•v-;:K»'iit:-\;-.--/:,. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ,X3- 
 
 v^.>.";. 
 
 .t *V^':' 
 
^# 
 
 LI E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 
THE FORGERY 
 
 BEST INTENTIONS. 
 
 G. P. E. JAMES, Esq. 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 '' DARNLEY," " RICHELIEU," " THE ROBBER," 
 " THE GIPSY," " THE SMUGGLER." ETC. 
 
 TN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 72, MORTIMER St., CAVENDISH Sq, 
 
 1849. 
 
V, I 
 
 THE FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 One of the finest characters in the v^orld 
 
 was the old English merchant. We may and 
 
 have improved upon many things but not 
 
 upon that. A different spirit reigns in com - 
 
 merce from that which ruled it long ago, 
 
 and not a better one. We are more the 
 
 -'^ shopkeeper, as a celebrated but not a great 
 
 ^ man called us, and less the merchant. As 
 
 :f a people our commerce is more extended, 
 
 but the separate transactions are smaller; 
 
 ^ and minute dealings almost always produce 
 
 -^ paltry minds. Not at all do I mean to say 
 
 -0 VOL. I. B 
 
2 THE FORGERY. 
 
 that the old English merchant is without 
 its representatives ; but they are fewer than 
 in other times both with reference to our 
 numbers, and to our extended trade. 
 
 There are many still, however, whose 
 notions are as vast and as just as those of any 
 of our ancestors, and amongst them not very 
 long ago was a gentleman of the name of Hum- 
 phrey Scriven. He was a highly educated 
 and naturally gifted man, the son of wealthy 
 and respectable parents in a class of society 
 peculiar to England, the untitled country 
 gentry ; and he had been originally intended 
 for the church. Circumstances, however, 
 are to most men fate. He became ac- 
 quainted by some mere accident with the 
 only daughter of a rich merchant, admired, 
 loved her, and won her love in return. He 
 was a younger son, but, nevertheless, her 
 father was a kind and liberal man, and he 
 consented to their marriage upon one con- 
 dition: that Mr. Scriven should abandon 
 his intention of entering the church and 
 become a merchant like himself. He fancied 
 
THE FORGERY. 3 
 
 that he had perceived in the young man a 
 peculiar aptitude for business, and he was 
 not mistaken. Mr. Scriven became his son- 
 in-law, his partner and his successor, and 
 well did he bear up the name and honour 
 of the house. 
 
 It was a fine thing to see him, some 
 twenty years after his marriage, when, 
 with the business of the day over, he 
 sat in his splendid house in St. James's 
 Square, surrounded by his family and often 
 associated with the noblest and the proudest 
 of the land. His wife was no longer living ; 
 but she had left him four very handsome 
 children. She had herself been remarkably 
 beautiful and her husband was as fine a 
 looking man as eye could see, tall, grace- 
 ful, vigorous, and possessing that air of 
 dignity which springs from dignity of mind. 
 From the moment that five o'clock struck 
 Mr. Scriven cast oflf all thought and care of 
 l)usiness ; for though there were of course, 
 with him as with other men engaged in 
 similar pursuits, fluctuations and changes, 
 B 2 
 
4 THE FORGERY. 
 
 bad Speculations, failing debtors, and 
 wrecked ships, still his transactions were 
 too extensive for the loss of a few thousand 
 pounds here or there to weigh upon his 
 mind; and being of a cheerful and happy- 
 disposition he spread sunshine through his 
 dwelling. 
 
 His family, at the time of which I speak, 
 consisted of three daughters and one son 
 who was born some four or five years after 
 the youngest sister. The daughters were 
 all lovely, kind, affectionate, and gentle 
 in disposition, very much alike in per- 
 son, and so nearly of an age that it was 
 difficult to tell which was the eldest. There 
 was indeed some diffi^rence in character, in 
 point of force and vigor of reason ; but the 
 spirit and the heart were the same. Maria, 
 the eldest, was a girl of much good sense ; 
 but of a very humble appreciation of her 
 own qualities and advantages. She thought 
 little of her beauty and less of her wealth, 
 and her humility mere worldly-minded 
 people looked upon as weakness. Isabella, 
 
THE FORGERY. 5 
 
 the second, though neither haughty nor pre- 
 suming, was of a far more decided and 
 independent nature ; but Margaret, the 
 third, was all gentle kindness, with 
 much less mere intellect than either of her 
 sisters. She had sense enough, and prin- 
 ciple enough never to do anything that was 
 wrong but not enough worldly wisdom to 
 guard her own interests against her affec- 
 tions. The son was at this time a boy of 
 fifteen — a sharp, clever lad who had been a 
 good deal petted by his mother, and had 
 been taught by circumstances to attach 
 more importance to the possession of wealth 
 than it deserves. 
 
 In great things Mr. Scriven seldom made 
 mistakes ; in small ones of course he often 
 did, and one of his mistakes was in not 
 looking upon trifles in education as im- 
 portant. Perhaps it is there alone that 
 they really are important ; for every idea 
 received in youth has a vast development 
 in maturity. The seed may be small and 
 insignificant in appearance, but once sown 
 
b THE FORGERY. 
 
 it is sure to grow and may spread to a 
 great tree. 
 
 The father destined his boy to succeed 
 him in his counting house. Though very 
 wealthy he had no inclination that his son 
 should spend the fruit of his ancestors' 
 labours in idleness. He had a great idea of 
 the dignity of commerce ; and Henry Scriven 
 was taught from his earliest years, that he 
 was to be a merchant. He was educated 
 with that view, and early initiated into 
 business matters. Could Mr. Scriven him- 
 self have given up his time and attention 
 to the lad he might have acquired, with all 
 the practical details, great views and noble 
 purposes ; but his father's time was neces- 
 sarily greatly occupied, and he also felt 
 some doubts as to his parental fondness 
 leaving his judgment room to act in the 
 case of his own child. At the age of 
 fifteen then, he sent him to receive the rudi- 
 ments of a mercantile education with the cor- 
 respondent of his house at Hamburg. This 
 correspondent was known to be a good man 
 
THE FORGERY. 7 
 
 of business ; but he was no more than that ; 
 and pinning his pupil down to small details 
 and accustoming him to his own limited views 
 of commerce, he narrowed all his habits of 
 thought while he gave vast development to 
 certain germs of selfishness which were in 
 the boy's own nature. His principles were, 
 always to gain something off every tran- 
 saction, never to leave a penny unproduc- 
 tive, to buy in the cheapest, and sell in 
 the dearest market, to look to his pence 
 knowing that his pounds would take care 
 of themselves, and being a merchant, to 
 regard everything with a mercantile eye. 
 He held that no merchant should marry till 
 he could retire from business. Indeed he 
 regarded marriage like everything else, as 
 " a transaction," and one quite incompati- 
 ble with the conduct of a great commercial 
 house. Such lessons always have their 
 effect, the pupil sometimes going beyond, 
 sometimes falling short of his master. 
 
 ^Tiat were the impressions produced 
 upon Henry Scriven will be seen very soon, 
 
8 THE FORGERY, 
 
 but in the meantime his eldest sister Maria 
 married. She made her own choice and 
 that without ambition having any share in 
 it. The gentleman whom she selected was 
 amiable, somewhat eccentric, but a man 
 of high honour and much feeling. He was 
 the second son of one of Mr. Scriven's oldest 
 friends and fellow-merchants, and Maria's 
 father had but one objection. It had been 
 arranged that Mr. Henry Marston was to 
 go out to India with a sufficient capital to 
 establish a house in relation with that of 
 his father in London. Mr. Scriven did not 
 like the idea of his daughter going to India 
 at aU; but, he knew that people are the 
 only judges of their own happiness ; and as 
 Maria had made up her mind, he threw no 
 impediment in the way. Shortly after 
 Henry Scriven's return from Hamburg, 
 where he staid two years, the marriage of 
 his second sister Isabella took place. In 
 this instance there could be no objection on 
 any part, as the man she chose was just the 
 sort of person which such a girl might be 
 
THE FORGERY. V 
 
 expected to prefer. He was about ten years 
 older than herself, good tempered but re- 
 markably firm, cheerful without being 
 merry, generous without being extravagant. 
 His property was ample; for his father the 
 third baronet had left him a large and un- 
 encumbered estate, and his mother a very 
 considerable sum in the public funds. Thus 
 Isabella became the wife of Sir Edward Monk- 
 ton; but as his property lay at no great 
 distance from London, her separation from 
 her family was not so complete as that of 
 her sister Maria. 
 
 The youngest of the three sisters re- 
 mained longer unmarried, although she 
 was fully as attractive both in person and 
 manners as her sisters. Nor was it that 
 there was a lack of applicants for her hand, 
 for some four or five unexceptionable men 
 proposed to her, and were at once and 
 steadily rejected, much to their own sur- 
 prise, and to that of the lookers on. She 
 was so gentle, so affectionate, so easily led, 
 so over-anxious for the happiness and wel- 
 B 5 
 
10 THE FORGERY. 
 
 fare of others, that everybody had supposed 
 her heart would be carried at the first as- 
 sault. Perhaps indeed it was, and this 
 might be the cause of her remaining single 
 to the age of twenty-four. 
 
 There was at that time moving, in the 
 highest ranks of English society, a Sir John 
 Fleetwood, who realized completely the 
 idea of " a man of wit and pleasure about 
 town." He had served with some distinc- 
 tion in the army, though he had not seen 
 more than thirty summers, was very hand- 
 some, very lively, with a smart repartee 
 always ready, a slightly supercilious air to- 
 wards all men but his own choice companions, 
 and a manner most engaging to all women 
 whom he thought it worth his while to please. 
 He had towards them an easy familiarity 
 which did not in the least savour of vulgar 
 impertinence, a constant display of little at- 
 tentions which seemed to shew that the per- 
 son who received them was occupying all his 
 thoughts, a protecting kindness of tone, with 
 a musical voice, and a habit of speaking low. 
 
THE FORGERY. 11 
 
 He danced with Margaret the first time she 
 ever appeared at a large party ; he danced 
 with her again ; and then he obtained an 
 introduction to her father. ]Vir. Scriven re- 
 ceived him coldly, much to the poor girl's mor- 
 tification — it might almost indeed be called 
 repulsively ; and as he saw that Margaret 
 was not only surprised by his unusual de- 
 meanour to her handsome partner but more 
 vexed than he could have desired, her 
 father judged it best to to explain his mo- 
 tives at once. 
 
 " You were astonished, my love," he 
 said, as they were driving home, " at my 
 coolness towards Sir John Fleetwood ; but 
 I do not wish to encourage any intimacy 
 between him and any of my family ; and I 
 wish to make him feel at once that it can- 
 not be. I know him, Margaret, to be a 
 bad man, as well as an imprudent man ; 
 and I should be incurring too great a 
 responsibility were I to sufier him to visit 
 at mj ^ouse. He has had every advantage 
 
12 THE FORGERY. 
 
 in life, family, fortune, education, and he 
 has misused them all." 
 
 Margaret was silent for a moment or 
 two y but then she said — 
 
 " How do you wish me then to behave 
 to him when we meet, as must often be 
 the case, I suppose. He will certainly ask 
 me to dance, and then I shall not know 
 how to act after what you have said." 
 
 " The customs of society, my dear child, 
 will prevent your refusing to dance with 
 him, unless engaged to another," her 
 father replied ; " but I should wish you to 
 be as often engaged as possible, and not to 
 suffer any approach to intimacy that you 
 can avoid." 
 
 Margaret to the best of her abilities 
 followed the directions of her father ; but 
 she met Sir John Fleetwood often — she 
 danced with him often ; and, witli the best 
 intentions in the world, what between 
 nervous doubts as to how she should behave 
 on her part, and skill, boldness, and ex- 
 perience upon his, he did not want oppor- 
 
THE FORGERY. 13 
 
 tunities of making progress in her regard, 
 Margaret therefore remained unmarried, 
 and reached her twenty -fourth year, single, 
 but less blessed than she might well have 
 expected to be. 
 
 Two days after her birthday, her father 
 went out to ride in Hyde Park ; his horse 
 took fright, ran away, and threw him. 
 Mr. Scriven was brought home little more 
 than an hour after he had set out, with a 
 compound fracture of the thigh. The sur- 
 geons said that, with his strong constitution 
 and equable temper, there was no danger ; 
 and Mr. Scriven^s spirits did not in the 
 least give way. Three or four days after, 
 however, mortification appeared; and he 
 then with perfect calmness informed the 
 medical men that he felt his life was draw- 
 ing to a close. They endeavoured to persuade 
 him that such was not the case; but there 
 are internal sensations not to be mistaken ; 
 and Mr. Scriven sent for his lawyer, and 
 a young gentleman of the name of Hayley, 
 who had been placed in his counting-house 
 
14 THE FORGERY. 
 
 some seven or eight years before by highly 
 respectable, but not wealthy relations. 
 Mr. Hay ley had conducted himself remark- 
 ably well, and had risen to be the chief 
 clerk of Mr. Scriven's house. 
 
 He approached the great merchant's bed- 
 side with looks of sorrowful concern ; and 
 Mr. Scriven, after shaking hands with him 
 kindly, said — 
 
 ^' I have sent for you, my young friend, 
 to give you a little testimony both of my 
 gratitude for various services, and of my 
 confidence in your character. I am dying, 
 Hayley, though the surgeons say not; and 
 if I die at present, Henry, my son, is not 
 yet old enough to manage entirely such large 
 concerns as must fall into his hands. You 
 are acquainted with all the details. I owe 
 you a good deal for your care, attention, 
 and zeal in my service, and I do not think 
 I can either recompense you better, or do 
 my son a greater service than by leaving 
 you an eighth share of the business, which 
 was that portion bestowed upon me at my 
 
THE FORGERY. 15 
 
 marriage. There is only one observation 
 I have to make, and do not suppose it to 
 imply censure, but merely warning. Though 
 born of a race of gentlemen, it is very 
 necessary for you to remember that you 
 are especially a merchant. To that consi- 
 deration you should sacrifice much, and it 
 you should sacrifice to nothing. Your 
 education at a public school has given you 
 several acquaintances of a higher class of 
 society than our own, and some of very 
 expensive habits, I am told. Friendships 
 are too valuable to be given up; but no 
 examples are worthy of being followed but 
 those of honor, virtue, and truth.'' 
 
 " I can assure you, sir," replied Hay ley, 
 " I have preserved none of my school ac- 
 quaintances of a higher rank than my own, 
 except that of Lord Mellent, son of the 
 Earl of Milford. We were first at a pri- 
 vate school together, then at Eton, in the 
 sapae form; and it would, I acknowledge, 
 be a most painful sacrifice to give up his 
 friendship. With greater means than my- 
 
16 THE FORGERY. 
 
 self, he is of course able to maintain a 
 much more expensive style of living; but 
 I trust you have never observed anything 
 in me which should induce you to suppose 
 I affect to rival him, or even to join him 
 in any extravagance. However, I feel as 
 deeply indebted to you for your advice as 
 even for your kind intentions towards me. 
 The one shall be remembered as a guide to 
 my conduct; and I do still hope and pray 
 that it may be long, very long, before the 
 latter receive execution.'' 
 
 Perhaps had Mr. Scri ven been at all a suspi- 
 cious man he might have thought his pro- 
 tege's reply somewhat too neat and rounded ; 
 but ill as he was, and by nature generous 
 in his appreciation of other men's motives, 
 he was well satisfied. His anticipations, 
 however, regarding his own fate were but 
 too surely realized. Three days after this 
 conversation his eyes were closed for ever; 
 and his son succeeded to a large property, 
 and found himself at the head of a firm 
 hardly rivaled by any in the world. 
 
THE FORGERY. 17 
 
 With the habits of thought, which he had 
 acquired, the possession of so much wealth, 
 and of such vast means of encreasing it, 
 served to close rather than open the heart. 
 
 He felt an awful responsibility of get- 
 ting money upon him, and of preserving 
 what he had got ; and all his first acts indi- 
 cated sufficiently what would be his future 
 course. Those who were observers of hu- 
 man nature remarked — " If young Scriven 
 is so close and grasping as a mere lad, what 
 will he be as age creeps upon him ?" And 
 those who had perhaps calculated upon 
 gaining some advantages over the son which 
 they had not been able to obtain over the 
 father, soon gave up the attempt, and re- 
 gretted the change. 
 
 Henry Scriven's first step was to dis- 
 charge all his father's old servants, and to 
 pay all legacies ; though he did not scruple 
 to say that he thought his sisters had been 
 somewhat too liberally provided for. He then 
 sold the house in St. James's Square, as re- 
 quiring a larger establishment than was 
 
18 THE FORGERY. 
 
 necessary for a young; man and he retired 
 to a lodging in Brook street, comfortable 
 enough, but greatly within his means. He 
 was much annoyed at the bequest of an 
 eighth share of his father's business to Mr. 
 Hayley ; but he took advantage of all that 
 gentleman's knowledge ; and Hayley soon 
 by mild — almost timid manners, and ac- 
 tive services, contrived to ingratiate himself 
 as far as possible with a not very generous 
 person. 
 
 In the mean time Margaret, viewing 
 with wonder and disapproval all her bro- 
 ther's conduct, retired for three months to 
 the house of her sister Isabella, and then 
 went for some time on a visit to a friend. 
 Before she returned, a letter announced to 
 Mr. Scriven and Lady Monkton, that their 
 sister was about to bestoAv her hand upon 
 Sir John Fleetwood; and as soon as she 
 came back to London, the baronet pressed 
 eagerly for the consummation of his hap- 
 piness. Isabella with knowledge of the 
 world, and strong good sense, saw as her 
 father had seen unanswerable objections to 
 
THE FORGERY. 19 
 
 the marriage, and she urged them strongly 
 though kindly upon her sister's attention ; 
 but she soon found that to urge them was 
 labour in vain. Margaret admitted that 
 she knew her lover had been, what was then, 
 and still is called, a gay man, and moreover 
 an extravagant one; but she assured her 
 friends that he was reformed in both respects 
 and that she looked upon it as a duty to aid 
 as far as was in her power to complete the 
 happy change. Lady Monkton wisely aban- 
 doned the task of opposition, and hoped 
 but did not believe that the reformation 
 would last. Mr. Scriven attached himself 
 to one object ; to ensure that his sister ^s 
 large fortune should be settled upon herself; 
 and in this he would probably have suc- 
 ceeded, if Margaret would have consented 
 even for a few short days not to see her 
 lover, or would have steadily referred all 
 matters of business to her brother, Unfor- 
 tunately, however, Margaret had lost con- 
 fidence in him who was now really striving 
 for her good, and she would not trust to his 
 
20 THE FORGERY. 
 
 generosity, while she was inclined tx) place 
 the fullest reliance on one whose selfishness 
 was only of a more sparkling kind. All 
 that Mr. Scriven could accomplish was to 
 have seven hundred a-year and a house set- 
 tled upon his sister, though she brought 
 her husband three thousand per annum ; 
 but that small sum he took care so to tie up 
 that no after weakness on her own part could 
 deprive her of at least a moderate indepen- 
 dence. Sir John Fleetwood after the deed 
 was signed, laughed with a gay companion, 
 and observed, that Harry Scriven was the 
 best man' of business in England ; and on 
 the following day Margaret became his wife. 
 The after fate of all the family shall be 
 briefly told in the succeeding chapter. 
 
THE FORGERY- 21 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Where is the family in which the retrospect 
 of ten years will not present a sad and 
 chilling record — with the open tomb, around 
 whose verge we play, and the yawning 
 gulf of fate which stands ever ready to 
 swallow up the bright hopes and joys of early 
 life? Maturity and decay shake hands. 
 
 In the family of Mr. Scriven many changes 
 had taken place during that space of time : 
 flowers had blossomed and been blighted ; 
 expectations had passed away which were 
 once fair ; sorrow had shadowed some happy 
 faces ; death had not spared them any more 
 than others. But I must trace the history 
 of each, though it shall be very briefly. 
 
22 THE FORGERY. 
 
 The only one of the four children of the 
 merchant, who had undergone few vicissi- 
 tudes, who had known but little change and 
 that merely progressive, was the son. Mr. 
 Henry Scriven was the same man — ten years 
 older. He laid himself open to few of the 
 attacks of fate. He had neither wife nor 
 children. His fortress was small, and 
 therefore easily defended. He had made 
 money, and therefore he loved it all the 
 better; he had lost money, and therefore 
 he was more careful both in getting and 
 keeping it. The circles round his heart 
 went on concentrating, not expanding, and 
 were well nigh narrowed to a point. 
 
 Even in business this was discovered by 
 those who had to deal with him. People said 
 that the house of Scriven and Co. was a 
 hard house. But still every one pronounced 
 Mr. Scriven " a very honorable man," 
 though he did sundry very dirty tricks. 
 But he was known to be a rich man, and 
 his business most extensive. Did you 
 
THE FORGERY. 23 
 
 never remark, reader, that a wealthy man 
 or a wealthy firm are always " very honor- 
 able," in the world's opinion? I have 
 known a body of rich men do things that 
 would have branded an inferior establish- 
 ment with everlasting disgrace, or have 
 sent an unfriended and unpursed vagabond 
 across the seas, and yet I have been boldly 
 told, " It is a highly honorable house." 
 
 So it was in a degree with Mr. Scriven; but 
 still he was careful of his character. He 
 never did anything very gross — anything 
 that could be detected; and though all ad- 
 mitted that he was very close and somewhat 
 grasping, people found excuses for him. Some 
 thought he would build hospitals. Even his 
 very nearest and his dearest knew him not 
 fully, and did not perceive what were the real 
 bonds which kept his actions in an even 
 and respectable course. It is wonderful 
 how many persons — women and men — are 
 restrained by fear ! 
 
 Maria Scriven had accompanied, as I 
 have said, her husband, Mr. Marston, to 
 
24 THE FORGERY. 
 
 India ; and there, as far as worldly matters 
 went, they were very prosperous. Still 
 they had their griefs. Who has not? 
 Their eldest child was a boy, whom they 
 named Charles ; and a stronger, finer little 
 fellow was never seen. Her letters were 
 full of him. But the second child was lost 
 when a few months old ; and the third did 
 not survive its birth a year. Maria's own 
 health also suffered from the climate; and 
 with much pain it was resolved that she 
 should return to Europe with her boy. 
 Mr. Marston was to rejoin them at the end 
 of three years. But human calculations 
 are vain. When Maria reached England 
 she was carried from the ship to the shore, 
 and thence by slow journeys to London ; 
 for she was very ill. She revived a little 
 in her native air ; but the improvement 
 was not permanent; and she died about 
 two months after her arrival. 
 
