine 
 pleasure as he admitted Will's foster-mother 
 to the church. 
 
 Ordinaiily Mrs. Prickett was the better 
 man of the two ; but when she arrived in the 
 vestry the stillness of the place and, as she 
 thought, the lawlessness of the proceeding, 
 
 E 2
 
 02 HEVER COURT. 
 
 rather overpowered her; and seeing her 
 agitation Jimmy felt himself more and more 
 master of the situation. 
 
 " It's very quiet here, ain't it ? " said Mrs. 
 Prickett, half in ten-or, peeping out through 
 the vestry-room door, down the long aisle 
 over the vacant pews. 
 
 " We don't keer about the quiet, nor the 
 ghostes, nor nothin'," replied Pitcher, proudly. 
 " Lor bless yer, there's as many as seven 
 parsons a layin under this blessed room." 
 
 Mrs. Prickett was horrified, but just now 
 Pitcher thumped the heavy register on the 
 table, and they commenced the search to- 
 gether. Jimmy noticed with com23lacency 
 that the widow's finger trembled as she ran 
 it down the pages of the book.
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 53 
 
 "Here they are," she said, after a few 
 minutes' search ; " but it's only the present 
 lady. And if this book speaks all the truth, 
 the old Squire warn't married before. ' John 
 Frankland,' " she read, " ' Emma Josephine 
 Curzon,' that's Master Edward's mother, sure 
 enough." 
 
 Pitcher then showed her the certificate of 
 Amy Campbell's birth and burial ; the latter 
 bore her maiden name only, and here their 
 ineffectual search came to an end. 
 
 But Jimmy was not quite contented that 
 their interview should so terminate. The 
 prize he had in view was certainly not 
 Will's advancement, but his own, and was 
 he more likely to gain it by waiting '? He 
 thouo;ht not. And then the situation had
 
 54 HEVER COURT. 
 
 its charm. So he said, vdih what he 
 thought an ii-resistible smirk, " Hadn't us 
 better go about this 'ere job o' Master Will's 
 thegither ? " 
 
 The widow was evidently about to shatter 
 his hopes at once, but Pitcher had got the 
 start of her and continued, — 
 
 "I've orft'n and orft'n looked acrost the 
 church at you, and felt kinder as if you be- 
 longed to me ; cos, yer see, Master Prickett 
 he was clerk and beedle afore me, and wore 
 the same coat with the goold on it just the 
 same as I do. And I orft'n says to myself 
 at them times, ' She must feel werry much 
 the same towards me when she sees me a 
 reading the psalms ; ' now don't yer, Mrs. 
 Prickett 1 "
 
 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 55 
 
 " You wicked man, why such a thought 
 never entered my head, — in church time 
 ioo ! " 
 
 " Ain't it werry natteral," Jimmy urged, 
 " as we should pair up ? — ain't I got his orfice, 
 and his coat, and the seat he used to set in, 
 and ain't you kinder 'customed to hear me 
 say the hamens and to think it's him ? " 
 
 " Lor, Master Pitcher, I ain't never give a 
 thought to yer ; " she didn't like to tell him, 
 " he wasn't man enough for her," though this 
 unkind and contemptuous speech was on her 
 tono-ue. But she rose from her chair in the 
 vestry, and, followed by the crestfallen 
 parish clerk, left the church, parting with 
 him at the door.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 
 
 " You will come in and see mamma ? you 
 must," said Lucy, as she and Edward 
 Frankland rode up to Sir Jolm Denman's 
 house. 
 
 They had met accidentally in the course 
 of an afternoon ride. Friends from child- 
 hood, there was an undefined feeling be- 
 tween them which on Edward's part seemed 
 to be rapidly ripening into love, nor did his 
 attentions appear to be altogether disagree- 
 able to Lucy.
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 57 
 
 "I have so enjoyed my ride/' she said, as 
 Edward assisted her to dismount. 
 
 " And so have I, thanks to our meeting in 
 Eowton Lane." 
 
 " Ladies are exempt from the necessity of 
 giving reasons ; " said Lucy, smiling and 
 blushing. 
 
 "Not where the happiness of others is 
 concerned," replied Edward, in a tone which 
 seemed to be unintentionally serious. 
 
 However, Lucy was too busy in giving a 
 final pat to her horse's neck to answer this 
 question, and when this operation was 
 ended, she gathered up her skirts and pre- 
 ceded Edward into the presence of Lady 
 Denman, who was " very glad indeed to see 
 him." Then tm-ning to her daughter, —
 
 58 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " Fm SO sorry you were out, dear ; Lord 
 Nantwicli and his sister have been here. 
 Sweet girl Ethel is ! They had ridden over 
 from Dropton, I believe, with no other 
 object " 
 
 " Than to see you, mamma, — so they were 
 gratified. I am not so very grieved to have 
 missed them." 
 
 This was a delicious remark to Edward, 
 for Lord Nantwich was the one rival he 
 feared. 
 
 "But, dear! Ethel wanted you to come 
 over to Dropton for some archery, and I 
 think, if decency had permitted, Lord Nant- 
 wich would have sat here till you came 
 home ; as it was, he did stay nearly three- 
 quarters of an hour, but you know he is a
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 59 
 
 good talker, and tlie time didn't seem 
 long." 
 
 " And did you accept, mamma ? " 
 
 " "Well, yes, dear ; I saw no other way of 
 dealing with the invitation. So we go on 
 Tuesday, if you like/' 
 
 It does not follow because Edward saw in 
 this a continuation of what he feared was 
 Lady Denman's matrimonial policy with 
 regard to Lucy and Lord Nantwich, that 
 any one else in the room was occupied Tvith 
 the same thought. 
 
 "Did you see that girl Smithson at 
 church last Sunday, JMr. Frankland ? " asked 
 Lady Denman, by way of changing the sub- 
 ject of conversation from matters personal 
 to Lucy and herself. " She dresses in excel-
 
 60 HEVER COUET. 
 
 lent taste, I must say, but wlioever saw a 
 lady's maid or a barmaid, or whatever slie 
 is, give herself sucli aii^s ? I declare at one 
 moment, when we were leaving the cbm-cli, 
 I tliougbt she meant to bow to me." 
 
 " I think Clara Smithson is a very hand- 
 some, clever girl," replied Edward, quietly ; 
 " and if she is naturally above her station, I 
 can't say I look upon it as a fault." 
 
 "Nor I, mamma. For some reason or 
 other, she seems not to Hke me, but I think 
 she is very beautiful ; I caught a glimpse of 
 her face as we were just now riding past 
 the White Horse, and it reminded me of a 
 picture I have seen somewhere of Lady 
 Macbeth." 
 
 "You'll make her out quite a heroine
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 61 
 
 between you," interrupted Lady Denman : 
 "now I think her a girl of wild, un- 
 governable, dangerous temper, and not 
 less dangerous because of her undoubted 
 beauty." 
 
 "Poor girl, I think she ought not to be 
 Hving at that public-house : it is a great 
 pity she left Lord Dunkeld's family." 
 
 " Well, but Lucy, I hear that it was not 
 her own fault." 
 
 " I rather think she prefers doing nothing 
 in the way of work, although that involves 
 residence at the AVhite Horse," said Edward. 
 He was standing, hat in hand, unwilling to 
 leave Lucy's presence, and yet feehng that 
 he could not stay much longer. He held 
 out his hand to Lady Denman, sajang, — ■
 
 62 HEVER COURT. 
 
 "I'm SO glad to hear from my mother 
 that you and Miss Denman are coming to 
 
 our festivities." 
 
 " I regard it both as a great pleasure and 
 a duty ; I'm sorry my huslband is detained 
 in London." 
 
 The festivities were in celebration of 
 Edward's majority, though this had been 
 attained three years before ; but his father's 
 failing health and then his death had de- 
 ferred the rejoicings. 
 
 " Good-bye, Miss Denman. I count upon 
 opening the ball with you for my part- 
 ner. May I safely indulge the happy 
 thought?" 
 
 "I suppose I must not refuse such an 
 honour," replied Lucy, looking down and
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 63 
 
 blushing; but wouldn't mamma or some 
 older lady be more correct ? " 
 
 Lady Denman was not inattentive to 
 these remarks. She heard, but not disap- 
 provingly ; indeed she had long resolved that 
 Edward should marry Lucy. She glanced 
 at them and thought them a very handsome 
 couple ; so indeed they were, for Edward, 
 though above the middle height, was well 
 proportioned, and his face always wore an 
 expression which seemed to invite confidence 
 and assure sympathy ; while Lucy, whose 
 graceful figure showed to perfection in her 
 riding-habit, was at the moment holding his 
 hand and looking up to him with an ex- 
 pression of smiling yet nervous deprecation 
 of his proposal, the sunlight shining on her
 
 64 HEVER COUflT. 
 
 expressive countenance, lighting up her rich 
 golden-brown hair, seeming to sink deep 
 into her blueish-grey eyes, and to play 
 with loving admiration around her faultless 
 features. 
 
 They might not know it themselves, but 
 Lady Denman felt quite sure at this mo- 
 ment that they loved each other. 
 
 And so they parted laughingly, Edward 
 
 resolvincr as he rode homewards that after 
 
 o 
 
 the rejoicings were over he would ask Lucy 
 if she loved him and would become his 
 wife. 
 
 But his happy thoughts were disturbed as 
 he turned the corner of Eowton's Lane, and 
 saw Will Campbell turn and recognise him. 
 Will was walking in the same direction that
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 65 
 
 Edward Avas going, and it was impossible to 
 avoid overtakino; liim, as Will was slouchincj 
 but slowly along the road. 
 
 Edward was several years Will's junior ; 
 lie had alwavs tried to be civil to him with- 
 out the air of patronage, mindful of the 
 relationship that existed between them, but 
 it was a very difficult Qvle to sustain, for 
 Will w^as sullen, haughty, and overbearing, 
 resenting the sho-htest kindness as an affront, 
 and yet more than suspected of committing 
 depredations which the Franklands were 
 fearful of punishing. 
 
 It was the old feud. There was Ishmael 
 in the road and Isaac on horseback : and 
 Ishmael coveted the horse and the belong- 
 ings of Isaac, while Isaac wanted to retain 
 
 VOL. I. V
 
 60 HEVER COURT. 
 
 these and all his advantages, and yet to 
 make things pleasant with Ishmael. 
 
 "Well, Will, there will be a good many 
 birds this year," 
 
 " What should I know about bii'ds 1 That 
 brute of a keeper of yours had the impu- 
 dence to threaten me the other day, when I 
 was merely looking at 'em." 
 
 Will had not removed his hands from the 
 pockets of his velveteen shooting-jacket ; 
 but his strong legs, well cased in gaiters and 
 corduroy breeches, seemed to quicken their 
 movement as he made this reply, in order to 
 keep up with Edward's horse. And as he 
 said it he lifted his face to look at Edward. 
 It was a handsome face. There was no 
 sinister expression in his dark brown eyes.
 
 ISAAC AND ISHMAEL. 67 
 
 His forehead was broad, and from under 
 his wide-awake there appeared some thick 
 tufts of strong, curling, black hair, of Avhich 
 there was also a bushy plantation under his 
 chin and upon his cheeks. His features 
 were good but weather-marked. He looked 
 the pattern of a strong, active, healthy 
 man. 
 
 "You know. Will, you do make Thomp- 
 son angry ; I don't say it's you, but he 
 thinks it is you who have been killing off 
 those young pheasants, and I must say who- 
 ever did that is a fellow that deserves to be 
 punished." 
 
 "How, if he can't get at 'em any other 
 road — how then ?" 
 
 "I don't say it was you, but you know 
 
 F 2
 
 68 HEVEP. COURT. 
 
 you might always have a day's rabbit shoot- 
 ing if you asked for it." 
 
 "And leave the game for my betters, I 
 s'pose ; that's proper, ain't it ? And go 
 down on my knees to Thompson ? I'll see 
 him damned first, and then I won't." 
 
 " You'll get yourself into trouble some 
 day, AVill. But I must be off. Good-bye," 
 and Edward cantered homewards. 
 
 '•' Into trouble," muttered Will ; " why, 
 I've never been out of it. It's a good deal 
 easier for you to get into trouble. Master 
 Edward. Perhaps if you wasn't on the high 
 horse she wouldn't care for you."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MRS. PEICKETT LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE 
 
 BAG. 
 
 Mrs. Prickett was busy this afternoon 
 ''cleaning up." She was a bright-eyed, active 
 little woman of an uncertain age, probably 
 between fifty and sixty, but, as she said of 
 herself, " she'd never know'd a day's illness ; 
 and though the Lord had sent her gi^ey 
 hairs, yet, thank his mercy, her teeth was 
 good, and she'd never wanted for nothink." 
 Her *' keeping-room," into which the door 
 opened from the garden, showed the results
 
 70 HEVER COURT. 
 
 of Mrs. Prickctt's labour, for the bricks of 
 the floor were brightly, newly red, and the 
 piece of carpet which ordinarily lay in front 
 of the fire, was rolled up on the settle until 
 the floor was dry. She had just been polish- 
 ing three metal platters till they shone like 
 silver, and was making her way across the 
 room, under a beam well hung with hams 
 and cheeks, to replace them above the 
 dresser, on which stood her household gods 
 in the shape of some odds and ends of 
 dinner and tea services of earthenware and 
 china, when Will came in. She looked 
 at him with an anxious and motherly 
 fondness. 
 
 "What's amiss, Will — what makes yer 
 look so sorely V
 
 MRS. PEICKETT LETS THE CAT OUT. 71 
 
 " Oil, I don't know, mother ; is the tea 
 ready V and Will pulled one of the chairs 
 up to the fire, and sat down looking between 
 the bars as if all that he wanted lay there 
 among the red-hot cinders. 
 
 "Did yer sell the cow?" asked Mrs. 
 Prickett, with ill-concealed anxiety. 
 
 Will hesitated. Then he dived deep 
 into his pocket and produced thirteen 
 sovereigns. He looked at them for a mo- 
 ment, after counting them, and seemed 
 to make a resolve, but not without a 
 struggle. 
 
 "I won't tell yer no lies," he said, sul- 
 lenly, " I sold her for fourteen pound, and 
 then I went and lost a suverin' playing at 
 knock' em downs."
 
 72 HEVER COUllT. 
 
 " Drat you men ! if you ain't the most 
 wasteful, spending creechurcs as tlie Lord 
 ever made ! There, I wonder why he did 
 make yer. If a woman does try to get a 
 honest crust, yer must needs take it out of 
 her mouth ! " 
 
 "Well mother, if I'd ha' had a pound 
 about me you shouldn't a know'd of it." 
 
 ''That I shouldn't, I know. Will," replied 
 Mrs. Prickett, with ready forgiveness ; " yer 
 was always free with yer money, and a open 
 hand is a good deal more to my fancy than 
 a shet one. I wish you was more given to 
 work," she continued ; " and I must say it, 
 AVill, less foud o' public houses and them 
 ungodly games, — which they're the evil 
 one's games, who goes about " Mrs.
 
 MRS. PRICKETT LETS THE CAT OUT. 73 
 
 Prickett tried to remember the quotation, 
 •' like ca stoat in a hen-lms." 
 
 AVill sat sulkily looking at the fire, appa- 
 rently heedless of her remarks, 
 
 " I don't mean to say," she went on, " but 
 what all has their faults ; but yours never 
 was being unkind to yer mother. And 
 when the Lord was a writin' the Command- 
 ments on the top of Sinai, and he put a pro- 
 mise on to the fifth, it's my belief that He 
 meant that ere like as though to say that all 
 the others wasn't nothino; to that. But 
 things 'ud go on easier, and you'd be a deal 
 comfort'bler in yer mind, Will, if yer was to 
 give up thinkin' about that gal o' Smith- 
 son's, and to try to keep yourself respect- 
 able with a good character, because yer
 
 74 HEVER COURT. 
 
 don't know what may happen one of these 
 clays. 
 
 Mrs. Prickett was thinking aljout Mr. 
 Gribble, and speculating upon the possible 
 success of his inquuies. But she had said 
 nothing about her interview with him to 
 Will, although her foster-son well knew that 
 she hoped to see him master of Hever 
 Court. 
 
 Yet he turned sharply at her concluding 
 remark. " Ah ! mother," he said, and there 
 was a gleam of hope upon his face, "if 
 something was to happen like what you 
 mean, she'd have me then. But it's foolish 
 to go harping on that ; it ain't likely that 
 them that's got Hever would let me have it 
 if it was ever so."
 
 MRS. PKICKETT LETS THE CAT OUT. 75 
 
 " Ay ; well, we shall see ; I once see'd a 
 lawyer, and he said to me, says he — he was 
 a sarcy kind of a chap — but, says he— I re- 
 member his w^ords as plain as if he was a 
 settin' in that chair — 'law's all humbug,' says 
 he, ' and a poor man ain't no chance against 
 ready money ; but then,' says he, ' a poor 
 man's a rich man if he's got a good case, 
 and he won't want for law, leastways not 
 when Mister Gribble is on the rolls,' he 
 
 says." 
 
 Mrs. Prickett had said enough to make 
 
 AVill very attentive ; too much, she feared ; 
 she had not intended to disclose the name of 
 her legal adviser, or even to confess that she 
 advised with any lawjer, because she was 
 sensible enough to estimate how small was
 
 76 HEVER COURT. 
 
 tlie probability of Will's legitimacy, and 
 how hurtful to him was her uncontrollable 
 curiosity upon the subject so long as her en- 
 deavours failed to be successful. 
 
 " For God's sake, mother ! you don't 
 mean to say you've heard anything V 
 
 Now Mrs. Prickett did think that, in 
 taking a lawyer's clerk into her confidence, 
 she had done something very important. 
 Indeed, she regarded this tremendous step 
 in some vague, indistinct manner as the 
 certain prelude to success. Therefore Will's 
 question confused her. 
 
 " Well, no, Will ; I can't rightly say as 
 I've heerd anythink, but " 
 
 " What ? " he exclaimed, with feverish 
 impatience.
 
 MRS. PRICKETT LETS THE CAT OUT. 77 
 
 " I'm — I've — tliat is. Master Pitcher- 
 
 "Wliat's Jimmy Pitcher got to do mtli 
 it?" 
 
 " Why, births and all that are in his way, 
 don't you see, WiU V 
 
 After some more questioning, Mrs. 
 Prickett was forced to tell Will about her 
 interview with Mr. Gribble, and of his en- 
 gagement to make search in London for 
 evidence of the marriao-e of his father and 
 mother. For a moment Will was infected 
 with the sanguine hopefulness of his mother, 
 but this quickly subsided. 
 
 " I hope you didn't give the lawyer-brute 
 any money," was his first remark ; " it's a 
 deal worse than spending it at knock-em- 
 downs, if you did."
 
 78 HEVER COURT. 
 
 "No, I told him sartin sure, and Pitcher 
 was witness, as I wasn't to give him nought 
 nor owe him nought." 
 
 "Then you may take your word, he's 
 forgot all about it by this time." 
 
 "Well, he may, that's true," and Mrs. 
 Prickett's face visibly lengthened at the 
 thought; "but he was such a active and 
 ready-spoken young man, that I don't think 
 he will. 'Sides," she added, " he axed such 
 knowing questions as to where your mother 
 had lived — whereabouts in London, I mean 
 — and I told him all that the poor thing had 
 told me."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." 
 
 There stood in the window of Mrs. 
 Prickett's room an ornament, than which no 
 finer could grace the boudoir of a princess. 
 She had given half-a-dozen rabbit-skins for 
 it. But in her keeping it had grown from a 
 slip into a splendid shrub. It was a red 
 camellia, and bore three fine blossoms. 
 
 Will had left his chair, and was standing 
 near the window, looking out through the 
 leaves of the camellia, pondering and iiTC- 
 solute, as to what he had heard from his
 
 80 HEVER COURT. 
 
 foster-mother, thinking how it might affect 
 his future fortunes, when his eye fell on the 
 most perfect of these blossoms, and hastily 
 turning to see if Mrs. Prickett was observing 
 him, he snipped it off, and concealed it in 
 one of the huge pockets of his coat. 
 
 The old woman had not noticed the 
 larceny. 
 
 Then he went up the worm-eaten, creak- 
 ing staircase, and presently Mrs. Prickett 
 saw him leave the house by the back way, 
 on purpose to avoid her. She well knew 
 where he was going. 
 
 " Ay, poor morth !" she soliloquised; " he's 
 a going flyin' ronnd the candle, and that 
 huzzy won't care how much he burns hisself, 
 not she."
 
 " HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." 81 
 
 Will was certainly taking liis way to 
 the White Horse, with the overt inten- 
 tion of drinking a glass or two of ale, 
 but really with the hope of seeing Clara 
 Smithson. 
 
 It was Mrs. Smithson who greeted him at 
 the inn-door. She Avas a double-chinned 
 woman, of incalculable diameter. One-half 
 of her would have been considerably larger 
 than Mrs. Prickett. She was the terrur of 
 the curate, Mr. Fipps. " Not that she was 
 an open scoffer," as that gentleman had once 
 explained, " or in any way improper, but she 
 was not amenable to religious teaching." 
 The fact is, that Mrs. Smithson lauohed at 
 Mr. Fipps. Whatever her religion was, it 
 was not that of the curate. She always 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 HEVER COURT. 
 
 spoke of My. Bustard, the rector, witli 
 respect ; but her merry eyes twinkled, 
 and her mouth wreathed with fun, Avhen 
 she iiTeverently discoursed of " Little 
 Fipps." 
 