 Her husband's great inducement for revisit- 
 ing the land of his birth was gone; and 
 
THE FORGERY. 25 
 
 leaving his son to the care of his brother-in- 
 law, he remained plodding on in India. 
 
 Lady Monkton had her share of sorrows 
 too. Her three first children died in in- 
 fancy. They were all bright, blooming, 
 beautiful. Health and long life seemed 
 written on their fair faces ; but the battle 
 is not to the strong nor the race to the 
 swift ; and one or other of those maladies of 
 childhood which often make a cheerful 
 household desolate had swept away the 
 whole successively. Isabella, gay, happy, 
 strong minded as she was, quailed under 
 these repeated blows. She was too firm 
 and sensible to yield entirely; but a shade 
 of sadness came over her once clear brow, 
 and when a fourth child appeared it was 
 with some awe she watched its infancy. 
 This child was a daughter, more delicate to 
 all appearance than the others ; but when 
 illness fell upon her it was comparatively 
 light and with years health and strength 
 seemed to increase. The fair fragile form 
 developed itself with a thousand graces ; the 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 THE FORGERY. 
 
 bloom came upon the cheek, the soft, languid 
 eyes, grew bright and gay, and hour by 
 hour hope and confidence returned. There 
 was still a terrible shock in store however. 
 One day Sir Edward Monkton returned 
 from a ride very wet, was detained by a 
 person whom he found waiting for him on 
 business, was seized with shivering during 
 the night; and inflammation of the lungs 
 succeeded. Five days of watching and 
 terror left her a widow, with a heart the 
 very firmness of which 'rendered its afiec- 
 tions the more enduring. Mr. Scriven's 
 character had not fully displayed itself to 
 the eyes of Sir Edward Monkton. He 
 knew him to be a good man-of-business 
 and believed him to be an honourable and 
 upright man. Even Lady Monkton did 
 not know her brother thoroughly ; and she 
 was glad to have him joined with herself 
 as the executor of her husband's will and 
 the guardian of her daughter. She soon 
 found cause for some regret that it was so ; 
 for his arrangements did not altogether 
 
THE FORGERY. 27 
 
 please her; but still there was not much 
 to complain of; and at the end of the ten 
 years which followed her father's death, 
 she was living peacefully at her house in 
 Hertfordshire, about fifteen miles from 
 London, occupied with the education of her 
 daughter Maria, seeing very little society, 
 dwelling calmly though gravely upon the 
 past, and looking forward with hope and 
 consolation to the future. 
 
 One of the greatest anxieties which Lady 
 Monkton felt at this time — and they were 
 anxieties which amounted to grief — pro- 
 ceeded from the circumstances of her sister 
 Margaret. Sir John Fleetwood had turned 
 out all that Mr. Scriven had anticipated — 
 reckless, extravagant, licentious. His 
 whole thought and occupation seemed to 
 be, how he might soon run through his 
 own property and that part of his wife's 
 fortune over which he had control. He 
 was very successful in his endeavours. 
 Wliat bad associates, male and female, did 
 not contrive to dissipate soon enough, cards, 
 c 3 
 
28 THE FORGERY. 
 
 dice and horses succeeded in losing; and 
 at length he endeavoured to get rid of his 
 wife's settlement. She would willingly have 
 given it up to please him ; for though he 
 had been a negligent and offending husband, 
 yet so long as money lasted he had always 
 been gay and good-humored with her, treat- 
 ing her more as an innocent and unsus- 
 pecting child than as a companion. But 
 Mr. Scriven had taken care of his sister's 
 income. It could not be touched even with 
 her own consent. No creditor had power 
 over it ; her own receipt was necessary for 
 every penny of the income, and being settled 
 upon her children — though she had none — 
 it was inviolable. 
 
 Sir John had not clearly perceived these 
 stringent conditions when he signed the deed ; 
 and some sharp discussions took place between 
 him and his brother-in-law. He became 
 gloomy, morose, fretful ; and still he would ap- 
 pear at Ascot or at the gambling table though 
 he could no longer maintain the appearance 
 which he had once displayed. It was at 
 
THE FORGERY. 29 
 
 the former of these places that a dispute 
 took place between himself and another 
 gentleman of the turf. It matters not 
 much to this work, which was wrong or 
 which was right ; and indeed I do not know. 
 Hard epithets were exchanged and Sir 
 John employed a horse-whip, not for its 
 most legitimate purpose. Tavo mornings 
 after he was brought home in a dying state, 
 with a pistol shot through his lungs, and 
 never uttered a word during the half hour 
 he continued to exist. It must have been 
 an awful half hour, for it was clear that his 
 senses and his memory were all still perfect ; 
 and what a picture memory must have 
 shown him ! Poor Lady Fleetwood was in 
 despair. Her love had never failed or even 
 diminished. She had never admitted his faults 
 even to herself; or at all events had found 
 excuses for them in her kind and affectionate 
 heart. Now that he was gone she was still 
 less likely to discover them, for bitter sorrow 
 drcAV a veil between her eyes and all that 
 might have shocked her in the conduct of 
 
30 THE FORGERY. 
 
 the dead. It is true, there was one thing 
 could not be concealed from her : that he 
 had wasted every penny of his own property 
 and of hers too as far as it was in his power 
 to do so. But then she fancied that he 
 had been only unfortunate, and doubted not 
 that, had he lived, all would have been set 
 right. Her brother, Mr. Seriven, tried hard 
 in his cold dry way to open her eyes ; but 
 he only wrung her heart without convincing 
 her; and though she both feared and res- 
 pected him, he could never induce her to ad- 
 mit that her husband had acted ill. 
 
 Lady Monkton, with tenderer feelings, 
 never attempted to undeceive her, but brought 
 her at once to Bolton Park and there tried 
 to sooth and comfort her. Nor was she un- 
 successful. Her own calm and quiet 
 demeanor, somewhat touched with grief, 
 but yet not melancholy, the gay and cheer- 
 ful company of her little girl Maria, and the 
 occasional society of her next neighbours 
 Lord Mellent and his wife, a somewhat 
 indolent but amiable and lively woman, 
 
THE FORGERY. 31 
 
 gradually restored Lady Fleetwood to com- 
 posure and resignation. Her greatest solace 
 indeed was her niece Maria ; for though en- 
 thusiastically fond of children, she had had 
 none herself; and now the gay, happy girl, 
 about ten years old, addressed herself, with 
 more thought and feeling than might have 
 been expected of a child, to amuse her wid- 
 owed aunt and win her mind from sad thoughts 
 and memories. Maria's young companion 
 too, AnnMellent, the daughter of their neigh- 
 bours, though of a very different character 
 from Maria — quick, decided, independent in 
 her ways — was always exceedingly tender 
 and gentle to Lady Fleetwood, and from 
 time to time another was added to their 
 society whom they all knew and all loved 
 though he was at this time not above 
 thirteen years of age. But of him and his 
 family I must speak apart as, although it 
 was intimately connected by circumstances 
 with that of Mr. Scriven, it was not allied 
 to it either by blood or marriage. 
 
32 THE FORGERY, 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 In mentioning the circumstances which at- 
 tended the death of the great merchant, I 
 have spoken of a young gentleman of the 
 name of Hayley, who, when his family fell 
 into adverse circumstances, had been placed 
 in Mr. Scriven's house as a clerk, and had 
 risen by good conduct and attention to be 
 the chief clerk in the counting-house. He 
 was still under thirty when his friend and 
 patron died, and as I have said received, as 
 a recompense for his services, an eighth share 
 in the house. Perhaps enough has been 
 displayed of his character to enable the 
 reader to estimate it justly ; and I will only 
 
THE FORGERY. 33 
 
 add that he was of a gentle, yielding, almost 
 timid disposition, although it might per- 
 haps have been somewhat fiery and eager — 
 as indeed it had seemed at school — had not 
 early misfortunes and long drudgery broken 
 his spirit, and cowed the stronger passions 
 within him. It is not an uncommon 
 case. 
 
 During the time that he remained a clerk, 
 and for a year after he became a partner in 
 the house, Mr. Hayley lived as a single 
 man with an unmarried sister, somewhat 
 older than himself, in a small house in one 
 of those suburban quarters of the town where 
 people fancy they get country air. But at 
 the end of that time, he one day brought 
 home with him a fine little boy of two years 
 old, very much indeed to the surprise of his 
 sister. Some explanation was of course 
 necessary, as well as many new arrange- 
 ments ; but, for the first time in his life, a 
 strange degree of reserve seemed to have 
 fallen over Mr. Hayley. He would tell his 
 sister part but not the whole, he said, in 
 c 5 
 
34 THE FORGERY. 
 
 answer to her anxious enquiries. He did 
 not affect to deny that the child was his 
 son ; but he desired that he might not be 
 questioned at all about the boy's mother, and 
 seemed annoyed at the least allusion to the 
 circumstance of birth. 
 
 Now Miss Hayley was as affectionate a 
 creature as ever drank in the milk of human 
 kindness from the gentle air of Heaven, 
 and she was devotedly attached to her bro- 
 ther. But she was proud of him too ; and 
 she had very strong peculiarities and also 
 a strong and quick temper, which is not 
 unfrequently joined with a heart soft even 
 to weakness. She was not satisfied with 
 the information she had received; she 
 thought her brother did not place sufficient 
 confidence in her, and, after considering the 
 matter for some hours, she took her resolu- 
 tion, and with an air of grave dignity went 
 down to the room where Mr. Hayley was 
 seated looking over some papers. 
 
 " Stephen," she said, " I want to speak 
 with you for a moment." 
 
THE FORGERY. 35 
 
 " Well, my dear Kebecca, what is it?^ 
 asked her brother hardly looking up. 
 
 " I must know more about this little 
 boy," said his sister. 
 
 " I must indeed request you not to trou- 
 ble me or yourself," said Mr. Hayley with 
 unwonted sharpness, " about what does not 
 concern you." 
 
 Miss Hayley fired instantly. She in- 
 sisted that it did concern her very much ; 
 and the sharpest dispute took place between 
 herself and her brother that had ever oc- 
 curred in their lives. It ended by her de- 
 claring that if he did not satisfy her at 
 least upon one point she would leave his 
 house, and by his telling her that she was 
 at liberty to do so — very well assured, be 
 it remarked, that she would not. She 
 turned to the door, however, with such a 
 look of determination that Mr. Hayley be- 
 came a little alarmed and he called her 
 back. 
 
 " Now what is it you want to know, 
 Rebecca?" he asked, " you say one point. 
 
BG THE FORGERY. 
 
 That must of course be a point of conse- 
 quence; for I think you would not quarrel 
 with me for a trifle, or for anything that 
 does not actually concern you. What 
 is it?" 
 
 Miss Hayley paused for a moment, for 
 she had come with an intention of making 
 him tell all, and when driven from the 
 broader ground by his resolute resistance, 
 had not exactly settled the point on which 
 to make her last stand. 
 
 " Is the child legitimate, or illegiti- 
 mate?" she asked at length. 
 
 " He was born in lawful wedlock," 
 answered her brother. 
 
 " And the mother?" enquired his sister. 
 
 " That is not fair, Eebecca," said Mr. 
 Hayley, '^ you declared that you would be 
 satisfied with explanation on one point. 
 Now you require more. However, I will 
 satisfy you on this head also, upon the clear 
 understanding, that I hear not one word 
 more upon the subject, now or ever. Do 
 you agree?" 
 
THE FORGERY. 37 
 
 " Yes, then I shall be content," answered 
 she, " but on these two matters I have a 
 right to information ; for I am not going 
 to " 
 
 " There, there — I want not your rea- 
 sons !" cried her brother interrupting her ; 
 " upon that understanding then, I tell you, 
 his mother is dead, poor little fellow — has 
 been dead for some months; and I should 
 have brought him home before, if it had 
 not been for the anticipation of all this 
 fuss and explanation. You may therefore 
 tell any impertinent person who enquires, 
 that Henry is my son by a private mar- 
 riage, and that his mother is dead." 
 
 " Very well," replied Miss Hay ley with 
 an offended air; for she was not at all 
 pleased with the half-confidence she had 
 received when she thought she had a right 
 to the whole story; and she walked digni- 
 fiedly out of the room. 
 
 When she got up to the drawing-room, 
 she found the boy playing about upon the 
 floor under the charge of one of the maids ; 
 
38 THE FORGERY. 
 
 and she had a strong inclination to sulk a 
 little, even with the child. She found it 
 impossible however. He would not let her : 
 her own heart would not let her ; and in 
 three days she was doing her best to spoil 
 him completely. She tried to draw from 
 him — for he could speak very nicely — some 
 of those facts which her brother had with- 
 held, or at least a clue to them. She 
 questioned him regarding his " Mamma " ; 
 but the little fellow stoutly maintained he 
 had never had a mamma, asserting that 
 " Nurse Johnston " was the only mamma 
 he had ever had, and she was not his 
 mamma either for his papa had told him 
 so. The next thing was to ascertain, if 
 possible, where he had previously lived, but 
 of that the boy could tell her nothing ; but 
 that it was a great, great way off, had taken a 
 long long time to travel thence (which was 
 afterwards reduced to two or three hours) 
 and that the house had a garden and was 
 opposite to a toll-gate. All that she could 
 arrive at was, that the boy's first recollections 
 
THE FORGERY. 39 
 
 were of being dressed in a white frock with 
 black ribbons, and sometimes having on a 
 frock altogether of the same sombre 
 colour. 
 
 In time curiosity died away, and simple 
 love for the dear boy succeeded. Proper 
 arrangements for his careful education were 
 made; a nurse was hired; his letters were 
 learnt; Mr. Hay ley seemed to dote upon 
 him ; and Miss Hay ley actually did so ; for 
 a more engaging child never was seen; 
 kind, gentle, docile, yet playful, bold, and 
 frank. 
 
 In the meanwhile a house had been hired 
 in a more fashionable situation, the number 
 of servants was increased, a better style of 
 living assumed; and even Mr. Scriven ad- 
 mitted that Hayley was a very prudent man, 
 who had waited to see the extent of his means 
 before he at all increased his expenditure. 
 
 Mr. Scriven was not an inquisitive man. 
 He was accustomed to say that he had too 
 many affairs of his own, to allow him to 
 mind other peoples ; and he saw the little 
 
40 THE FORGEEY. 
 
 addition to Mr. Hayley's family without 
 much comment or enquiry. He was well 
 satisfied with the assurance which his 
 partner gave him, in answer to the only 
 questions he did put, that he never in- 
 tended to marry again ; and he even seemed 
 pleased with, and fond of, the little boy 
 whom he frequently saw — as pleased with 
 and as fond of him, as he could be of any- 
 thing but money. When little Charles 
 Marston was left under his charge indeed, 
 by his sister's death and her husband's ab- 
 sence, he naturally became more attached 
 to his young relation. Nevertheless he 
 often had little Henry Hayley to play with 
 his nephew, and the two boys became in- 
 separable as they grew up. Henry's man- 
 ners and disposition won his way everywhere ; 
 and he was looked upon almost as one of 
 the family by Lady Fleetwood and Lady 
 Monkton. At Bolton Park he was always 
 a most welcome guest; and a fondness, 
 which might have alarmed some mothers 
 who had ambitious views for their daughter!, 
 
THE FORGERY. 41 
 
 arose and increased from day to day be- 
 tween him and Maria Monkton, who was 
 but a few years younger. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Hayley's style of 
 living became gradually a good deal more 
 expensive ; and that taste for high society, 
 which the elder Mr. Scriven had remarked, 
 showed itself more strongly with his al- 
 tered circumstances. The names of seve- 
 ral noblemen were added to that of Lord 
 Mellent on his list of friends; and 
 rumour said that he occasionally lent 
 money to the more needy of his fashionable 
 acquaintances. Still his intimacy with his 
 former friend and schoolfellow continued 
 unabated. Lady Mellent, who was herself 
 the daughter of a banker, adopted readily 
 her husband's feelings towards him, and 
 Mr. Hay ley was generally a guest at their 
 house on the Saturday and Sunday. 
 
 After having seen their friend's little boy 
 once or twice at Lady Monkton's house, 
 the noble lord and his lady were as fascin- 
 ated with him as others had been ; and the 
 
42 THE FORGERY. 
 
 next time Mr. Hayley came down to Harley 
 Lodge, he was asked to bring his son with 
 him. The invitation was repeated and re- 
 peated till it became customary, and till 
 he was ten years of age, each Saturday 
 saw Henry a guest at Lord Mellent's house, 
 and the companion of his daughter. 
 
 Nothing was spared upon the boy by Mr. 
 Hayley to please or to instruct. He was 
 determined, he said, not to send him to a 
 private school, and consequently masters 
 were engaged to teach all sorts of rudi- 
 mental knowledge at home. He had his 
 poney, too; and a groom was generally 
 ready to go out with him ; but it was re- 
 marked that whenever he got away from 
 his lessons early, he was soon on the road 
 to Bolton Park, and roaming about with 
 Maria in her play hours. At length the 
 period arrived for sending him to Eton ; 
 and now of course he was only seen during 
 the holidays by his young companions, 
 except Charles Marston, who followed him 
 six months after. Both boys distinguished 
 
THE FORGERY. 43 
 
 themselves a good deal at school; but 
 Henry's abilities were decidedly higher, or 
 his application greater. Nor was this pro- 
 duced by any want of those inducements 
 to inattention which rich and fond parents 
 often supply to their children ; for Mr. 
 Hayley was a very indulgent father, and 
 the allowance that he made to his son was 
 more than ample, at least during the first 
 three years of Henry's stay. Indulgence 
 did not seem to spoil him however. On 
 only two occasions — and they were both 
 honorable to him — did he go beyond the 
 strict limit of what was allowed him ; and 
 his attachment and devotion to a father 
 who showed him such tender kindness were 
 unbounded. The course pursued, however, 
 was undoubtedly foolish. Mr. Hayley had 
 not made a fortune : it was still to make ; 
 and his over liberality towards his son in 
 matters of expense, generated habits which 
 could only be kept up in after life by a 
 very wealthy man. 
 
 During the period of the holidays the 
 
44 THE FORGERY. 
 
 gay, liappy lad was still a frequent guest 
 at Bolton Park and Harley Lodge. He 
 was very tall, finely formed, and of a re- 
 markably handsome and expressive coun- 
 tenance, older both in look and in manner 
 than his years, and yet with all the grace 
 and frankness of boyhood unimpaired. 
 There was something noble and even proud 
 about his look, too, although he was as 
 gentle as the spring; and if, considering 
 his youth, his habits were expensive, he 
 could hardly be blamed, seeing that Mr. 
 Hayley did nothing to restrain them ; and 
 his aunt, whose fondness for him had now 
 grown to a pitch of extravagance, did 
 everything that excessive indulgence could 
 do to encourage them. He had but to ask, 
 and to have; and as he had never been 
 taught the value of money, of course it 
 had no value in his eyes. 
 
 The period at which youth puts on man- 
 hood, varies very much in different indivi- 
 duals, and Henry Hayley looked and was 
 two years nearer maturity at fourteen than 
 
THE FORGERY. 45 
 
 his young companion, Henry Marston, who 
 was not quite a year younger. Neverthe- 
 less Lady Monkton always saw him the 
 companion of her daughter with pleasure. 
 She let things take their course, and did 
 not even think fit to foresee a time when 
 the intimacy must receive a check. This 
 very unworldly view depended upon her 
 own character. Though a sensible girl 
 and a very sensible woman, she had 
 never had the slightest share of ambition. 
 She considered, that happiness consists of 
 happiness, which, simple as the conclusion 
 may seem, is a view that very few people 
 indeed take in this world. She did not 
 believe that she would have been in the 
 slightest degree happier with her own hus- 
 band, if he had been a peer : she was sure 
 she should not have been the least less 
 happy, if he had been a merchant; and 
 she left Maria to choose for herself, with- 
 out the slightest precaution as to how she 
 might choose, except inasmuch as she re- 
 solved that she should never have the 
 
46 THE FORGERY. 
 
 opportunity, if she could prevent it, of 
 choosing a Sir John Fleetwood. 
 
 Not so however Lady Mellent, who be- 
 came somewhat uneasy at young Henry 
 Hayley's constant association with her 
 daughter. It is true that she was only ten 
 years of age; it is true that the lad's 
 boyish prepossession was evidently in favor 
 of Maria Monkton; but still she thought 
 it right to represent to Lord Mellent that 
 " Henry was really growing quite a young 
 man :" that ^' boyish intimacies often ripened 
 into tenderer feelings :" that " as Anne 
 grew up, it would not do to have such a 
 thing as an attachment even reported be- 
 tween her and young Hayley," with a 
 number of the usual et ceteras. 
 
 But her representations had not the least 
 effect upon Lord Mellent. Henry was now 
 his great favorite. He took him out to 
 shoot with him: he mounted him: 
 took him out to hunt; and he was never 
 happier than when the lad was with him. 
 His society also was of great advantage to 
 
THE FORGERY. 47 
 
 Henry Hayley; for, though Lord Mellent 
 had in his young days been both an extra- 
 vagant and a somewhat dissipated man, yet 
 there was at bottom a fund of strong good 
 sense and high principle in his character, 
 which had shown itself in a complete 
 change of habits and pursuits after his mar- 
 riage — in the casting off of all dissolute as- 
 sociates, and the abandonment of all evil or 
 dangerous customs. Lady Mellent felt a 
 little piqued perhaps at her husband's great 
 fondness for the handsome boy. She felt 
 sure, and perhaps not unreasonably, that 
 Lord Mellent regretted he had not a son 
 such as Henry Hayley; but she was too 
 good-humoured and too indolent to press 
 her opinions after they had once been ex- 
 pressed, and everything went on as before. 
 Thus all matters proceeded till Henry 
 returned from Eton for the summer holi- 
 days, when he was somewhat more than 
 fifteen years of age; but on his arrival at 
 his father's house he found a great change 
 had worked itself during his last absence. 
 
48 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Mr. Hayley was gloomy and depressed ; Miss 
 Hayley was evidently uneasy, though a fitful 
 and excessive cheerfulness was assumed to 
 cover care and thought. No explanation was 
 given him ; and on the second day after 
 his arrival, finding that even his presence, 
 which usually spread sunshine round, and 
 all his efibrts to please and amuse, which 
 never before had been unsuccessful, failed 
 to cheer his home, he betook himself to call 
 upon his young companion, Charles Mars ton. 
 Charles was out — he had gone down to 
 his uncle's counting-house, the servant said ; 
 and thither Henry followed to ask him if 
 he would ride to Bolton Park. He did 
 not find him in the city; but he 
 met with Mr. Scriven, who was particu- 
 larly kind to him, asked after his progress 
 in his studies, enquired especially into his 
 knowledge of arithmetic, and questioned 
 him as to how he should like to be a mer- 
 chant. Nay, more: having a little time 
 to spare, he gave him some of his own 
 views of commercial matters, and seemed 
 
THE FORGERY. 49 
 
 anxious to impress him favorably with the 
 pursuits in which his own life was entirely 
 spent. It was really kind — and he intended 
 it to be so. The lad did not much like the 
 subject; but with his usual sense of pro- 
 priety he listened with attention, looked at 
 some books which Mr. Scriven showed him, 
 and though he did not express any great 
 liking for a mercantile life, replied gaily 
 that he doubted not he should soon bend 
 himself to any course which his father 
 thought fit for him to follow. 
 
 A certain feeling of shyness, he knew 
 not well why, prevented him from turning 
 his horse's head towards Bolton Park with- 
 out Charles Marston, but he had no such 
 feelings in riding to Harley Lodge. There 
 however, he learned that Lord Mellent had 
 been for some weeks in the north of 
 England, attending upon his father, who 
 was dangerously ill; and after having 
 lunched gaily with Lady Mellent and her 
 daughter, he rode back to London, and 
 went to call upon Lady Fleetwood, who 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 THE FORGERY. 
 
 had by this time taken up her abode in a 
 small house in London. 
 
 Here, for the first time, Henry Hayley 
 was informed of the real situation of his father. 
 Lady Fleetwood was the best creature in 
 the world; and the best creature in the 
 world is always anxious to comfort every 
 body that requires comforting. It very 
 often happens indeed that the objects of 
 this kind influence do not know that they 
 need it, and then the effect of the effort is 
 generally the reverse of what was intended. 
 
 L ady Fleetwood with " the best intentions' ^ 
 begun the process by assuring her young 
 friend that she was very sorry indeed for the 
 differences between her brother and Mr. 
 Hayley — the whole family were very sorry 
 and had long hoped that it might be made 
 up ; but that her brother had always been 
 very firm — Lady Fleetwood would not call 
 it obstinate, though that was what she 
 meant to imply, but she was a woman of 
 soft words, who never used a harsh expres- 
 sion in her life. However her consolations 
 
THE FORGERY. 51 
 
 showed Henry Hayley that there was some- 
 thing in his situation which needed conso- 
 lation, and he proceeded to ascertain from 
 Lady Fleetwood what it was. In regard 
 to keeping a secret it was a thing which 
 Lady Fleetwood did not often succeed in 
 effecting, though she sometimes attempted 
 it; and Henry soon learned that Mr. 
 Scriven, having heard, or discovered, or sus- 
 pected that Mr. Hayley occasionally fre- 
 quented a fashionable gambling house, had, 
 about two months before, insisted upon an 
 immediate dissolution of partnership. The 
 accounts were even then in course of settle- 
 ment. Lady Fleetwood told him ; and she 
 added that she was very sorry to hear 
 Mr. Hayley was likely to be greatly em- 
 barrassed by this business, as some specula- 
 tions on his own private account had proved 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 " She could not understand it," she said, 
 
 '' for she knew nothing of business ; but she 
 
 recollected quite well having heard her 
 
 brother say at the time of her father's death 
 
 D 3 
 
 u: ^r iir ua 
 
52 THE FORGERY. 
 
 that the eighth share of the business was 
 worth more than thirty thousand pounds/' 
 
 Henry Hayley left her with a heart 
 terribly depressed. He felt himself com- 
 pelled to think, and think deeply, for the 
 fii'st time in life ; and that very fact proved 
 depressing. When we first learn that the 
 flowers of the garden, which this world 
 generally is to youth, are doomed to wither, 
 by seeing the fair, frail things fade and fall, 
 the heart feels faint with apprehension lest 
 they should never bloom again, nor others 
 rise up in their places. But the mind of 
 the lad was a powerful one, disposed for 
 thought, and apt for action. 
 
 '' My father is ruined," he thought, 
 "and perhaps his indulgence to me may have 
 contributed to involve him. More than 
 one half of the fellows at Eton were not 
 allowed to spend nearly as much as I was, 
 and none more." Then came the thought, 
 " What can I do to help him?" 
 
 It was a difficult question for a boy to 
 answer j but Henry brooded over it. Every 
 
THE FORGERY. 53 
 
 thing he saw at home showed him that his 
 conclusions in regard to Mr. Hayley's 
 circumstances were hut too just. All matters 
 were going amiss, and his father's gloom was 
 not to be mistaken. The young lad pon- 
 dered and meditated in his own room for 
 several hours each day without arriving at 
 any satisfactory result; but one morning 
 he called to mind his interview with Mr. 
 Scriven, and that gentleman's marked kind- 
 ness towards him. He remembered the 
 peculiar and unusual character of their con- 
 versation ; and he could not help thinking 
 that Mr. Scriven, in asking how he would like 
 to be a merchant, had sought to point out 
 to him the best course he could pursue. 
 
 " I will be a merchant," he said to himself 
 "I may help even as a clerk, and at all events 
 relieve my father of the burden of support- 
 ing me." 
 
 The next step was to enquire how he was 
 to proceed. He had a natural repugnance 
 to going to Mr. Scriven again; and yet as 
 Mr. Hayley had not mentioned to him his 
 
54 THE FORGERY. 
 
 changed circumstances, he was anxious to 
 keep his proceedings a secret at home till his 
 arrangements were formed. Had not Lord 
 Mellent been at a distance, Henry would 
 have gone to him direct for counsel in his 
 strait; for the frank kindness which that 
 nobleman had ever shown him had won the 
 boy's confidence entirely. But cut off from 
 that source of advice, he was obliged to act 
 without consultation ; and after long delib- 
 eration, he one morning put on his hat and 
 issued forth to call upon Mr. Scriven. 
 When he was within a couple of hundred 
 yards of the counting-house, he saw his 
 father approaching with a quick and hurried 
 step, his brow clouded and his eyes bent 
 anxiously upon the ground. He was 
 apparently coming from his late house of 
 business, and was at some distance, when one 
 of two merchants who were walking in the 
 same direction as Henry, and close before 
 him, observed to the other " Ah, here 
 comes poor Hay ley. I am afraid the gamers 
 up with him/^ 
 
THE FORGERY. 55 
 
 " I cannot be sorry for him," replied the 
 other, in a dry, harsh tone, " he has acted 
 like a fool." 
 
 The next moment Mr. Hayley approached, 
 still with the same, thoughtful air; and 
 probably in his reverie he would have passed 
 even his son, had not the two men who had 
 been speaking of him stopped him with the 
 ordinary enquiries of the morning. He 
 answered shortly, but on raising his eyes 
 saw Henry before him, and enquired some- 
 what eagerly whither he was going. 
 
 " I am going to call on Mr. Scriven," 
 replied the lad " I have not seen him for 
 several days, and he was very kind to me 
 when last I was there." 
 
 "Stop, stop," said Mr. Hayley; and 
 then after pausing for a few moments, and 
 fixing his eyes gloomily upon the pave- 
 ment, he added, " Well — go ;" and hurried 
 on. 
 
 The lad pursued his way to the counting 
 house and enquired for Mr. Scriven. He 
 was asked to wait a few minutes and then 
 
56 THE FOKGERY, 
 
 ushered into a large, handsome room, where 
 the head of the house usually sat. 
 
 "Ah, Henry" he said in a tone frank 
 enough " did you not meet your father." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the youth, " I met 
 him close to the door." 
 
 " Did he say anything particular to you?" 
 demanded Mr. Scriven, 
 
 " No, he only asked where I was going," 
 replied Henry, " and when I told him, he 
 said, very well, go on." 
 
 " Humph !" said Mr. Scriven, " Have 
 you any business to speak about my young 
 friend, or is this merely a call?" 
 
 " I can hardly call it business, sir," re- 
 plied Henry coming to the point at once, 
 " but you were kind enough when last I 
 saw you to talk about my becoming a 
 merchant. I have been thinking over the 
 matter since, and I have made up my mind 
 to be one, if I can." 
 
 "Have you spoken to your father on 
 the subject?" asked Mr. Scriven. 
 
 " No sir," answered the lad in his usual 
 
THE FORGERY. 57 
 
 candid manner, "I see lie is very uneasy 
 about something : I am afraid that I have 
 been a great burden to him ; and I want, if 
 possible, to put myself in a way of relieving 
 rather than pressing upon hijn." 
 
 Mr. Scriven gazed upon him with a look 
 of some surprise, and then said " And have 
 you not spoken with him upon the subject 
 ataU?" 
 
 "Not in the least," answered Henry, 
 " I hope you do not think it wrong, for I 
 wish only to do what is right. But as my 
 father has not said a word to me about his 
 affairs, and perhaps I may be found not to 
 have abilities for what I wish to undertake, 
 I thought it would be better not to say 
 any thing till I had tried, and then if I fail 
 he would not be disappointed." 
 
 " You are a singular boy upon my word," 
 said Mr. Scriven, " do you propose then to 
 go as a clerk upon trial?" 
 
 " I do not know what steps I ought to 
 take," replied Henry, " and that is the 
 very subject I- came to ask your advice 
 upon." 
 
58 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Mr. Scriven mused for a moment and 
 then called for his head clerk. 
 
 " Is young Hamilton likely to return to 
 business soon?" he enquired as soon as the 
 clerk appeared. 
 
 "I am afraid not, sir" replied the other, 
 "they tell me he is in a deep decline." 
 
 " Very well," said Mr. Scriven, and the 
 clerk retired. An important conversation 
 followed though it was not a very long one ; 
 for all Mr. Scriven's ideas and expressions 
 were so clear and precise that he got through 
 much matter very rapidly. His count- 
 ing-house was now without one of the usual 
 clerks ; and he proposed to Henry Hayley, 
 as a favour to the young man — though in 
 fact it was some assistance to himself — to 
 come to his house for three or four hours 
 each day and do part at least of the work 
 of the sick lad who could not attend. He 
 left him to tell his father or not as he pleased ; 
 but he made such arrangements as to hours 
 that the communication need not be forced 
 upon him. Henry accepted the offer joy- 
 
THE FORGERY. 59 
 
 fully, and returned home with a lightened 
 heart. But in the meantime Mr. Scriven 
 looked out for another clerk in the place of 
 the one who was ill; for though he had no 
 objection to give the son of his late partner 
 the opportunity of learning a little of mer- 
 cantile affairs, and keeping some of his 
 books for him at the same time, he had not 
 the slightest intention of taking Henry 
 Hay ley into his counting-house. 
 
 " That would never do !" he said, ^' the 
 connexion between his father and myself 
 must be altogether broken off. It is lucky 
 I discovered his habits so soon, before he 
 had shaken my credit while he was ruining 
 his own." 
 
60 THE FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV- 
 
 Daily, to the tick of the clock, at the ap- 
 pointed hour Henry Hayley was at Mr. 
 Scriven's counting-house, and earnestly and 
 steadily did he apply. He became a great 
 favourite with the head clerk and the 
 cashier, whom he assisted alternately; and 
 a quick and intelligent mind and retentive 
 memory, enabled him in ten days to master 
 more than many other lads of his age would 
 have acquired in as many months. Mr. 
 Scriven himself he saw seldom; but that 
 gentleman found that he was very useful 
 and likely to become more so, and he 
 was inclined to regret that insuperable ob- 
 ections would prevent him from retaining 
 
THE FORGERY. 61 
 
 him as a clerk. He suffered no hint of his 
 intentions to escape to the youth himself, 
 however, till he had found the sort of person 
 he wanted for his office; and Henry was 
 indulging sanguine hopes, and preparing to 
 tell his father all that had occurred, when 
 Mr. Scriven dashed his expectations to the 
 ground at once, by informing him with all 
 decent civility, that in a week a new clerk 
 would come to fill the place he had lately 
 been occupying. 
 
 " You have now seen enough of mercan- 
 tile life, my young friend," he added, " to 
 judge whether it is likely to suit your tastes 
 or not. I think you seem well fitted for it ; 
 and if you decide upon such pursuits, I will 
 do all I can to assist you." 
 
 With this promise Henry Hayley was 
 obliged to content himself ; but he returned 
 home sad, and he had soon occasion for 
 deeper anxiety. 
 
 Mr. Hayley was out all the evening 
 and a great part of the night. His sister 
 was evidently in an agony of expectation; 
 
62 THE FORGERY. 
 
 and, from some casual words she dropped, 
 as well as from almost instinctive sus- 
 picions in his own heart, the lad could 
 not help fearing that his father had betaken 
 himself to the gaming-table again. He sat 
 up with Miss Hayley till her brother came 
 liome; but though Mr. Ilayley's face was 
 pale, and his eye haggard with strong ex- 
 citement, it was evident that he was elated 
 not depressed. The truth is he had won 
 a considerable sum of money, and, to use 
 the idiot expression of persons of his habits, 
 it seemed that the luck had turned in his 
 favour. The next morning, just as he was 
 going out, an execution was put in the 
 house. It is true the money was paid im- 
 mediately ; but it showed Henry for the first 
 time clearly, how low his father's means 
 had been reduced. 
 
 He now resolved at once to tell Mr. Hay- 
 ley what he had done, to explain to him his 
 feelings and his wishes without reserve, 
 and to beseech him in existing circumstances 
 not to send him back to Eton, but to obtain 
 
THE FORGERY. 63 
 
 for him the office of clerk in some mercan- 
 tile house. 
 
 With a good deal of timidity, but with that 
 grace ivhich springs from the warmth of 
 natural affection, he executed the task with- 
 out giving himself time to shrink from it. 
 
 Mi\ Hayley listened with utter astonish- 
 ment, and for some moments seemed not to 
 know what to reply. His fii'st answer con- 
 sisted of nothing but broken, incoherent 
 fragments of sentences and exclamations. 
 '•' You Henry — you !" he cried, " you act- 
 ing as clerk to that fellow Scriven ! — The 
 rascal ! — He has cheated me of thousands ; 
 and does not pay even what he acknow- 
 ledges he owes me — Forsooth there may be 
 other claims — to debase you to be his 
 servant !" 
 
 After a moment or two he became more 
 collected, however, though he remained 
 greatly agitated through their whole con- 
 versation. '' No, Henry," he continued, 
 turning to the subject of his son's future pros- 
 pects, " no — a mercantile life is not fitted 
 
64 THE FORGERY. 
 
 for you, nor you for it— I cannot consent- 
 Neither do I think it will be needful— This 
 pressure is but temporary, and I trust some- 
 thing will turn up to set things to rights—" 
 He then paused and walked up and 
 down the room for several minutes in 
 deep thought; and then turning again to 
 Llenry he took his hand saying with sorrow- 
 ful gravity— '' I must not conceal from you, 
 my dear boy, that affairs are very bad with 
 me at present. Mr. Scriven's unjust, 
 tyrannical, and pitiful conduct has done all 
 that he could do to ruin me— but he shall 
 
 not succeed— By he shall not succeed ! 
 
 This does not affect you, however. There 
 is— there is a little something settled upon 
 you, and no Scriven on the earth can hurt 
 you— There is quite enough to pay for 
 your education at Eton, so do not let that 
 trouble you. But I think you could do me 
 a service, Henry, though you are very 
 young, my dear boy, to trust with such 
 things— Yet it is the only way— Still I do 
 not like to ask you." 
 
THE FORGERY. 65 
 
 '' Oh name it, my dear father, name it !" 
 exclaimed Henry. " Do you not know if 
 it were my life I would willingly lay it 
 down for you." 
 
 " Oh your life!" replied Mr. Hayley 
 smiling. " No, it is nothing so im- 
 portant as that. It is only to execute a 
 task which I have a foolish reluctance to 
 undertake myself. The fact is, this pres- 
 sure is but temporary ; and ten days will 
 see it all at an end— Yet in the course of 
 those ten days I have several thousand 
 pounds to pay, and look here, Henry— this 
 is all I have in the world to pay it with," 
 and opening a drawer he showed him about 
 two hundred pounds in gold, adding, 
 '' there is not a sixpence at the bankers." 
 
 " But what can I do ?" demanded Henry 
 Hayley with youthful terror at the dark 
 prospect so suddenly placed before him. 
 '' I have got ten pounds up stairs; but that 
 is nothing." 
 
 '' Nothing indeed !" answered Mr. Hayley 
 with a faint smile, " and there is only one 
 
QQ THE FORGERY. 
 
 person to whom I can apply for assistance. 
 Yet I have shrunk from telling him the whole, 
 though I have written, giving him some 
 notion of my state— I mean my friend Lord 
 Mellent." 
 
 " But he is absent!" exclaimed Henry. 
 " I went down to Harley Lodge and found 
 he was in the north." 
 
 " That is true," said Mr. Hayley, " and 
 doubtless his close attendance on his father 
 —a violent, harsh, and capricious man at 
 all times, and now rendered probably more 
 exacting by sickness— has prevented him 
 from answering my letter. Now Henry 
 what I wish you to do for me is this. Go 
 down to Lord Mellent in the north— See him, 
 and tell him exactly the state of my affairs. 
 I have not nerve for it myself ; for I will 
 be candid with you Henry— driven by Mr. 
 Scriven's conduct almost to madness— I 
 have done many things which I regret, and 
 which I will never do again. Mellent would 
 ask me many questions— he will ask you 
 none. He is my oldest friend in the world 
 
THE FORGERY. 67 
 
 and has always, as you know, shown a very 
 great fondness for yourself. He will not, I 
 am sure, refuse you, if you ask him to lend 
 me two thousand pounds but for one month. 
 —But press him warmly— tell him it must 
 be done directly, if he would save me from 
 ruin. If he hesitates make it your own 
 request, and get him to give you a draft for 
 it. Then hurry up as speedily as possible, 
 for remember if I have it not in seven days 
 I am lost." 
 
 " But if he has not got as much ready 
 money as two thousand pounds," said 
 Henry. 
 
 '' He has, he has !" exclaimed Mr. Hay- 
 ley vehemently, " he had nine thousand 
 pound sat his bankers' when he went away." 
 
 '^ Then I am sure he will lend it," replied 
 Henry in a confident tone, '' I am quite 
 certain." 
 
 ^' I think so too," said Mr. Hayley, " I 
 have no doubt you will succeed." 
 
 '' Oh yes, to a certainty," answered the 
 inexperienced boy, '^ I will just write a 
 
68 THE FORGEKY. 
 
 note to Mr. Scriven, saying, that I cannot 
 attend any longer, and then I am ready to 
 set out." 
 
 '' You must travel by the mail, my dear 
 boy," replied Mr. Hayley, " so you will 
 have time enough. We cannot afford post- 
 horses now, Henry. As to writing to Mr. 
 Scriven, let me see— yes you had better 
 write; and I would moreover advise you 
 to go there no more. He has used me 
 shamefully ; and he knows it. I must see 
 him from time to time on business, but all 
 friendship is at an end between us for 
 ever." 
 
 "I shall certainly not go to one who has 
 treated my father in such a manner," re- 
 plied the lad, " and I will write to him 
 directly, telling him merely, that I do not 
 intend to visit his counting-house any 
 more." 
 
 Thus saying he left the room, and Mr. 
 Hayley continued for several minutes buried 
 in deep thought. At length he said in a 
 low tone. " He will lend it certainly— Oh 
 
THE FORGERY. 69 
 
 yes, he will not refuse the boy. If he does 
 send the money — and I think he will— he 
 must— then I could take uip the bill before 
 it becomes due." 
 
 He then opened the drawer again, 
 took out a small tin case and from that 
 drew forth a long slip of paper with a 
 stamp at one end and a few brief lines 
 written on the face. He gazed at it for 
 a moment, and then thrust it back again 
 saying—" I wont till the last extremity — 
 Yet I have a right— He owes me the money, 
 and should have paid it without this quib- 
 bling evasion— I am a partner of the house 
 too till it is paid— I have a right to consider 
 myself so." But still he closed the drawer, 
 and locked it, putting the key in his pocket. 
 
 About an hour after a gentleman was 
 admitted to Mr. Hayley, a stern looking, 
 business-like person, who remained with him 
 for about half an hour ; and their conversa- 
 tion was somewhat loud and stormy — so at 
 least it seemed to the servants in the hall. 
 Wlien the visitor came forth, his face was 
 
70 THE FORGERY. 
 
 flushed; and holding the door in his hand 
 he said aloud, " Not another hour sir — not 
 another hour! Twelve to-morrow and if 
 not, why — " 
 
 " My dear sir — " said the voice of Mr. 
 Hayley imploringly. 
 
 " My dear sir ! Stuff and nonsense!" 
 cried the other. '' I am not your dear 
 sir," and he walked out of the house. 
 
 Mr. Hayley passed two or three hours 
 alone. His sister Rebecca was very 
 anxious, and made an excuse to go to his 
 sitting room ; but she found the door locked 
 and the voice of her brother from within 
 begged not to be disturbed as he was busy 
 with accounts. 
 
 Henry walked away to the mail office, 
 and took a place for the north ; but he had 
 no spirits to call on any one ; and returning 
 slowly he did not reach home till about half 
 past three. 
 
 " Your papa has been asking for you, sir," 
 said the servant who admitted liim.; and 
 almost at the same moment Mr. Hayley 
 
THE FORGERY. 71 
 
 opened his door saying, " Henry, Henry, 
 here! — I want you."* 
 
 Henry entered the room and Hayley put 
 in his hands the same slip of paper with the 
 stamp upon it, which he had been gazing at 
 some hours before; but there was now 
 something written across it. 
 
 " I wish you would take that, my dear 
 boy, to my bankers' and ask to see Mr. 
 Stolterforth the head partner. You know 
 Mr. Stolterforth I think?" 
 
 "Oh very well," replied the lad. 
 
 " Well then, give him that and say, I 
 should feel very much obliged to him if he 
 will let me have a thousand pounds upon it. 
 He will do it directly I am sure, and per- 
 haps may offer to discount it ; for it is for 
 eighteen hundred, and has only seven days 
 to run ; but you may tell him I do not want 
 to put it into circulation — because, you see, 
 it was given by Mr. Scriven in settlement of 
 an account which is not yet finally made up, 
 and there may be some difference. I do 
 not know what — a few hundred pounds — 
 You understand." 
 