 She liked Will, forgiving his laziness and 
 willing submission to any circumstances that 
 favoured it, because she thought it the con- 
 sequence of his unfortunate birth. And 
 perhaps the spice of scandal that he carried 
 about with him made him not less agreeable 
 to the hostess of the "White Horse." It 
 was not her habit to dislike men or things 
 because they were a little incorrect. Yet 
 she herself was a model of cleanliness and 
 good housewifery, and Will knew well 
 enouo'h that she would never let Clara
 
 " HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." S3 
 
 marry liim. But then he knew, also, that 
 Clara would do what pleased herself in this 
 matter, and that her aunt's voice would 
 avail nothing against her will. 
 
 She wagged her fat face reproachfully at 
 Will. 
 
 "Pity them stocks has gone out o' use, 
 you lazy-bones ; they'd ha' fitted them 
 ankles of yours to a t." 
 
 Will looked down at his ankles, and both 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 " You forget ; I haven't got anybody to 
 work for, Mrs. Smithson." 
 
 " Ah ! well. 'Tis to be hoped you'll mend 
 your ways. Yes, you may come into the 
 parlour and rest a bit." 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Clara," said Will,
 
 St IIEVER COURT. 
 
 glad, and yet not glad, to see her sitting 
 there. There was a languid* ease in her 
 manner, which made her appear so un- 
 approachable to Will. She seemed now 
 to be rather annoyed l}y the interruption 
 to her reading, for she held in her hand 
 a volume of " Aurora Floyd." Her recep- 
 tion of Will seemed to express a passive 
 readiness to accept the homage which 
 she knew he would offer, and which she 
 would accept, not quite unwillingly, as her 
 due. 
 
 Even Will could read all this in her hand- 
 some features as she tmiied towards him, 
 laying her book in her lap, but without 
 moving a neatly-slippered foot from off the 
 fender, and shaking, with a most attractive
 
 " HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." 85 
 
 gesture, the single curl that lay upon her 
 shoulder. 
 
 Nothing could be more easy than her 
 attitude while Will was sitting on the corner 
 of his chair, nervously sipping his ale as an 
 excuse for his silence. 
 
 "And tliat man thinks he may marry 
 me," was Clara's thought, while Will began 
 to wish he hadn't plucked the camellia. 
 But she spared him from the difficulty he 
 anticipated in approaching its presentation, 
 by asking — 
 
 "Are you going to the dance to-morrow 
 
 night, wiin" 
 
 " No," Ik; replied, reddening ; '' mother 
 and me never go up there ; but I was sure," 
 he added, with a glance intended to be
 
 86 HEVER COURT. 
 
 sliglitly malicious, Ijut failing utterly wlien 
 it encountered Clara's cool, superior stare, 
 " I was sure you ■\voulcl be going, and I 
 brougM you this." 
 
 He produced tlie flower from hisjpocket. 
 
 " I heard you say once, at mother's, 
 that you should like one to put in your 
 hair." 
 
 Clara was really pleased. 
 
 " How very kind of you. Will. I am 
 only so sorry we shan't have a dance to- 
 gether. It's just the right shade, too, for 
 my hair." 
 
 Will was quite happy, and felt that he 
 could brave the scolding he knew he should 
 get from Mrs. Prickett for plucking the 
 flower.
 
 " HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." 87 
 
 Yet lie had a painful suspicion of the 
 cause of Clara's pleasure, though he did not 
 know how entirely it was because this flower 
 would give her another claim to Edward 
 Frankland's favour at the ball which, in 
 honour of his majority, was to come off the 
 next evening. It had no other value in her 
 eyes, except as she thought it might, by 
 enhancing her charms, diminish the effect 
 of those quiet graces for the possession of 
 which she felt she hated, while she envied 
 Lucy Denman. 
 
 " I'm so much obliged, Will," she said, as 
 he rose to go. 
 
 " It ain't half good enough for you. I 
 wish, Miss Clara," added Will, in a burst, 
 " I'd something so good to offer you that
 
 88 HEVER COURT. 
 
 you'd take me with it." And Will's dark 
 eyes rested with an eager look upon her 
 face. 
 
 " And if you were ever so rich it isn't me 
 you would l)ring flowers to, Master Will," 
 she said, with a smile, little embarrassed ; 
 " but here comes aunt." 
 
 The entry of Mrs. Smithson choked the 
 protestations Will was about to make, and 
 he was glad to leave before she had seen and 
 questioned about the flower he had brought 
 for Clara. 
 
 But his happiness was of short duration, 
 for at the door he met Edward, who nodded 
 at him, and passed, with the liberty of 
 a favoured patron, into Mrs. Smithson's 
 parlour.
 
 '' HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." S9 
 
 " Come to engage you for the first waltz, 
 Mrs. Smitlison," he said, hiughing, bowing 
 at the same time to Chira, who blushed and 
 glanced hastily at the camellia, wishing it 
 would disappear under her sight. 
 
 " Lor ! Master Edward. I know better 
 than to get my best cap tore by the young 
 'uns. They'd think I was going to run off 
 with you." And Mrs. Smithson shook the 
 parlour with her laughter. 
 
 Edward gave her some directions about 
 supplying refreshments for the labourers 
 on the estate, whose feast w^as to be pro- 
 vided from the White Horse. Then, with 
 a gay, courteous smile, he addressed 
 Clara, — 
 
 " And I should have all the young men in
 
 90 HEVER COURT. 
 
 the village against me, Miss SmitLson, if I 
 asked the same privilege of you." 
 
 Clara tossed her head disdainfully. 
 
 " What do I care for all the young men in 
 the village ?" 
 
 " No ; all I said was, that they care for 
 you ; and if you wear that flower in your 
 hair" — Edward pointed to the camellia — 
 "you will be quite irresistible." 
 
 Clara's lip curled scornfully, and Edward, 
 thinkinof that "he never could make out 
 that girl," bade them good morning. 
 
 He didn't know that her eyes followed 
 him, expressing petulant anger, and yet 
 with it a lono^insf that he would turn, if it 
 were only on the threshold, that she might 
 see his face asrain.
 
 " HE LOVES ; HE LOVES ME NOT." 91 
 
 She was biting her red lips with vexation. 
 
 " He fancies I care what these louts think 
 of me." Then, glad to escape from her 
 aunt, she ran up-stairs, and watched Edward 
 from her window as he walked homewards 
 by the field-path. 
 
 Had he been vain, perhaps her feelmgs 
 might have betrayed her before this ; he 
 would have had some excuse for being con- 
 ceited could he have seen this handsome, 
 proud girl struggling to hide even from her- 
 self a tear as she pressed his portrait to her 
 lips, or rather the ruin of it, which, in the 
 passing of her fit of passion, she had again 
 treasured. 
 
 It had cost her no little shame and 
 trouble to get this wretched caricature of his
 
 92 HEVEPt COURT, 
 
 face from tlie travelling pliotogra2:)lier, wlio, 
 after taking j^ortraits at Hever Court, had 
 exliibitecl the negatives at the White Horse.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HEVER COURT " EN FETE." 
 
 Hever Court had been all day en fete. 
 Even Mr. Fipps had become liilarious. He 
 had taken upon himself the duties of a 
 swing, and had swung all comers till his 
 arms ached. But all liis Sunday scholars 
 were candidates for the seat, and would not 
 dispense with his services, though he looked 
 sometimes rather longingly to where Lucy 
 Denman w^as seated on the grass, surrounded 
 by a little crowd playing a quieter game. 
 The bigger boys had run races and jumped
 
 94 HEVER COURT. 
 
 and climbed, with Edward for master of 
 the ceremonies ; and ]Mrs. Frankland, sur- 
 rounded by her friends, had given the 
 prizes to the winners according to his 
 award. 
 
 Adjouiing the house, a large square tent 
 had been erected, in which a tremendous 
 dinner had been eaten at midday. Edward 
 had made two or three speeches, one for the 
 Queen, another for himself, and a third for 
 his mother, which everybody cheered, and 
 now the evenino- had come and the dinner- 
 tables had disappeared, the floor of the tent 
 looked straight and clean, and the company 
 were assembling for the dance which was to 
 conclude this festive day. 
 
 Now and then from the platform on which
 
 HEVER COURT "EN FETE. 95 
 
 the musicians were stationed there came the 
 sound of tuning, the squeaking of the fiddle- 
 screws, and occasionally the thrum-thrum of 
 a harp. 
 
 They were awaiting the " house party " to 
 open the ball. Among the company already 
 assembled Mrs. Smithson loomed large in a 
 satin dress of that indescribable brownish 
 green colour which is so favoured by women 
 of her size and class. She might well look 
 proud of the handsome girl at her side, 
 though it was evident that Clara didn't 
 return the compliment. Clara seemed of 
 cjuite a different class to the rest of the 
 company. Fortunately for her, there had 
 been little difference in size between her 
 late mistress, Lady Anne Dunkeld, and
 
 9G HEVEE, COURT. 
 
 herself, and the dress she now wore had made 
 its first appearance in very high society. It 
 was of some white material, thin and gaiizy, 
 with here and there bunches of red ribbons, 
 quite in keeping with Will's camellia, which 
 lay nestling in her black liaii\ Mrs. Smith- 
 son was greeting every one she came near, 
 but Clara scarcely deigned to take any notice 
 of those to whom her aunt spoke. They had 
 just reached a seat, when " the gentlefolks " 
 were heard approaching. 
 
 " No, thanks, I don't dance," said Lady 
 Denman, withdrawinsx her hand from Ed- 
 ward's arm. 
 
 They were foUowed by his mother and 
 Mr. Bustard, the rector, who looked so com- 
 fortable that, apart from the impropriety,
 
 HEVER COUrcT "EN FETE. 97 
 
 no one Avonlcl have tliought of askino; liim 
 to dance. 
 
 Edward would have liked to claim Lucy 
 from Lord Nantwich, who led her into the 
 room, or at least Nantwich 's pretty sister. 
 Lady Ethel Morley, who followed, charitably 
 engaged in drawing out Mr. Fipps, spite of 
 a sort of professional horror of the revels he 
 was about to witness. 
 
 But the voice of duty told Edward he 
 must open the ball with the wife of the 
 most considerable of his tenants. She was 
 a Mrs. Strawson, and pranced through her 
 part with evident satisfaction, affording great 
 amusement to Nantwich, who, when Lucy 
 accepted the invitation of some young farmer, 
 had selected Clara for his first partner. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 HEVER COURT. 
 
 For the next dance Lucy was engaged to 
 Nantwicli. Edward could scarcely repress 
 tlie look of annoyance with which he heard 
 it. She seemed not to wish to dance 
 with him. He felt he loved her so much 
 that he thouo;lit he had a rioht to mo- 
 nopolise her, especially this evening. He 
 rather desired to show all his neighbours 
 and tenants that she was the lady of his 
 choice. Probably this was the reason 
 that made Lucy hold back. But he 
 was troubled with the thought that she 
 preferred Kantwich, and he was not 
 quite happy as he led out Clara for the 
 waltz. 
 
 Edward could not keep his eyes from Lucy 
 and Nantwicli, who were akeady gliding
 
 HEVER COURT " EN FETE. 1)9 
 
 with easy grace tlirougli the dancers. He 
 could see Lucy's strained attention to catch 
 the remarks which Nantwich in his usual 
 quiet cynical manner was dropping into 
 her ear. 
 
 Lord Nantwich was not a handsome man, 
 at least it was often remarked, not until 
 you had known hun for some time. Yet 
 there seemed an immense reserve of strength 
 in his impassive face. But for his good 
 breeding he would have looked a coarse 
 man ; as it was, even his strong features, 
 his smooth Ijut mobile countenance, his well- 
 knit, though somewhat broad frame, and his 
 stiff, straight brown hair, had nothing of a 
 bourgeois appearance. 
 
 "Don't you think, Miss Denman," he was 
 
 H 2
 
 100 HEVER COURT. 
 
 saying, " there's a great deal of liypocrisy 
 about this sort of thing "? " 
 
 "About what ? I don't understand you." 
 
 " These rejoicings, as they call them ; 
 what's the proper thing to say ? — ' mixture 
 of all classes,' T think that is the proper 
 phrase." 
 
 "Does the condescension annoy you?" 
 
 "Not a bit, but I trembled just now to 
 .sec you in the hands of that clodhopper." 
 
 " He was very nice, and his politeness 
 was very sincere." 
 
 " But niioht I suo-o-est he would have been 
 happier with his Molly." 
 
 "Doubtless," answered Lucy, laughing, 
 " but then he couldn't have studied deport- 
 ment as exhibited by Lord Nantwich."
 
 HEVER COURT " EN FETE. ]0l 
 
 " Well, if you tliink we are elevating the 
 masses I withdraw my objection, especially 
 as I am perfectly happy at present ; but 
 may I ask you for the next dance ? " 
 
 "Certainly not, I am engaged to that 
 young man near the window, with the high 
 collar and shining hair." 
 
 " I declare it's wicked, Miss Denman." 
 Lucy laughed and blushed as she regained 
 her seat, and told Nantwich "to go and do 
 his duty." 
 
 Meanwhile Clara had detected the wander- 
 ing glances of her partner, but she did not 
 resent them against Edward, her feeling was 
 one of increased hatred towards Lucy. 
 
 " If I can separate them ! " was Clara's 
 thought.
 
 103 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " Your last partner was the best dancer 
 in the room," said Edward. 
 
 Her eyes were modestly cast down as h<^ 
 spoke. Then she looked up with just one 
 glance expressing glad jDi'eference for him, 
 and felt that she had pleased him as they 
 began to dance. 
 
 " I think Lord Nantwich is very haughty," 
 she said, timidly. 
 
 " Why ? " Edward increased his conde- 
 scension. " He was not so to you, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 Clara smiled, as though she cared little if 
 he were so. 
 
 " He is going to be married to Miss Den- 
 man, isn't he?" she asked, in the most 
 innocent and unconcerned voice.
 
 HEVER COURT " EN FETE. 103 
 
 Slie felt tlic tlirill, tlioiigh, which her 
 question sent through Edward, extending 
 even to his arm which encircled her waist. 
 
 " No ! " he replied, with faint emphasis, 
 " I never heard so," yet she read in his face 
 an evident annoyance that he should be 
 disturbed by a question put by so incompe- 
 tent a person. This nerved her to cut 
 deeper into his heart. 
 
 " I thought it was settled," she said, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 Edward strove for a moment to nppear 
 uninterested, but it was a failure. 
 
 " Who told you such nonsense ? " They 
 had finished dancing, and he spoke angrily, 
 looking into her face for an answer. But 
 her eyes met his with a lurking smile, which
 
 ]01. HEVER COUET. 
 
 told liiin lie liad betrayed liis love for Lucy, 
 and made him feel a momentary sense of 
 Clara's superiority to liimself Not a word 
 had been said to give him such a thought, 
 yet he was certainly conscious of being 
 to some extent in her power. It was the 
 natural triumph of a strong-er over a weid^er 
 character in a moment of perplexity. 
 
 "I don't clearly recollect," she replied ; "it 
 may have been, yes, I think it must have 
 been Lady Anne Dunkeld ; you know they 
 are cousins." 
 
 "I suppose all women love titles," he said, 
 bitterly, and then directly felt ashamed of 
 himself for allovdng such an expression to 
 pass his lips with regard to Lucy. 
 
 "Not all," Clara's voice here was low and
 
 HEVER COURT "EN FETE. 105 
 
 soft. " I am oDly a poor girl, but if I marry 
 it will be for love." 
 
 Edward made no reply, yet there was 
 something soothing and sweet to his ear in 
 the remark. It seemed for a moment to 
 heal his wounded heart. 
 
 Clara perceived this, she felt that there 
 was something like a confidence re-established 
 between them. 
 
 And when Edward afterwards danced 
 with Lucy she found him silent, dull, and 
 pre-occupied.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CLAEA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 
 
 Yet Clara on her part Avas not satisfied 
 when the ball was over. She had been 
 far from successful in detaining EdAvard. 
 When the notes of the National Anthem 
 warned the most reluctant dancers that they 
 would be piped to no longer, it was not he 
 who came forward to get her shawl, or pay 
 her any attention. Just before she left the 
 ball-room, she had the misery of seeing him 
 deep in conversation with Lucy, and appa-
 
 CLARA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 107 
 
 rently quite reconciled to her whom Clara 
 resrarded as her rival, 
 
 A gawky young farmer wished to be 
 useful to Clara, and tried to assist in adjust- 
 ing her wrappers, l)ut she repulsed him so 
 rudely, that Mrs. Smithson, who stood by, 
 was quite shocked, and as for the farmer, he 
 withdrew frightened, and resolving never 
 again to make up to Clara. 
 
 She and her aunt walked together from the 
 door of Hever Court without speaking a word. 
 But this silence was not at all to the mind 
 of Mrs. Smithson, who was infected l)y the 
 gaiety of the evening, and perhaps not 
 altogether unaffected by the wine she had 
 taken rather freely. But few of the com- 
 pany being " carriage people," the guests
 
 108 HEVER COURT. 
 
 mostly wallvGcl to tlieir liomcs in groups, and 
 tlic stout hostess was by no means sorry to 
 be overtaken by a neighbour who would 
 beguile the way with talk. 
 
 Clara's white dress shewed conspicuous in 
 the dark nioht. Between them and the 
 lodge-gates lay a large plantation, which, 
 indeed, almost belted the park. Through 
 this wood the road lay between tall trees, 
 which completely hid it from the moonhght. 
 And when they had advanced but a few 
 yards in this gloomy shade, Clara was 
 startled to see the dark motionless figure of 
 a man quite close to her. She thought that 
 most probably it was one of the game- 
 keepers, perhaps Thompson, whom she knew 
 very well.
 
 CLARA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 109 
 
 Then she recognised Will Campbell. 
 
 " I thought it was yon, — I was waiting for 
 you," said Will. 
 
 " Waiting for me ? " Clara replied, aston- 
 ished. In her present frame of mind she 
 was by no means displeased to meet with 
 him. But Will did not know the extent of 
 his good fortune. Tortured with jealousy 
 and hatred, he had found it impossible to go 
 to bed, and had turned out for a walk into 
 the park, lurking under shadow of this 
 wood, hoping to meet with Clara. Yet he 
 felt sure he should meet her radiant with 
 triumph, earing less than ever for himself. 
 Even in the night-light he could see how 
 very beautiful she looked in her ball cos- 
 tume. Her hr.ir was dressed with so much
 
 110 HEVER COUllT. 
 
 more eles^ance and care than usual, and in 
 the surprise of the greeting she had let go 
 the wrapper which covered her bare neck 
 and shouhlers, so that Will caught a deli- 
 cious glimpse of charms which only her ball 
 dress exposed. 
 
 Nor was her aunt altogether sorry. She 
 made some lauohingr remark to Will "that 
 he was a faithful old dog," and without 
 regret saw that Clara meant to accept 
 his escort homewards. For so far Clara 
 had been a damper upon ]\Irs. Smithson's 
 spirits. She couldn't let herself out in 
 neighbourly talk while her handsome niece, 
 of whom all the village gossips were 
 afraid, stalked sulleidy and silently by her 
 side.
 
 CLARA FIJSIDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. Ill 
 
 Clara allowed lier anut and lier friend to 
 precede herself by some steps, and tlien the 
 enraptured AVill felt her hand laid in his 
 arm, and in this position of unaccustomed 
 favour he and Clara continued their walk 
 throuo;h the wood. 
 
 " There is no one else, no other man 
 would do this for me," she said, slightly 
 pressing his arm. 
 
 " There isn't another that loves you as I 
 do," was Will's reply. 
 
 " How do you know that V 
 
 " They can't, and what's more, they 
 shan't." 
 
 " And pray why not 1 " Clara spoke in a 
 cool tone of banter. She was gratified to 
 clear the trouble from her own bosom by
 
 112 HEVER COURT. 
 
 troubling tins man's heart. "How do you 
 know Lord Nantwicli does not love me, or 
 Mr. Edward ? both of them danced with me 
 to-night." 
 
 " Damn them," Will muttered. 
 
 " No, no, don't swear," and she softly 
 pressed her fingers closer upon his arm, 
 knowingly and wilfully increasing the 
 passionate torment the man was suffering. 
 
 " I s'pose if I was up there, if I was 
 Squire, and give treats, you'd have me V 
 
 "You wouldn't think about me then, 
 Will ; but I confess it would be nice to live 
 in those fine rooms, and to order all those 
 servants about. Yes, I think I would have 
 you, Will, if you were in Mr. Edward's 
 shoes — and were to ask me."
 
 CLAEA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 113 
 
 Should he say anything to her about 
 his newly-raised hopes ? He had solemnly 
 promised his foster-mother that he would 
 not speak of them to anybody. But the 
 temptation was too great for his power of 
 resistance. To get Hever Court was to 
 get Clara. He could forgive himself for 
 the weakness of being false to his pro- 
 mise by assuring himself that it was best 
 to go towards both by even steps. So, 
 perhaps, he might win together the lux- 
 ury of wealth, and the possession of this 
 woman. 
 