72 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Mr. Hayley's hand shook a good deal as 
 he gave the lad the paper ; and he seemed to 
 think it needed some explanation ; for when 
 Henry replied that he understood perfectly, 
 his father added " It annoys me very much 
 to do this at all ; for if Scriven were to 
 know it, my credit would be seriously injured 
 by it. You may tell Mr. Stolterforth that ; 
 and mind you let him know I do not want 
 it to get into circulation." 
 
 Henry promised to do so ; and putting on 
 his hat again, he walked quietly away to 
 the bankers'. Being well known there, he 
 was admitted at once to the head partner, 
 showed him the accepted bill, and delivered 
 his message calmly and accurately. The 
 Banker agreed to do what was required at 
 once — asked him several questions indeed 
 which he could not answer — ^but shewed no 
 hesitation ; and after one or two formalities, 
 gave him the money which he chose to have 
 principally in gold, thinking it might be 
 more convenient for his father's payments. 
 Henry then got into a hackney coach sub- 
 
THE FORGERY. 73 
 
 did not yet exist— and drove away. Mr. 
 Hayley was dreadfully pale when his son 
 returned to him, but he seemed rejoiced to 
 see the money, and immediately proceeded 
 to speak of Henry's journey. He gave him 
 twenty pounds in gold and then added fifty 
 pounds in five pound notes, which Henry 
 would fain have declined, saying, he could 
 have no use for them; but Mr. Hayley 
 urged that accidents might occur, and im- 
 pressed upon him strongly, that he must be 
 up before that day week, adding " should 
 it be necessary take a chaise, for time may 
 l)e more valuable than money." 
 
 The lad's portmanteau was soon packed up, 
 some dinner was provided for him, and at the 
 proper hour he set out for the coach office, took 
 his seat, and was carried away from London. 
 
 Mail coaches were then the quickest 
 conveyances known. The northern mail 
 was supposed to travel at the rate of 
 eight miles an hour including stoppages; 
 and on the young man was hurried from 
 the Capital towards Northumberland, 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 THE FORGERY. 
 
 squeezed up in a hot summer night with an 
 enormously fat woman and a tolerably stout 
 man. The distance he had to go was about 
 three hundred and twenty miles, and the 
 town where he was to get out was Belford, 
 between which place and Wooler, the man- 
 sion of the Earl of Milford was situated. 
 Farther he knew nothing of his road, except 
 that at Belford he should be able to obtain 
 information. Night set in soon after he 
 left London, and both his companions were 
 speedily asleep, for they were of the taciturn 
 breed, on which even the aspect of youth 
 has no more effect than beauty upon a stone. 
 They snored hard and sonorously, especially 
 the man, woke up for a moment into half 
 slumbering consciousness while the horses 
 were being changed, and then were as sound 
 asleep as ever. Wherever provisions were 
 to be had, indeed, the lady roused herself 
 and proceeded to the business of the hour 
 with marvellous activity, considering her 
 age and weight; but at most other times 
 she w^s as silent as her companion, who 
 
THE FORGERY. 75 
 
 seemed to consider that locomotion was the 
 proper and natural stimulus to slumber. 
 
 The forty weary hours passed at length, 
 with very few words having been spoken ; 
 but the mail was not yet at Belf or d— in- 
 deed it never was— and two more hours 
 went by before the small town appeared. 
 It was at that time very dull and dirty ; 
 and as he looked up at the sign of the Old 
 Bell, Henry felt the place had a sort of 
 desolate aspect, which made the prospect of 
 sleeping at Milford Castle very pleasant 
 in comparison. 
 
 The landlord of the Bell, however, had no 
 intention of suffering him to depart so 
 easily. Milford Castle he assured him was 
 full sixteen miles to the Westward; and, 
 when Henry replied that the distance did 
 not matter as he must go on that night, 
 having business to transact, the worthy 
 host discovered that all Ms horses were out 
 and would not return till two or three in 
 the morning. 
 
 As there was no other house in the town 
 E 3 
 
76 THE FORGERY. 
 
 wliicli kept post horses, Henry was obliged 
 to be content, and ordering a light dinner, 
 he determined to sit and dose by the fire 
 till the horses returned. The landlord so 
 contrived, however — what between the neces- 
 sity of giving food and rest to cattle which 
 were all the time in the stable, and the late 
 hour at which they were reported to return 
 from a journey they had never made — that 
 the young traveller was obliged to remain 
 all night, and breakfast the next morning at 
 '' the Bell." 
 
 Still, little more than eight and forty 
 hours had passed since he had left London, 
 when once more he was on the way again. 
 He had been allowed six whole days to 
 complete his task ; and the coming time, to 
 the mind of youth, is always long in propor- 
 tion to the shortness of the past. 
 
 It was a bright morning when he set out 
 again for Milford, and all looked gay and 
 hopeful; but fatigue and impatience had 
 done much to diminish confidence, and the 
 Avay seemed interminably long, the post-boy 
 
THE FORGERY. 77 
 
 preternaturally slow. Half way there, it 
 w as found necessary to stop and feed the 
 horses, and although Henry endeavoured, 
 with a look of importance, to inforce the 
 necessity of great speed, he was too young 
 for his commands to be received with any 
 great deference. 
 
 At about nine o'clock however a little 
 village between bare, high banks presented 
 itself — a mere hamlet with a chandler's shop 
 and a public-house — and shortly after were 
 seen large gates and a lodge. The gates 
 were opened by an old woman, who seemed, 
 like the few stunted trees around, to have 
 been bent by the prevailing wdnd; but a 
 drive of two miles was still before the 
 young traveller, through the large, wild 
 park. The scenery certainly improved and 
 gave him some objects of interest to look 
 at; the trees became large and fine; 
 pleasantly varied hill and dale succeeded to 
 round backed rises ; and occasionally glimp- 
 ses of an old grey mansion house caught his 
 eyes as he strained his sight out of the 
 
7B THE FORGERY. 
 
 front windows of the chaise. The house 
 disappeared again in thick plantations as 
 he got nearer; and it was with surprise 
 that he found himself suddenly driving up 
 to the doors. He was too much accustomed 
 to good society to feel anything like shy- 
 ness; but yet he was somewhat anxious; and, 
 advancing his head as near the window as 
 possible without putting it out, he looked 
 up over the house with some curiosity as 
 the post-boy rang the great bell. 
 
 To his consternation he perceived that 
 all the windows were closed and bidding 
 the driver open the door he jumped out. 
 
 No one answered the summons of the 
 bell aiid he rang it again after waiting 
 several minutes. It required a third appli- 
 cation to bring any one out, and then it was 
 merely a slipshod country servant, who came 
 round from the back of the house without 
 condescending to open the great doors. 
 
 Her fii'st salutation was " What d'ye 
 want man? Don't you know that the old 
 lord is dead, and they gone to take the 
 
THE FORGERY. 79 
 
 corpse over to Wales to the place where 
 they're all booried." 
 
 Henry professed his ignorance of all this^ 
 and anxiously desired to know where the 
 young lord was to be found. The girl how- 
 ever could give him no information ; but 
 referred him to the steward, who lived across 
 the park, only adding " It's a pity ye didn't 
 come this time yester morn, for then ye'd 
 have found the young lord and the old lord 
 too — -only he was dead, poor body." 
 
 To the steward s house Henry then be- 
 took himself^ but the steward himself was out 
 and his wife could only tell the visitor that he 
 was likely to find the present Earl at Caer- 
 marthen, as he was to meet the body of his 
 father there, and the family vault was in 
 that neighbourhood. An Eton boy's know- 
 ledge of geography, at the age of fifteen or 
 sixteen, is not usually very great, for the 
 most important objects of education are 
 those generally the most neglected in this 
 happy country ; but still Henry was aware 
 that he would be nearer Caermarthen at 
 
80 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Wooler than at Belford. The driver was 
 indeed unwilling to go that road, and his 
 reluctance was only overcome by a promise 
 of good payment. The greater part of the 
 day however was wasted by all the delays 
 he had encountered, and although he was 
 resolved to go on under any circumstances, 
 and find his father's friend, yet the journey 
 was a long one, and he felt puzzled and 
 apprehensive. 
 
 Luckily, at Wooler, he found an intelli- 
 gent landlord, who gave him some service- 
 able information regarding the line of his 
 journey ; and after writing a brief note to 
 Mr. Hayley, informing him of what had 
 occurred, he resumed his expedition, re- 
 solved to travel night and day. This was 
 not however so easily, achieved as deter- 
 mined : but I need not follow him through 
 all the difficulties that beset him ; suffice it, 
 that at Preston his gold fell short, and he 
 was obliged to change one of the notes 
 which had been given him by Mr. Hayley. 
 This occurred again before he reached Caer- 
 
THE FORGERY. "81 
 
 marthen ; for though he was anxious to pur- 
 sue his course as economically as possible, 
 stage-coaches were scanty, their hours were 
 often inconvenient, and he recollected with 
 a feeling of apprehension the last expression 
 of his father, "- time is more valuable than 
 money." Eagerly —I might say vehemently, 
 he hurried on ; but still the long, long journey 
 from one side of the island to the other 
 occupied far more time than he had ex- 
 pected. Sometimes horses could not be had, 
 at others a whole hour was wasted rousing 
 ostlers and post-boys; then came slow 
 drivers and hilly countries, bad roads and 
 worse horses. 
 
 The fifth day from that of his departure 
 was drawing towards its close when he at 
 length reached Gaermarthen, weary, ex- 
 hausted and feeling ill. But still before 
 he took any refreshment at the inn he en- 
 quired for the family seat of the Earl of 
 Milford. The waiter could tell him nothing 
 about it; the landlord was sent for and 
 proved more communicative. It lay at 
 £ 5 
 
81 THE FORGERt. 
 
 twelve or thirteen miles distance, he said: 
 
 " But if you have come for the funeral, 
 sir," he added, looking at the lad with a good 
 deal of interest, " You are too late. It 
 took place this morning early ; and the new 
 lord — that is. Lord Mellent as was — passed 
 through, about four hours ago, on his way 
 back to London." 
 
 " I must follow him directly," said Henry 
 almost wildly, "I have business of the 
 greatest importance with him." 
 
 " Then you had better take a place in 
 the mail, sir," said the landlord, '' it starts 
 from this house, and you will save more 
 time by it, than by posting. It starts at 
 two, and it's now nine, but between this 
 and town you'd lose more than five hours 
 by getting out horses and slow going." 
 
 Henry's experience showed him that 
 what the good man said was true : the mail 
 must bring him into London just at the 
 beginning of the fatal seventh day: by 
 posting he might delay his arrival; and he 
 thought if he reached his father's house by 
 
THE FORGERY. 83 
 
 five in the morning, there would still be 
 time enough before business hours began for 
 ^Ir. Haylej to see the Earl and obtain his 
 assistance. 
 
 His course therefore was soon determined, 
 his place in the mail secured, and during 
 the time he had to stay he endeavoured to 
 refresh and strengthen himself for his on- 
 ward journey. Even in the gay and 
 bounding days of youth, the mind is in sad 
 slavery to the body. Fatigue and exhaus- 
 tion will make the aspect of all things 
 gloomy ; and rest and food will restore their 
 brightness. The landlady at Caermarthen 
 was a good, kind, motherly woman, and taking 
 the weary young traveller into her parlour, 
 she soon provided him with a light supper ; 
 and a few glasses of wine added, revived 
 the lad's spirits greatly. He eased the 
 aching of his limbs by walking up and dowii 
 the room, and when the mail was ready to 
 start felt quite equal to the fatigue. There 
 was no other passenger in the inside, and he 
 amused himself as best he could, sometimes 
 
84 THE FORGERY. 
 
 by sleeping, sometimes after day -break by 
 gazing out at the prospect. At length 
 night began to fall again, and Henry fell 
 asleep once more. He was awakened by 
 the coach stopping to change horses. All 
 was ready, and in haste the beasts were put 
 to ; but while he was looking out of the 
 window there was a good deal of bustle at 
 the inn door, and he saw something carried 
 in by three or four men. He had no time, 
 however, to make enquiries ; for the coach- 
 man was mounting his box and the next 
 moment the mail dashed off. 
 
 Two stages further on, it was announced 
 to him that a quarter of an hour was 
 allowed for supper and as he got out, he 
 enquired of the guard what was the matter 
 a couple of stages further back. 
 
 " Why the gentleman's carriage had been 
 overturned at the bridge, sir," replied the 
 guard, " and he had been stunned, with 
 what they call a concussion of the brain, 
 Mrs. White said — so they were carrying him 
 in. That was what you saw, I dare say." 
 
THE FORGERY. 85 
 
 "Do you know who he was?" demanded 
 Henry, with feelings of unaccountable 
 alarm. 
 
 '' Oh yes, sir," replied the man, " I saw 
 him at Caermarthen yesterday. It's the 
 young lord whose father's just dead and 
 buried. He's like enough to be soon dead 
 and buried too ; for he's badly hurt and his 
 carriage all dashed to smash." 
 
 A moment of bewildering uncertainty 
 succeeded. Henry asked himself fii-st, 
 should he go back ? then, for what purpose ? 
 But he soon saw that to do so would serve 
 none. He could not see and speak to Lord 
 Mellent in such a state ; and he resolved to 
 hurry on, though to be the bearer of such 
 disastrous tidings to his father made his 
 heart sink. He ate no supper : he slept 
 no more ; and driver and horses being good, 
 he arrived at the general post office a little 
 after four. A hackney coach was soon 
 obtained, the guard and coachman feed, 
 and before five he was at his father's house. 
 
 The instant the coach stopped the door 
 
86 THE FORGERY. 
 
 was opened by Mr. Hayley himself and 
 Henry sprang out to meet him. 
 
 " Put the portmanteau in the hall, and 
 wait," said Mr. Hayley to the coachman; 
 and holding Henry's hand, he led him to- 
 wards his own sitting room. The lad saw 
 that his father was pale and haggard ; and he 
 dreaded the effect of what he had to tell ; 
 })ut still he would not delay, and even as 
 they went to the room the main facts were 
 poured forth. To his surprise Mr. Hayley 
 seemed hardly to listen; and when they 
 were in the study, he locked the door, and 
 gazed earnestly at the boy. 
 
 His words Avere short, sharp and to the 
 lad seemed wild, " Henry," he said, " you 
 love me I think — do you not?" 
 
 Henry gazed in his face utterly as- 
 tounded. 
 
 " I know you do," his father added, " I 
 am sure you do. Xow my dear boy, can 
 you prove it. You can save my life — my 
 honor." 
 
 " How?— how?" cried the boy, '' I will 
 
THE FORGERY. 87 
 
 do all, anything you please, my dear 
 father; only tell me what." 
 
 " It is, Henry, to get into that coach again 
 and drive down to Blackwall. You will 
 there find a steamer ready to start for Eot- 
 terdam at six in the morning, embark in 
 her, from Rotterdam go up the Ehine, 
 through Germany to Italy, and stay at 
 Ancona till you hear from me. Here is 
 money and a passport." 
 
 '' But why— why?" asked the boy 
 earnestly. '' Oh tell me all, for fear I make 
 any mistake." 
 
 Mr. Hayley grasped his arm very tight, 
 and bending down his head whispered in a 
 voice hardly audible, yet stern too : '' Henry, 
 that bill which you took to the banker's was 
 forged— I forged it ! If you stay, you must 
 stay to be a witness against me and con- 
 demn me to death." 
 
 The young man sank down in a chair 
 with a face so pale that his father thought 
 he was going to faint—'' Here, take some 
 wine," he said, pouring him out a tumbler- 
 
88 THE FORGERY. 
 
 ful from a decanter that stood on the table ; 
 and Henry drank it all. 
 
 The father gazed upon his face with 
 a look of agonised expectation, while the lad 
 put his hand to his head as if to recover 
 his scattered thoughts. 
 
 " But they will say I did it," he mur- 
 mured at length, '' I shall be an exile for 
 ever; and never see you more." 
 
 " They will say you did it," replied Mr. 
 If ay ley, " they think, even now, you did it. 
 I was obliged to deny I sent you, even to 
 gain time ; for it was discovered last night, 
 and an officer set off into Northumberland 
 immediately to seek you. Do as you will, 
 Henry. You now know all; but if you 
 stay, I go and give myself up directly. 
 You shall see me again, if you go, for as 
 soon as the enquiry is over, I will come and 
 join you. But no time is to be lost— 
 your resolution must be taken in five 
 minutes." 
 
 " I will go— I will go," said the lad 
 faintly, '^ but oh my father give me 
 
THE FORGERY. 89 
 
 means of proving my innocence here- 
 after." 
 
 " I have it ready," said Mr. Hayley, " I 
 have thought of all— prepared all. Look 
 here," and taking up a paper, he read— 
 " I, Stephen Hayley, acknowledge that the 
 acceptance of Mr. Henry Scriven to a bill 
 —I need not read all that— was forged by 
 me, and that my son took it to Messrs. 
 Stolterforth's by my orders without knowing 
 it to be forged. Then further I state, as 
 you may see, that you go abroad to save me. 
 Now, Henry, my life is in your hands- 
 act as you like." And sinking down 
 into a chair he covered his eyes with his 
 hands. 
 
 The next instant Henry's hand was laid 
 upon his arm—" I am going," he said, 
 " farewell, my father; farewell 1" 
 
 " Stay, stay," said Mr. Hayley starting 
 up, " remember the passport— and the 
 money too. Here are two hundred Na- 
 poleons—they go everywhere. Ah, Henry, 
 dear, good lad. Your consolation must 
 
90 THE FORGERY. 
 
 be that you have saved your father's 
 life." 
 
 Henry made no reply ; but the tears fell 
 over his cheeks. Mr. Hay ley pressed him 
 to his heart — it was a selfish one ; but still 
 gratitude did mingle with rejoicing for his 
 own safety. In five minutes more, he was 
 in the coach, with another portmanteau 
 which had been prepared for him the night 
 before by his father, bearing marked upon it — 
 " Henry Calvert Esq. passenger by City of 
 Antwerp." On looking at the passport he 
 found the same name therein, and saw (for 
 that Mr. Hay ley had forgotten to explain) 
 that he was to take that name during his 
 flight. 
 
 In about three quarters of an hour he 
 stood upon the deck of the vessel ; and in 
 ten minutes after his embarkation she was 
 going quickly down the river. 
 
 The same morning, on the arrival of the 
 New Castle mail, two officers in plain clothes 
 had walked up to the side and examined every 
 passenger both inside and out. There 
 
THE FORGERY. 91 
 
 were in all, three men and two women ; but 
 neither of the men bore the least resem- 
 blance to Henry Hayley, and the officers 
 turned their attention to the coach offices. 
 The Caermarthen mail escaped unexplored. 
 
 An examination into the aiFair took place 
 that day at Bow-street; but it was proved 
 that Henry had, unknown to Mr. Hayley, 
 frequented the counting-house of Mr. 
 Scriven for more than a fortnight : that 
 he was anxious to conceal his doing 
 so from his father; that on the very 
 morning of his departure for ]S"orthumber- 
 land, he had written to Mr. Scriven to say, 
 he should come no more; that at four 
 o'clock that day he had obtained money 
 upon the forged bill, and then gone, no one 
 rightly knew whither, farther than that his 
 journey was towards Northumberland; for 
 Mr. Hayley took care to give no explana- 
 tions on that head. 
 
 A thousand little circumstances of no 
 real value, such as some small bills at Eton 
 left unpaid, tended to make up a mass of 
 
92 THE FORGERY. 
 
 evidence against him, and thus the guilty- 
 escaped — if not without doubts yet without 
 any charge against him — while the whole 
 weight of suspicion fell upon the innocent 
 boy, who was sailing away over the sea to 
 Jlotterdam. 
 
THE FORGERY. 93 
 
 CHAPTEE y. 
 
 The curious state of society in which we 
 exist and the complex causes and effects 
 which it comprises — the fictitious, the fac- 
 titious, the unreal, the unnatural relations 
 which it establishes between man and man, 
 are always producing unexpected results 
 and events which no one can rightly ac- 
 count for, because no one can trace all the 
 fine lines which connect one piece of the 
 complicated machinery with another. It 
 must have often struck every thinker who 
 gathers up the passing events, and marks 
 
94 THE FORGERY. 
 
 the impression which they produce upon 
 the world at large, that matters, often of 
 great moment, will excite little or no 
 attention — will be slurred oyer in news- 
 papers, pass without comment in society, 
 be hardly heard of beyond the narrowest 
 possible circle round the point at which 
 they take place — while mere trifles will set 
 Eumour's thousand tongues a-going, men and 
 women will interest themselves with eager 
 anxiety about things that do not affect 
 them in the least, and half the world will 
 be on fire as to whether a feather was blown 
 to the right or the left. The basest politi- 
 cal scheme that ever was practised for de- 
 priving a queen of hope, happiness and 
 power, and a great country of its inde- 
 pendence, will excite far less attention and 
 curiosity, than the disappointment of one 
 priest's ambition, and the compensation of 
 another priest's unmerited persecution. 
 
 When first my attention was directed to 
 this subject, I said, " A cannon fired in an 
 open country, cannot by any chance pro- 
 
THE FORGERY. 95 
 
 duce such terrible results as a spark in a 
 powder-mill. It is not the event itself, but 
 the things with which it is connected that 
 make it important." But I soon became 
 convinced that this explanation, though 
 specious, was not true — at least, that there 
 was something more; that whenever any- 
 thing made a great noise, it must connect 
 itself by some of the many hooks and pul- 
 leys of society with some of the loud 
 tongues in high places — ^by high places I 
 do not mean elevated stations, but positions 
 in which men can make themselves heard : 
 — some newspaper scribe — one of the 
 things in Parliament assembled — a popu- 
 lar preacher — a mob-orator — is either 
 interested in the matter directly or in- 
 directly, immediately or remotely — or 
 else has nothing else to do and wants a 
 hobby, and the whole aflfair is made the talk 
 of the town. 
 
 In short, it were endless to search out, 
 arrange and classify the infinite variety of 
 causes which may render any event notori- 
 
96 THE FORGERY. 
 
 ous, or consign it to speedy oblivion, 
 though it may rend the hearts, and ruin 
 the fortunes, and desolate the prospects, and 
 destroy the peace of all within a certain 
 little circle. 
 