 AVith the temptation offered by Clara's 
 speech all this rushed through his mind, and 
 made him say, — 
 
 'Taiu't altogether impossible." 
 
 C( T 
 
 VOL. I,
 
 114 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Clara well knew the circumstances of his 
 birth, and had heard of the hopes that ]\Trs. 
 Prickett entertained of his legitimacy. But 
 Will had never before alluded to these with 
 anything like confidence. She saw now 
 plainly enough by his tone that some new 
 foundation had been discovered ; she pressed 
 his arm closer to herself, and coaxed him 
 Avith questions which in vain he tried to 
 parry. They were not very much further 
 on the road home before Clara Iniew tliat 
 steps were being taken to prove his legiti- 
 macy and right to Hever Court. Will's 
 imperfect statement led her to infer that 
 the prospect of success was much more 
 definite than it really was. From what 
 he said she gathered that it was not at all
 
 CLAKA FIXD3 MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 115 
 
 probable Mr. Grib]3le's search would prove 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 The intelligence revealed quite a new 
 situation to herself. Her first glad thought 
 was that Edward, no longer master of Hever 
 Court, would be more accessible to her love ; 
 perhaps then Lucy would refuse him, or 
 happier than that, ^jerhaps Lucy would still 
 long for him, but her parents would prevent 
 their marriage, and she herseK might marry 
 Edward and hurt Lucy. She was silent for 
 a little while after she had gleaned from 
 Will all that he could or would tell her. 
 She had received so much food for thouo-ht. 
 Then if Edward would not love her, if he 
 treated her as he had treated her to-nisrht, 
 paying no heed to her whatever, how 
 
 I 2
 
 U6 HEVER COURT. 
 
 glorious a revenge slie might liavc by taking 
 "Will — if lie succeeded in turning Edward 
 out of doors. 
 
 " You're tliinking about him,'' said Will, 
 sulkily. 
 
 " No I am not," and again slie pressed his 
 arm ; " why should I think of him ; he 
 doesn't come out in the cold night to meet 
 me, or take any trouble to see me safely 
 home." 
 
 " Will you marry me if I get up there ? " 
 Will nodded his head backwards in the 
 dh'ection of Hever Court. 
 
 " I think so," replied Clara, coyly ; " but 
 I mustn't promise, because, you know, you 
 might like some greater lady then." 
 
 " No, no," he said passionately, and
 
 CLARA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION". 117 
 
 taking his arm from her, attempted at her 
 waist, but Clara was not disposed to give 
 him any such privilege, at all events until 
 he approached much more nearly to posses- 
 sion of the Frankland property. 
 
 " I shall call my aunt, if you don't walk 
 quietly and behave yourself ; there, I'll take 
 your arm again." And she did so with a 
 quietude which betokened very little need of 
 any other jDrotection than her own. 
 
 " There was a Miss Denman — Miss Lucy 
 Denman — at the ball ; do you know her 1 " 
 Clara tried to affect carelessness in putting 
 the question. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know her — a very pooty gal. 
 I see what you are driving at. He's going 
 to marry her, they say."
 
 118 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " Keally, is that so V Clara clenched her 
 teeth, to prevent herself from showing how 
 she felt Will's remark. 
 
 "Everybody Init i/oh. knows it." Will's 
 emphasis of her own pecidiar ignorance of 
 Edward's matrimonial intentions hit her 
 very hard. 
 
 " And / don't believe it," she replied, as 
 proudly as though the wedding could not 
 by any possibihty take place without her 
 sanction. 
 
 " Are the Denmans rich ? ' asked Clara, 
 after a pause which both felt to be very 
 disagreeable. 
 
 " Not a bit of it ; church mice ain't 
 poorer. The old man, he's never at home 
 now ; they say he's making money up in
 
 CLARA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 119 
 
 London, but I don't believe it. I know he 
 was very hard on young Arthur whenever 
 he wanted money." 
 
 "You think they are poor," said Clara, 
 eagerly, "and that they want this match 
 because Mr. Edward is rich." 
 
 " I'm sure of it," said Will. " Why, there 
 isn't a house meaner kept in the country 
 than Thistlewood, and only lately they've 
 turned off two of their keepers. I know 
 that " 
 
 " Ah, you naughty man. I've heard of 
 your doings at night in the woods. I 
 believe you came out poaching to-night, and 
 laid your gun down when you saw us 
 coming. Now didn't you 1 " 
 
 Will protested he had come for no pur-
 
 120 HEVER COURT. 
 
 pose but to meet her, yet Clara's reproof was 
 so arcli, and so plainly implied that she 
 regarded poaching as not altogether the 
 reverse of heroic, that Will admitted he had 
 some nocturnal familiarity with the Thistle- 
 wood coverts. 
 
 " Then I suppose she would di'op him if 
 he lost all this property 'i " 
 
 " If she didn't she'd be made to, I think," 
 replied Will. " But you'll promise you 
 won't say a word of what I've told you 
 to-night." 
 
 "Not a word, I promise you. But look 
 here, Will, when you are William Frank- 
 land, Esquire, of Hever Court, don't you 
 forget that I was the first to wish you 
 success. Be quiet, will you," she said.
 
 CLARA FINDS MATTER FOR REFLECTION. 121 
 
 repressing anotlier threatened embrace, " my 
 aunt will see you. Now shake hands. 
 Good nioht." So she left him in the road 
 before her aunt's house.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 
 
 I THINK Mr. Pitcher believed in liis inmost 
 heart that there was a special heaven for 
 parish clerks ; that they were the real elect 
 of the congregations. I think he had a vague 
 idea that they would be for ever fuglemen 
 in everlasting;- divine services. But he had 
 some doubt as to whether there would be 
 beadles in a better world. He held both 
 offices, and among the advantages of this 
 world he rcQ-arded one of the chief to be the 
 privilege of wearing the golden-braided coat
 
 A TEIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 1^3 
 
 of office in Bingwell cliiircli ; yet it was 
 clearly a terrestrial function, because among 
 the recollections of liis boyhood were two 
 former unreo;enerate wearers of this identical 
 robe. He spoke with the clrawhng indis- 
 tinctness of a Hertfordshire peasant, and 
 his ecclesiastical utterances were always pre- 
 faced by a long-drawn " y-a-h," Avhich served 
 to raise his voice. During the reading of 
 " the lessons/' and the delivery of the sermon 
 — at which times he seemed to intimate that 
 he might venture to leave the parson with- 
 out danger to the congregation — he would 
 sally out from his box, with about two feet of 
 willow switch in his hand, for the punishment 
 of evil-doers and the repression of drowsiness 
 and ease among the Sunday-school children.
 
 124 HEVER COURT. 
 
 If he cauo'ht an urchin in a state of som- 
 
 O 
 
 nolency, lulled, perhaps, by the sing-song 
 pomposity of Mr. Bustard, he wasn't to be 
 baulked of his prey by the hurriedly awaken- 
 ing pinch of a kindly little neighbour. No, 
 he was the personification of justice, and 
 couldn't pardon such wrong-doing. Perhaps 
 he thought the Thirty-Nine Articles would 
 have been in dangrer if he had. Down came 
 his stick upon the little knuckles. Now and 
 then a sharp boy would draw his hand 
 quickly, and then Mr. Pitcher's switch made 
 a scandalous noise on the wooden seat. This, 
 however, was only one of the painful con- 
 tingencies of justice : but if the offender 
 blubbered loudly, then Mr. Pitcher became 
 majestic, and seizing the little criminal by
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 125 
 
 his garments at the neck — because this was 
 the orthodox mode of handling murderers, 
 and burglars, and all such dans-erous charac- 
 ters — hurried him out of church " boo-whoo- 
 inor " down the Ions; aisle. And when he had 
 this wicked goat divided from his sheep by 
 the heavy church-doors, he not unfrequently 
 dismissed him into the outer world with 
 some spiritual warning, compared with which 
 the fire and brimstone of the rector was not 
 terrific. 
 
 Mr. Pitcher had shaken the church teach- 
 ing out of many a boy in whom, l^ut for him 
 and the system of which he was the type, it 
 might have produced the fruit of a happier 
 and better life. Still he had faith in himself, 
 and Mrs. Prickett had faith in him ; indeed
 
 12G HEVER COUET. 
 
 the only shade that had clouded Mi\ Pitcher's 
 life had been his refusal by Mrs. Prickett. 
 But though Mrs. Prickett respected the parish 
 clerk as a friend, and as a pillar of the 
 church, yet she felt independence was even 
 a greater privilege than the hand of Mr. 
 Pitcher. And although Will was no longer 
 an infant, yet she foresaw the possibility of 
 a. time comino- when Mr. Pitcher mio^ht em- 
 barrass her relations with her adopted son. 
 
 But now Mr. Pitcher was hastenino- 
 through the village, bound for Mrs. Prickett's 
 cottao'e with so much unusual haste that it 
 betokened an important summons. 
 
 Such was the case. Mrs. Prickett's boy- 
 of-all-work had just called at the clerk's 
 house and delivered a message to the effect
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 127 
 
 that, " Missus wanted to see liim tlieractly ; 
 he'd knoAv what it was for if he wiir to tell 
 him that that o'ent from Lunnuii had called 
 on she." 
 
 jMr. Pitcher wns not disappointed, for 
 before he entered the cottage he saw Mr. 
 Gribble sitting- on a corner of Mr.«. Prickett's 
 table. 
 
 " Well, old gent," he said, when he saw 
 the parish clerk enter, " here we are again." 
 And Mr. Gribble recommenced suckino- hi.s 
 walkino-cane. 
 
 AVill sat on one side of the fire in a 
 moody silence, and Mrs. Prickett on the 
 other. 
 
 "Lor, Pitcher!" she said, jumping up, 
 " I'm so glad yer come. Thiy gentleman
 
 128 HEVER COURT. 
 
 and I liave been a talking till I feel quite 
 dazy like. So I ses I won't say another 
 word, says I, till Pitcher and me's heerd it 
 all over agin together ; 'cos yer want wit- 
 nesses w^ith lawyers, don't yer ? " 
 
 " Of course yer do," replied Pitcher, so- 
 lemnly. 
 
 Will made an impatient movement, but 
 Gribble checked him. 
 
 "Witnesses," the lawyer laughed; "now 
 then, we'll do it in style. Here, old fellow ! '' 
 and he drew the clerk by his coat-tails to 
 the table. " You sit there ; you shall be the 
 judge. Now you, Mr. Will, you be jury ; 
 and you, ma'am, you're to be the witness. 
 Thank'ee, Mr. Will ; that's quite right, to 
 draw the blind down ; vou can't be too
 
 A TPJAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 129 
 
 quiet ill these cases, that you can't. Do you 
 hear, Mr. Pitcher?" 
 
 "This ere's a pretty caper!" said the 
 judge, sitting uneasily on the table. 
 
 " Silence ! my lud, if you please." And 
 Gribble assumed the solemnity of office. 
 
 " You ain't up to no larks 1 " suggested 
 Pitcher. 
 
 "If you were not the judge I'd have you 
 turned out of court." Gribble was rather 
 pleased with the effect of his joke, for he 
 saw that the mock tribunal had affected 
 the simple minds of his audience, and he 
 felt that he should more easily discover 
 all they knew upon the subject of his 
 visit. 
 
 " Now, ma'am," he turned to Mrs. Prickett, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 ^30 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Avlio sat leaning back in her chair — her face 
 puckered with a sense of self-importance, 
 "the evidence which you shall give before 
 the court and jury, between our sovereign 
 lady the Queen and Mr. Edward Frankland, 
 touchino' the rio;hts of the oentlemen of the 
 jury, shall be the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth, so help you God. 
 Your name is Mary Prickett 1 " 
 
 " 'Tis Betsy,'' said the parish clerk, liright- 
 ening up. 
 
 " Thank 'ee, m' lud.'" 
 
 " Did you knoAv the late Mr. Frankland, 
 Mrs. Prickett ?" 
 
 " For more 'an seven years." 
 
 " And his name was John Frankland ? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 131 
 
 " Did you know Miss Amy Camj^bell ? " 
 
 " Yes, sure." 
 
 " What year did she run off with the old 
 Squire 1 " 
 
 " In the summer of '28." 
 
 " HoAv do you know it was Mr. Frankland 
 that took her away ? " 
 
 Mrs. Prickett looked j^uzzled. 
 
 "Cos I see the letter from her to her 
 feyther," broke in the clerk. 
 
 " Oh ! you saw the letter, m' lud, did 
 you '? — ve-ry weU." 
 
 "Now, ma'am, you were with this poor 
 woman when she died ; will you tell us 
 what passed between you ? " 
 
 " Ay, poor dear, she w^as a sweet, pootty 
 gel ; and after her trouble was over and she 
 
 K 2
 
 132 HEYER COUET. 
 
 was a layin' witli tliat tlicre blessed baby," 
 
 pointing to Will, whose downcast face 
 
 seemed inattentive to the entire proceeding, 
 
 " and with never a mite o' rino; on her 
 
 finger, nor no lines to show, she says to 
 
 me, as mild as milk, she says, ' Mrs. Prickett, 
 
 you're a good woman.' Says I, ' My dear, 
 
 I'm what the Lord made me.' I could see 
 
 she was a dyin' fast. She turned her head 
 a one side and the tears was running down 
 
 her cheeks, I see what she was thinkin' of, 
 
 and I ses, 'I'll be a mother to him, my dear.' 
 
 And the poor young thing's eyes brightened 
 
 up as if all her troubles was gone. And she 
 
 ses, quite low, ' God — bless— yer,' and then 
 
 there was a kind of a flush come over her 
 
 face, and she whispered, 'Under — my —
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 133 
 
 pillow — for — him. I — did — love — him so.' 
 And then it all Avent away, and her face 
 come white and bright like a hangel's, and — 
 yes, I allays will say it, Mr. Pitcher, — she 
 went straight away to heaven." 
 
 " You never tonld me what was under her 
 piller," said the clerk, reproachfully. 
 
 " No, Pitcher, I didn't ; I've been afeerd 
 to tell anybody till this werry hour." 
 
 "Well now, what did you findT' asked 
 Gribble. 
 
 " I found a ring, but it warn't a weddin 
 ring, in a bit o' paper, and that paper was 
 directed to John Frankland, Esquire, and on 
 it was wrote : ' For the wrong you did his 
 mother, do justice to our son. Your loving 
 Amy.' "
 
 134 HEVER COURT. 
 
 "And you've still tliat in your pos- 
 session ? " Gribble put the question eagerly. 
 
 "The trouble it's been to me, the Lord 
 only knows. But if you'd ha' seen what a 
 sweet babe it was, and then you know no 
 one heerd a word o' Squire Frankland not 
 for years afterwards, not till he came back 
 married to my lady up at the Court. And 
 that's just where it was, the boy growed so 
 pootty that I couldn't bear the thought of 
 partin' with him, and the Squire brought a 
 wife home with him, and once, when he did 
 speak to me about the boy, we had words 
 about him ; and then you know how sudden 
 the Squire died." 
 
 r 
 
 "Now I'll get into the box," interrupted 
 Gribble.
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 135 
 
 "Please, m' lud, my name's Thomas 
 Gribble. I'm an attorney - at - law, and 
 managing clerk for Messrs. Sm'cliarge and 
 Stamps. At the instance of my clients, 
 J\lrs. Prickett and Mr. Pitcher—" 
 
 Both made a movement of objection, but 
 relapsed on a sign from ]\li\ Gribble's hand. 
 
 " We ain't got to pay yer nothin'," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Prickett. But ISIi\ Gribble 
 took no heed, and proceeded : 
 
 " — I made inquiries in the parishes of 
 West-end district for a certificate of the 
 marriage of John Frankland and Amy 
 Campbell, and I produce the certificate of 
 the marriage of those parties. The year is 
 that mentioned by Mrs. Prickett. I have 
 compared the signature with those of the
 
 ]36 HEVER COURT. 
 
 parties, in one case by inspection of tlie late 
 Mr. Frankland s will, and in that of the lady 
 with the signature of a letter addressed to 
 her father, which was given in by Mrs. 
 Prickett. I must confess — as I believe your 
 ludship means to ask what I think of this 
 point — that there is but little similarity in 
 the writing of cither party. But this 
 appears to me to be immaterial, and admits 
 of easy explanation. For nothing is more 
 likely, gentlemen of the jury, than that the 
 parties to a secret marriage would attempt 
 to disguise their handwTiting. The wit- 
 nesses I have traced to their addresses, but 
 both have disappeared, and it is thought 
 they are emigrated or dead. They were 
 people of humble station in life. Neither
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 137 
 
 the clergyman, uor the parish clerk in 
 whose presence they were married, have the 
 slightest recollection of the appearance of 
 the parties. 
 
 " U]3on these fiicts I rely, and I claim 
 your verdict, gentlemen of the jury, for the 
 plaintiff, IMr. William Campbell, or, I should 
 say — I trust your verdict will enable me 
 rightfully to say — Mr. William Frankland, 
 of Hever Court." 
 
 There was silence when Mr. Gribble ceased 
 speaking. 
 
 Will was trying to grasp the possibility of 
 his good fortune, but couldn't fancy himself 
 master of Hever Court ; his mind ran round 
 and round on the one thought — "What 
 would Clara think of it ? "
 
 138 HEVER COUET. 
 
 Mrs. Prickett looked triumphant, while 
 the clerk, still seated on the table, was 
 troubled with the reflection that he had not 
 enjoyed her entire confidence, and he was 
 thinking too of Will in the Squire's pew — a 
 view which did not altogether please him. 
 
 " But you ain't there yet," resumed Mr, 
 Gribble ; " yet if this good lady will give 
 me the note and the ring she referred to, 
 and if you," addressing WiU, " wiU sign this 
 small agreement, Thomas Gribble will put 
 you there before the year's out." 
 
 " Her own handwriting without a doubt," 
 exclaimed Mr. Gribble, when Mrs. Prickett 
 produced the note. The agreement bound 
 Will to pay Thomas Gribble, Esq., the sum 
 of one thousand pounds upon obtaining pos-
 
 A TRIAL WITH CLOSED DOORS. 139 
 
 session of the Hever Court estate, the same 
 to be in addition to his professional charges 
 and costs in the matter. 
 
 Without much hesitation Will signed the 
 agreement, Mrs. Prickett and Pitcher being 
 witnesses. The lawyer carefully buttoned 
 his coat over it, and promising that they 
 should hear from him soon, set out on his 
 return to London.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIEERS AND AN 
 OVERTHROW. 
 
 As a matter of fact Mrs. Frankland was 
 not anxious that Edward should marry. 
 She was not averse to marriage as an insti- 
 tution ; but she Hked to reign at Hever 
 Court. JMrs. Frankland was frequently 
 spoken of as an elegant person. In days 
 gone by she had been a beauty. But she 
 was frivolous and weak-minded, and the 
 establishment of a younger Mrs. Frankland 
 would have been a death-blow to her happi-
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS. 141 
 
 ness. She never admitted this even to 
 herself. She argued that Edward ought to 
 marry, and that she would wish him to 
 marry — if he chose rightly. She had ob- 
 served his preference for Lucy Denman, and 
 convinced herself, with selfish facihty, that 
 he might do better. And being thus con- 
 vinced, she lost no opportunity of impressing 
 her opinion upon her son. 
 
 ]\Irs. Frankland felt that Edward had 
 made this preference so obvious at the ball, 
 that there was no time to lose if she wished 
 to stop a proposal from him to Lucy. 
 
 But she had had no suitable opportunity 
 for approaching the subject for some time 
 afterwards, until one day when her son 
 lounged into the drawing-room after lun-
 
 14-2 HEVER COURT. 
 
 cheoii. He liad been shooting during the 
 morning, and seemed wearied. Perhaps this 
 encouraged Mrs. Frankland, 
 
 " Edward, dear," she began ; " have you 
 been over to Dropton since the ball V 
 
 " No, mother," he replied, lazily, without 
 lowering the newspaper he was reading from 
 before his eyes. 
 
 " I really think you should do so." 
 " For heaven's sake, why, mother V asked 
 Edward, testily ; " I am not so very fond of 
 Nantwich." 
 
 " Your inattention to Ethel IMorley was 
 so — so unlike yourself." 
 
 " I'm sure it was quite unintentional," 
 said Edward, twirling his moustache, with a 
 look of vexation.
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS. 143 
 
 " But the amende is not the less due. It 
 should not have been owing to such a sweet 
 girl as Ethel." There was a just sufficient 
 tone of reproach in Mrs. Frankland's remark 
 to produce the desired feeling of shame in 
 Edward, who began to feel quite angry 
 with himself for a rudeness which he 
 was previously ignorant he had com- 
 mitted. 
 
 " You don't think I was really rude, 
 mother?" 
 
 " AVell, dear, you might have given less 
 evidence of your preference for Lucy ; it 
 would have been better taste, I think." 
 
 Edward reddened, but fortunately for him 
 his back was towards his mother. 
 
 " Ethel is a very handsome girl, and all
 
 144 HEVEIl COUr.T. 
 
 that, but she's rather too much of a fine lady 
 for me." 
 
 "He will be a very fortunate man who 
 marries her." 
 
 " I don't deny it, mother. He'll have a 
 handsome wife, and I suppose a handsome 
 dot with her, voild tout." 
 
 " And are you in a position to despise 
 those advantages ? " 
 
 " Not exactly ; but — she's incapable of 
 love." 
 
 " Stuff ! No woman is incapable of 
 love." 
 
 " Well then, mother, she's incapable of 
 loving a second-rate commoner like myself 
 
 "You are too modest. A Frankland of 
 Hever might easily deserve a peerage."
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS. 145 
 
 "Baron Franklancl of Hever!" laughed 
 Edward. " Really, mother, I'd rather not." 
 
 " It won't be tliro^vii at yon," replied 
 Mrs. Frankland, peevishly. " I must say, 
 however, that I think you don't appreciate 
 Ethel Morley. iVpart from their difference 
 in social position, I don't think Lucy is to 
 be compared with her. She has no style, 
 and Ethel is far more lovely." 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 " Well, dear, I cannot for the life of 
 me see what you find to admire in Lucy 
 Denman." 
 
 " You don't know her, or you would not 
 say so." 
 
 " And then her mother is such an odious, 
 intriguing person !" 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " She did not choose her mother." 
 
 " There is that diso-raceful affaii' hanoinor 
 over them, though Lady Demnan does shut 
 the closet so tightly on the family skeleton." 
 
 " And have we no family scandal ?" de- 
 manded Edward, impatiently. " If Lucy 
 had a scapegrace brother, is that more 
 shameful than Will C^ampbell's existence is 
 to ourselves ? But forgive me, mother ; I 
 only meant that we could not afford to 
 throw stones." 
 
 Mrs. Frankland said no more. She was 
 not really anxious that her son should marry 
 Lady Ethel Morley, but she feared Lucy's 
 intrusion into her kingdom at Hever Court. 
 She felt she had not gained anything hy 
 her remonstrance. Indeed, she perceived
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS. 14-7 
 
 that lier son's avowal — for it amounted to 
 that — of his love for Lucy would make him 
 bolder in his suit. But she trusted some- 
 thing would intervene to interrupt the course 
 of his love. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Lady Denman 
 and Lucy were announced. Mrs. Frank- 
 land could not but regard this inopportune 
 visit, as she thought it, a Ijad omen for her 
 hopes. 
 
 While the two elder ladies talked toge- 
 ther, Edward and Lucy strayed to a 
 mndow. 
 
 "I feared our horses would have run 
 away just now," said Lucy. " It was quite 
 as much as Rayuer could do to hold them." 
 
 " I can't be anory mth them for brinoino; 
 
 L 2
 
 148 flEVER COURT. 
 
 you quickly," replied Edward. " I hope 
 they will behave well in returning." 
 
 " How we shall manage with them in 
 London I don't know. We are going up 
 to town some time in next week." 
 
 " And Bingwell endures a total eclipse of 
 its sun." 
 
 " I thouo'ht the sun was masculine." 
 "Well, I mean it will seem very dark 
 when you are gone." 
 
 Lucy blushed. Perhaps she felt conscious 
 of the fact that nothing but the presence of 
 the mammas restrained Edward from a more 
 definite expression of his feelings. 
 
 " The sun is certainly on us now," she 
 said, hiding her embarrassment. " Shall 
 we leave this window ?"
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS. 149 
 
 Edward was not very willing to move. 
 
 " But see, mamma is going." 
 
 " I was wishing I was a lotos-eater or 
 something, in a land where 'it was always 
 afternoon.' " 
 
 " We must take it as it comes, must we 
 not?" And Lucy smiled sweetly, lifting 
 her eyes and looking frankly in his face as 
 she held out her hand. 
 
 '•'Must we?" asked Edward, with earnest 
 but subdued emphasis, as he took and held 
 her hand. " May we not choose for our- 
 selves ? " 
 
 But Mrs. Frankland interposed in time 
 to save Lucy from the necessity of reply, 
 and also to witness the blush which Ed- 
 ward's question and his rather prolonged
 
 150 HEVEH COURT. 
 
 hold of lier hand had called to Lucy's 
 cheek. 
 
 " I was asking Lady Denman, Lucy," she 
 said, " if you would like to have our 
 carriage, as your horses are restive V 
 
 But neither Lucy nor her mother would 
 hear of this, and entered their carriage, which 
 was open, assuring Edward that the horses 
 would certainly go quietly homewards. 
 
 These hopes were, however, to he disap- 
 pointed. The horses were trotting briskly 
 through a narrow lane, hedged by thick 
 underwood, when the sudden report of a 
 gun, fired close by, startled them into a full 
 gallop, a very few strides of which assured 
 Eayner that they were no longer under his 
 control.
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIEERS. 151 
 
 At the same moment Will Campljell, who 
 had fired the gun, hearing a scream from 
 Lady Denman, jumped from the hedge, and 
 stood in the roadway watching the carriage. 
 Within two hundred yards of where he 
 stood, at the junction of another lane, lay a 
 heap of stones for the repair of the road. 
 
 The horses flew along towards this point, 
 the carriage swaying from side to side in a 
 most terrifying maimer. Their way home- 
 wards lay round the corner. 
 
 " By God, I thought they would," mut- 
 tered Will, as he commenced runnino- 
 towards the point. 
 
 The horses, making an attempt to round 
 the corner, had dra^m the wheels of the 
 carriage, on the side on which Lucy was
 
 152 HEYEU COURT. 
 
 sitting, over tlie lieap of stones. The coacli- 
 man clung to liis seat, and Lady Denman 
 lay huddled up in the hood, but Lucy was 
 thrown out upon the road and lay there 
 motionless. When AVill came up to where 
 she w\as lying, the carriage had passed out 
 of sio-ht. 
 
 He felt a momentary impulse to run 
 away, fearing that the accident would be 
 attributed to himself. His second thought 
 was inspired by Lucy's beauty. He lifted 
 her on to the grass by the side of the road, 
 and dipping his hat full of water from a 
 brook, beQ;an to bathe her face. 
 
 " She can't be dead," he said to himself, 
 " there'd be blood somewhere if she was 
 dead." The exquisite refinement of her
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADHERERS. 153 
 
 features seemed even more apparent in their 
 paleness. Her hat had fallen off, and her 
 rich brown hair lay somewhat disordered 
 about her head. Will felt awed by her 
 loveliness, with a deepening anxiety for her 
 recovery, and so absorbed did he become in 
 this that he was quite forgetful of himself. 
 
 At length to his delight Lucy opened her 
 eyes and looked wonderingly at liim. He 
 was beginning to make some explanation or 
 apology, when they closed as she fainted 
 again. 
 
 Then he took her up in liis strong arms, 
 and laying her head gently over his 
 shoulder, walked at a quick pace towards 
 her home. 
 
 He could feel her heart beating against
 
 154- HEVER COUET. 
 
 his own, his arm was round her, and his 
 imagination rioting in the recollection of her 
 delicate beauty as she lay inanimate before 
 him. He was faithless to his love for Clara 
 at this moment. Coarse and strong in its 
 passion, yet weak in its fidelity as his nature 
 was, he was now thinking of Edward with 
 hot anger, because he believed him to be 
 Lucy's lover ; then a joyous feeling came 
 over him as he looked forward to Edward's 
 dispossession by himself. Perhaps Lucy's 
 affections would be transferred to himself 
 when he was master of Hever Court. He 
 had no doubt that then she would prefer 
 him to Edward. He pressed her closer to 
 him as he thought this. 
 
 But now he was met by a pony carriage
 
 LUCY HAS TWO ADMIRERS. 155 
 
 driving rapidly in search of Lucy. Lady 
 Denman had arrived unhurt but sadly 
 frightened. As Will laid Lucy in the car- 
 riaoje he saw she had regained her senses. 
 She was murmurino: her thanks when the 
 carriage drove off and left Will standing in 
 the road, looking after it with longing eyes 
 and beatinp- heart.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN WHICH WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 
 
 The Bingwell " fly " was an institution of 
 the village. Commonly it mouldered and 
 rusted in a back shed at the White Horse. 
 At rare intervals Tom the ostler was ordered 
 with it to the railway-station, or now^ and 
 then what he called a "night job" occurred. 
 But he assumed no post-boy airs when he 
 harnessed the poor old hack in the stables, 
 and putting on his black-sleeved waistcoat, 
 coaxed " the old boss " into its swinoino- 
 tedious trot. With a pretentious air of
 
 WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 157 
 
 mystery and self-importance Will had looked 
 in at the White Horse one morning, about a 
 week after Lucy's accident, and had ordered 
 the fly to meet Mr. Gribble at the Bingwell 
 station. 
 
 Mrs. Smithson couldn't get a word of ex- 
 planation from Will. Clara was not visible. 
 But her aunt could see that AVill was ex- 
 cited, and that something very unusual and 
 important was about to ha23pen to him. 
 "Are you goin to ride in the shay?" she 
 asked. " No, he wasn't goin' to ride in the 
 shay. He was goin' back to his mother's." 
 "I dessay it's Lord Parmerston as is a 
 comin' down to take j)ot-luck with yer," said 
 the hostess, with a good-humoured sneer. 
 Will looked very knowing, as though the
 
 158 HEVER COURT. 
 
 possession of his secret was a great pleasure 
 to Mm. " You'll know who 'tis one o' these 
 days, but you shouldn't holler when you're 
 goin' to take a nest — hey, Mrs. Smithson ? " 
 
 He left her much puzzled, and walked 
 quickly to his mother's house. It was two 
 hours before the lawyer could arrive, Init 
 Mrs. Prickett had already set out a meal for 
 three. 
 
 There was a piece of streaky bacon, a loaf 
 of huge size and inexhaustible appearance, 
 and a large white wedge of American cheese. 
 And to do fitting honour to the occasion, 
 there was Mrs. Prickett in her Sunday 
 dress, apparently doing her best to sit still 
 and look "the lady," but falling short by 
 a good deal of either.
 
 WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 159 
 
 " Go you and clean yourself, Will, but 
 lawk o' me, if yer should ever come to be 
 tlie Squire, I shan't know what to call 
 yer. 
 
 " Ever should ! why I'm sure to, ain't I ? " 
 replied Will, angrily, as he turned to go 
 upstairs to make his toilet. 
 
 "He don't speak handsome, nor he don't 
 act handsome," mused Mrs. Prickett, her old 
 eyes becoming watery ; " he'd never ha' fer- 
 rited it out for hisself, nor he'd never ha' 
 darkened the doors o' Hever Court if it 
 hadn't ha' been for me. When I've been a, 
 thinkin' on it scores o' times, I've kinder felt 
 as if I was a drivin' the Lord's enemies out 
 o' the promised land. But now it's come to 
 it, it seems shockin' like to go and teU 'em
 
 160 HEVER COURT. 
 
 of it liisself and bring it on tlie poor things 
 like a thunderbolt." 
 
 At length Will reappeared, looking smart 
 and sulky, and at the expected time the fly 
 drove up and Mr. Gribble joined them. 
 Tom was told to wait at the door. 
 
 Any fourth person of sense would have 
 seen at a glance Mr. Gribble's contempt for 
 his clients. He would have seen in the 
 lawyer's quick reading of their faces and 
 anxious yet deliberate adoption of his voice 
 and manner, that he was intent upon his 
 own purposes in this business, and would, 
 when he could, use all his power over such 
 people as these. 
 
 And there was an appearance of restless, 
 scheming activity about IMr. Gribble which
 
 WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 161 
 
 boded ill for those who thwarted him of his 
 purpose. He was not clean nor tidy, but 
 both these personal defects seemed to result 
 from want of time ; indeed, his mode of 
 doing business had so impressed Mrs. 
 Prickett that she had a vag;ue notion he 
 never rested from his work. He was tall 
 and thin, pale-faced, and his cheeks were 
 rather hollow ; but Mr. Gribble never looked 
 really unpleasant till he laughed. In truth, 
 he never did laugh ; but when he made that 
 long or short series of little jerky breaths 
 which sounded like a stage " he ! he ! " by a 
 very raw performer, then would the wise 
 client have been warned and fled from 
 Mr. Gribble. There was falsehood always 
 written on the lawyer's face, though to most 
 
 VOIi. I. M
 
 162 HEVEE COURT. 
 
 persons the ink was invisible, but when he 
 laughed the writing seemed disgustingly 
 plain, and his grey eyes staring Avitnesses to 
 it, for they never joined in the laugh, but 
 steadily kept a cold watch upon their 
 master's purposes. 
 
 "AVell, Mr. Frankland,"— Will looked 
 helplessly astonished at Mr. Gribble's first 
 mention of his newly-gotten name, — "you 
 see I have obeyed your wishes, even in 
 adopting a most unprofessional com'se — 
 most unprofessional." 
 
 " I don't see that," grumbled Will. 
 
 " It is usual to open matters of this sort 
 by correspondence ; Mr. Edward Frankland 
 may decline an interview." 
 
 "This is how I put it," said Will, dog-
 
 WILL PEODUCES A SENSATION. 163 
 
 gedly : " s'pose there was a feller tliat had 
 always had the whip hand of you. S'pose 
 the gals always took to him and passed you 
 by, well then, I ask you, if that feller was 
 goin' to have a thrashin', wouldn't you like 
 to be there to see it ? " 
 
 "There's a good deal in that," replied 
 Gribble, as though convinced by his client's 
 argument. 
 
 " 'Tain't the way to get a blessin' on it," 
 said Mrs. Prickett, suddenly and sharply, as 
 though this was all she would say. 
 
 " You may have the blessin', mother, if I 
 get the property." 
 
 " Let us see what we can do towards it," 
 said Gribble, rising and making for the 
 door. 
 
 M 2
 
 1(34 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Will felt very bold and confident as he 
 stepi^ed into the fly and told Tom to drive up 
 to "the Squire's;" Imt his heart fell as he 
 passed the lodge gates, and he felt sure the 
 woman who opened the gate thought he was 
 in custody, and was being taken before 
 Edward Frankland, who was a maoistrate. 
 
 He made no response to the reluctant nod 
 of the old servant who opened the door. 
 "Ay, master's at home," was the reply to 
 his question, when Mr. Gribble stepped for- 
 ward, and handino- his card and lookino- at 
 Will, said, "you know this gentleman's 
 
 name." 
 
 The servant found his master readino- in 
 
 O 
 
 the library. The room was not large, but 
 it was handsomely and appropriately fur-
 
 WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 165 
 
 nisbed. The walls were panelled in dark 
 oak, and where they were not hidden with 
 books there hung a few choice pictures. 
 The curtains and furniture were of dark 
 green colour. The chimney-piece was of 
 handsomely carved oak, and upon the cen- 
 tral ornament was emljlazoned in heraldic 
 colouring the arms of the family. A large 
 dog lay sleeping on the Turkey carpet at 
 Edward's feet, who, reclining in an easy 
 chair, was reading a newspaper when he 
 received Mr. Gribble's card. 
 
 For a moment he thouoht of telling the 
 servant to inquire their business, but re- 
 flecting that it was probably concerned with 
 some scandalous conduct of Will's, he pre- 
 ferred to see them, or he thoug;ht it mis^lit
 
 166 HEVER COURT. 
 
 be connected with Lucy's fall from her 
 mother's carriaoje. Edward had heard all 
 the circumstances of the accident, and had 
 no doubt that Will was both trespassing and 
 poaching when he fired his gun, but no one 
 was disposed to be inquisitive, as he had 
 afterwards assisted Lucy. 
 
 He did not rise as they entered, but negli- 
 gently saying, " Good-morning, Will," told 
 the servant to place chairs for them ; and 
 dropping his paper, looked to Gribble for an 
 explanation of their visit. 
 
 The lawyer's opening, "You know, sir, 
 this is your father's son," surprised Edward ; 
 but as he went on presently to say, "We 
 have come, sir, to show you that he, and not 
 you, is Mr. Frankland, of Hever Court," a
 
 WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 167 
 
 scornful smile played round Edward's moutli 
 as lie regarded them with a look which s{dd 
 that they wei'e not a very prepossessing pair 
 of conspirators. But as Mr. Gribble, with 
 unobserving persistence, unfolded his case, 
 produced the marriage certificate of Amy 
 Campbell with his father, carefully detailing 
 the evidence connected with this document, 
 confessing that there was no similarity in 
 the hand^vritings, that the entries as to ad- 
 dresses and other particulars were evidently 
 false, then producing Amy's note and his 
 fathers ring, Edward became grave and 
 attentive. Mr. Gribble read in his face that 
 he was convinced of the truth of the evi- 
 dence ; and Will made no attempt to con- 
 ceal his triumph. "It Avas more than a
 
 168 HEVER COURT. 
 
 year after her dentli when my father mar- 
 ried ? " was Edward's first and anxious 
 question. 
 
 The lawyer reassured him on this point, 
 
 "We are not going to question your 
 legitimacy," said Gribl^le, with a sneer. 
 
 There was an expression of bitter suffering 
 on Edward's face ; his love for Lucy and his 
 mother, his pride in his ancestral house and 
 in himself, seemed to be shattered in one 
 moment. All his hopes lay broken before 
 him ; but he struggled to be master of him- 
 self, though he nearly choked with the 
 effort. It was very repugnant, yet it seemed 
 to be his duty to congratulate and to regard 
 Will as his elder brother. 
 
 " This will be a great blow to my mother/'
 
 WILL PP.ODUCES A SENSATION. 169 
 
 lie said, slowly and solemnly ; then rising 
 and offering his hand to Will, he added, 
 "But if this place is yours, Will, I won't 
 contest your claims ; I shall be sorry we 
 have kept you out of it so long." 
 
 " So you want to shake hands now," said 
 Will, putting his deliberately in his pockets ; 
 " you didn't do that afore." 
 
 "No, I don't ;" and Edward quickly with- 
 drew his. He preferred it so, and felt almost 
 glad that Will had thus refused his advances. 
 
 "As to keeping him out of his rights," 
 said Gribble, in a quiet yet firm voice, " for 
 that of course you will have to render an 
 account to Mr. William Frankland — I mean 
 of the rents received since the death of your 
 father, but we don't propose to press you for
 
 170 HEVER COURT. 
 
 tliese beyond your ability to meet the de- 
 mand, if you do all you can to facilitate tlie 
 surrender of the estate to us." 
 
 The shock was passed, and it had strength- 
 ened Edward's character. "Wliat is to some 
 gained only with the experience of years, 
 had been compressed into these painful 
 minutes. He could think now that this 
 might be a conspiracy to dispossess him 
 wrongfully, an attempt he was bound to 
 resist. At all events it was necessary that 
 a full investigation of the facts adduced by 
 Mr. Gribble, should take place. Yet there 
 lay the certificate on the table. 
 
 "You would doubtless think proper to 
 examine the registry from which this was 
 taken," suggested the law^^er, who followed
 
 WILL PEODUCES A SENSATION. 171 
 
 Edward's thought ; " and will take note of 
 the parish church." 
 
 Edward did so, and then rose as if to 
 signify that he wished them to leave. 
 
 " "We shall expect," said Gribble, accept- 
 ing Edward's movement, and brushing his 
 hat with his sleeve, " a communication from 
 you within a week, saying, I trust, that you 
 are prepared at once to give up possession ; 
 and if not we shall at once serve a writ of 
 ejectment,, and commence legal proceedings 
 to obtain possession." 
 
 "Very well," assented Edward, as he 
 held the door open. 
 
 Will looked confused and malicious, as, 
 following close upon the heels of his adviser, 
 they left the room.
 
 172 HEVER COURT. 
 
 But in the corridor tliey met Mrs. Frank- 
 land, who frowned haughtily as she recog- 
 nised AVill. Edward was following them, 
 and she glanced from Will to him, wonder- 
 ing and annoyed that the man she regarded 
 as a disgrace to the family should be there. 
 
 Will couldn't resist the opportunity. 
 
 " How d'ye do, mum ? he's " — he added, 
 jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the 
 direction of her son — " o;ot a little bit of a 
 story to tell you." 
 
 "What does this man mean, Edward?" 
 
 " I'll tell you presently, mother ; when 
 they're gone." 
 
 "She'd better hear it now," said Will, 
 with a hateful grin. 
 
 "It's nothing less than proof, madam, of
 
 WILL PRODUCES A SENSATION. 173 
 
 tlie fact tliat tliis gentleman," said Mr. 
 Gribble, pointing to Will, "is the eldest 
 legitimate son of yonr late husband, and 
 therefore the rightful owner of this house." 
 
 Mrs. Frankland's face expressed a sudden 
 and intense agony. She gazed with dumb 
 horror, wliicli to see was frightful, towards 
 her son, and read the worst in his grave 
 and sympathetic look of love. 
 
 She uttered one low cry, and would have 
 fallen but for his supporting arm. In the 
 confusion that followed, Gribble and Will left 
 the house. Edward carried his mother to a 
 couch, and seeing that she did not recover 
 her senses, sent for the doctor ; there was 
 only one in the village. AVhen the medical 
 man arrived, he said she was suffering from
 
 174 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " cerebral apoplexy," and tliat lier " nervous 
 system must recently have sustained a severe 
 shock." 
 
 She was carried insensible to her bed, and 
 lay there for two days and nights, anxiously 
 and lovingly watched by Edward ; and on 
 the third day she died.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH, AS USUAL, EROS WAITS ON 
 PLUTUS. 
 