 The forgery upon Mr. Scriven made 
 little or no noise in the great world. The 
 first investigation at Bow-street was fully 
 reported in one or two of the morning 
 newspapers. Some others, which had no 
 reporters of their own, abridged it from 
 their ''''esteemed contemporaries ^ Others 
 declared there were no matters of public 
 interest at Bow-street that day, because 
 they had not room to report more than the 
 donations of ^y^ pound notes to the poor- 
 box, the receipt of which had been requested 
 to be acknowledged. 
 
 But the event was a terrible one in the 
 midst of those more immediately interested. 
 Mr. Scriven pursued the enquiry into the 
 facts, with a fierceness and a virulence 
 which had not before appeared in his 
 nature, and undoubtedly Mr. Hay ley him- 
 
THE FORGERY. 97 
 
 self might have fallen into danger had not 
 many little circumstances, some accidental, 
 some skilfully prepared, combined to fix the 
 guilt upon the innocent. 
 
 As an instance of one of those accidents 
 which served to shelter him, I may men- 
 tion, that upon the examination of his 
 servants, one of the footmen deposed, and 
 deposed truly, that three or four days be- 
 fore Henry's disappearance, Mr. Hayley 
 had been enquiring eagerly if any one had 
 found a piece of stamped paper — a draft in 
 short — and seemed very uneasy about it. 
 Mr. Scriven admitted that Hayley had told 
 him he had drawn upon him, and that he 
 had refused to accept the draft. Thus, the 
 body of the document being evidently in 
 Mr. Hayley's hand-writing and the accept- 
 ance, which constituted the forgery, being 
 in a feigned hand very like that of Mr. 
 Scriven, the inference was established by 
 the servant's evidence, that Henry had 
 found the draft and used it for his own 
 purposes. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 THE FORGERY. 
 
 The fact was, that Mr. Hayley had mis- 
 Liid the document for some time, at the 
 period when he first contemplated the 
 forgery, and had enquired for it anxiously 
 till he found it in the place where he had 
 concealed it. But many other things 
 occurred, in the course of a few days, to 
 confirm the suspicions against the poor 
 boy. Three five pound notes which Henry 
 had changed in his long travelling across 
 England, found their way to the Bank of 
 England, where the numbers and dates of 
 those given upon the forged draft had been 
 notified. They were traced back from hand 
 to hand, till the chain ended with Henry 
 Hayley. 
 
 The whole of his wandering course, with 
 a very few intervals, was tracked by the 
 ofiicer sent in pursuit of him to Nor- 
 thumberland. He was found to have been 
 at Belford, at Wooler, at Carmarthen, and 
 then to have come to London in the mail. 
 With the instinct of blood-hounds, the 
 ofiicers pursued their enquiries, got a clue. 
 
THE FORGERY. 99 
 
 at the office of the Dutch Consul, to his 
 further course, and furnished with the 
 necessary authority, set out for Rotterdam. 
 
 Now Mr. Hayley began to tremble, and 
 Mr. Scriven to rejoice. 
 
 "We shall soon have him, now," said the 
 latter to Lady Fleetwood, rubbing his hands, 
 
 " we shall soon have him, now ! P is 
 
 not a man to give up the chase till he has 
 run down his game." 
 
 " Why, I am sure, Henry, you do not 
 think him guilty," said Lady Fleetwood; 
 " nobody that knew him can think so — and 
 even if you did, you would never wish to 
 destroy the poor lad." 
 
 Her brother gazed at her in utter as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " Do you wish me to think you a fool, 
 Margaret?" he said; "nobody but one 
 totally destitute of common sense can 
 doubt his guilt." 
 
 " Well, I do, Mr. Scriven," replied Lady 
 Fleetwood, a little nettled; "I never 
 pretended to any great sense, and I dare 
 F 2 
 
100 THE FORGERY. 
 
 say you have a great deal more ; but he 
 was all his life a fine, frank, honourable boy, 
 and it is not into such a heart as his that 
 a crime enters easily. . However, even if 
 he had done it, I do not think you would 
 be cruel enough to punish with death a 
 mere boy like that, who could not know all 
 the criminality of the act." 
 
 " I have nothing to do with it," said 
 Mr. Scriven ; "It is the law will punish 
 him, and that soon, I hope, else there will 
 not be a clerk in all London who will not 
 be forging his master's name, and then 
 pleading his youth." 
 
 " Then I trust, vv^ith all my heart, the 
 law won't catch him," said Lady Fleet- 
 wood. " What is a thousand pounds to 
 you, Henry? It would have been much 
 kinder of you to have paid the money and 
 said nothing about it." 
 
 Mr. Scriven gave her a look of unutter- 
 able scorn, and buttoning up his coat, to 
 keep out such ridiculous notions, quitted 
 the house. 
 
THE FORGERY. 101 
 
 He was a good deal surprised, however, to 
 find that even his clearer sighted sister, Lady 
 Monkton, in some degree shared the views 
 of Lady Fleetwood, She expressed herself 
 somewhat more cautiously, perhaps, but 
 not less firmly, and gave him to understand 
 that, judging from long observation of 
 Henry's character, nothing would persuade 
 her that he had been guilty of the act im- 
 puted to him. 
 
 " Then pray who was it. Lady Monk- 
 ton?" asked Mr. Scriven sharply. 
 
 " That is quite another question, and 
 one that I will not take upon me to 
 answer," replied Isabella; " but let us 
 drop the subject, for it is a very — very 
 painful one. We all loved him as if he 
 were one of our own relations ; and he could 
 not have made himself so loved by people 
 who saw his whole conduct, if there had 
 been anything dishonourable or disengenu- 
 ous in his nature." 
 
 " Your love blinds you," replied Mr. 
 Scriven; and Maria Monkton, who had 
 
102 THE FORGERY. 
 
 been drawing at the other end of the room, 
 rose, with tears in her eyes, and went 
 out. 
 
 Those who did love the poor lad, and 
 they were many, had soon fresh cause for 
 grief. 
 
 Six weeks passed without anything being 
 heard of the officer who had gone to seek 
 for the young fugitive. Not a doubt ex- 
 isted in his mind that the Henry Calvert 
 of the Dutch Passport-office was identical 
 with the Henry Hayley of Bow Street; and 
 having got a full account of his person and 
 general appearance, this conviction was 
 strengthened at Rotterdam, where he traced 
 him to the Bath-House Inn. He thence 
 pursued him up the Rhine to Cologne, 
 where for two days he could discover no 
 further track, from his assumed name 
 having been terribly mutilated in the 
 books. 
 
 Stage by stage, he pursued him still; 
 sometimes, indeed, almost giving up the 
 undertaking in despair, but always, by 
 
THE FORGERY. W6 
 
 perseverance, gaining some new clue. 
 Thus, to Munich, and Innspruck, and 
 Trieste and Venice, he was hired on; and 
 there, for five days, remained baffled, till it 
 struck the Consul that it might be as well 
 to enquire of a celebrated veturino at 
 Mestre. When they went over, however, 
 the man was absent with his horses, and 
 the officer had to wait another day for his 
 return. The subsequent morning, however, 
 he was more fortunate. 
 
 His questions were answered at once. 
 Ten days before, the veturino said he had 
 carried a young English lad, answering 
 exactly the description given, to Ancona. 
 Instead of being fresh coloured, he admitted 
 the young man was very pale; but then he 
 was ill when he quitted Mestre, and got 
 every day worse till they reached Ancona. 
 There, the people of the inn would not take 
 him in ; for by that time the youth could not 
 hold up his head at all ; and not knowing 
 what to do with him, nor how to make him 
 understand — ^for he spoke little Italian — he 
 
104 THE FORGERY. 
 
 had applied at the house of the Franciscan 
 friars, where he knew there were some Irish 
 monks, and they had charitably received 
 him. There the officer would find him, he 
 said; and that personage, without pause, 
 set out at once for Ancona. 
 
 It was night when he reached the city ; 
 but he delayed not an instant, and finding 
 that he could not get aid from the police of 
 the place before morning, he went at once 
 with a guide to the monastery, to give notice 
 of his errand and insure that the culprit 
 was not suffered to escape. He had some 
 hopes, indeed, that the monks would give 
 him up at once ; but nothing was opened in 
 answer to the great bell, but the small shut- 
 ter over a grate in the door. The porter 
 who appeared behind was an Italian; but 
 the guide could speak a little English, and 
 he served as interpreter. 
 
 To the first question, whether a young 
 Englishman of the name of Henry Calvert 
 was there, the monk replied, he did not 
 know, and to the officer's demand of ad- 
 
THE FORGERY. 105 
 
 mittance returned a direct refusal. The 
 other explained his errand, but it was of 
 no avail. It was contrary to the rule, the 
 good brother said, and whatever was the 
 officer's business he could not have admission 
 at that hour. 
 
 The latter next demanded to speak with 
 some of the English or Irish bretliren ; and 
 after some hesitation the old man went 
 away to bring one to the gate. 
 
 The officer had to wait full half an hour ; 
 but at length a lantern was seen coming 
 across the court, and the shaven head of 
 an elderly man appeared behind the 
 grating. 
 
 " What is it you Avant, my son?" he 
 asked in English after gazing at the officer 
 attentively as he came up. 
 
 " I understand, and that upon sufficient 
 evidence," replied the other, " that within 
 this monastery you have a person named 
 Henry Calvert, otherwise, Hayley, charged 
 with forgery to a large amount. I am the 
 bearer of a warrant for his apprehension, 
 F 5 
 
106 THE FORGERY. 
 
 which I can show you, and I demand that 
 you deliver up his body to my custody." 
 
 '' We know nothing of English warrants 
 here," replied the monk, " and the gates 
 of this convent are opened after nine to no 
 one, either to admit or to send forth. Go 
 your way, my son, and return to-morrow 
 if needs must be ; but come not without the 
 authority of the state in which you are : 
 otherwise, you will come in vain.'' 
 
 The monk was retiring, but the officer 
 called after him in somewhat civiler tones 
 than perhaps his heart dictated, saying — 
 
 '' Tell me at least, sir, if the young man 
 is here." 
 
 " Perhaps I should be wise to refuse an 
 answer," said the monk, " seeing that I 
 know you not, neither what right you have 
 to enquire ; but as there are plenty ready 
 to defend any of our just privileges I will 
 venture to say that a lad — a mere boy — 
 calling himself Henry Calvert is here, but 
 he is, I tell you, at the point of death, hav- 
 ing been brought in sick of the malignant 
 
THE FORGERY. 107 
 
 fever, which is now raging so fiercely in 
 these parts of Italy." 
 
 " I must see him notwithstanding," said 
 the officer doggedly ; but the monk waited 
 no farther conference and retired from the 
 gate. 
 
 The Londoner and his guide walked back 
 to the inn ; and as they went along through 
 the dark and gloomy streets, a slow and 
 solemn sound, the tolling of a heavy bell 
 burst upon the ear. 
 
 The next morning, at the earliest possible 
 hour, the officer's application was made to 
 the police of Ancona. Assistance was im- 
 mediately given him, and with his guide 
 and a commissary of the government, he 
 returned to the monastery. The outer 
 gates were now wide open, and a number 
 of people, monks and others, were passing 
 in and out. At a small door of the prin- 
 cipal building stood the old man he had 
 seen on the preceding night; and to him 
 the commissary of police at once led the 
 way. Some conversation took place be- 
 
108 THE FORGERY. 
 
 tween them in Italian; and then the monk 
 turned to the officer saying — 
 
 " This good man, my son, tells me you 
 are duly authorised to take into your custody 
 the lad named Henry Calvert — otherwise 
 you say, Hayley. We do not resist the 
 laws and he shall be given up to you. Fol- 
 low me !" 
 
 The three men followed across the court 
 to a low wing of the building, the monk 
 preceding them with a slow and heavy step. 
 They then walked along a sort of cloister, 
 dry and shady, and at the fifth door on the 
 right the old man stopped and turned a 
 key. 
 
 " There he is,'' he said throwing open 
 ihe door; and the officer entered. 
 
 Upon a low pallet stripped of its usual 
 coverings, lay a corpse, with a few flowers 
 strewed upon the bosom. The w^axy hue 
 of the face, the plain ravages of illness, 
 the closed eyes, the emaciated features 
 might make a great difference ; but still the 
 colour of the hair, the age, the height, and 
 
THE FORGERY. 109 
 
 the general line of the features, showed the 
 officer that there indeed, before him, lay all 
 that remained of the once gay, frank, 
 happy boy. 
 
 He gazed on him for a moment or two ; 
 and even he was moved in some degree. 
 
 " When did he die?" he asked in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " Last night, five minutes before ten," 
 answered the monk, ^' when I returned 
 to him, after seeing you, he was in the 
 agony—" 
 
 Another pause succeeded; and then the 
 monk, pointing to an English portmanteau, 
 which stood in the corner of the cell, said — 
 
 "I am ordered to give that and its con- 
 tents into your custody. There is, besides, 
 this pocket-book containing the passport 
 with which he travelled, and some bank- 
 notes. He had also a small sum in gold 
 and silver with him, for which the convent 
 will account to the police, and the police to 
 your own consul, after the expences of the 
 funeral are paid — Can you tell me whetlier 
 
110 THE FORGERY. 
 
 he was a Catholic or not, for we are trou- 
 bled about the burial." 
 
 " I don't know I am sure," replied the 
 officer ; but he then added with a desire to 
 avoid any unpleasant proceeding, " I dare 
 say he was a Catholic — I think I have 
 heard so." 
 
 " Then he shall have Catholic inter- 
 ment," replied the monk, and after a fcAv 
 more questions the officer withdrew. 
 
 The portmanteau was put into a hired 
 carriage and conveyed to the inn ; the notes 
 were compared with a list which the officer 
 carried and found to correspond Avith 
 seven of the numbers there inscribed, and 
 after a conference with the British Consul, 
 the Bow-sreet runner took his departure 
 from Ancona saying — 
 
 " The old monk declared there was only 
 a small sum in gold. I know there must 
 have been a good lot, if the lad did not 
 lead a terrible riotous life as he came, and 
 that I heard nothing of." 
 
 There were many wept for poor Henry 
 
THE FORGERY. Ill 
 
 Hayley ; but there was one who felt that he 
 had more cause to weep than all, but could 
 not shed a tear. Mr. Hayley fell into pro- 
 found melancholy from which nothing could 
 rouse him. His affairs righted themselves, 
 in a very great degree, without his making 
 an effort; several of the speculations in 
 which he had engaged proved eminently 
 successful, but they brought no comfort; 
 he walked about liis house and the town 
 like a ghost, never speaking to any one but 
 those who spoke to him; and it was ob- 
 served that he often talked to himself; but 
 no one heard anything escape his lips but 
 the one solitary word, '' murder," mur- 
 mured in the accents of horror and 
 despair. 
 
112 THE FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 This shall be an exceedingly short chapter, 
 merely destined to wind up that preliminary 
 matter, which it was absolutely necessary 
 for the reader to be made acquainted VN^itli 
 before perusing the real business of the 
 tale. Another long lapse of nearly ten years 
 must intervene before we take up any of 
 the characters afresh ; and the reader will 
 soon see how the preceding events connect 
 themselves with those that follow. The 
 characters indeed were sadly diminished in 
 number between the time at which tlie 
 
THE FORGERY. 113 
 
 stoiy opens, and that to which I have now 
 to proceed. 
 
 Of the four children of the elder Mr. 
 Scriven only two survived, Lady Fleet- 
 wood and Mr. Scriven. Lady Monk ton 
 survived her husband just ten years and 
 then died very suddenly, leaving her 
 daughter Maria the heiress of great wealth 
 at the age of about twenty. She was in- 
 deed a few months more when her mother 
 was taken from her, and Mr. Scriven, 
 guardianship had not long to run ; a fact 
 which that gentleman was not well pleased 
 with, for besides the authority which the 
 guardianship conferred — and all men like 
 authority — the whole of the fortune which 
 his sister Isabella had received, and the ac- 
 cumulated surplus of the rents of Sir Ed- 
 ward Monkton's estates, making together a 
 very large sum, remained in his hands, and 
 he found them exceedingly convenient — 
 nay more, somewhat lucrative. He clearly 
 accounted for the interest upon every penny 
 at a moderate rate ; but he did not think it 
 
114 THE FORGERY. 
 
 at all necessary to state to Maria, or to 
 calculate in any way, except for his own 
 private satisfaction — and I do not know 
 that he even did that — all that he gained 
 by turning and returning the funds of 
 hers at his disposal. That went under 
 the general head of " Profits of busi- 
 ness." 
 
 I am not aware whether this would be 
 
 considered right, fair, and honourable, in 
 the mercantile world or not; there is a 
 good deal to be said on both sides of the 
 question ; but certainly, while he allowed, 
 as I have stated, interest upon every penny 
 that he received at the exact rate which 
 that penny would have produced if invested 
 in the public funds on the day that he re- 
 ceived it, he made sometimes twice, some- 
 times three times that amount by the use 
 of the money. 
 
 Maria, however, knew nothing about 
 this. When she did come of age, she passed 
 the accounts, as a matter of course, and 
 begged her uncle to continue to manage her 
 
THE FORGERY. 115 
 
 affairs for her as he had been accustomed 
 to do. But when this source of anxiety 
 had gone by, Mr. Scriven had another. 
 Maria inherited all her mother's beauty ; 
 she was a gay, gentle girl, with a natural 
 cheerfulness of character generally pre- 
 dominating over and subduing occasional 
 clouds of melancholy, which might well be 
 produced by the early death of parents 
 deeply beloved. Lovely, wealthy, grace- 
 ful, engaging, with a heart full of warm 
 affections, and a kind disposition, it was 
 more than probable that she would marry 
 early — indeed only wonderful that she had 
 not already married. Then again she 
 chose to reside during a great part of the 
 year with her aunt. Lady Fleetwood. In 
 London her aunt's house was undoubtedly 
 the only proper place for her ; but still it 
 made Mr. Scriven somewhat uneasy ; for 
 Lady Fleetwood was the kindest and best 
 intentioned woman in the world, and 
 though by no means what is called a match- 
 maker, she had a very strong conviction — 
 
116 THE FORGERY. 
 
 which her own experience had not shaken 
 in the least — that marriage was the only state 
 in which a woman could be really happy. 
 
 On this point Mr. Scriven differed 
 with her entirely; and it was not at all 
 pleasant to him to know that she was con- 
 tinually dinning her own system into 
 Maria's ears. However, there was no help 
 for it; and his only consolation was, that 
 his niece was very fond of going down alone 
 from time to time to Bolton Park, which 
 was kept up exactly in the same state as 
 at Lady Monkton's death. It was generally 
 too at the time when London was fullest and 
 gayest that Maria chose to make her retreat ; 
 and at Bolton she saw no one but her neigh- 
 bour Lady Anne Mellent, the similiarity of 
 whose situation to her own, drew closer the 
 bonds of early affection, though their 
 characters were very different. It may be 
 said in passing, that Lady Anne had been 
 longer an orphan at this time than Maria, 
 for Lord Milford had not survived the 
 death of his father many years and Lady 
 
THE FORGERY. 117 
 
 Milford had died the Christmas before her 
 husband. 
 
 Lady Anne, gay, lively, and decided 
 in character, had been left to the guardian- 
 ship of mere men of business, and soon set 
 the trammels they endeavoured to impose 
 upon her at deJSiance. At eighteen she was 
 as much mistress of her own house as if 
 she had been eight and forty ; and although 
 her old governess continued to live with 
 her, at the earnest request, rather than the 
 positive command of her guardians, yet the 
 very idea of governing anything never seemed 
 to enter into the good lady's head. Yet 
 whether in resistance or compliance, in the 
 display of her independance or the exercise 
 of her strong good sense, there was so 
 much good humour and even fun in Lady 
 Anne Mellent's manner that neither guar- 
 dians nor relations could be angry. There 
 was one indeed of the former — an old 
 gentleman with a pigtail and powdered 
 poll — who would sit and laugh at her till 
 the tears ran over his cheeks; ever and 
 
118 THE FORGERY. 
 
 anon, putting on a grave face, and pro- 
 posing something wliich he knew she would 
 never consent to, merely to excite her 
 resistance, and always beginning — 
 
 " Now, my dear young lady, you really 
 ought &c.— " 
 
 But whether serious or in jest. Lady 
 Anne always had her own way ; and her 
 guardians often came to the conclusion, 
 that, after all, her own way was generally 
 the right one. 
 
 There was an old maiden aunt of her 
 mother's — the only near female relative she 
 had, whom one of her father's executors 
 thought fit to propose as a fit person to live 
 with her and keep up her establishment. 
 But Lady Anne at once replied — 
 
 " Indeed she shall not. In the first 
 place all the wine in the cellar would be 
 turned sour in a fortnight. In the next 
 place she would spoil all my prospects of 
 ' establishing myself for life,' as she herself 
 calls it; for by her own account she is a 
 most dangerous rival, and has had more 
 
THE FORGERY. 119 
 
 proposals than ever I hope to have in life; 
 and in the next place she would attempt 
 to control me, which neither she nor any- 
 other person shall ever do — except my lord 
 and master if I should some day happen 
 to have such a thing." 
 
 In short Lady Anne Mellent was a very 
 pretty, nice, clever, independant girl, whom 
 many people considered completely spoiled 
 by fate, fortune, and her relations, and who 
 might have been so, if a high and noble 
 heart, a kind and generous spirit and 
 a clear and rapid intellect would have per- 
 mitted it. She loved and respected Maria 
 Monkton who was a little older, would often 
 take her advice when she would take that 
 of no other person, frequently in conversa- 
 tion with others set her unmeasurably above 
 herself, and yet often would call her, to 
 her face, a dear, gentle, loveable, poor- 
 spirited little thing. Her last vagary before 
 she came of age, was to take a tour upon 
 the continent with her old governess, a maid, 
 and three men servants. Her guardians 
 
120 THE FORGERY. 
 
 here would certainly have interfered, had she 
 ever condescended to make them acquainted 
 with her intentions ; but the expedition was 
 plotted, all her arrangements made, and she 
 herself in the heart of Paris, before they knew 
 anything of the matter. In writing to the 
 old gentleman with the pig-tail, she said, 
 
 " You will not be at all surprised to 
 learn that I am here on my way to Eome 
 and Naples; and I think as I have no- 
 body with me but Mrs. Hughes, and my 
 maid and the other servants, I shall enjoy 
 my tour very much. Charles Mars ton, my 
 old playfellow, was here the other day and 
 very delightful — nearly as mad as myself. 
 He intends to go heaven knows where, but 
 fust to Damascus, because it is the only 
 place where one can eat plums. If anybody 
 asks you where I am, you can say that I 
 have run away with him, and that you have 
 my own authority for it. Then nobody 
 will believe a word of it, which they other- 
 wise might. Send me plenty of money to 
 Milan, for I intend to buy all Rome, and 
 
THE FORGERY. 121 
 
 set it up in the great drawing-room at 
 Harley lodge, as a specimen of the true 
 antique." 
 