 The funeral of Mrs. Frankland was a 
 veiy sad affair. The occasion of Will's visit 
 to Hever Court had become known, yet no 
 one was sure whether he or Edward would 
 have the estate. The httle that Will said to 
 Mrs. Smithson and others showed that he 
 felt confident of success, but in answer to a 
 letter from Edward to Gribble they had con- 
 sented to allow him another week for de- 
 liberation Ijefore serving the writ of eject-
 
 176 HEVER COUET. 
 
 ment. Tlic clay after liis mother's funeral 
 Edward went to London, and calling on the 
 family solicitor, Mr. Royds, of Lincoln's Inn, 
 found him — the picture of a respectable 
 attorney — ready to accompany him in order 
 to inspect the parish register from which 
 the certificate presented by Gribble had 
 been extracted. 
 
 Any one who knew Edward Franldand 
 well would at once have observed the differ- 
 ence which the events of the last few days 
 had produced in him. He was grave and 
 thouo-htful : and there was an occasional 
 hardness about his mouth which at one time 
 it would have seemed impossible for the 
 beautiful and almost womanly curves of his 
 lips to assume. Unconsciously he had been
 
 EROS WAITS OX PLUTUS. 177 
 
 measuring liimself against what, it now ap- 
 peared, was his future in life, and though the 
 standard was excessively tr}dng, yet he felt 
 his force equal to an unaided struggle with 
 the world, if it should come to that. 
 
 " We'll not talk of this matter, Mr. Frank- 
 land, until we have been to the church. I've 
 no doubt that the same thouoht in both our 
 minds prompts our desire to see the register 
 together, and to form our own opinion." 
 
 Edward assented, and they drove to a 
 church in a quiet western suburb, which 
 might have been but a villao^e when his 
 father and Amy Campbell were together in 
 this neighbourhood. The clerk was soon 
 found. He was a fat, doughy-looking, asth- 
 matic man, slow of speech, and of gait, and 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 178 HEVER COURT. 
 
 of breath. " Not the man for a forgery, not 
 — at — all — the — man," thought little Mr. 
 Eoyds. Something of the same mental 
 conclusion was arrived at in Edward's brain. 
 The clerk wheezed and moved as thouoh he 
 wanted oiling inside and outside, while he 
 placed the register for the year 1828 before 
 them. 
 
 " Frankland, yer want — ugh ! — ugh ! — we 
 had a pardy after that marriage t'other day." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " replied Mr. Royds, his 
 little bright eyes seeming to aim at getting 
 behind the stolid visage of the clerk ; " and 
 how did the party know the marriage was 
 solemnised in this church 1 " 
 
 The parish clerk appeared to be struggling 
 with his asthma.
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 179 
 
 Edward tliouglit he was doing this only 
 to gain time for a false reply, and made an 
 impatient gesture. 
 
 " It ain't often I'm garspin' like this," 
 said the clerk. "How did he come to 
 know 1 why he come here and he ses, ' I 
 want to search your registry of marriage 
 for '28 ; ' and then when he finds what he 
 wants, he ses, ' I want a certificate o' this 
 'ere weddin'.' " 
 
 "'Ere's the one as you want," and the 
 clerk laid his fat finger on the middle of a 
 page. There was no doubt about the genuine- 
 ness of the book and page ; neither had been 
 tampered with. There were no erasures in 
 the leaf. It was all in vain that Mr. Koyds 
 scanned the page through his golden-rimmed 
 
 N 2
 
 180 HEVER COURT. 
 
 eye-glasses. He saw notliing wrong tliere. 
 To be sure notliing but the names identified 
 Edward's father and AVill's mother; but 
 then he had not expected to find any further 
 coincidence. 
 
 " The tail of that * y ' looks queer," said 
 Mr. Koyds, in a low voice, but with the air 
 of a man determined to find a flaw, as he 
 pointed to the word " Amy." 
 
 " Certainly there is a slight difference of 
 colom' in the tails both in the column and in 
 the signature, but there is nothing in that," 
 remarked Edward. 
 
 "No, there's not much in that," assented 
 Mr. Koyds. " But we must advertise ; there 
 may have been another John Frankland and 
 another Amy Campbell."
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 181 
 
 "It isn't likely," suid Edward, yet he 
 seized with hope this last chance of saving 
 his inheritance. 
 
 " You were here while the party made his 
 search ? " asked Mr. Eoyds, turning to the 
 clerk. 
 
 "Well, I was in and out, never out of 
 sight, yer know." 
 
 "We can't be sure of that," said the 
 attorney, sententiously ; " but I think we 
 may return, Mr. Frankland ? " 
 
 Mr. Royds advertised in all the news- 
 papers ; but nothing came of it, and when 
 all the delay he could obtain had expired, 
 Edward was again with his soHcitor. 
 
 He professed himself thoroughly satisfied. 
 He would have liked to fight for his inheri-
 
 182 HEVER COURT. 
 
 tauce with any one else, but AVill was cer- 
 tainly the elder son of his father, and now 
 there seemed to be proof of his legitimacy. 
 He even felt glad that it w^as so satisfactory, 
 and that it left no doubt in his own mind 
 about giving up the estate. But he asked 
 Mr. Eoyds for liis advice. 
 
 They were sitting in IMr. Eoyds' snug- 
 sanctum, and the attorney pulled his chair 
 round and linked his hands over his knee as 
 he replied, 
 
 " I never felt so much difiiculty, so much 
 pain, in advising, but my instmct in the case 
 seems so clear that I shall not recommend 
 you to any counsel's opinion. I should 
 make the best possible terms for myself, and 
 surrender everything, I know their case
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 183 
 
 has many very weak points, very weak 
 points, but it is one which every judge 
 would refer wholly to a jury, and one which 
 nine juries out of ten would give against 
 you. Jiu:ies are romantic, you know, they 
 rather enjoy putting a good-for-nothing, idle 
 fellow into possession of a fine estate ; their 
 sympathies would be with him and not with 
 you, and with a verdict in his favour you 
 would be at the mercy of this man and his 
 adviser, — who, so far as I can learn, is not 
 very nice in his practice." 
 
 Edward accepted this advice without hesi- 
 tation, and it was arranged that Mr. Eoyds 
 should communicate to Gribble his readiness 
 to surrender Hever Court to Will, receiving 
 secmity against all future claims, and
 
 184 HEVER COURT. 
 
 being allowed to take a few relics of liis 
 home. 
 
 "You bear this sad blow bravely, Mr. 
 Frauklaud ; but a young man of your 
 abilities, with five thousand pounds w^hicli 
 you inherit from your poor mother, is yet 
 in an enviable position. It is early to ask 
 what you purpose to do ? " 
 
 " My notion is to come to London, 
 and — do something," rejolied Edward 
 vaguely. 
 
 It was a sad blow^, he felt it in its full 
 force as he returned homewards. He must 
 not only give up his old home, and all its 
 proud and happy associations, but, harder 
 still, he must resign his hopes of Lucy's love. 
 In the full enjoyment of his prosperity he
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 185 
 
 liad feared her preference for Lord Nant- 
 wich ; now lie conld not venture to ask lier 
 for that love of which he more than ever 
 craved the possession. 
 
 Sad and lonely he sat in the fire-light of 
 the spacious dining-room on the first evening 
 of his return. All around him were mute 
 reminders of a happiness which appeared to 
 have died with his dear mother. The whole 
 house seemed eloquent of her, of her death 
 and of his own downfall. He tried to con- 
 vince himself that it would be good for him 
 to be forced thus to resign a life of mere 
 indulgence for one of useful labour. But he 
 had not been brought up to any profession, 
 he had a very modest estimate of his own 
 abilities, and felt a shrinking from the hard
 
 186 HEVER COUHT. 
 
 conflict with tlie world which he must en- 
 dure. Yet he would brace himself for the 
 struggle, on the success of which all his 
 hopes of winning Lucy for his wife must 
 rest. 
 
 He clung to his love for her as the only 
 object which gave value to his existence, the 
 only motive sufficient to spur him onward 
 in a new career. 
 
 The next day he wrote to Will. He 
 could not feel any regard for the man 
 whose brutality he considered had caused 
 his mother's death. But his letter displayed 
 no ill-feeling, nothing but cold formality. 
 He was so anxious to get away from Hever 
 Court that he was scarcely disposed to wait 
 to hear if AVill accepted the arrangement he
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 187 
 
 offered through Mr. Royds. He assumed 
 that Gribble had communicated it to Will, 
 and that Will would accept it, and named 
 an early day for his elder brother to meet 
 him and take possession. 
 
 Then he found relief for two days in 
 arranoino' his affairs and selectinsj the few 
 articles he was to take away. 
 
 On the second day, when he had finished 
 this task, he was surprised to find Will and 
 Gribble seated in the dining-room. " They 
 had come," so Mr. Gribble announced, " to 
 say they agreed to his proposals, and would 
 accept possession on Friday." 
 
 " But you ain't to take your chestnut 
 mare, mind that," said Will. 
 
 Edward looked scornfully at him.
 
 188 HEVER COmiT. 
 
 " Are you going to remain here till I 
 leave ?" lie said. 
 
 " We're only going to take a look round," 
 sneered Gribble. And tliey rose leisurely, 
 leaving the house. 
 
 It was necessary that he should pay a 
 farewell visit to Thistlewood. He had fixed 
 upon this afternoon for going there to take 
 leave of Lady Denman and Lucy, so he 
 ordered his horse and set out. 
 
 " Would they have heard of his dispos- 
 session?" He hoped so, that he might be 
 spared from telling them the story. Were 
 it otherwise, he thought bitterly how, as he 
 announced his departure, Lady Denman's 
 mamier would become politely cool and 
 formal, yet telling as plainly as the most
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 1S9 
 
 cruel language tliat lie must lose not only 
 Ills house Ijut his love. And Lucy 1 She 
 would not love him less — Edward felt sure 
 of that ; but did she care for him at all 1 
 that is, other than as a friend '? He feared 
 not. " And yet no one/' thought he, " can 
 be insensible to such love as mine. If it has 
 not positive dislike to overcome, it must win 
 some increase of regard." 
 
 Now that he must go, he was anxious to 
 leave Hever Court. Whatever his new life 
 was to be, there would be at least a sense 
 of relief in escaping from his present false 
 position. And Will's manner to him of late 
 had not been such as might have been 
 expected from one Avho gained so much, and 
 without a struggle, by his downfall. He
 
 190 HEVER COURT. 
 
 couldn't account for Will's liarsli and some- 
 what brutal behaviour. He knew that Will 
 coveted Clara Smithson for his wife ; he had 
 heard so ; it was at one time the talk of the 
 village ; but Edward was far too modest, 
 and she had given him but little reason to 
 suspect her passionate love for him, Avhile he 
 was much too proud to suppose that AVill 
 could be jealous of the ordinary attentions 
 he had paid to Mrs. Smithson's handsome 
 niece. He couldn't account in any way for 
 the increased animosity which Will showed 
 towards himself. 
 
 But this did not occupy much of his 
 thought. As he approached Lady Den- 
 man's house, he was engrossed with the 
 importance of this interview to himself. He
 
 EROS WAITS OX PLUTUS. 191 
 
 had nothing to say Imt good-bye. He 
 would never more be their neighlDour at 
 Bingwell. But perhaps Lady Denman 
 would ask him to call upon them in town. 
 He had nothing more to gain. He couldn't 
 ask Lucy to marry a man with a couple of 
 hundred a year, and with no means of 
 increasing his income. He must work for 
 years, and with success, before he could 
 venture to ask her. He felt he could do 
 this with ever so little encourao-ement. He 
 
 o 
 
 should be able to-day to see if she intended 
 to throw him off altogether. Then he felt 
 he would indeed be careless of his life. His 
 heart told him how anxious he was now ; 
 he could feel it beating as he dismounted 
 and inquired for Lady Denman.
 
 192 HEVER COURT. 
 
 She was at liome, 1nit lie found Lucy 
 alone. He affected an unnaturally easy 
 manner as lie entered the drawing-room, 
 intending to show Lucy that he was not 
 broken down by his troubles. 
 
 He was saying, " I'm come to take leave, 
 Miss Denmaii," and she, " Mamma will be 
 here presently," when their hands and eyes 
 met, and Edward read such a tender expres- 
 sion of sympathy in Lucy's eyes, and felt it 
 in the momentary lingering of her hand in 
 his, that his artificial courage broke down 
 within him, and he thought tears were 
 coming to his eyes. His own loss of fortune 
 could not have summoned them, but they 
 came out of his grateful love of this gentle 
 girl for her unspoken sympathy — sympathy
 
 EROS WAITS ON PLUTUS. 193 
 
 which he felt he needed most as he crushed 
 down the almost irresistible impulse to clasp 
 her to his heart. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "the woman I LOVE, AND THE WOMAN 
 WHO LOVES ME." 
 
 But it was only Edward's intense craving 
 for sympathy that gave liini this impulse ; 
 in a moment he reflected that it would be 
 dishonourable and repugnant to his own 
 pride to make proposals in this hour of his 
 misfortunes. 
 
 "I suppose you have heard that I am 
 goins to leave Hever, Miss Denman ? " 
 
 Lucy had heard ; he could see this. 
 
 " I'm {xoino; to London, that refug-e for the
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WHO LOVES ilE. 195 
 
 destitute, and if I'd only a liulf-crown in my 
 pocket instead of enough to live decently, I 
 might do something in the Dick-^T.iittington 
 line."' 
 
 They laughed together at this view of the 
 position. 
 
 " It's as well to look at it philosophically, 
 you know," said Edward. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Lucy, with enthu- 
 siasm that was perhaps just a little fictitious ; 
 " I am sure you will make a name for your- 
 self now, and a position far higher than that 
 of the Squire of Bingwell." 
 
 "You see, Miss Denman, I was horribly 
 weU satisfied with things as they were." 
 
 " Ah ! but ought you to be so 1 That is 
 the question."
 
 196 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " One can't help shivering a little at the 
 thought of being turned out into the cold 
 world, yet there are many for whom the 
 trial is greater than for me. But, Miss 
 Denman, I beg you ten thousand pardons 
 for inflicting the mention of my troubles on 
 you," said Edward, regaining by an effort 
 his customary bright and hopeful look ; how- 
 ever he couldn't maintain it, and his face fell 
 as he added, " but one feels so awfully lonely ; 
 it is that feeling in the contemplation of my 
 future which I cannot face bravely." 
 
 " Oh, but you have troops of friends, and 
 will make them everywhere." 
 
 " Have I ? I don't know that. I think I 
 had ; l)ut can I assume that their kindness 
 had no knowledge of my position ? "
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WHO LOVES ME. 197 
 
 " They would not be worthy the name of 
 friends, if they were so imtruc/' said Lucy, 
 warmly. 
 
 "It is enough for me if you " As 
 
 he spoke, Edward leaned towards Lucy, 
 with an earnest meaning in his eyes 
 which she could scarcely have misread. 
 A momentary blush and drooping of her 
 eyes, then they were raised, and as he 
 hesitated how to proceed, she interrupted 
 him. 
 
 "Mamma and I will hope to meet you 
 often in London ; we are going there, you 
 know, very shortly." 
 
 At this moment a servant entered the 
 room and gave Lucy what appeared to be a 
 hurried messao;e.
 
 198 HEVER COURT. 
 
 She rose directly, telling Edward that she 
 was summoned to her mother's bed-room, as 
 she was suddenly taken unwell ; that Lady 
 Denman had desired her to make her ex- 
 cuses to him. 
 
 " Good-bye, Miss Denman." And he felt 
 as he took her hand that never before 
 had he realised his misfortunes. Now it 
 seemed that he gave up all his hope of 
 her. 
 
 They exchanged no other word, but 
 Edward's heart was full to burstins; as he 
 re-mounted his horse. 
 
 And Lucy ran upstairs to her mother's 
 room, strugghng, but in vain, to keep back 
 tears which, could he but have been aware 
 that they flooded those softly eloquent eyes
 
 IIEE I LOVli, AND SHE WHO LOVES ME. 199 
 
 for liim, would surely have proved an 
 iinodyne for any trial he might have to 
 endure. 
 
 As Edward rode homewards, he tried by 
 every argument to arm himself with indif- 
 ference as to the future. But all his circling 
 thoughts found a common centre in Lucy. 
 However, he felt that, as it must be so, the 
 sooner he got away from Bingwell the better. 
 Yet, now that he must give it all up, 
 everything about the place seemed to have 
 acquired a new, or rather a value before 
 unkno^vn in his eyes. He was conscious of 
 attachment to the very roads and hedges, 
 to all the landmarks which from boyhood 
 were associated with the locality of his 
 home.
 
 200 HEVER COURT. 
 
 AVlieii lie came near to the White Horse 
 he saw Mrs. Smithson stanclmg m the door- 
 way, her immense apron spreading its white- 
 ness from side to side. He saw that she 
 observed him, by a motion which she was 
 wont to make towards those she called " the 
 (j[uality." She spoke of it as a "cmxhey," 
 and its effect was to allow the hem of her 
 dress to touch the floor. Usually this was 
 a little above the gronnd, displaying feet 
 which gave ample security for her safe 
 standino;. 
 
 Edward was in no mood for talking, but 
 he thouo'ht he could not leave the villao-e 
 without sayino- a word of adieu to one 
 who had kno^wTi him so Ions; and so well 
 as the cTood -humoured hostess of the
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WTIO LOVES ME. 201 
 
 White Horse. So lie turned towards the 
 door. 
 
 Mrs. Smitlison liad perplexities on lier 
 side. She liked Edward in the way that 
 such a woman does regard a popular, hand- 
 some, generous young squire. In her heart 
 she didn't believe that Will was the legiti- 
 mate son of his father. She couldn't believe 
 it because it gave to rough, uneducated 
 AVill the property which seemed to her 
 the natural possession of the cultivated, 
 gently-nurtured Edward. But then her 
 interests were sadly at variance with 
 her predilections. She knew that Will 
 was deeply enamoured of Clara, and she 
 felt that her niece had only to use her 
 charms and her imperious will to advan-
 
 202 HEVEIl COURT. 
 
 tage in order to be the future lady of 
 Hever Court. 
 
 She had a profound sense of her own 
 meanness as Edward approached, but she 
 knew she coukl not, and perhaps if she 
 could she would not make an effort to sur- 
 mount it. 
 
 "I have come to bid you good-bye, Mrs. 
 tSmithson," he said, smiling sadly. 
 
 Her impulse was to tell him to fight it 
 out with Will, but she said : — 
 
 " Ay, there's ups and downs in the world, 
 ain't there ; but yer know% Master Ed'ard, 
 you'll have the turn for a bit o' good luck 
 now. But won't yer come in, su' ? " 
 
 He dismounted, and fastening his bridle 
 near the doorway followed her into the par-
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WHO LOVES ME. 203 
 
 lour. There he found Clara sitting in her 
 usual attitude hy the lire, and also, as usual, 
 with a novel in her hand. 
 
 She turned her dark eyes upon him with 
 a natural greeting and yet a deep meaning 
 glance, inquiring to see how her heart's hero 
 bore his altered fortunes. If all the good 
 things that he was about to give up had but 
 fallen to her, how gladly would she have 
 thrown them back to him in exchano:e for 
 one word of love ! She might now possibly 
 be the mistress of Hever Court. She knew 
 that, but she knew better still in her heart 
 of hearts that at a word or sio;n she would 
 follow Edward's fortunes, however dark they 
 might be, nor would she ever think she 
 hnd made a sacrifice in leaving Will to
 
 204 HEVER COURT. 
 
 enjoy without licr tlie wealth of Hever 
 Court. 
 
 Household cares called Mrs. Smithson 
 away, and they were left together. 
 
 " Well, you see. Miss Clara," said Edward, 
 gaily, " I danced with you the other evening 
 under false pretences." 
 
 " I am sorry " 
 
 " Sorry — you sorry ! Why, what would 
 Will say if he heard you ? " 
 
 " I don't care for Will," Clara pouted, her 
 red lips displaying a beautiful scorn. 
 
 " But he cares for you," said Edward, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 "Can I help that?" 
 
 " No ; I suj)pose pretty girls must submit 
 to that sort of thing sometimes."
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WHO LOVES ME. 205 
 
 " Mr. Edward," Clara spoke in an un- 
 natural voice, tellino- of an internal struo^- 
 gle, "why do you give way to liim so 
 easily ? " 
 
 " Because I think I am only giving him 
 his right. I can't claim the merit of doing 
 it with much pleasure." 
 
 " He is not a gentleman." 
 
 " Oh ! five thousand a year will make him 
 
 one." 
 
 " You don't believe it ; you will always 
 be one." And the girl hung her head and 
 blushed at her own boldness. 
 
 *' Thanks. Kind words are pleasant to 
 the unfortunate." 
 
 With her eyes still downcast, Clara said — 
 " I would give more if I might."
 
 206 HEVER COURT. 
 
 It was not the words she spoke so much 
 as their tone, so sad and sweet, that moved 
 Edward. 
 
 "Surely there is no proper limit to 
 kindness." 
 
 " Is there not,'"' she said, stealing a bright 
 glance at his face, " between you and 
 me ? Has the world no rules on the 
 subject 'i " 
 
 He marked the quivering of her Kps, the 
 subdued passion of her voice. But he 
 thought it was excess of pity. 
 
 "You are very, very kind. But my 
 position is not so very bad, so pitiable. Be- 
 sides, I am young." 
 
 " Pity ! I don't pity you — I — love — 
 you!"
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WHO LOVES ME. 207 
 
 The softly whispered confession seemed to 
 be spoken involuntarily. She hid her crim- 
 soned face in her hands, through which there 
 came a stifled sob. 
 
 Edward was amazed and embarrassed. 
 Clara lifted her blusliing face, her bosom 
 heaving with excitement. 
 
 " I know I ought to be ashamed of 
 myself, but can you suppose that your 
 sex alone is doomed to this self-torture 1 
 Men may proclaim their feelings and pur- 
 sue their object untouched by shame, but we 
 must kill our passion, or — it must kill us." 
 
 Then her voice, which had risen as it 
 seemed over the barriers of her self-control, 
 fell again to a loving softness as she 
 added : —
 
 208 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " I would SO liave done by mine, had you 
 still been as you were." 
 
 Edward knew not wliat to do, so lie did 
 that which perhaps it were better he had not 
 done. He took her hand, and gently press- 
 ing it, stammered : — 
 
 " I had no — idea of this — you believe me ; 
 — do you not ? " 
 
 She had turned away from him, but with- 
 out withdrawino; her hand. There was bitter 
 pride in her reply : — 
 
 " I never asked your love." 
 
 He dropped her hand. 
 
 " It is worthless, but I had none to give." 
 
 "And I cannot recall mine." Then an- 
 other gust of passion swept before it all sense 
 of restraint. Her hands hano-ino; low, ner-
 
 HER I LOVE, AND SHE WHO LOVES ME. 209 
 
 vously clasped together, slie entreated : 
 " Oil ! take it ; let me love you. I would 
 then welcome your misfortunes. Say, ' Fol- 
 low me.' " 
 
 In the depth of her conscious yet willing 
 self-abasement, she had overpassed now any 
 sense of shame. Yet she made no advance 
 towards him, but stood with her hands, as 
 it were, fettered ; her head resting on her 
 breast in a posture which seemed to mingle 
 dignity with the expectation of a self-con- 
 victed criminal. 
 
 Edward was not insensible to her beauty, 
 nor unmoved by her love. He could scarcely 
 describe his sensations. Easy indeed would 
 it have been for him to yield to her attrac- 
 tions, but that his eye and his heart were 
 
 VOL. r.
 
 310 HEVER COURT. 
 
 full of pictures of another loveliness, and 
 that the fresh image of Lucy's pure and 
 gentle beauty stood between him and this 
 witcliing temptress. Clara's avowal could 
 not of itself have inspired disgust. It was 
 too real if it was reckless. It was the con- 
 trast, with his strong love for Lucy, that 
 summoned this unwelcome feelino- to his 
 mind. Yet he strove to avoid forcing any 
 sense of shame upon Clara. 
 
 "Miss Smithson," he replied, "will you 
 accept and respect my confidence ? " 
 
 " You may trust me," said Clara, making 
 no motion but with her lips. 
 
 "With all my heart and soul, then, I 
 love " 
 
 "Don't tell me — I mioht hate her. For
 
 HEIl 1 LOVE, AKD SHE WHO LOVES ME. 211 
 
 me, of course, there remains only your con- 
 tempt. Adieu ! " 
 
 Edward was about to protest something, 
 but she hurried past him out of the room, 
 lea^dng him nothing to do but to reo-ain his 
 
 CO o 
 
 horse and resume his ride homewards. 
 
 p 2
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER AT HEVER COURT. 
 
 In her thoughts for her niece's advance- 
 ment Mrs. Smithson overlooked the effect of 
 his sudden elevation upon Will himself. Will 
 Campbell and William Frankland were very 
 different personages. Will had appeared 
 reckless and prodigal and a slave to every 
 caprice of Clara's, yet with a strongly deve- 
 loped selfishness which kept him always, 
 though only just, upon the brink, of danger 
 and difficulty. But with the knowledge that 
 he was possessed of what seemed to him
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 213 
 
 illimitable wealth, all that was worst in his 
 nature was encouraged. Eiches to him 
 meant self-indulgence, freedom to steep 
 himself in all the gratifications dearest to 
 his sensuous nature. He had cast oft', 
 without even the consciousness of his 
 debt, the ties that bound him to his foster- 
 mother. 
 
 He couldn't understand her tears, nor 
 appreciate the homely pride with which the 
 poor woman feigned to disregard his rejection 
 of her sympathy or humble partnership in 
 his good fortune. It was not that he felt 
 the consciousness of birth and social position 
 superior to hers, but that she formed no part 
 in his views of the future. He had done 
 with her ; if she bothered him with her
 
 214 HEVER COURT. 
 
 affection or advice it could only be because 
 she wanted to get money or money's wortb 
 out of him. What else could anybody want 
 of him now ? 
 
 Hardest of all it was to him to fancy him- 
 self the master of that solemn butler and the 
 luscious subterranean treasures of which he 
 was the guardian ; to be free to fill the 
 stables at Hever Court with horses, and to 
 have them and their grooms at his command; 
 to wander at liberty over the stubbles and 
 through the coverts with Thompson, his old 
 enemy, now his obedient servant, at his 
 heels, — all this was intoxicating delight. 
 Often, too, he thought of Clara's sumptuous 
 charms, but quite as often with a strange 
 fear of her power over him as with the
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 215 
 
 desire to possess himself of liiem. Of course 
 lie could do so if he would ; he didn't for a 
 moment doubt that she would try all in her 
 power to become the mistress of himself and 
 his fortune. But it was for this very reason 
 that he avoided her. Love with him meant 
 acquisition, not surrender. He knew that 
 her eye could charm him to do her will ; he 
 felt, he feared it had this power. And he 
 knew that if he married her, it was she and 
 not he who would reign at Hever Court ; 
 sometimes it seemed to him quite as though 
 she were his rival for this splendid fortune. 
 She appeared to have established some rights 
 over him, yet she had always been proudly 
 disdainful, and had never allowed him to 
 speak a word of love to her. He would
 
 216 HEVER COURT. 
 
 resist these claims and clear himself of her 
 once for all. 
 
 Not less often there minoled with his 
 thoughts the recollection of the moments 
 when he had held Lucy in his arms. Her 
 gentle beauty seemed to demand no such 
 terrible reprisals. If his wealth could win 
 her he miojht be safe ao-ainst her interference 
 w4th his enjoyments. He had no idea that 
 strength of character could rest Ijcneath 
 softly calm eyes and gentle manners. To 
 \nn Lucy would be to add but another 
 pleasure to those that awaited him. A 
 pleasure to which there would be no draw- 
 backs, for he could quickly make her feel 
 his mastership if harsh treatment afterwards 
 became necessary.
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 217 
 
 To mn Lucy would also secure Lis posi- 
 tion in the county. But William Frankland 
 cared little for this ; a nearer and dearer 
 thought was that he would then be the 
 doubly successful rival of Edward. Yet, so 
 far from any open hostility between the two 
 brothers, there had taken place, as it appeared 
 to Bingwell, an affectionate reconciliation 
 between them. 
 
 Edward, on his part, had felt very unwil- 
 ling to leave home at enmity with his half- 
 brother, and exceedingly desirous, if only for 
 the sake of appearances, that there should be 
 a mutual acknowledoinent and recoo-nition 
 
 o o 
 
 of their relationship in the altered position 
 it had lately assumed. There could not be 
 any reality of good-wdll between them, such
 
 -IS HEVER COURT. 
 
 was his conviction. But as Will was now 
 undoubtedly tlie head of his family, he would 
 make an effort that they should part at least 
 in seeming amity. 
 
 Suppressing his desire to get away from 
 Bingwell, he had forced himself to say aU 
 this to Will, and to propose that he should 
 he Will's guest at Hever Com-t for a fort- 
 night. 
 
 On his side, Will at once saw the advan- 
 tages to himself in this new arrangement. 
 It would relieve him from the unpopularity 
 he must certainly incur if he appeared to 
 turn the popular young squire out of the 
 house. It would help him in launching into 
 his new position ; and besides, he already 
 comprehended how much it was to his own
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 219 
 
 advantage that he should learn more of 
 Edward's practical acquaintance with the 
 affairs of the estate. 
 
 So it had happened that they were now 
 both at home at Hever Court. 
 
 With all the delicate tact of which he was 
 master, Edward sought to make AVill feel 
 that himself, and not Edward, was the master 
 of the house. Will accepted the position, but 
 with the most repulsive coarseness. All 
 day the sense of his own inferiority galled 
 him until the evening, when he di'ank him- 
 self into forgetfulness. 
 
 Nearly every evening that they had passed 
 together he had been first sulky, then di'unk- 
 enly quan-elsome, from that passing into a 
 state of maudlin intoxication, and so on into
 
 220 HEVER COURT. 
 
 a heavy sleep, from wliich he was aroused, 
 but not awoke, by the servant who led him 
 to his bed-room. 
 
 So they sat one evening ; just after din- 
 ner, when the duration of Edward's stay 
 was drawing to a close. He was not sorry 
 for this ; for there remained only one plea- 
 sure which he meditated with delight. To- 
 morrow was the occasion of a local agricul- 
 tural show, and he knew that he should meet 
 Lucy there, for she never failed to display 
 her interest in the cottagers' exhibition of 
 fruit and garden produce, and the poor loved 
 her. He had called to inquire after Lady 
 Denman's health, and being assured that her 
 ladyship was out, prompted by his sensi- 
 tive i^ride, had regarded her indisposition as
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 221 
 
 assumed, in order to break off his acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 The two brothers were alone. The lamp- 
 light shone upon the glass and plate upon 
 the table, upon dark polished oak near and 
 far throughout the room, upon stately chairs 
 ranged against the walls beneath family por- 
 traits, among which the newest and brightest 
 showed the sombre features of their father, 
 more like those of Will than of Edward, and 
 the intellectual and high-bred features of 
 Edward's mother, which were all his own. 
 
 Heavily reclining in an easy-chair, Will 
 moved only to fill his glass from the bottle 
 of port-wine, which Edward did not choose 
 to share. Both were dressed in mournino; ; 
 but Will did not look at home. For all his
 
 22-^ HEVER COURT. 
 
 new clotlies and liis easy postui-e he could 
 but have passed for a stalwart young rustic. 
 
 Edward was drinking claret and reading, 
 though he now and then lowered his book to 
 reply to some remark of Will's. 
 
 He was describing a ride he had had that 
 day. 
 
 " And then I came to that little farm of 
 yours, Ned." This was a small farm of 
 about sixty acres, Edward had inherited 
 from his mother, and which, together with 
 the five thousand pounds, made all his 
 wealth. " You must let me have that farm," 
 Will continued, "I'll buy it of you. One 
 cover on it is worth two or three of the 
 Hever covers." 
 
 " I don't mean to sell it."
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 22 
 
 Q 
 
 " Well, then, you needn't ; only every 
 head o' game will be poached while you're 
 away." 
 
 Edward looked annoyed. 
 
 " I told Thompson to give an eye to it," 
 he said. 
 
 " That be hanged ; I ain't going to have 
 my men under anybody's orders but my 
 
 own." 
 
 Edward saw that Will was in his quarrel- 
 some stage of intoxication, and knowing it 
 was impossible to avoid a quarrel if he pur- 
 sued the subject, he resumed his reading. 
 
 Will went on drinking. Presently he 
 hiccouohed, and a drunken smile of self- 
 satisfaction had settled on his face. 
 
 " You call yourself a gentleman ; but you
 
 225 HEVER COUKT. 
 
 ain't lialf such a jolly chap as Arthur Den- 
 man was." 
 
 Edward felt a shock at AVilFs mention of 
 the name of Lucy's brother. His name was 
 almost forgotten in Bino;^vell, or remembered 
 only as a warning. He had been a wild 
 young man, and Will his favourite compa- 
 nion. Through his father's influence he had 
 obtained some appointment in London, but 
 within a year after he left Bingwell, he died, 
 some said accidentally, others by his own 
 hand. He was a few years older than Ed- 
 ward, wlio remembered . as a child to have 
 heard of Arthur as a monster of wickedness, 
 whose conduct had caused his father and 
 mother great unhappiness. 
 
 Edward had no wish to encourao;e Will to
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER, 225 
 
 talk of Arthur. But Will's tongue was 
 loosed from any need of encouragement. 
 
 " Ah ! he was a good sort," Will went on ; 
 " he wouldn't have sat there drinking, that 
 vinegar stuff of yours. Many's the lark 
 him and me's had. But Master Arthur 
 went a bit too far at last ; he came it too 
 strong." 
 
 " He treated his parents shamefully," said 
 Edward, who found it impossible to resist 
 the interest he felt in all that concerned 
 Lucy's family. 
 
 Will leered at him with a look which be- 
 trayed a sottish pride of superior knowledge 
 upon the subject, and a desire to gauge the 
 ignorance of his companion. 
 
 " There's only one or two people that 
 
 VOL. 1. Q
 
 226 HEVER COURT. 
 
 knows all about that, and you ain't one of 
 them." Will hiccoughed between his words, 
 and his voice was becominor thick. 
 
 " Who do you mean V 
 
 " Who should I mean ; why, me and 
 Lady Denman to be sure. But there's 
 another lady I mean to tell it to before 
 long. She wouldn't hold her head so high 
 above me, I think. But, my word, she's a 
 screamer." 
 
 Edward feared he was referring to Lucy, 
 and darted an angry scowl at Will. 
 
 " You know who I mean, old chajD, I see ; 
 let's drink her health — Lucy Denman. I 
 wish I'd have kissed her that night when I 
 had her in my arms." 
 
 "Don't mention her nanae — you are not
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 227 
 
 fit to speak of lier, you beast!" exclaimed 
 Edward in a fury. 
 
 Will eyed him steadily for a moment. It 
 seemed as though some strong feeling were 
 overmasterino- the effect of the wine. Then 
 he rose from his chair and aimed a tre- 
 mendous blow at Edward's face. Foiled 
 by Edward's adroitness in avoiding it, he 
 staggered forward and fell on the floor. 
 
 Thereon a furious tussle ensued, Edward 
 defending himself against Will's greater 
 strength and his drunken rage. It was a 
 
 shocking scene ; two men rolling about 
 upon the floor, overturning tables and 
 chairs, crashing wine-glasses and plates in 
 their struggle ; Will cursing and abusing 
 Edward with the most horrid oaths and the 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 HEVER COUET. 
 
 foulest language ; their clothes torn, with 
 flushed faces and rough hair, striving one 
 against the other, until at length Edward 
 succeeded in throwing Will, and disengaging 
 himself from him, gained the door and 
 escaped to his own room. 
 
 They were never again together in any 
 one apartment of Hever Court. 
 
 Edward would have left the house the 
 next morning, but that was the day of the 
 agricultural show, and he could not deny 
 himself the pleasure of seeing Lucy once 
 more. But he packed and sent his luggage 
 to the station to await his coming from the 
 show. The day was fine, and he set out on 
 foot ; he wouldn't take one of Will's horses, 
 feeling that he was leaving Hever Court
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 229 
 
 for ever, of which he had been born and 
 brought up as its future unquestioned 
 master. It was one of those clear, bright 
 days in early autumn, when the summer 
 reappears as though it was not yet dead, but 
 living in a vigorous old age. Dew-drops 
 glittered like diamonds on the grass ; the 
 clumps of trees, with which the park was 
 studded, never looked more beautiful than 
 now when the rich and variegated tints of 
 autumn were upon them. Sheep and deer 
 browsed together on the pastures, which 
 in their charming undulations and unseen 
 boundaries seemed to slope away into infi- 
 nite quiet and a repose untroubled by the 
 noise of the busy world. Never did this 
 happy languor appear to him more delicious
 
 230 HEVER COUET. 
 
 than this morning ; yet in the longing, 
 lingering regret for his old house, there 
 mingled a feeling of curious interest in that 
 new and unexplored track he must now take 
 in life. 
 
 The lodge-keeper, as he touched his hat, 
 did not know that Edward would not return 
 to Hever Court. 
 
 Along the road he knew that he was 
 the subject of every gossip. Groups of 
 labourers in holiday costume were trudging 
 the same way with himself. He thought 
 more than once that he heard his name 
 mentioned as he passed some of them. He 
 amused himself with reflections on their 
 homely pride of dress. Here was one whose 
 strong point was his tall beaver hat, which
 
 A FEATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 231 
 
 liotliing but Sundays and holydays could 
 draw from its working-day box. There 
 were fops who showed a bit of red waistcoat 
 at the lappet of their green or white smock- 
 frocks, the collars of which were worked 
 with intricate finish and displayed blue or 
 white glass buttons. With the more well- 
 to-do, the chaussure was the point which 
 had received the most outlay and attention. 
 Bright new buff-coloured gaiters or buskins 
 topped their formidable high-lows, which 
 trod the gTOund with a weight and a span 
 becoming the stride of the ploughman, a 
 good deal like the heavy swdng of their huge 
 teams, and iron-shod with metal almost as 
 
 heavy. 
 
 Will's elevation was not popular with this
 
 232 HEVER COURT. 
 
 class. The ag:ricultiiral labouring- class is 
 invariably Conservative with respect to the 
 gentry. They don't like parvenus. Pro- 
 bably for the same reason that school-boys 
 dislike a monitor chosen from their own 
 ranks. He knows too much of their ways, 
 and they know too much of his. Every 
 class has its shams, its weaknesses, unknown 
 to the bulk of those who have always been 
 members of other classes. The born gen- 
 tleman igmores these in his visits to his 
 
 O 
 
 labourers, but the enriched working-man has 
 a terribly keen eye for them. 
 
 Then there is the jealousy which the 
 sudden elevation of one, nearly of their own 
 class, causes. But this was not so much felt 
 in Bingwell, because Will had become squire
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 233 
 
 by evident right, — by the best right of being 
 the old squire's eldest son. 
 
 All whom Edward met saluted him with 
 affectionate respect and an evident sym- 
 pathy. To those he knew well he spoke 
 kindly, but said nothing of his leaving, to 
 avoid conversation upon subjects which 
 could not be agreeable to him. 
 
 The road had now narrowed and passed 
 between high banks covered with dense 
 underwood. Coming to a gateway, Edward 
 left the road, thinking to mount the ridge 
 behind the gate, and get one last look 
 at Hever Court. The gateway opened 
 into a narrow gap between the woods, 
 so narrow indeed that the tall underwood 
 overhung the path and roofed it with russet
 
 234 HEVER COURT. 
 
 leaves against the now powerful rays of the 
 sun. 
 
 Once through the gateway, Edward found 
 himself in perfect silence and solitude. 
 AVhen he had taken a look over the fair 
 landscape which but a few weeks back had 
 seemed unquestionably his own, he turned 
 back, intending to continue his way to the 
 show. 
 
 He was leaning on the gate musing on his 
 past and future when he heard a voice in 
 the road. He could also hear the sound of 
 wheels and of horses' feet, but they were 
 approaching slowly at a walking pace, and 
 the light sandy soil of the roadway made little 
 noise under them. He recognised Will's 
 voice, but he had not caught his words.
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 235 
 
 There was then a short pause. Edward 
 could see no one, but the next voice 
 he heard thrilled through him. It was 
 Lucy's. 
 
 " Do you impose terms to reward your 
 silence, and what are they V 
 
 Lucy's voice was cold and resolute, yet 
 there was enough in the sound to tell 
 Edward of her anxiety to conciliate Will. 
 
 Edward had no thought at the moment of 
 the indignity of listening. His whole being 
 seemed dead except in that point where his 
 eager hearing was concentrated. 
 
 Just at this moment Lucy's pony carriage 
 came within his view from the gateway. 
 Wni was riding at her side farthest from 
 him. Lucy's face was pale, and Edward
 
 236 HEVER COUET. 
 
 tliouglit lie could see liow she strove to 
 repress any symptom of the anxiety her 
 voice betrayed. Yet there was no trace of 
 unworthy embarrassment. She had never 
 looked more lovely than when the severe 
 expression which her face now wore gave a 
 more than ordinarily intellectual character 
 to her delicate beauty. 
 
 Edward was reminded of Will's horrid 
 smile the night before when he now saw 
 him bend down from his saddle so as to 
 bring his face near to hers, and say, 
 
 *' How can a pretty young lady ask such 
 a question V The leer with which this was 
 accompanied left no doubt as to the terms 
 he intended to impose. 
 
 Edward saw, he thought he even felt.
 
 A FRATERNAL ENCOUNTER. 237 
 
 Lucy's shudder. But her features seemed 
 immovable. 
 
 " You would not liave me do violence to 
 my feelings." This was all she replied. It 
 was torture to Edward that he could hear 
 no more of their conversation. It would be 
 worse to go on and see them still together, 
 Will proudly mounted on a horse that had 
 been Edward's own, perhaps exchanging 
 confidences with Lucy from which he must 
 stand aloof and on foot. Lucy was evi- 
 dently in no need of personal protection, 
 and he could not see her without betraying, 
 at least the consciousness of what he had 
 heard. 
 