 Enough however of the gay girl, and al- 
 most enough of the chapter. There is only 
 one person, I believe, whom I have not 
 mentioned sufficiently. Mr. Hayley's fate 
 was sad but not undeserved. In vain for- 
 tune made a perverse effort to befriend him — 
 in vain matters turned out favourable which 
 had once looked very dark. The worm that 
 perisheth not, was in his heart and it con- 
 sumed him. He strove to establish a pros- 
 perous business for himself, separated from 
 Mr. Scriven, and he succeeded to a certain 
 extent ; but he had no spirit to attend to 
 anything long. He neglected every thing — ■ 
 himself, his affairs, the affairs of others, his 
 friends, acquaintances, his ow^n person. He 
 became slovenly in habits and appearance ; 
 people said he drank; business fell off; 
 correspondents would not trust him ; and 
 after a struggle of eight years, he retired 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 THE FORGERY. 
 
 upon a pittance, gave himself up to intem- 
 perance — went mad — died. 
 
 Such was the end of one to whom, not 
 twenty four years before, had been opened 
 a brighter career than his hopes had ever 
 pictured. 
 
 The reader may not exactly see how several 
 of the characters and events which have 
 passed across the stage in this phantasma- 
 goria, can have any influence upon the story 
 that is to follow ; but let him wait patiently 
 and he will see that not one word which has 
 been written could have been properly 
 omitted ; and for the present, let him re- 
 member' that just four and twenty years 
 and a few months had passed since the 
 death of the elder Mr. Scriven, so that his 
 son was now a man of middle age, and his 
 only surviving daughter, approaching her 
 grand climacteric ; that his grandson Charles 
 Marston was now twenty four, and his grand 
 daughter Maria Monkton not quite twenty 
 two. 
 
THE FORGERY. 123 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 A fine but jet a solemn evening trod upon 
 the steps of a May-day. There was a red 
 light in the west under deep purple clouds. 
 Overhead, all was blue, intense and unbroken 
 even by a feathery vapor. A star, a 
 planet, faint from the sun's rays still un- 
 i*ecalled, was seen struggling to shine; and 
 a lingering chillness came upon the breeze 
 as it swept over a wide heath. The road 
 from London to Southampton might be 
 traced from the top of one of the abrupt 
 knolls, (into thousands of which the heath 
 G 3 
 
124 THE FORGERY. 
 
 was broken) winding on for four or five 
 miles on either side; and dim plantations 
 bounded the prospect. Between, nothing 
 caught the eye but the desert looking wayy 
 expanse of uncultivated ground, except 
 where — in a little sandy dell through which 
 poured a small white line of water — appeared 
 a low thatch and four ruinous walls. At 
 lirst one thought it a cow-shed or a pigsty ; 
 but a filmy wave of smoke showed it to be 
 a human habitation. The nest of the wild 
 bird, the hole of the fox, the lair of the deer 
 is more warm and sheltered and secure 
 than it. 
 
 A carriage came in sight from the side 
 of Southampton, dashing along with four 
 horses. At first it looked in the distance 
 like a husk of hempseed drawn by four 
 fleas ; but as it came rattling on, it turned 
 out a handsome vehicle and a good team. 
 The top was loaded with boxes, imperials, 
 and all sorts of leathern contrivances for 
 holding superfluities, towering to the skies. 
 Underneath was a long, square, flat basket 
 
THE FORGERY. 125 
 
 of wicker, likewise loaded heavily. Behind 
 was a servant with much whisker. 
 
 The carriage dashed on over one slope — 
 down another — across a sharp channel left 
 by a stream of water, which had flowed 
 down two or three days before after heavy 
 rains — ^up part of a hill ; and there it suddenly 
 stopped, toppled, and went over. The axle 
 had broken and a hind wheel had come off. 
 The servant flew out of his leathern cage 
 behind, and lighted in a huge tuft of heatJi 
 somewhat like his own whiskers, and then 
 got up and rubbed his shoulder. 
 
 Then, a gay, joyous mellow voice was 
 heard calling out from the inside ^' Spilt 
 upon my life ! Wksit a crash ! Are you 
 hurt Mr. Winkworth? Venus and all the 
 Graces smashed to pieces for a thousand 
 pounds! Ha, ha, ha! Well this is a con- 
 summation. Here boy, open the door and 
 let us out. I always lie on my right side 
 — I think Winkworth you'll be glad to get 
 rid of me." 
 
 " Uncommonly !" said a voice from below 
 
126 THE FORGERY. 
 
 "I thought you light headed and light 
 hearted, but something about you, boy, is 
 heavy enough." 
 
 By this time post boys were out of their 
 saddles and the servant hobbling up. The 
 door was opened ; and forth came a tall, good 
 looking young man, dressed in gay travel- 
 ling costume, who instantly turned round 
 to assist somebody else out of the broken 
 vehicle. 
 
 The next person who appeared upon the 
 stage was a man of sixty or more, spare, 
 wrinkled, yellow, with very white hair and 
 a face close shaved. If he were ugly, it was 
 from age and perhaps bad health, the color 
 of his skin being certainly somewhat sickly ; 
 but his features were good, and his eye clear 
 and even merry, though a few testy lines 
 appeared round the lips. He stooped a 
 good deal, which made him look short 
 though he had once been tall ; but in no 
 other respect did bodily strength seem de- 
 cayed ; for he was as active as a bird. No 
 sooner was his younger companion out of 
 
THE FORGERY. 127 
 
 the chaise, than he was seen issuing forth, 
 all legs and arms together, in the most ex- 
 traordinary manner possible, and the whole 
 process was accomplished in a moment. 
 
 " Pish !" cried the elderly man peevishly, 
 " pretty reception to one's native land after 
 seven and twenty years' absence — " 
 
 " It has had time to forget you," said 
 the younger, laughing. 
 
 " To break down on the first road I come 
 to !" went on the other. ''It is all because 
 you overloaded the carriage so — I should 
 have done better to have travelled by the 
 stage, or any other conveyance, instead of 
 taking a seat in your mudloving vehicle." 
 
 " The stage might have been overloaded 
 md broken down too," rejoined the other, 
 'take aU the rubs of life quietly, Mr. 
 Winkworth. Something must be done 
 however. One of you fellows ride on, and 
 get the first blacksmith you can find. Send 
 a chaise too to meet us, ^ve'U walk on. You, 
 Jerry, stay with the carriage and when it is 
 
128 THE FORGERY. 
 
 mended bring it on. You're not hurt are 
 you?" 
 
 " My shoulder, sir, has suffered from too 
 close an intimacy with mother earth," re- 
 plied the servant in an affected tone ; " and 
 my leg, I take it is of a different figure from 
 the ordinary run; but I dare say all will 
 come straight with time." 
 
 '' Puppy !" grumbled the old gentleman, 
 and began walking on as fast as his legs 
 would carry him. He was soon overtaken 
 by his young companion; and as they 
 walked on together the post boy overtook 
 them and passed them. They said little ; 
 but Mr. Winkworth looked about him, and 
 seemed to enjoy the prospect, notwithstand- 
 ing the accident which had forced it upon 
 his contemplation. 
 
 The post boy trotted on, and the two 
 gentlemen walked on ; night was falling fast, 
 and just when the messenger sent for the 
 chaise had disappeared on one side, and the 
 carriage with its accompaniments on the 
 
THE FORGERY. 129 
 
 other, a bifurcation of the road, without a 
 finger post, presented itself. 
 
 '^ Xow, Mr. Charles Lovel Marston, what 
 is to be done?" said the old gentleman, 
 " you and I are two fools, my dear sir, or 
 we should have mounted the two posters, 
 and let the post boys get themselves out of 
 the scrape they had got themselves into." 
 
 '' It is just as bad to gallop along a wrong 
 road as to walk along one," replied his 
 young companion with a laugh, " only one 
 goes farther and faster to the devil." 
 
 The old gentleman laughed heartily, 
 " There is something on there looks like 
 fellow humanity," he said, '' it may be a 
 stunted tree or a mile stone, but we may 
 as well ask it the way;" and putting on 
 his spectacles he walked forward with his 
 head raised to see the better. 
 
 Charles Marston followed; and for a 
 minute or two, both were inclined to think 
 the form they saw would turn out a mere 
 stump after all, so motionless did it appear. 
 On a nearer approach, however, a humaji 
 G 5 
 
130 THE FORGERY. 
 
 figure became more distinct. It was that 
 of a woman, old, and evidently very poor, 
 sitting motionless on tlie top of a little 
 hillock, with her hand supporting her chin, 
 and her eyes bent upon the gi'ound. The 
 short-cut, grey hair escaped from under the 
 torn cap; the face was broad, especially 
 about the forehead, the eyes large and 
 black ; the skin, naturally brown, was now 
 yellow and wrinkled ; and the hand which 
 supported the head, while the other lay 
 languidly on the lap, was covered with a 
 soiled and tattered kid glove. Round her 
 shoulders was an old dirty shawl, mended 
 and patched; and the rest of her garmen- 
 ture was in as dilapidated a state. 
 
 She took not the least notice of the two 
 travellers, though they stood and gazed at 
 her for a full minute ere they spoke. At 
 length Mr. Winkworth raised his voice and 
 asked, " Can you tell us which is the 
 London road, my good woman?" 
 
 The poor creature lifted her eyes, and 
 looked at them with a scared, wandering 
 
THE FORGERY. 131 
 
 expression. '' They shaved his head," she 
 said, in the most melancholy tone in the 
 world " indeed they did. They thouglit 
 he was mad; but it was only remorse — 
 remorse — remorse. He never held up his 
 head after he was quite sure the poor boy 
 was dead — he whom he had wronged, and 
 blighted, and killed." 
 
 She paused and began to weep. 
 
 " She's mad poor thing," said Mr. Wink- 
 worth, "she should not be left on this 
 common alone." 
 
 '' He saved his own life at the boy's ex- 
 pence," said the woman again, " but what 
 a heart he had ever after! Wine would 
 not quiet it — spirits would not keep it uj). 
 But when he found the boy was dead, 
 then was the time of suiFering. And they 
 thought he was mad, when he raved about 
 it; but remorse will rave as well as mad- 
 ness — and they shaved his head, and put a 
 straight waistcoat on him; and one of the 
 keepers knocked him down when he 
 struggled; and he died in the night you 
 
132 THE FORGERY. & 
 
 know. It was no fault of mine," she 
 added, " looking straight at the old man, 
 as if he had accused her, " I could not leave 
 him in his misery because he was sinful. 
 He was my own brother, you know, — No, 
 no, I could not do that." 
 
 " Who are you speaking of, my good 
 woman," asked the younger gentleman, in 
 a commonplace tone. 
 
 " Why my brother, to be sure," said the 
 poor woman, looking at him with an expres- 
 sion of bewildered surprise — " who else 
 should I be talking of? — Ay, ay, he was a 
 rich man once, till he took to gambling." 
 
 " Stay, here is some one coming," said / 
 the old gentleman ; ''this is a sad sight, 
 Charles Marston. This poor woman has 
 seen better days. That is a bit of a real 
 cashmere shawl she has over her shoulders 
 — I should know one when I ' -^ it, I 
 think. We cannot leave her h- e alone. 
 We'll ask this boy, who c^- - -s trudging 
 along, if he has ever seen ner before, or 
 knows anything about her." 
 
THE FORGERY. 133 
 
 The boy however saved him the trouble 
 of putting the questions he proposed; for 
 he walked straight towards the old woman, 
 and called to her as he came, saying — 
 
 " Come Bessy — come in. I have got one 
 and ninepence for the eggs, so I bought a 
 loaf and an ounce of tea. Don't sit mop- 
 ing there — it's cold, Bessy !" 
 
 His tone was very kind and affectionate ; 
 and the two gentlemen examined him as 
 well as they could by the failing light. He 
 was a lad of fourteen or fifteen years of 
 age, short, but seemingly strong and well- 
 made ; and his countenance, as far as they 
 could see, was frank and intelligent. His 
 clothing was both scanty and poor, but it 
 was well patched and mended; and he had 
 a pair of stout shoes on his feet. 
 
 '' I'm coming, Jim, I'm coming, my 
 dear !" replied the old woman, in quite a 
 different tone from that in which she had been 
 speaking to the strangers; ^' I just went 
 out to get a little fresh air ; and I found 
 
134 THE FORGERY. 
 
 another nest, and put all the eggs on the 
 shelf, my man." 
 
 The two gentlemen called the boy up to 
 them, and in a low tone asked several ques- 
 tions about the poor creature whom he called 
 Bessy — especially the younger one, who 
 seemed a good deal interested. The elder 
 eiiquired, whether she was his mother, or any 
 relation. The boy replied she was not; 
 and his little history was soon told. She 
 had come about their cottage, he said, 
 three or four years before, and had slept 
 one night upon the heath. His mother, 
 who was then living, had been kind to her, 
 and had taken her in. 
 
 "We had two cows then," said the boy, 
 " and used to feed them on the common ; 
 and it was a good year, and poor Bessy 
 used to do what she could to help. She's a 
 famous hand with her needle, and mended 
 all the clothes ; and my mother had a little 
 washing, and we got on well enough, what 
 between the butter and the washing, and a 
 few vegetables out of the garden. But a 
 
THE FORGERY. 135 
 
 year ago last Christmas, mother died; and 
 I and Bessy have lived there alone as well 
 as we can. She is not at all dangerous, 
 and at times quite right; and she helps me 
 to find plovers' eggs, and to watch wheat- 
 ears, and all that she can ; and she mends 
 the clothes, and does many little things ; 
 and she has taught me to read and write in 
 her well times. When she's at the worst, 
 she can always read the bible of a night. 
 I'm sure I don't know what I should 
 have done without her, since mother 
 died." 
 
 " Was she better dressed when she first 
 came to your cottage?" asked Charles 
 Marston. 
 
 ''Oh, to be sure," replied the boy; 
 " but her clothes are worn out now, poor 
 thing!" 
 
 " Well, we'll come and rest at your cot- 
 tage," said Mr. Winkworth ; " our carriage 
 has broken down on the common, and 
 we've sent for a chaise." 
 
136 THE FORGERY. 
 
 The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment 
 and then said — 
 
 " It is a poor place." 
 
 The gentlemen however persisted, and rous- 
 ing the poor old woman again, who had once 
 more fallen into a fit of gloomy thought, 
 the lad led them to the hut of which men- 
 tion has been made in the beginning of this 
 chapter. 
 
 It w^as a poor place, as he said — as 
 poor as it could be. The unmended 
 windows, in spite of rags and paper, let in 
 the winds of night; the door leaned back 
 upon its heels, like a drunken man trying 
 to stand soberly; the thatch was worn 
 through in many places ; and it was a happy 
 time when it did not rain. In short it had 
 been originally but a hovel of clay of the 
 poorest kind. Xow it was still poorer ; and 
 when the boy and the old woman together 
 — for she helped him — ^liad lighted a fire 
 with some bundles of dry heath, and the 
 flame rose high, and flickered round the 
 broken walls, the two men, accustomed to 
 
THE FORGERY. 137 
 
 luxury, and ease, and comfort of every kind, 
 felt a shuddering impression of the evils to 
 which their fellow creatures are often sub- 
 ject, which was likely to do both their hearts 
 no harm. The boy was communicative 
 enough, and told all that he knew with 
 quiet intelligence ; but they could get the 
 old woman to speak no more. She answered 
 every question with a monosyllable, and 
 then fell into silence again. 
 
 They did not leave the hovel as destitute 
 as they found it. They had with them 
 neither provisions nor furniture, nor suita- 
 ble clothing to give; but they had that 
 most malleable of metals, which, when pro- 
 perly hammered out, spreads into meat, 
 drink, and clothing. 
 
 Nor were they satisfied with this. Wlien 
 they reached a little town, the old gentle- 
 man with the yellow face sent for a brick- 
 layer, gave him some orders in a low tone, 
 and wi'ote down an address upon a piece of 
 paper. The younger one talked for half 
 an hour with the landlady in the bar ; and 
 
138 THE FORGERY. 
 
 next morning paid her four pounds nine 
 shillings more than his own bill. That was 
 a happy day for the poor people of the cottage 
 on which Charles Marston and his old com- 
 panion broke down upon the heath. 
 
THE FORGERY. 139 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 There is a small house in the purlieus of 
 fashion, surrounded on every side by man- 
 sions five times as big as itself. You 
 know it quite well, dear reader — you have 
 passed it a dozen times or more, and looked 
 up and wondered what is does there, sur- 
 rounded as it is by the mansions of ancient 
 aristocracy; for the part of the town in 
 which it is situated is not one of the new 
 rookeries of new people which have risen 
 up to the south-west and north-west of the 
 capital, upon spots that were fields within 
 these thirty years. 
 
140 THE FORGERY. 
 
 It is tall, and tliin, and brown, like a 
 spinster of a certain age at a county ball, 
 amongst a row of bland and brilliant dowa- 
 gers — quite the sort of liouse, in short, 
 which the wonderful George Robins would 
 have advertised for sale as, " An unique 
 bachelor's residence, situate in the very 
 heart of the fashionable world, command- 
 ing advantages rarely met with singly, but 
 never, perhaps, united but in this most 
 charming abode." 
 
 Nevertheless, it was not the residence of 
 a bachelor at all, nor of a married man, nor 
 of a spinster, old or young. It was the 
 town house (and indeed the only house) of 
 a very excellent and respectable widow 
 lady, with a moderate income, and the best 
 intentions in the world, but not the best 
 wits to guide them. 
 
 Having spoken of her income, I must 
 make that matter quite clear. She had 
 just seven hundred a year, and would not, 
 indeed, have had that, had it not been for 
 the care and circumspection of a very pru- 
 
THE FORGERY. 141 
 
 dent brother, who had interfered to see the 
 affairs of her marriage-settlement properly 
 conducted. 
 
 I need not add, after this, that there 
 dwelt Lady Fleetwood. When she was 
 alone, her household consisted of a foot- 
 man, well powdered and laced, a cook, a 
 housemaid, and her own maid — a somewhat 
 extravagant establishment, considering her 
 income ; but in all other things, she was very 
 economical — at least she thought so ; and 
 Maria Monkton fully agreed in her opinion. 
 She did not pamper any of the appetites — 
 nor indeedany of the vanities of the flesh, ex- 
 cept in the instance of the powdered footman. 
 Her table was always regulated with great 
 exactness, and her certain number of 
 glasses of wine was never exceeded. Her 
 dresses, by the skill of her maid, appeared 
 in various forms, with very great success ; 
 and when Maria was with her, there was 
 always a carriage at her command. Nor, 
 in truth, when Maria was at Bolton Park, 
 did Lady Fleetwood go without, for a 
 
142 THE FORGERY. 
 
 chariot and a pair of horses were always 
 left at the stables, with a particular re- 
 quest from the niece that the aunt would 
 use them every day, lest the horses should 
 grow frisky for want of exercise. 
 
 When Maria was in town, however, the 
 case was different. Three or four servants 
 were always in the hall; the whole estab- 
 lishment was increased, the little house had 
 more occupants than it seemed capable of 
 containing — more, indeed, than it really 
 did contain at night ; and then — as this was 
 all for Maria Monkton's convenience — Maria 
 Monkton insisted upon paying the whole 
 expenses. Now as, upon an average, 
 Maria was eight months with her aunt, out 
 of the twelve, and two or three of the re- 
 maining four. Lady Fleetwood passed at 
 Bolton Park, the fact of her income fully 
 meeting her expenditure, and leaving her 
 a little surplus at the end of the year, may 
 be accounted for. Lady Fleetwood, it is 
 true, did not understand it altogether, and 
 would sometimes run up her accounts with 
 
THE FORGERY. 143 
 
 a somewhat bewildered air, and in the end 
 give up the task, acknowledging that she 
 never had a head for figures. 
 
 It might be a little wrong of Maria thus 
 to mystify her aunt ; but she was a dear, 
 good girl, notwithstanding ; and, accustomed 
 to pet Lady Fleetwood from her own child- 
 hood, she well knew there was only one 
 way of managing her, and what that way 
 was. She even went further than saving 
 her good aunt's income for her by taking the 
 greater share of all her expenses upon her- 
 self; she calculated that one of two events 
 — one very common, and one universal — 
 might occur to herself: that she might die, or 
 that she might marry ; and to put it out of 
 the power of any one to leave her aunt in 
 embarassed circumstances, her first act on 
 coming of age, was to settle upon her — with- 
 out her knowing a word of the matter — a 
 sufficient sum to make her income a very 
 comfortable one. 
 
 In the month of May, then, about the 
 middle of the day. Lady Fleetwood was 
 
144 THE FORGERY. 
 
 seated in her drawing-room, writing little 
 notes — an occupation of which she was 
 rather fond. Maria was out of town, but 
 expected to return on that day or the follow- 
 ing morning, and all was duly prepared for 
 her reception. The curtains of the room 
 were partly drawn, to keep out too much 
 light, for the house was on the sunny side 
 of the square ; and in the mitigated glow. 
 Lady Fleetwood, though her hair was now 
 very grey and the wrinkled impress of 
 Time's claw was on her fair skin, showed 
 many traces of that great beauty which had 
 once distinguished her. 
 
 She had just sealed one small billet 
 and begun a second, when she heard the 
 near rush of wheels, through the roll of 
 many others more distant, and a carriage 
 stopped at her own door. 
 
 It was too early for ordinary visitors, 
 who with a due economy of time, always 
 choose the hour to call when they are likely 
 to find their dear friends absent. 
 
THE FORGERY. 145 
 
 " It is Maria," said Lady Fleetwood, to 
 herself. " She has come up early." 
 
 But the next instant, the door was flung 
 open, but not by a servant ; and without an- 
 nouncement, a young and good-looking man 
 entered with a light and gay step, and 
 thi^ew wide open his arms before the good 
 lady. 
 