 Whatever might be the secret which gave 
 Will this influence over her, influence which
 
 238 HEVER COURT. 
 
 he would doubtless use to the utmost of his 
 power without mercy or remorse, Edward 
 knew it could be connected with no fault or 
 sin of hers, for he held her in his heart 
 guiltless as an angel. 
 
 An hour later he was at the Bingjwell 
 station, and, finding his luggage had already 
 arrived, took the next train to London.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 EDWARD PROCEEDS TO MAKE HIS FORTUNE 
 m LONDON. 
 
 Having no profession, or indeed any- 
 special knowledge, Edward was but poorly- 
 equipped for a successful fight in tlie battle 
 of life in London. He had been an Eton 
 boy and an Oxford man ; there his educa- 
 tion ended. He was high-spirited, frank, 
 and sanguine, with the nicest possible sense 
 of honour, and a most engaging, because 
 most trustful and artless manner. But just 
 twenty-five years of age, the only persons he
 
 240 HEVEE, COURT. 
 
 could look to for any ad\'ice were Sir John 
 Denman and Mr. Koyds ; both men nearer 
 seventy than sixty ; and he had no notion 
 of guiding himself by their advice. Were 
 he to consult them, he would, of course, feel 
 himself bound to respect and to follow their 
 counsels. He didn't doubt it would be good 
 advice, well flavoured with prudence and 
 the wisdom of years ; but if he wanted to 
 make a short cut to fortune, was it likely 
 that septuagenarian counsels would assist 
 him? Such was the point of view from which 
 he regarded these counsellors. Sir John 
 Denman was an old gentleman, of whose 
 occupation Edward had no precise idea. 
 He had heard it said that the atmosphere 
 of London suited Sir John, and had a notion
 
 EDWARD SEEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 241 
 
 that he passed his time grubbing among old 
 papers with the zeal of an antiquary. Some 
 said he passed his years in London busied 
 with stock-jobbing operations. Some said 
 that the reason he was so rarely to be seen 
 with his wife, was owing to a quarrel and a 
 separation mutually agreed to ; others merely 
 said there was incompatibility of temper, and 
 they were better apart ; while a few threw 
 out dark hints and wagged their heads as 
 though a mystery overhung Sir John's 
 family. 
 
 And Mr. Eoyds, he was so intensely re- 
 spectable as to have no energy whatever. 
 It was quite impossible that he could teach 
 a young man how he might quickly guide 
 his steps to a fortune. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 242 HEVER COUET. 
 
 Edward had lodged himself in Wells 
 Street, Jermyn Street, and on the morning 
 after his arrival in town, called on Mr. Royds. 
 He found his fortune to consist of about five 
 thousand pounds, invested in Consols, and 
 absolutely at his own disposal. He had 
 beside this the little fami near to Hever 
 Court managed by a bailiff, who would 
 account to him for the produce. 
 
 A commonplace solicitor, seeing that Ed- 
 ward was an inexperienced young man, would 
 have given him, willing or unwilling, some 
 counsel about the future, or at least have 
 made inquiiy as to his plans ; but such was 
 not Mr. Royds. He had held all his rich 
 and titled connection together by keeping 
 strictly "within the four corners of his
 
 EDWARD SEEKS HIS FORTUNE m LONDON. 243 
 
 instructions." And such inquiries might be 
 regarded as impertinent interference, so he 
 contented himself with asking Edward to 
 dinner that evening in Eussell Square. 
 
 There he met the two Misses Royds, who 
 were youngish ladies distinguished by a frigid 
 amiability of manner. They were very 
 strong-minded. One wore blue spectacles, 
 both abjured crinoline, and had views 
 on woman's rights. So Edward found the 
 entertainment rather dull, and as he walked 
 to his lodonno^s smokino- his cio;ar, thou2;ht 
 he had done well in resolving not to be too 
 intimate there, or too much influenced by 
 Mr. Eoyds. 
 
 But what was he to do ? The problem 
 before him stood. How to get into a financial 
 
 K 2
 
 244 HEVER COUET. 
 
 position in the least possible time, such as 
 would enable him to propose to Lucy, with- 
 out feeling ashamed of himself in doing so. 
 
 Should he ever hear that Will's sinister 
 influence had been strono- enough to make 
 her marry him, then Edward felt he would 
 throw up the game of life at once. He 
 feared Lady Denman's worldly nature ; she 
 would certainly prefer that Lucy should 
 choose Lord Nantwich or even Will Frank- 
 land, rather than himself. But he had faith 
 that Lucy disliked the cynicism of the noble- 
 man, and felt disgust for the vulgar presump- 
 tion of the other. 
 
 What was he to do ? A week, a fortnight 
 passed with no solution of this momentous 
 question. He had gained some familiarity
 
 EDWAIID SEEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 245 
 
 with London. Once he thought he saw 
 Lucy in Hyde Park with her mother, but he 
 was not sure. Probably he woukl not have 
 called if he knew where they lived, but they 
 had no town house and were in lodgings, 
 where he did not know. He met several 
 college friends, but they were all busy with 
 their ow^n affairs, and never had been men 
 whom he cared to consult as to his own. 
 
 One day his attention was attracted by 
 this advertisement in the Times : — 
 
 TO CAPITALISTS.— WANTED, a Gen- 
 tleman as Director of a Limited Liability Com- 
 pany, A fortune may be made by the investment of 
 five thousand pounds, while the Directors' fees alone 
 will pay good interest. Security given on real pro- 
 perty, or the party may join in the superintendence of 
 the company's affairs. Apply by letter only, with a 
 reference, to Jos. Snodgers, Esq., financial agent, 
 99, Norfolk Street, Strand, W.C.
 
 246 HEVER COURT. 
 
 "I suppose it's a swindle," said Edward. 
 But he read it over again. At all events its 
 promises were fair. He knew that limited 
 liability meant security against a greater loss 
 than the full amount of the shares taken. 
 At least there was the promise of full secu- 
 rity and the position of director. He cut 
 out the advertisement, and walked to Nor- 
 folk Street to recomioitre the residence of 
 Mr. Snodo;ers. 
 
 At No. 99 the door was open, exposing 
 a glass door within. There were two bells 
 on one side of this door, and underneath 
 one of them a small brass plate, bearing 
 the name, " IMr. Snodgers," and beneath 
 that was inscribed, " First Floor, King the 
 BeU."
 
 EDWARD SEEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 2 47 
 
 He had a great mind to disobey Mr. 
 Snodgers' injunction and to call instead of 
 writing. It would save liiui so much trouble, 
 and if the affair were genuine he would be 
 sorry to lose it by the delay. So he ven- 
 tured to pull the bell. Immediately some- 
 thing was heard tumbling down-stairs, which 
 proved to be a boy, who presented an inky 
 nose to Edward, and informing him that 
 Mr. Snodgers was in, preceded him up-stairs. 
 He was so fortunate as to find Mr. Snodgers 
 disengaged, and to be shown to his room at 
 once. 
 
 Edward was bristling with suspicion ; but 
 the appearance of Mr. Snodgers at once made 
 him more smooth ; Mr. Royds himself did 
 not appear more respectable. There looked
 
 "ZiS HEVER COURT. 
 
 up from a table near tlie centre of the room 
 a liale and hearty gentleman of about sixty, 
 with a freshcoloured face, settled very res- 
 pectably into his collar, the whiteness of 
 which, together with that of his shu't-front, 
 were irreproachable. A black neck-handker- 
 chief loosely tied in a bow gave a sort of 
 parliamentary finish to his head. One could 
 fancy Mr. Snodgers the idol of his home 
 circle. When he composed himself at tea- 
 time, passing his hand through his grey 
 hair, his ruddy cheeks and twinkhng eyes 
 full of laughter, perhaps, at some joke he 
 had brought home with him, one could fancy 
 an admiring wife and daughters petting this 
 comfortable-looking man. It is common, 
 among a certain class, to say "a warm
 
 EDWARD SEEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 249 
 
 man," meaning "a well-to-do man." Ed- 
 ward was not acquainted with JMr. Snodgers' 
 means, but lie looked every inch of him a 
 warm man, wanting nothing, and, as it 
 were, playing at business just to give him 
 a zest for the pleasm-es of his home. 
 
 In a momentary glance, Edward also sur- 
 veyed the apartment. The furniture seemed 
 old and good. There was a couch which 
 neutralised the otherwise official aspect of 
 the place, and a desk and letter-press which 
 confirmed it. Two or three tin boxes laid 
 against the walls ; on one he read, " Coto- 
 paxi Mining Company, Limited." He took 
 notice also of an iron safe let into the 
 wall near the fire-place, and of a leather 
 arm-chair to which J\Ir. Snodgers was
 
 250 HEVER COURT. 
 
 pointing an invitation, while Edward was 
 making an apology for calling instead of 
 writing "with reference to that advertise- 
 ment in the Times." 
 
 "We are obliged to do it, you see, sir," 
 and Mr. Snodgers smiled good-humouredly, 
 " to keep off a pack of fellows who would 
 try to make a handsome thing out of an 
 affair of this sort, as agents, you know." 
 
 Edward bowed his acknowledgment of the 
 distinction. 
 
 " I've had as many as half-a-dozen of them 
 here this morning for the particulars ; but I 
 knew they were all men of straw." Mr. 
 Snodgers metaphorically flipped them away 
 with his pen. 
 
 " I am inquiiing on my o^vn behalf ; but,"
 
 EDWARD 8EEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 251 
 
 Edward added, with hesitating candour, "I 
 cannot profess great experience in these 
 matters/' 
 
 " The less the better, I was going to say," 
 rejoined Mr. Snodgers. "But then some- 
 body must look to 'em. When I arbitrated 
 between the Dumbleton and AVhetstone 
 Eailways, the Dumbleton chairman said to 
 me, 'What a head you've got for figures, 
 Snodgers ! ' And they gave me a piece of 
 plate. They behaved very handsomely. 
 But you will permit me to inquire your 
 name i 
 
 " Mr. Edward Frankland." 
 " Frankland, eh ? well that is very curious, 
 quite a coincidence." 
 « Why ? "
 
 253 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " 1 liad some old friends of that name, that 
 is all, su'," and JVIr. Snodgers seemed willing 
 
 to leave the subject. 
 
 "Mine is a Hertfordshire family, the 
 Franklands of Hever Com% Bingwell." 
 
 "My friends were London people, in a 
 very humble station of life, and they are all 
 dead." And as their memory seemed painful 
 to Mr. Snodgers, Edward j)ursued the subject 
 no further. 
 
 Then Mr. Snodgers, untying a bundle of 
 papers, proceeded to inform Edward that 
 the concern alluded to in the advertise- 
 ment was a large business in the iron trade, 
 which was to be purchased on very ad- 
 vantageous terms and transformed into a 
 limited company.
 
 EDWARD SEEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 253 
 
 " You see our object is to get it into as 
 few hands as possible." Mr. Snodgers looked 
 for a moment quite covetous, as lie tliouglit 
 of its going to the outer public. His voice 
 was soft and smooth, and the particulars 
 sounded well. 
 
 Edward remarked something about inves- 
 tigation before going any further or ex- 
 pressing any definite proposition. 
 
 " Exactly," repKed Mr. Snodgers. " Then 
 if you like you will make the advance upon 
 the ample security of the premises, to be 
 repaid in shares at par when the company is 
 formed." 
 
 Edward said he had no objection to make 
 further inquiry. 
 
 "I propose, then, to meet to-morrow
 
 254 HEVER COURT. 
 
 at five at Batt's Iron Works, Soutliwark ; 
 tliere you'll meet ]\Ir. Batt and see his 
 premises." 
 
 " One question, Mr. Snodgers ; if you are 
 going to form a company, why do you want 
 so large a sum as five thousand pounds 
 before commencing ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Snodgers, and there was really 
 a kind confidence in his manner as he left 
 his chair and came close to Edward. " Batt 
 won't of course sign the agreement to sell 
 his old-established business without five 
 thousand on account ; and, you know, why 
 should he ? " 
 
 That Mr. Batt shouldn't want five thou- 
 sand pounds down appeared so incompre- 
 hensible to Mr. Snodgers that Edward
 
 EDWARD SEEKS HIS FORTUNE IN LONDON. 255 
 
 thought Mr. Batt must be right and reason- 
 able in his proposals. 
 
 " An old trade, highly respectable, making 
 forty per cent, profits." The financial agent 
 dropped the words as though they tasted 
 nice and rich, and he were unwilling to part 
 with them. 
 
 When Edward found himself walking up 
 Norfolk Street, he began to think he was 
 sorry it was the iron trade. But why not 
 the iron trade as well as any other? He 
 had no answer to this question except a sort 
 of prejudice against ii'on as being rusty and 
 dirty, and rarely, as he thought, dealt in by 
 gentlemen. The idea of passing much of his 
 time in South wark too, was not very plea- 
 sant. But then he had a purpose to carry
 
 256 HEVER COURT. 
 
 out, and if iron was to be the road to gold, 
 he wouldn't be too particular. At all events, 
 he had promised to meet Mr. Snodgers, with 
 Mr. Batt and his solicitor, at the works to- 
 morrow.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 EDWARD FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 
 
 Batt's Iron Works lay between Bankside 
 and the river. There were some furnaces 
 and a casting-house, where at times the 
 molten iron mio;ht be seen shimmerino- like 
 red-hot soup. There were stocks of old iron 
 which had served many purposes ; old fry- 
 ing-pans and kitchen utensils of every sort, 
 coffin-plates and ancient rusty furniture of 
 ships, bolts and keels and tackling, all 
 decayed and worn out. Just behind the 
 entrance gate was a low building, wherein 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 HEVER COURT. 
 
 there was perhaps a little less dirt and rust 
 and coal-dust, and wherein, on one side of a 
 shabby old desk, hke to an old dog-kennel 
 with an upper section taken ojff, sat a rusty- 
 looking clerk. This room was distinguished 
 as the counting-house. 
 
 From this a door, marked "private," 
 opened into another room, in which stood a 
 table covered with green baize, and a few 
 chairs. Over the chimney-piece was hung 
 the advertisement-almanac of an insurance 
 office. But every article was speckled with 
 blotches of rust, and a grimy covering of 
 rust spread over all. No one could venture 
 to touch anything in Batt's counting-house 
 without being oxidised. 
 
 The rusty clerk looked up from his desk
 
 EDWARD FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 259 
 
 as two persons entered. It was about a 
 quarter to five. Tliey were both tall, but 
 Mr. Batt was much older than his solicitor. 
 The iron merchant was a portly man, whose 
 chin, thickly clad with grey beard, seemed 
 to have attracted all the hair from his head, 
 which was bald, but for a light fringe show- 
 ing beneath his hat. In early life Mr. Batt 
 had been at sea, and had retained the frank 
 manner and much of the easy dress of a 
 sailor. 
 
 If he formed the subject of conversation, 
 as he did sometimes, of a knot of men at the 
 neighbouring Striker's Arms, you would hear 
 him spoken of in many different fashions. 
 His own people always spoke weU of him ; 
 there was, indeed, a tradition that he once 
 
 s 2
 
 260 HEVER COURT. 
 
 threw a " pig " at a man \y1io disobeyed liim, 
 and then cast his dead body into the river, 
 from whence it never came again, being, as 
 was said, washed out to sea. But this 
 mystery did not lessen his power in the 
 works. He was reputed to be an honest, 
 fearless man of business, and a bold specu- 
 lator. But there was no sign of care on 
 Mr. Batts broad face as he looked at the 
 rusty clerk, and receiving "No" from him 
 to his question, "Any one been, Snaggs?" 
 followed his solicitor into the private room. 
 
 The lawyer sat down, stretched himself, 
 and said, — 
 
 " What do you think of Snodgers ? " 
 There was a self-satisfied smile as he put 
 this which seemed habitual, and to exjDress
 
 EDWARD FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 261 
 
 tliat he only questioned people for their en- 
 tanglement and his own diversion, but that 
 he knew all they would tell him beforehand. 
 
 "I tell you what, Mr. Gribble," replied 
 Batt, " Snodgers is the cleverest feller — the 
 cle-ver-est-fel-ler out, — that's what he is." 
 
 "He's going to bring the party here at 
 five o'clock, isn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he says the party's willing to ad- 
 vance five thousand on the works." 
 
 "Snodgers is the promoter of the new 
 company, I s'pose ? " 
 
 "I begin to wish I hadn't agreed with 
 Snodgers for the sale of the business." Mr. 
 Batt plunged both his hands into his pockets, 
 and looked full of thoughtful regret. 
 
 Mr. Gribble was at the ^vindow gazing
 
 262 HEVER COURT. 
 
 tlirougli a wire blind towards the gate of the 
 works, anxiously expecting the arrival of 
 Mr. Snodgers and the party. Suddenly he 
 turned to Batt, — 
 
 "Tell Snaggs to say you're engaged, and 
 to keep 'em outside. The party mil never 
 advance the money if he sees me here. 
 They're coming ! " 
 
 Mr. Batt had lived lono; enouoii to defer 
 his anxiety for explanation of this strange 
 warning on the part of his attorney, imtil he 
 had duly cautioned Snaggs to offer Mr. 
 Snodo'ers and his friend seats until he was 
 disengaged. " He would knock when he was 
 ready for them to come in. It's Mr. Tupper, 
 from Swansea, that's with me. — Mr. Tupper, 
 d'ye hear, Snaggs ? "
 
 EDWARD FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 263 
 
 " I've cost that young fellow with Snodgers 
 as mucli as five tliousand a year lately," said 
 Gribble ; " but bow the deuce am I to get 
 out ? " 
 
 In answer to llr. Batt's wondering in- 
 quiries, Gribble only replied that he had 
 found out the true heir to an estate of which 
 Edward had been in possession, and had now 
 lost. 
 
 " Here, you can get out of this window ! 
 — I hear them speaking to Snaggs." 
 
 Mr. Batt suited action to his words and 
 opened a casement, which being opposite to 
 the door could not be observed from the 
 counting-house. 
 
 " You'll take the five thousand by way of 
 mortgage — if you can get it." Mr. Gribble
 
 264 HEVER COURT. 
 
 gave tills achdce astride tlie AYinclow-sill. 
 " Don't forget to pay me that five liiindrecl 
 for costs in Rigden's affair ' when you get 
 this money — that's all." 
 
 " A cheque shall be sent you next morn- 
 ing," said Mr. Batt, in a tone so firm and 
 reliable, that of itself would surely have 
 gained credit for a larger amount. He 
 helped Mr. Gribble's left leg outwards, and, 
 as he closed the window, saw his solicitor 
 prudently in hiding by the corner of the 
 building, waiting probably until, sure of 
 Edward's entry into the private room, he 
 could leave the works unobserved. 
 
 Edward's heart fell at the dirty aspect of 
 the place. Still there was an appearance of 
 very active and thriving business about it.
 
 EDWAED FIXDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 265 
 
 And lie supposed that in no case would lie 
 have much to do with the works. In fact, 
 he was so anxious to get his money out to 
 the best advantage, that when Mi\ Batt 
 emerged from his room and iQvited them to 
 walk in, he had resolved that the grimy 
 appearance of the place was much in its 
 favour, and looked well for the prospects of 
 the company. 
 
 He was pleased, too, with the bluff 
 manners and simple straightforwardness of 
 Mr. Batt. " It's a dirty place, sii', for you to 
 come to," he said, offering his big, rough 
 hand to Edward; "but our dirt means 
 trade, and trade brings profits." 
 
 JVIr. Snodgers looked on these amenities 
 with satisfaction. He appeared as usual so
 
 266 HEVER COUET. 
 
 liappy and eminently respectable, so quiet 
 and deliberate in his movements, as to form 
 quite a contrast to Mr. Batt. There was a 
 little of the old school about Mr. Snodgers, 
 while the proprietor of the iron works was 
 rough and of the modern industrial tjrpe. 
 
 But a very attentive observer might have 
 guessed that Mr. Snodgers' entire thought 
 was not centred upon this interchange of 
 courtesies between Edward and Mr. Batt, for 
 he would have traced a just perceptible ex- 
 pression of surprise as Mr. Snodgers entered 
 the room, and threw a wandering glance 
 around it, settling at length upon the 
 window. 
 
 Mr. Snodgers, however, kept both his sur- 
 prise and his suspicions to himself
 
 EDWAED FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 267 
 
 He briefly explained to Edward that their 
 business there was very simple. " Would he 
 lend Mr. Batt five thousand pounds upon 
 security of this valuable leasehold wharf and 
 premises, with all the very valuable stores 
 and stock-in-trade ? The wharf alone was 
 valued at seven thousand pounds." 
 
 Mr. Batt looked as thouo^h he had no 
 interest whatever in the matter. In fact, 
 it appeared rather as if Mr. Snodgers 
 were driving him from his old-established 
 business. 
 
 If this matter were concluded, Mr. Snod- 
 gers pointed out, the formation of the com- 
 pany would proceed, but without in the 
 least aff'ecting Mr. Frankland's security. 
 Meanwhile, by this advance of capital, Mr.
 
 268 HEVER COUET. 
 
 Batt ■VYOiild be able to keep the business 
 going with, if possible, a yet increased 
 success. 
 
 Edward looked round tlie wliarf and 
 thought these big stacks of iron, these forges, 
 and stables and horses, must be worth a 
 great deal of money. And the wharf might 
 well be worth the amount stated by Mr. 
 Snodgers. 
 
 But he stoutly refused to agree to accept 
 shares in the new company in payment of 
 his mortgage. He might be willing to take 
 shares for the full amount when the company 
 was formed, but he must judge for himself 
 after the formation of the company. If his 
 solicitor, Mr. Royds, was satisfied, he would 
 advance the money, and any negociation as
 
 EDWARD FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 269 
 
 to the company could then be made without 
 reference to the mortgage, which would be 
 an ordinary advance, bearing interest at — as 
 Mr. Snodgers had proposed — four and a-half 
 per cent. 
 
 The financial agent looked as though he 
 could have been very angiy. His large 
 under lip fell. But there was only a slight 
 trace of disappointment in his voice, as he 
 said, " You want to pick the plums out of 
 the pudding, su', I see." 
 
 '' I make you an ofter," replied Edward, 
 haughtily ; " you can take it or not, as you 
 please." 
 
 "You will advance the money ?" 
 
 " Yes ; if all the statements made by you 
 appear to my sohcitor to be satisfactory."
 
 270 HEVER COURT. 
 
 "Well, Mi\ Batt, what do you say?" 
 asked Snodgers. 
 
 " It's for you to say, Mr. Snodgers ; 
 you've got my agreement for the sale of the 
 premises and business." 
 
 " But that has nothino- whatever to do 
 with this transaction," interrupted Edward. 
 
 "I can find good use for the money in 
 the business," said ]\Ir. Batt, roughly. There 
 seemed to be no anxiety on his part to get 
 Edward's money. 
 
 So the matter was settled. Subject to 
 Mr. Royds' approval, Edward would advance 
 the money on mortgage, and Mr. Snodgers 
 was to push forward the formation of Batt's 
 Iron Works Company, Limited ; Edward 
 beino' willino; to become a director and a
 
 EDWARD FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 271 
 
 sliareliokler, possibly to tlie amount of five 
 thousand pounds, if the company appeared 
 to him to be satisfactorilv established. 
 
 Soon after they left the works Mr. 
 Snodgers was obliged to leave Edward, 
 having, as he said, " business in an opposite 
 direction." 
 
 But, if Edward had followed the financial 
 agent, he Avould have seen him re-enter 
 Mr. Batt's private room, and to the evident 
 surprise of the ironmaster resume his seat, 
 having first carefully shut the door. 
 
 Mr. Snodgers was, as always, very placid. 
 
 •' Confidence begets confidence, you know," 
 said he, adjusting his double eye-glass, with 
 a sly admonitory glance at Mr. Batt. 
 
 " Well r
 
 272 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " It seemed so funny that tliat Mr. Tapper 
 from Swansea should get out of your 
 window, that's all." 
 
 Mr. Batt looked confused, and tuo-o-ed at 
 his beard. 
 
 " If a party don't want to see me, I don't 
 know why, but I generally feel a little 
 anxious to see him. Don't you feel that, 
 Mr. Batt?" 
 
 Mr. Batt saw he was in a corner, and 
 could only escape by being unusually can- 
 did. So he confessed that it was his soh- 
 citor, JMr. Gribble, who had made so uncere- 
 monious a departure. How he could be 
 such a fool as to forget that Snodgers would 
 observe that his room had no door but that 
 by which he entered, he could not think.
 
 EDWAED FINDS A GOOD INVESTMENT. 273 
 
 But one answer only led to further ques- 
 tions, and Mr. Snodgers learned tlie cause 
 of Gribble's desire to avoid a meeting with 
 Edward in the capacity of Mr. Batt's soli- 
 citor. The ironmaster felt that the loan so 
 much depended on Snodgers, that he gave 
 him all Gribble's confidence. 
 
 The recital seemed to have great interest 
 for Snodgers. He listened with an attention 
 that would have seemed curious to Mr. Batt, 
 but that he considered Snodgers made " his 
 living out of other people's affairs." Yet 
 Mr. Batt was astonished. "Had Gribble 
 deceived him ? Could it be that Snodgers 
 was the man he feared to meet V 
 
 " It won't affect the loan, I hope ? " said 
 Mr. Batt, nervously. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 HEVER COURT. 
 
 Mr. Snodgers' reply seemed inconsequent. 
 
 " Mr. Gribble's a sliarp man, I should say, 
 isn't he r 
 
 " As a needle." 
 
 "Ah! I knew something of the family, 
 that's all," rephed Snodgers, vaguely. "You 
 may make pretty sure of having the five 
 thousand." 
 
 Mr. Batt was evidently glad to hear this. 
 But he was puzzled. Mr. Gribble had 
 jumped through his window to avoid these 
 men, and now Mr. Snodgers left thoughtful 
 and mysterious. But as to Batt's Iron 
 Works he knew that Snodgers' interest was 
 identical with his own, and the reflection 
 was very reassuring.
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 ME. SNODGEES FORMS A LIMITED COMPANY. 
 
 " What do you want with me, Thompson, 
 hey?" said Mr. Royds to his head clerk. 
 Mr. Royds was pulling on his gloves prepa- 
 ratory to taking his afternoon ride in Rotten 
 Row. 
 
 " Batt's morto-ao-e to j\Ir. Edward Frank- 
 land, sir." 
 
 " S'pose it's all right. Tonks is a very 
 good valuer, safe man. Yes, you had better 
 prepare the deed." 
 
 Mr. Royds' maxim in his business was to 
 
 T 2
 
 276 HEVEP. COUET. 
 
 act upon the instructions of liis clients. He 
 never thwarted by unasked ad\dce what he 
 believed to be their wish. If Edward chose 
 to lend his money to Mr. Batt, all Mr. 
 Eoyds concerned himself about was the title 
 of the security, and a certified opinion of its 
 sufficiency as to value. 
 
 AVhen the mortgage-deed was prepared it 
 was sent to JMr. Batt for his perusal, but Mr. 
 Gribble did not act for the iron-master in 
 this matter. 
 
 Mr. Batt's solicitor, whoever he was, had 
 no objections to ofier, and in due time, the 
 preliminaries being arranged, the business 
 was concluded, Edward's five thousand 
 pounds being transferred to Mr. Batt's 
 account with his bankers.
 
 MR. SNODGEES' LIMITED COMPANY. 277 
 
 It was arranged between liim and Mr. 
 Snodgers that tliis being settled, tliey sboiild 
 meet at the works the next morning to 
 confer witli Mr. Batt as to the formation of 
 the company. 
 
 But while Edward saw no objection to 
 lending his money upon a good secmity 
 which was approved by so respectable a 
 solicitor as Mr. Eoyds, he did not feel any 
 increasing anxiety to join Mr. Snodgers 
 ill any commercial enterprise. Yet he 
 was quite willing to listen to their pro- 
 posals, though he intended to be very 
 cautious in permitting the financial agent 
 to impair the security he now held for his 
 capital. 
 
 Still if he could only see his way to
 
 278 HEVER COURT. 
 
 getting ten per cent, for this money it 
 seemed to him that he would be advanc- 
 ing towards the marrying position he so 
 ardently desh^ed to attain. The fact is, he 
 didn't quite know what he wanted. He 
 was unwell and nervous, alone in London, 
 and, as he felt, without friends ; shrinking 
 from those who perhaps would have received 
 him kindly, because he had a sensitive fear 
 that they wouldn't be even civil to him in 
 his altered fortunes, resolving every day 
 upon contradictory schemes for the future ; 
 meanwhile, glad of anything which engaged 
 his time and forced from him action of some 
 sort. 
 
 Looking upon London and the wide field 
 of endeavour it afforded to a young man, he
 
 MR. SNODGEES' LIMITED COMPANY. 279 
 
 had felt valiant ; but a few weeks had 
 passed, and now he seemed to be sinking in 
 the great stream of Hfe, cruelly ready to 
 submerge him and to pass on umippled 
 over his head. A year ago and such 
 thoughts would have been regarded by 
 him as a passing attack of " the blues." 
 Now he couldn't shake off a creeping sense 
 of despondency, an undefined feeling of 
 unworthiness of his former self. He had 
 raised his income a hundred a year by 
 selling out his money from the funds and 
 lending it to Mi\ Batt. But never till now 
 had he rightly estimated the real privileges 
 of wealth. So he thought. What was it 
 not worth to be free from sordid considera- 
 tions, from ignoble associations ?
 
 280 HEVER COUET. 
 
 As he lay in bed at Lis lodgings tliinking 
 tliat lie had to meet Mr. Snodo-ers in two 
 hours' time at the works, turning these 
 thouo[hts over and over in his mind, restless 
 and wretched, he imagined he could see how 
 the downward path to roguery was the only 
 road before some men. He felt sure he 
 could never do anything dishonest. Yet in 
 his nervous, fretful discontent he could 
 fancy himself gliding downwards into grind- 
 ing poverty, to a miserable reflection of his 
 former self, hopeless of recognition by her he 
 loved so dearly. 
 
 Then he sprang up, and a tub of cold 
 water improved his prospects. As he 
 walked down to the works he was counting 
 his resources, and glad tliat he had an
 
 ME. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 281 
 
 engagement, even though it were with 
 Mr. Snodgers. 
 
 Yet what a dirty place it looked. He 
 even shrank from soiling his gloves with 
 the handle of the counting-house door, and 
 finding he couldn't push it open, rapped 
 with his stick. 
 
 He could hear ]\Ir. Snaggs' wooden leg 
 stumping from his stool to the door. It 
 vexed his fastidious pride to think he ob- 
 served a smile of recognition in the rusty 
 clerk's face, as though Snaggs thought there 
 was community of interest now between 
 them. 
 
 " No, the guv'ner ain't come yet," said 
 Snaggs, in reply to Edward's inquiry for 
 Mr. Batt.
 
 282 HEVER COUPcT. 
 
 What a rusty, weary wretch he looked, so 
 much in keepmg ^\ith the place in which he 
 sat, so inharmonious ^ith any idea of home 
 and domestic joys, that Edward was almost 
 inclined to wonder if he lived there on 
 the old stool, the rotten leather of which 
 showed in more than one place its stuffing 
 of hay. On the bar beneath his desk 
 there was a smooth deep notch worn by 
 his wooden leg, and as he doubled down 
 to his books again, one could see that the 
 attitude was taken rather by force of habit 
 than by the amount of work he had 
 to do. 
 
 He wore a rusty dress suit of anticpe cut, 
 his trowsers fitting tightly over the rusty 
 top of his Wellington boots, leaving the
 
 MR. SXODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 283 
 
 entire foot visible, bulgy here and there, 
 where the upper leather, guiltless of blacking, 
 had parted from the soles. His long, bony 
 hands were smeared with ink, and a blot of 
 it appeared, though not very plainly, on his 
 dirty shirt-front. A rusty, frayed satin 
 stock supported a collar, which seemed to be 
 falling down into it, ashamed of days and 
 days of wear. And above it his face, with 
 an immortal rust upon it. His thin ragged 
 locks of hair — he had none upon his cheeks 
 or chin — seemed like a wretched crown of 
 rust, and now and then he sniffed pinches of 
 rust-coloured snuff up his nose from an iron 
 box, to which it was probably owing that his 
 eyes had usually a watery appearance. If 
 ever they assumed an expression, or feebly
 
 284 HEVER COUPvT. 
 
 sliared one with his large moutli, it was an 
 expression of the smallest human cunning, 
 such as might warn a watchful master to be 
 careful of his pennies rather than of his 
 cheque-book. 
 
 " And he warn't here yesterday, neether," 
 added Snaggs, after a long pause, during 
 which Edward had been standing by the fire 
 regarding the rusty clerk. 
 
 " How does the business get on without 
 
 him r 
 
 " It don't want much lookino; after. 
 Mostly buyin' and sellin', one day a lot o' 
 scrap, then a lot o' pigs, and maybe a border 
 for a lot o' castin's." 
 
 There was a knock at the door. 
 
 " It's Mr. Snodgers," said Edward.
 
 ME. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 285 
 
 But it was not IMr. Snodgers. It was a 
 postman, who lianded Edward a letter. He 
 took it meclianically, and was going to place 
 it on Snaggs' desk, when his eye fell upon 
 the address. It was "Edward Frankland, 
 Esq., Batt's Iron Works, Southwark, S.E." 
 He opened the envelope. The letter was 
 dated three days ago, but the writer gave no 
 address. 
 
 "Dear Sir, — 
 
 " I am declining business, and when 
 this is to hand shaU be hundreds of miles 
 away, never to return. There is a good 
 opening for you as my successor, or as Mr. 
 Snodgers thinks better, for a company. 
 You can at once take possession. There are
 
 286 HEVER COURT. 
 
 some debts owing ; perhaps more than 
 enough to cover the stock. 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 "Thos. Batt. 
 "P.S. Perhaps Snodgers is sharp enough 
 to square the debts into shares." 
 
 Edward's first feeling after reading this 
 was one of blank dismay. He would have 
 been less miserable by far if he had simply 
 lost all his money and there had been an 
 end of it. He saw he had been duped by 
 this man, who had probably left the country 
 directly after he obtained the five thousand 
 pounds. Edward never reflected that he 
 had full value for his money in the security, 
 he was so troubled with the thought that he
 
 MR. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 287 
 
 was saddled witli tliis TVTetclied place — that 
 lie sliould be there waitino; for such a 
 rogue, actually waiting for a conference 
 on something like terms of equality with 
 Mr. Batt. 
 
 But he had not long to reflect upon the 
 altered aspect of affairs before Mr. Snodgers 
 arrived. 
 
 "I was detained," said Snodgers, loftily, 
 " with the Cotopaxi dii'cctors. Is our friend 
 about the works?" 
 
 Edward handed him " our friend's " letter, 
 with an ungraciously frigid reception of Mr. 
 Snodgers' hand-shaking. He watched the 
 financial agent as he read, thinking to detect 
 complicity in his countenance. 
 
 " Well, that is lucky," said ]\Ir. Snodgers,
 
 288 HEVER COUET. 
 
 with a sort of pleasant empliasis, as lie 
 handed back the letter to Edward. 
 
 "Whatl" 
 
 "Why, I knew he was in debt, but I 
 didn't know it had gone quite so far as 
 this!" 
 
 "I don't understand you," said Edward, 
 wondering if he could be in any way in- 
 cluded in the circle of which Mr. Snodgers 
 spoke. 
 
 Mr. Snodgers tln-ew himself into the 
 chair, and laughed his quiet, respectable 
 laugh. 
 
 " Don't understand me ! Why, you see, 
 sir, we've got the company in our own 
 hands now. I've got an agreement by 
 which I can take the good-will without
 
 MR. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 289 
 
 payment, and you've got the wharf and 
 premises ; you can't sell 'em without the 
 business. Now d'ye see ? — why it's as neat 
 as ninepence. All we've got to do is to 
 arrange with the creditors so as to prevent 
 the hubbub of a public insolvency. I know 
 one or two of 'em. There's Plynlym, 
 the Welsh mine owner, and Gernet, the 
 agricultural implement maker, they'll be in 
 rather heavily. We'll make directors of 
 them. First-rate names. Then there's your- 
 self ; then there's me, Joseph Snodgers, Esq., 
 as promoter and managing director, pro 
 tern. ; and we'll make Mr. Snaggs secretary." 
 Mr. Snodgers looked triumphantly at 
 Edward, who began in a vague way to feel 
 inextricably involved in the affair. 
 
 VOL. r, U
 
 290 HEVER COURT. 
 
 " Now look here," said the financial agent, 
 " I've just made these notes for the pro- 
 spectus. 'Iron Working Company (Limited). 
 — Proprietor retiring in favour of the com- 
 pany, having realised a large fortune — No- 
 thing to be paid for goodwill — Valuable 
 premises and stock, ample security for 
 capital — Large and old-established business, 
 valuable contracts on hand ; probable great 
 extension by the company — The directors 
 congratulate themselves on having secured 
 the valuable services of Mr. Snaggs as secre- 
 tary, whose long acquaintance with the 
 business affords some guarantee of its value.' 
 There, I think I can rub that up into some- 
 thing ; the creditors can't say no to that ! 
 What do you say to being secretary, Mr.
 
 MR. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 291 
 
 Snaggs, with an increase of ten shillings a 
 week to your wages, — eh, Mr. Snaggs ? " 
 
 The rusty clerk blinked his eyes and 
 grinned a smile. 
 
 " What'll the guv'ner say to that ? " feebly 
 suggested Snaggs. 
 
 " Mr. Batt has retired in my favour," re- 
 turned Snodgers with some little importance, 
 gleefully rubbing his hands together. 
 
 But this, combined with what he had 
 already heard of their conversation, was too 
 much for Snaggs' intellect, and he settled 
 down again upon his stool to think it over. 
 
 In his owTi mind, when Edward had read 
 Mr. Batt's letter, he had seen a picture of 
 ruin, ruin to himself and to every one con- 
 nected with the works. He was staggered
 
 292 HEVER COUET. 
 
 by Mr, Snodgers' contrary view of the case. 
 Naturally disposed to take a hopeless view 
 of siicli circumstances, lie was too much be- 
 wildered to comprehend thoroughly all the 
 design of Mr. Snodgers. But yet he felt 
 very indignant at the cool manner in w^hich 
 the financial agent seemed to reckon on 
 being allowed to include his name in what 
 appeared to him to be a questionable busi- 
 ness. 
 
 "But there's not a word of truth in 
 what you propose to include in the pro- 
 spectus," he said, with an efibrt to speak 
 calmly. 
 
 " Ton my word, sir, you're quite mistaken. 
 It may be high coloured, I don't say it ain't ; 
 but it's all as true as my name's Snodgers."
 
 ME. SNODGEPtS' LIMITED COMPANY. 293 
 
 " I'd ratlier not have anytliing to do Avith 
 it." 
 
 " Oil ! tliat as you please ; but you'll lose 
 half your money, and have no end of bother, 
 if you don't." 
 
 Edward did not know exactly what to do. 
 In his utter ignorance of business he thought 
 that Mr. Batt having absconded, all this 
 dirty, hateful business had fallen to him. 
 To manage it himself seemed the worst of 
 all possible alternatives. To consult the 
 snugly respectable Mr. Royds upon the 
 position of affairs was only less distasteful, 
 for he felt there would be an unctuous re- 
 proach in each word of his solicitor's. Then 
 Snodgers seemed so quietly prepared for the 
 catastrophe, and was so thoroughly master of
 
 294 HEVER COUET. 
 
 the situation, that Edward, in his nervous and 
 weakly state of health, felt the most com- 
 fortable method by far was to let him have 
 his way. " He can't make me do anything 
 dishonest," he argued with himself. So he 
 allowed Mr. Snodgers to continue the de- 
 velopment of his plans. 
 
 A few days afterwards, Snodgers came to 
 him looking most benignly happy. He had 
 reduced the number of creditors to six, by 
 getting these to purchase the debts of the 
 smaller creditors ; and of these six, two, 
 Plynlym and Gernet, were to join himself 
 and Edward on the Board of Directors. 
 
 "Here's a httle matter for you to sign. 
 The articles of association forming the com- 
 pany." He said this to Edward, w^ho was
 
 MR. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 295 
 
 unwell in bed, handing liim at the same 
 time the paper and a pen. 
 
 Edward languidly looked over the paper. 
 He was thinldng confusedly of Mr. Snodgers' 
 notes for the prospectus, and was very agree- 
 ably surprised to find no lies in this docu- 
 ment. Presently he met with his own name. 
 "Mr. Edward Frankland to receive fully 
 paid-up shares equivalent in nominal value 
 to the amount of his mortgage, and Mr. 
 Joseph Snodgers to receive, for promotion 
 and for his interest in the business, an equal 
 number of paid-up shares." 
 
 " I would much rather have the money, 
 or half of it," said Edward, faintly. 
 
 " So would I," replied Snodgers, with as- 
 tonishing gravity ; " but this is the readiest
 
 296 HEVER COURT. 
 
 way to get it — you know your mortgage 
 deed isn't money." 
 
 " No, indeed." Edward signed tlie paper 
 near to a wafer-seal, and over his initials, 
 wliicli liad been previously pencilled by Mr. 
 Snodgers, and gave back tlie paper to tlie 
 financial agent, wealdy conscious tliat he 
 had done a very foolish thing; and yet 
 preferring infinitely to have done it rather 
 than to have the burden of the business upon 
 himself. 
 
 In a few weeks the shares of the Iron 
 Working Company (Limited) were quoted 
 at 2 premium, by means of some well- 
 rigged sales accomplished by Mr. Snodgers, 
 and more than five-and-twenty bond fide 
 applications for shares had been received,
 
 MR. SNODGERS' LIMITED COMPANY. 297 
 
 chiefly from wliat Snodgers called " coiiutiy 
 parties," — clergymen, widows, retired trades- 
 men, and lialf-pay officers. 
 
 It is needless to add that they received an 
 allotment of shares without delay, and so 
 enjoyed the privilege of contributing to the 
 payment of Mr. Batt's debts and to the main- 
 tenance of Mr, Suodo^ers. 
 
 END OP VOL. L 
 
 BRADBVRV, EVASS, AND CO.. I'KINTKRK, W HlTKil;lARS.