 " Here I am, my dear aunt ! here I am !" 
 cried Charles Marston, "safe and sound from 
 perils by land, and perils by water, perils by 
 robbers, perils by cooks, and perils by cham- 
 bermaids. Come to the nepotal arms, and 
 banish all anxieties, upon the bosom of kin- 
 dred love," 
 
 " Charles, Charles — you mad boy !" cried 
 Lady Fleetwood, embracing him tenderly ; 
 "how can you startle me so — you know 
 how nervous I am. Why, you have come 
 back six months before you intended." 
 
 "And three days," answered Charles, 
 laughing ; " which means to say, my dear 
 aunt Flee, that you think I have come back 
 six months too soon. I'll be affronted — I'll 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE FORGERT- 
 
 pout. Really — well I never ! as the Keller- 
 inn at Brixen said when I kissed her befoi^ 
 company. This is the coolest reception of 
 a returned prodigal that ever I heard of. '^ 
 
 " How can you be so absurd, Charles !" 
 exclaimed his aunt; " What is a Kellerinn? 
 Wliere is Brixen? — do you mean Brix- 
 ton?" 
 
 Charles burst into a shout of laughter, 
 patted his aunt's cheek, in the most pater- 
 nal manner, and led her back to her seat by 
 the tips of her fingers. 
 
 " Haven't time, my dear aunt — haven't 
 time," he said ; " I'll tell you all about 
 Kellerinns andBrixens, by-and-bye, if you're 
 a good girl. Just now, I've got a particular, 
 friend and travelling companion in the car- 
 riage with me — Mr. Winkworth — the most 
 extraordinary piece of yellow skin and dry 
 bones you ever saw. He comes from Egypt ; 
 and I have brought him over, intending to 
 present him either to the British Museum, 
 or the Zoological Society, either as an 
 extraordinary and almost unic[ue specimen 
 
THE FORGERY. 147 
 
 of the fossil man, or the only instance, in 
 Europe, of the living mummy. I must 
 bring him up-stairs and introduce him to 
 you, and you must ask him to dinner 
 — I've invited him already, in your 
 name: was not that a kind, considerate 
 nephew?" 
 
 "Impossible, my dear Charles!" ex- 
 claimed Lady Fleetwood, in a great flutter. 
 " I am really not prepared — you forget, my 
 dear boy, my small means. I am not always 
 ready to receive people at dinner — a 
 stranger, too. There is no turbot — nothing 
 but some slices of cod and — " 
 
 '' Never mind, never mind, my dear 
 aunt. It will do quite well ! Cod is ex- 
 cellent," exclaimed Charles Marston, '' I 
 have not tasted cod for a year and a half, 
 and I'll answer for my mummy has not 
 seen such a thing since he was cook to one 
 of the Ptolemies — I forget which, but he'll 
 tell you all about it. I'll go and bring him 
 — Heaven and earth I do believe the car- 
 ciage is driving off." 
 H 2 
 
148 THE FORGERY. 
 
 And down stairs he ran as fast as possi- 
 ble, but only to see his carriage and four 
 driving round the square at a very rapid 
 rate. 
 
 " A¥hy, where are they gone? "What the 
 devil's the matter with them?" cried 
 Charles. 
 
 ^' The gentleman inside told the boys 
 to drive him to Lloyd's Hotel, sir," said Lady 
 Fleetwood's servant, " just on the opposite 
 side, sir. The carriage will be back in a 
 minute." 
 
 -' Well, the old gentleman must have his 
 own way I suppose," said Charles Marston, 
 " and so TU go up to my dear aunt 
 again." 
 
 " Well now, my dear aunt, he's gone," 
 continued the nephew in a mock, reproach- 
 ful tone, " I am quite sure he heard all 
 you said, and thought it very inhos- 
 pitable." 
 
 *' Nonsense, Charles, he could not hear, 
 I am sure," replied Lady Fleetwood, going 
 to the window to see if it were open. " Is 
 
THE FORGERY. 149 
 
 that your carriage ? Wliy, it is loaded like 
 a waggon." 
 
 " Well, it may be," answered her 
 nephew, " or more like a stage-coach 
 licensed to carry twelve outside, for there 
 are the nine muses and the three graces — 
 I am afraid it would come under the 
 penalties of the act, however, for there 
 are moreover two or three Apollo's, half a 
 dozen Venuses, to say nothing of Seneca 
 and Aristides, Osiris, and Acis and 
 Galatea. I intend, my dear aunt, to have 
 them all arranged here in this very drawing* 
 room. Your room will look like a Walhalla, 
 or a studio, or a Greek temple, or Spode's 
 manufactory, or a stone-mason's shop; and 
 you shall have a helmet, and a shield, and 
 an owl, and pass for Minerva. '* 
 
 " Indeed, Charles, you are mad I think,'* 
 said Lady Fleetwood, " the room is small 
 enough as it is, without being loaded 
 with Graces and Muses, and all sorts of 
 things." 
 
 " Tell my servant to open the cases when 
 
150 THE FORGERY. 
 
 he comes back/' cried unpitying Charles 
 Marston, as Lady Fleetwood's footman 
 entered with a note; " and bid him get 
 seven men to help him, and bring up the 
 statues — I always have my own way, my 
 dear aunt. I will see your room classically 
 decorated; and then if you do not like 
 your mable palace, you can throw the 
 statues out of the window, or get in a 
 number of porters to do it for you. They 
 will be capital metal for macadamizing the 
 roads. Then the people will say you have 
 been playing at marbles you know, and it 
 will all pass off as a joke.'^ 
 
 " Charles, Charles, do let me have one 
 moment's peace to read what Maria says," 
 exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, " really I had 
 forgotten* what a wild creature you are, or 
 else you are worse than ever." 
 
 " Mere exuberance of spirits, my dear 
 aunt, at seeing you and England once 
 more," replied Charles Marston, " but FU 
 be serious — Nay I am quite serious — What 
 does Maria say? — Where is she? — When 
 
THE FORGERY. 151 
 
 shall I have the pleasure of giving her a 
 kiss? It is not every man who has the 
 privilege of kissing such a lovely girl gratis. 
 I long for it I assure you. Nay I am 
 quite serious — I have several very serious 
 things to talk to you about — most profound. 
 But somehow, my dear aunt Flee, when 
 I see you, I get quite boyish again — you 
 are so charming. It's a pity the prayer- 
 book says we must not marry our mother's 
 sister. You are the only woman who would 
 suit me in the whole world, indeed you 
 are — There, I'm as grave as a judge I Eead 
 your note, read your note, and tell me all 
 about Maria afterwards." 
 
 And sitting down, Charles bent his head, 
 gazed at his clasped hands, and feU into a 
 fit of thought, to all appearance much 
 more deep than his rattling manner would 
 have led one to suppose his mind capable 
 of sustaining for two minutes. 
 
 " There, IVIaria does not return till to- 
 morrow," said Lady Fleetwood finishing the 
 reading of her note. 
 
152 THE FOKGERY. 
 
 " Then I shall have you and the cod all 
 to myself," replied Charles Marston look- 
 ing up with one of his gay laughs; but 
 instantly resuming a more serious tone 
 he said, " and now, my dear aunt, I have 
 three very grave subjects to talk to you 
 about,'* 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed Lady Fleetwood, 
 putting on an important look, " what may 
 they be Charles, I am sure I am ready to 
 give you any advice in my power." 
 
 "Dear creature!" cried Charles Mar- 
 ston, " as if she thought I ever took any- 
 body's advice I But to the point. Has a 
 gentleman of the name of Frank Middleton 
 called to enquire for me within the last 
 week or two." 
 
 " Oh, dear yes !" exclaimed Lady Fleet- 
 wood, " he called yesterday. I forgot to 
 tell you." 
 
 " As if she had had time to tell me any- 
 thing!" said Charles. 
 
 " His card is in the dish," continued 
 Lady Fleetwood, " there is no address 
 
THE FORGERY. 153 
 
 on it, or I would have written to him to 
 say you were not expected for some 
 months." 
 
 " That would have been kind," said her 
 nephew ; ." now how the deuce am I to find 
 him out?" 
 
 " Oh, he will call again — he said he 
 would call in a day or two," replied his 
 aunt. 
 
 " Wise Frank Middleton!" exclaimed 
 Charles, " he seems to have divined you, 
 my dear aunt." 
 
 Lady Fleetwood looked bewildered. 
 
 " And now," continued her nephew, 
 " can you tell me what my mysterious 
 uncle, Scriven, wrote to me for, to come back 
 directly, as he wanted to see me on parti- 
 cular business. I always like to meet my 
 excellent uncle prepared — with full fore- 
 thought of what is to come next; and he 
 was as dark in his communication as the 
 Sphinx's mouth." 
 
 *' No, did he send for you?" exclaimed 
 Lady Fleetwood. " He did not tell me a 
 H 5 
 
154 THE FORGERY, 
 
 word about it — ^how strange, I saw him 
 only yesterday, and was talking about you, 
 but he did not say a word. He was al- 
 ways very close and discreet you know, 
 Charles." 
 
 " Wise man!" said Charles Marston; 
 and he fell into thought again for a mo- 
 ment or two. '' Pray, my dear aunt, what 
 was he saying about me?" he enquired 
 after this pause. 
 
 " Oh, I don't recollect — nothing parti- 
 cular, I believe," replied Lady Fleetwood 
 with the colour growing a little deeper in 
 her cheek. 
 
 " Ho, ho, a secret!" said Charles to 
 himself, and then continued aloud — " Well, 
 my dear aunt, I know you have a short 
 memory, and I know my uncle never tells 
 you anything of importance, for he says 
 you forget it as soon as you hear it." 
 
 "He is very wrong there," said Lady 
 Fleetwood, who rather piqued herself upon 
 her powers of recollection, ''for I never 
 forget anything — " 
 
THE FORGERY. 155 
 
 " Then what was it he said?" enquired 
 Charles abruptly. 
 
 " Oh, I do not know it was intended 
 for your ears," replied Lady Fleetwood, 
 " or that Maria would like such a thing 
 to be talked about." 
 
 " Then it was about Maria too," said 
 Charles with a laugh, " now, I know all 
 about it. It was that Maria was dying 
 with love for me, and that I was wan- 
 dering all over the world flirting with 
 every pretty woman I met. Well, I dare 
 say she will not be much obliged to him 
 for saying that." 
 
 " He did not say that at all, my dear 
 Charles," replied Lady Fleetwood in a 
 little alarm, " he only said what a good 
 thing it would be if you and Maria were 
 to marry; and I thought so too, for you 
 are very fond of each other, and you are 
 both, only -children, and — " 
 
 " Poor orphans!" exclaimed Charles 
 Marston laughing heartily. " Well, matri- 
 mony is as good as any other orphan 
 
156 THE FORGEKT. 
 
 asylum. I don't think it will do, my 
 dear aunt. We are more like brother and 
 sister than lovers. However, to my third 
 profound problem. Now, tell me, dear 
 lady mine, do you recollect a certain Mr. 
 Hayley, who was once my uncle's part- 
 ner?" 
 
 " To be sure!" answered Lady Fleet- 
 wood, " don't you, Charles — Why his son, 
 poor Henry — " 
 
 " I recollect him perfectly, dear aunt," 
 replied Charles gravely, '' my head is not 
 such a colander, nor my heart either, that 
 people can slip out of either one or the 
 other even in ten years. But what I 
 want to know is this : had not Mr. Hay- 
 ley a sister ?" 
 
 " Yes, to be sure he had," replied Lady 
 Fleetwood, " a nice, quiet, good sort of 
 creature, devoted to her brother and the 
 poor boy. She used to play beautifully 
 upon the piano and sing — " 
 
 " I don't care a pin about that," said 
 Charles, " I never saw her more than two 
 
THE FORGERY. 157 
 
 or three times; but what I wish to know 
 is, what was her name — " 
 
 " Her name — her name," said Lady 
 Fleetwood, " her name was Eebecca I 
 think—" 
 
 " Which in the Hebrew means Plump 1" 
 said Charles Marston. " Well, when' I 
 last saw her she was thin enough." 
 
 " No, indeed, Charles, she was quite 
 the contrary," said Lady Fleetwood, " I 
 do not mean to say that she was fat, 
 but—" 
 
 " Oh, say she was fat if you like, dear 
 aunt," replied Charles Marston laughing, 
 " she is not here to listen, and I won't 
 betray you, so it will not pain her." 
 
 " I would not pain a fly, willingly, 
 Charles," answered his relation. 
 
 " I am sure you would not," said her 
 nephew, laying his hand upon hers affection- 
 ately; " but now the case is, my dear 
 aunt, how we can rescue this poor thing 
 from a situation of great misery. You 
 must know that I should have been in town 
 
158 THE FORGERY. 
 
 last night, but that my carriage broke 
 down on a miserable wild common. It had 
 to be mended ; and while a blacksmith was 
 being sent for, Winkworth and I wandered 
 on and met with a poor crazy woman, in 
 rags and wretchedness, who, we found, 
 had been living there, in a dilapidated hovel, 
 for some years, with an orphan boy, whose 
 mother had been very kind to her as long 
 as the poor thing lived herself. As soon as 
 I saw her, I thought that her face was not 
 unknown to me — you remember Miss Hayley 
 had very peculiar large black eyes — but six 
 or seven years have passed since Hayley 
 gave up business altogether and went to 
 live over at Highgate, and I have not seen 
 his sister since. Some words that she 
 dropped however led my mind back to the 
 past, though all she said was rambling and 
 incoherent; and the more I think of this, 
 the more I am convinced that it is poor 
 Henry Hayley 's aunt." 
 
 '' Good gracious !" cried Lady Fleetwood 
 — '' that is very sad indeed. I am so 
 
THE FORGERY. 159 
 
 sorry that I did not go again to see them at 
 Highgate. I went twice but never found 
 her ; and she did not return my call ; and 
 your uncle was so angry I had bcien at all, 
 that I did not go back. I heard that Hay- 
 ley himself was dead some time ago, and I 
 always intended to inquire for his sister, 
 but just then came poor Isabella's death 
 you know." 
 
 " Nobody who knows you, my dear 
 aunt, can suppose you would be unkind to 
 anyone," replied Charles Marston ; " but 
 something must be done for this poor 
 thing." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," replied Lady 
 Fleetwood. " I will talk to your uncle 
 about it, and I am sure he will — " 
 
 " Do nothing at all," said Charles, 
 almost sharply — " or at best put her into 
 a cheap madhouse, where she will be dieted 
 upon gruel, and maltreated by keepers — 
 worse off than she is now. I will go down 
 to-morrow or the next day, and see about 
 the matter myself. In the meantime both 
 
160 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Winkworth and I have done something to 
 make her and the boy more comfort- 
 able." 
 
 " And who is this Mr. Winkworth ?" asked 
 Lady Fleetwood, whose mind was of that pe- 
 culiar species which may be called the colla- 
 teral — one of those minds that are always 
 carried away to one side by the slightest 
 possible circumstance — to which a word, or 
 a sound, or a look is ever one of Hippo - 
 menes' apples, and sets the wits running 
 after it with all the speed of an Atalanta 
 — " who is Mr. Winkworth ? he seems to 
 have become a great favorite of yours, 
 Charles." 
 
 " He has laid me under the greatest pos- 
 sible obligation," replied her nephew, 
 smiling. 
 
 '^ Indeed! How was that?" enquired 
 his aunt. 
 
 " Why he was kind enough to permit me 
 to save his life," answered Charles. " You 
 must know, as I was riding along not a hun- 
 
THE FORGERY. 161 
 
 dred miles from a place called Antioch, 
 which I dare say you never heard of — " 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes," said Lady Fleetwood. 
 '' It's in the Bible." 
 
 " Yes, and in Syria into the bargain," 
 continued Charles. " But as I was saying 
 — as I was riding along not a hundred 
 miles from Antioch, with servants, and 
 Tartars, and all manner of people with me, 
 I came to a place under the high rocks, 
 where I suddenly heard half a dozen shots 
 fired. My guides thought it would be bet- 
 ter to wait a little till the firing was over ; 
 but I judged it proper to ride on and see 
 what it was about. So when we turned 
 the corner of a great, black, overhanging 
 rock — like Westminster Abbey turned topsy 
 turvy — I saw two or three unfortunate ser- 
 vants upon the ground, rather silent, and 
 quite still, with about a dozen other fellows 
 with blackish faces, long guns, and a great 
 deal of white cotton about them, two of 
 whom were taking aim at the only one of 
 the travellers left alive, in other words, 
 
162 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Mr. Winkworth, who for his part was try- 
 ing to cover his angles — which are many, 
 by the way — with his horse. He had got 
 a long pistol in his hand ; but that was 
 nothing against guns, you know, my dear 
 aunt; and besides, twelve to one is not 
 fair play. So I spurred on, and my fellows 
 being obliged to spur after — though a little 
 unwillingly — did very well when it came 
 to fighting ; and we drove the banditti up 
 into the hills, shooting one or two of them. 
 We then came back, and found my poor 
 countryman mourning over his dead. He 
 was wounded himself, so I was obliged to 
 stay and nurse him ; and we have travelled 
 together ever since." 
 
 " But who is he? — what is he?" de- 
 manded Lady Fleetwood, after she had ex- 
 claimed upon her nephew's peril, and praised 
 Heaven for his escape. 
 
 " Well, my dear aunt, as to who he is, 
 I never thought of enquiring," answered 
 Charles — " and as to what he is, I can but 
 answer, he is certainly a gentleman — a very 
 
THE FORGERY. 163 
 
 well-informed, amiable, clever person, a 
 little testy, very eccentric and old bache- 
 lorish, but kind-hearted, generous, and 
 benevolent, and moreover evidently very 
 rich, though he has his own particular 
 ways, out of which he does not choose to 
 be put." 
 
 " Well, if he's rich that does not signify,'^ 
 said Lady Fleetwood. 
 
 " Now would not any one who heard 
 that think you the most mercenary old 
 creature in the world !" exclaimed Charles 
 — " you, who would give away your last 
 nightcap to a beggar !" 
 
 " But my dear, you know there are so 
 many impostors!" said his aunt, with a 
 very sagacious air. 
 
 " Everyone of whom would take you in, 
 in a moment," replied her nephew; "how- 
 ever, to set your mind at rest, Mr. Wink- 
 worth would not consent even to take a 
 place in my carriage till he had stipulated 
 that he was to pay one half of all the ex- 
 penses." 
 
164 THE FORGERT. 
 
 This satisfied Lady Fleetwood's first 
 doubts — doubts which she entertained 
 merely upon abstract theory ; for she was, 
 or chose to be supposed, the most suspicious 
 person in the world, at a distance, but at 
 close quarters she was soon overcome. 
 
 Charles Marston's carriage had by this 
 time returned, and an hour was spent in 
 unpacking an imperial ; the nephew assuring 
 his aunt that in ten minutes her drawing- 
 room would be full of statues, and she poor 
 Lady begging pitifully, but in vain, to be 
 excused from receiving the three Graces and 
 the nine muses. Merciless Charles Marston 
 would not relieve her mind in the least, till 
 at length twelve beautiful small alabaster 
 figures, none of them a foot high, were 
 brought in, and found easy accommodation 
 upon consoles and cheffbniers much to the 
 good lady's delight, who declared that they 
 were the most exquisite things ever seen, 
 and thanked him over and over again for 
 the gift. 
 
 When all this was done, Lady Fleetwood 
 
THE FORGERY. 165 
 
 pressed her nephew hard to go at once and 
 see his uncle; but Charles had a fit of 
 restiveness upon him. 
 
 " No, my dear aunt, I wont," he said, 
 " my uncle has something disagreeable to 
 tell me, or he would not have sent such a 
 way; and I am resolved to stay one day at 
 peace in the midst of the great capital. So 
 here I remain unless you absolutely want to 
 get rid of me." 
 
 " Xot at all Charles, of course," replied 
 Lady Fleetwood ; "but only, I think it would 
 be a great pity for you to offend your uncle. 
 You know that he has no other male rela- 
 tion, and he must be enormously rich." 
 
 " I really do not care whether he is rich 
 or poor," answered Charles, " I am as rich 
 or indeed richer than he is ; for, thanks to 
 my father's generosity, I have as much as I 
 want; and I am quite sure my uncle, 
 Scriven could not say that." 
 
 So there he sat, discussing many things 
 with his aunt, telling her strange stories of 
 his adventures in foreign lands — all true 
 
166 THE FORGERY. 
 
 indeed, but tinged in tlie telling with a 
 gleam of the marvellous, for the purpose of 
 exciting Lady Fleetwood's astonishment. 
 In that endeavour he was very successful, 
 for the organ of wonder was quite suffi- 
 ciently developed in her head ; and the day 
 passed over very pleasantly, till it was time 
 for Charles to seek a lodging for the night, 
 which he easily found at the Hotel, oppo- 
 site, where his friend Mr. Winkworth had 
 already taken up his quarters. 
 
 Before he bade his aunt farewell, how- 
 ever, he gave directions to her footman, if 
 Mr. Middleton called, to enquire particularly 
 where he was to be found in London, and to 
 let him know that his two friends, Mr. 
 Winkworth and Mr. Mars ton, were at the 
 Hotel opposite; and then came enquiries 
 from Lady Fleetwood as to who this other 
 crony of her nephew's could be. 
 
 " I will not stop to tell you all my dear 
 Aunt," replied Charles, who by this time 
 had his hat in his hand, " suffice it, that he 
 is the most charming man you ever saw — 
 
THE FORGERY. 167 
 
 take care you do not find him too charming. 
 He is quite a Don Alonzo-ish sort of man, 
 pale, dark, wonderfully handsome, more 
 than six feet high, with a sabre cut across 
 his face, sufficient to win the hearts of all 
 the women in London. He is a Colonel 
 in the Spanish service, and has all sorts of 
 orders and chains, though not above seven or 
 eight and twenty. I believe his mother 
 was a Spanish lady — I think indeed some- 
 body told me so ; but at all events he is 
 quite the person to fall in love with, if 
 you are so inclined my dear Aunt." 
 
 " My dear Charles, how can you be so 
 absurd?" exclaimed his Aunt; " but now 
 you have not told me, how you met with 
 him." 
 
 " I'll keep that for a bonne bouche," re- 
 plied Charles, and walked away to his 
 Hotel. 
 
168 THE FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It is my full and firm belief, that, if on 
 any given day of any given year, you were, 
 dear reader, to take the accurate history 
 of any five square miles — not exactly a 
 desert — upon the solid surface of the earth, 
 and examine with a microscope, the acts 
 and deeds, the circumstances, the accidents, 
 and the fate of the people upon it, you 
 would find strange romances enough going 
 on to stock a library. Look into a cottage, 
 what will you find? Perhaps a romance of 
 love and tenderness, struggling with sorrows 
 
THE FORGERY. 169 
 
 difficulties, and penury, — perhaps a broad 
 farce of a quarrelsome wife, and a drunken 
 husband — perhaps, a tragedy of sin, crime 
 and misery. Look into that stately man- 
 sion, the house of a great merchant, what 
 is there ? It may be the comedy of purse- 
 proud affectation; it may be the tale of 
 the tenderest affections, and highest quali- 
 ties ; or it may show that agonizing struggle 
 which the falling man makes to sustain him- 
 self, upon the edge of the precipice, at the foot 
 of which he is soon to lie, dashed to pieces. 
 A romance is but a microscopic view of 
 some half dozen human hearts. 
 
 The above observations may be ap- 
 parently wide of the subject; but still there 
 must be some little link of association be- 
 tween them, and what is to follow, as they 
 naturally occurred to my mind, when con- 
 sidering how I could best tell the events, 
 which are about to be related — perhaps it 
 was that I thought it somewhat strange that, 
 at the very moment when the conversation 
 took place, which has been detailed in the 
 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
170 THE FORGERY. 
 
 last chapter, one of the personages therein 
 mentioned, was up to the neck, if I may 
 so call it, in an adventure which though 
 trifling in itself, was destined like many 
 another trifle to work a great effect on the 
 destinies of many. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening then about the 
 twenty-seventh of May. The spring had 
 been somewhat rainy and boisterous and the 
 fevr preceding days, though clear, had been 
 cold, especially towards the afternoon; but 
 it vrould seem that winter had puffed forth 
 his last blast, for the summer had got full 
 possession of the day, and held it to the 
 end. The birds, which had been nearly 
 silent on the twenty-sixth, were now in full 
 song, the wild flowers starred the wood- 
 walks and the banks, and if a cloud came 
 over the blue sky, it was as soft and fleecy 
 as a lamb's first coat. Under this summer 
 Heaven, there Avas a very beautiful lane — 
 an English country road — running between 
 two banks, on the top of each of which, keep- 
 ing parallel with the road, was a paling, 
 
THE FORGERY. 171 
 
 above which again spread the arms of tall 
 
 trees holding their broad leafy fans over 
 
 the head of the traveller below. By the 
 
 distance of the bolls of the old elms and 
 
 beeches from the fence which guarded 
 
 them, it appeared as if there was a good 
 
 broad walk within the boundary ; and when 
 
 the banks, at the end of a quarter of a mile, 
 
 slanted down so as to bring the paling 
 
 nearly on a level with the lane, that walk 
 
 might be seen together, with a view, over the 
 
 well rolled gravel, to a green and shady park 
 
 dotted with fallow deer. Coming down 
 
 the lane, was a carrier^s cart with the drag 
 
 on, for there was a somewhat steep descent 
 
 and the road was as smooth as a ball-room 
 
 floor; and at the bottom of the hill where 
 
 the carrier stopped to remove the shoe, was 
 
 a gentleman who also paused, and asked 
 
 him ?ome questions. 
 
 In the meantime, somewhat higher up, 
 
 and within the enclosure, as if taking an 
 
 evening walk, was a lady — a young and 
 
 very beautiful lady with some traces of 
 
 I 3 
 
172 THE FORGERY. 
 
 mourning about her apparel, although the 
 general hue was light. There was a cer" 
 tain harmony between her dress and her 
 air and expression, for though the dark 
 hazel eyes, and the rich glossy brown hair, 
 the ^v^arm healthy cheek, and the arched 
 lips of the small mouth had altogether a 
 cheerful look, yet there was a shade of 
 melancholy thought in Maria Monkton's 
 fair face as she walked through the scenes 
 where every object that she saw, every step 
 that she took, was full of memories of early 
 days, and childhood's joys, and friends de- 
 parted. They are always melancholy 
 pleasures, those of memory, for they are the 
 rays of a star that has set. 
 
 With her eyes bent down then, and a 
 slow step, she walked on, took a little path 
 to the left through the trees, till it led her 
 to the more open part of the park, and then 
 stopped to gaze over the scene. The broad 
 lands which she saw were all her own, the 
 herds of deer were hers ; that was her mansion, 
 ^Ti angle of which peeped over the old oaks ; 
 
THE FORGERY. 173 
 
 but yet the sight and the knowledge were 
 not altogether pleasurable, though it might 
 seem that they ought to have been so. 
 There was a feeling of loneliness in it all — 
 of the heart's loneliness. It was quite a 
 woman's sensation. She would rather have 
 had all she saw another's, and herself too. 
 Yet it was by no means that craving after 
 marriage, which some women feel, for she 
 certainly had not been without many an 
 opportunity of gratifying it had she been 
 so inclined ; but she wished that all she saw 
 had been a father's still — a mother's — any- 
 body's but her own, and that she had not 
 been a solitary being on the earth, with so 
 much wealth, and such great responsibilities, 
 and so little kindred sympathy. Her 
 tlioughts were of her father and her mother 
 and the companions and friends of her, 
 childhood, and of every one who had shared 
 those happy hours which like the flowers of 
 spring, are far more beautiful than the 
 fruits of summer ; and in the scenes where 
 she had known so much happiness, the very 
 
174 THE FORGEKT. 
 
 memory of those, whom she had loved, 
 seemed dearer to her than the presence of 
 any whom she still knew. 
 
 She felt that her mood was not for the 
 wider scene ; and she turned back into the 
 narrower paths, the green soft shades of 
 which suited better with the humour of the 
 moment. She had gone on for about 
 a quarter of mile, still buried in thought, 
 when she heard a step and looked up. The 
 path wound a good deal in its course, so 
 that seeing no one upon it, and being 
 within ten or twelve yards of the lane, she 
 fancied that the foot-fall must have been 
 upon the road. The next instant, how- 
 ever, just at the turn, within a few feet of 
 her, she beheld a stranger. Maria was 
 not by nature cowardly, nor what is vul- 
 garly called nervous — she had no bad habit 
 of screaming at trifles, or jumping at the 
 banging of a door ; but she certainly did 
 start at this sudden apparition, and for a 
 moment hesitated whether she should go on 
 or turn back. An instant's consideration 
 
THE FORGERY. 175 
 
 however was sufficient to make her resolve 
 to follow the former course. 
 
 "It is ridiculous to be frightened," she 
 thought, remembering that there was a 
 stile and one or two gates into the lane, 
 " he has probably come to see the steward 
 or some of the people at the house." 
 
 And after a just perceptible pause she 
 walked on merely glancing her eye over the 
 stranger's form as she did so. That glance 
 showed her nothing to be frightened at ; for 
 there is certainly something in air and 
 mein, and general appearance which — al- 
 though devils will take angels' forms at 
 times — has a powerful effect upon that 
 very unreasonable thing, human reason. 
 Briefly as her eyes were turned towards 
 the person before her,' they had no time to 
 scan him very accurately ; but still she saw 
 at once three very important facts : that he 
 was very well dressed; that he had the 
 bearing and look of a gentleman, and that 
 he was a remarkably handsome man, though 
 very dark. 
 
176 THE FORGERY. 
 
 In the meantime what was the stranger 
 about? He too had suddenly paused, and 
 he looked for a moment irresolute. The 
 next instant, however, he advanced straight 
 towards the beautiful girl before him, and 
 raising his hat with a graceful inclination 
 of the head, he said — 
 
 " I fear I am trespassing — May I ask if 
 these are the grounds of the Earl of Mil- 
 ford?" 
 
 All Maria's little tremor was at an end, 
 and she looked up frankly replying — 
 
 " No, these are mine. Harley Lodge is 
 on the other side of the road; but — " 
 
 And she stopped and hesitated, not know- 
 ing whether to tell the stranger abruptly 
 of Lord Milford's death or not. 
 
 " You were going to add something," 
 said the stranger, after having waited a 
 moment for the conclusion of the sen- 
 tence. 
 
 " I was merely about to ask who it is 
 you wish to see f replied Maria, "for I 
 fear you will find nobody there but ser* 
 
THE FORGERY. 177 
 
 vants — " And she blushed a little as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " It is strange," said the stranger, " a 
 carrier I met just now told me that on 
 this side was Harley Lodge, and that the 
 opposite property belonged to Miss Monk- 
 ton." 
 
 " He was mistaken, I assure you," 
 answered Maria, with a smile at the doul)t 
 he seemed to entertain, " I am Miss Monk- 
 ton. This is Bolton Park." 
 
 " I did not doubt you of course," said 
 the stranger, '' the man was very stupid 
 so to mislead me. But to answer your 
 question — it was the Earl I wished to see, 
 and if not himself. Lady Milford or Lady 
 Anne." 
 
 Maria's brow grew dark. 
 
 " It is long I imagine," she said, raising 
 her eyes to the stranger's very handsome 
 face. " It is long I imagine since you 
 have seen any of the family, sir ; and many 
 sad changes take place in a few years — " 
 
 The stranger started evidently alarmed. 
 I 5 
 
178 THE FORGERY. 
 
 '' The Earl— ^' he asked. " Is the 
 Earl—?" 
 
 " I am sorry ta pain you," said Maria 
 much struck by the agitation he displayed, 
 •' but he has been dead some years, and 
 Lady Milford also." 
 
 " How they go out 1" said the stranger 
 with a deep sigh, " how they go out !" 
 
 " What go out?" asked Maria in some 
 surprise. 
 
 " Hopes !" said the other, in a tone of 
 such deep melancholy that she felt there 
 must be some very painful feelings awakened 
 by the words she had spoken; and she 
 gazed at her companion's face attentively, 
 as he remained with his eyes bent upon the 
 ground. A sudden fit of trembling seized 
 her ; but the next moment he looked up, and 
 their eyes met. 
 
 ^' I beg your pardon, Miss Monkton," 
 he said, " I will not detain you longer, if 
 you will merely tell me which is my best 
 way to reach Harley Lodge ; for I must go 
 up to the house at all events." 
 
THE FORGERY. 179 
 
 " I will sliow you, if you come with 
 me," said Maria in an agitated tone, " but 
 there is no one there. Lady Anne is in 
 London.'' 
 
 " I should like to go, at all events," said 
 the other, turning to walk on by her 
 side. 
 
 '' I suppose you were well acquainted 
 with the late Earl," said Maria after a 
 pause, " and I am afraid the news I have 
 had to give you is very painful." 
 
 " I knew him well," replied the stranger, 
 " and have met with many acts of kind- 
 ness at his hands. I should be most un- 
 grateful were I not deeply grieved at hear- 
 ing of his death. But let me speak of a 
 pleasanter subject, Miss Monkton. Li a 
 few days I shall have the honour of claim- 
 ing your acquaintance upon a better 
 foundation than at present — at least if 1 
 am not mistaken," he added hurriedly, " in 
 supposing you the daughter of the late Sir 
 Edward Monkton. I have a letter for 
 you, from my friend Charles Marston, 
 
180 THE rOKGERY. 
 
 and one also for Lady Fleetwood. Am I 
 right?" 
 
 " Oh, yes !" replied Maria, " I shall be 
 very happy to hear from my cousin. It is 
 seldom he does any one the favour of writ- 
 ing. Have you seen him lately?" 
 
 " About six months ago," answered her 
 companion, " but I must explain the cause 
 of my long delay in delivering his letters. 
 I then intended to visit England directly; 
 but other affairs intervened which called 
 me back to Spain; and I only arrived in 
 this country the day before yesterday." 
 
 " Have you resided long in Spain?" 
 asked Maria. 
 
 u Very many years," was the reply,. 
 " ever since I came from Mexico, when I 
 was a mere boy." 
 
 Maria looked down upon the path, and 
 fell into deep thought, while the stranger 
 went on to say — 
 
 " I have travelled in other countries it is 
 true; but Spain I look upon almost as my 
 native land." 
 
THE FORGERY. 181 
 
 She made no answer but still walked 
 with her eyes bent down ; and the stranger 
 gazed at her unobserved with evident ad- 
 miration ; and well indeed he might ; for in 
 whatever lands he had rambled, he could 
 not have seen anything much more lovely. 
 After a brief pause, hoAvever, as she still 
 remained silent he said — 
 
 " By the way, I have Marston's letter in 
 my pocket-book; and may as well deliver 
 it at once, to prove to you that your kind 
 courtesy. Miss Monkton, is shown to a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " Oh, I do not doubt it in the least,'' 
 replied Maria, looking up brightly; and 
 then she added in a very marked tone, '' I 
 never doubt — I never have doubted or 
 suspected in my life." 
 
 The stranger looked full into her eyes; 
 and then he in turn fell into a fit of thought. 
 An instant after, he roused himself with a 
 start, and taking out his pocket-book pro- 
 duced the letter he had mentioned. 
 
 Maria took it and read merely the ad- 
 
182 THE FORGERY. 
 
 dress — " Miss Monk ton by the hands of 
 Colonel Francis Middleton/' 
 
 " I will read his epistle by and bye, 
 Colonel Middleton," said Maria stumbling 
 a little at the name, " Have you known my 
 cousin Charles long?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered at once, and then 
 correcting himself added, " that is to say, 
 eighteen months or more; but there are 
 some men easily known; and Marston is so 
 frank and open that we became intimate 
 from a very early period of our ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 " I wonder," said Maria, '' that he did 
 not tell you the history of youi' friends 
 here — which would have spared me the 
 pain of giving you evil tidings." 
 
 There was again something peculiar in 
 her tone; and her companion's cheek grew 
 somewhat red, showing more distinctly a 
 scar across his cheek, which was visible, 
 but that was all, while his face retained its 
 ordinary dark brown hue. 
 
 " It did not occur to me to ask him," he 
 
THE FORGERY. 183 
 
 replied with some degree of embarrassment ; 
 and both he and Maria fell into silence 
 again for a few minutes. 
 At length Maria asked — 
 " Do you intend to visit London soon? 
 I return to town to-morrow, and I am sure 
 Lady Fleetwood will be most happy to see 
 you." 
 
 " I go to-night," replied Frank Middle - 
 ton; and Maria fell into a reverie once 
 more. 
 
 A minute or two after, they reached a 
 little summer-house at the top of the bank 
 over-hanging the fence. Beside it was a 
 small gate in the park paling, with stone 
 steps descending to the road; and Maria 
 laid her hand upon the latch, but paused 
 ere she raised it, as if irresolute. The next 
 moment, however, she opened the gate and 
 pointed up the road saying — 
 
 " About^a hundred yards farther on, you 
 will find a stile which will lead you by a 
 little path straight to Harley Lodge. You 
 cannot mistake the way." 
 
184 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Her companion gazed at her earnestly 
 while she spoke, and for a moment or two 
 after; and then thanking her for her kindness 
 and apologizing for his intrusion, in words 
 of course, but with tones that spoke much 
 more, passed out of the gate, drew it after 
 him, gave her one more look as if he would 
 fain have impressed her features on his 
 mind for ever, and descended the steps. 
 
 Maria stood like marble where he had 
 left her, and her cheek had become like 
 marble too. She trembled, and her eye 
 was strained eagerly, but sightless, upon the 
 ground. She raised her hand to her head, 
 as if to still the agitated thoughts within; 
 and then, the next instant, she stretched 
 out her hand to the gate, and threw it 
 open, exclaiming, " Henry ! Henry !" 
 
 The other turned, gazed at her, sprung 
 up the steps, and taking both her hands in 
 his, replied by the one word, " Maria !" 
 
 "Oh, Henry," sobbed Maria Monkton, 
 overcome by agitation, " I must speak to 
 you-— I must talk to you before — before 
 
THE FORGERY. 185 
 
 you act so rashly. For your own sake — 
 for Heaven's sake, think of what you are 
 doing!" 
 
 "Angel!" said her companion, gazing 
 at her with deep tenderness ; " and do you 
 still remember me? Do you still take an 
 interest in me — in me, the outcast, the 
 exile, the friendless, the forlorn — in me, 
 whom you must — whom you do believe 
 criminal?" 
 
 "No, Henry! no!" exclaimed Maria, 
 with a generous glow spreading over her 
 face, "I do not believe you criminal — 1 
 never did — neither did my dear mother — 
 we knew you better. I am sure you are 
 as innocent as I am." 
 
 "Thank God for tliat!" said Henry 
 Hayley ; " there were then some who did me 
 justice, and they the noblest and the best. 
 Oh, Maria, the most painful part of a 
 terrible situation has been to think that 
 those whom I loved and esteemed the most, 
 would cast me from their aiFection, and look 
 upon me as criminal and dishonoured." 
 
186 THE FORGERY. 
 
 ''Oh, no!" cried Maria; "few did, of 
 those who knew you. But I must do an 
 imprudent thing, Henry, and ask you to 
 go back to the house — ^for I am too much 
 agitated to talk to you calmly here, and 
 yet, indeed, I must reason with you as to 
 what you are going to do." 
 
 Henry looked at her with a smile ; hut 
 he accompanied her, without reply — for it 
 was an invitation that he would not refuse ; 
 and yet he knew that her arguments in 
 regard to his future conduct would be in 
 vain; for he had made up his mind, and 
 was not one likely to change. 
 
 Through the fair scenery amidst which 
 they had so often walked and played in 
 childhood, those two took their way, some 
 object at every step awakening memories 
 of the hours when they Avere the happiest ; 
 and more than once Maria looked up to her 
 companion's face and asked, " Do you re- 
 member this?" or, "do you remember 
 that?" And he ever did remember right 
 well, and added some incident which showed 
 
THE FOUGEEY. 187 
 
 how clearly the whole was in his recollec- 
 tion. 
 
 Oh, it is very pleasant, when two old 
 and dear friends, long parted, are re-united, 
 to talk over old times and scenes, and let 
 butterfly memory flit from flower to flower 
 in the past; but doubly sweet when the 
 recollections are those of happy childhood, 
 without a stain upon their white garments, 
 which regret might vainly wish to clear 
 away. 
 
 Soothing and cheering are such themes; 
 and by the time they reached the house, 
 Maria felt that she could talk to her com- 
 panion of almost anything, without fearing 
 that agitation which had made her seek 
 the shelter of her own dwelling. 
 
 Nevertheless, she thought it better to 
 follow her first plan; and though the door 
 was not locked, she rang the bell, and led 
 the way for her visitor into the library. 
 
 The first object which struck his sight 
 was a large picture of Lady Monkton ; and 
 walking up to it, he gazed at it earnestly 
 
188 THE FORGERY. 
 
 for a minute or two. When he turned 
 round, there was a tear in his fine dark 
 eyes, and taking Maria's hand, he kissed 
 it, saying, 
 
 " She was ever kind to me !" 
 
 " And to all, Henry," said Maria, with 
 her own eyes running over. 
 
 " But to me, especially," he replied. 
 
 " She loved you very much," answered 
 Maria, with a sigh. " But now tell me," 
 she continued, seating herself, " what you 
 are going to do — for, indeed, I feel so 
 terrified at seeing you in this country, that 
 I could not let you go away without ex- 
 pressing my fears for your safety. At first, 
 indeed, I felt so bewildered at finding one 
 living whom I had long believed dead, 
 that I did not know how to act." 
 
 " I do not think any one but you will 
 recognize me," said Henry Hay ley; "how 
 you came to do so I cannot conceive, for 
 your cousin Charles has associated with me 
 for months, without showing the slightest 
 remembrance of me." 
 
THE FOKGERY. 189 
 
 " That is strange," replied Maria : "he 
 was your school-fellow and friend, too I" 
 
 "It is true, yet I was much more fre- 
 quently here, or at the lodge, than with him," 
 said her companion ; "we were in different 
 forms at school — and moreover, I believe 
 women's eyes are quicker, and their memory 
 of friends better than men's." 
 
 " Would you not have remembered 
 me?" asked Maria, a little unfairly per- 
 haps. 
 
 " Anywhere — instantly !" replied Henry, 
 eagerly ; " but you are very little changed, 
 comparatively. This gash upon my cheek, 
 these large whiskers, and this tanned 
 skin, I thought would have concealed me 
 fully." 
 
 Maria shook her head; and he went 
 on to ask if she had recognized him di- 
 rectly. 
 
 "No," she answered; "but very soon. 
 Your height and figui^e being so much 
 changed, together with the other circum- 
 stances you have mentioned, as well as the 
 
190 THE FOUGERT, 
 
 conviction that you had been long dead, 
 blinded me at fii^st ; but after a few words, 
 you looked at me as you sometimes used to 
 do when we were boy and girl ; and then a 
 sudden feeling — for I cannot call it any- 
 thing else — came over me, that it must be 
 Henry. For a little time, I dared not look at 
 you again; but when I told you of Lord 
 Milford's death, and you stood gazing on the 
 ground, with the eye-lids di'ooping over 
 the eyes, I became quite sure, and trem- 
 bled so that I could hardly support my- 
 self." 
 
 They were pleasant words to the ear of 
 Henry Hayley — they were, indeed, very 
 sweet. To any man, and under almost 
 any circumstances, they might well be so, for 
 the deep interest of a beautiful and amiable 
 being like that could surely never be 
 a matter of indifference, and such emo- 
 tions as those words betrayed could not 
 exist without a deep interest. But in 
 Henry they excited very peculiar feelings. 
 In long, homeless wanderings, in strange 
 
THE FORGERY. 191 
 
 turns of fate and struggles with the world, 
 in sorrows and reverses, in prosperity and 
 success, he had still asked himself, " Do 
 those I loved so dearly still remember me 
 with affection? or, do they hate and con^ 
 temn me? or, have they forgotten me, as 
 amongst the dead? Amongst those he 
 thought of, when he put such questions to 
 his own heart, certainly, Maria Monkton 
 had ever been prominent. 
 
 As I have shown, when he fled from 
 England, though not yet sixteen, he was 
 much more manly in thought and feeling 
 than most boys of his age. He had loved 
 Maria almost as a brother might love : he 
 had thought her the most beautiful as well 
 as the most amiable of creatures, it is true; 
 and, perhaps, he might have gone on only 
 loving her with brotherly love, if he had 
 never been separated from her. When, 
 however, in after years, he had suffered his 
 mind to rest upon the past, when he had 
 asked himself, " does Maria remember me 
 still?" and when he had wondered what 
 
192 THE FORGERY. 
 
 she was like then, there had mingled with 
 such thoughts tenderer and more imagina- 
 tive feelings. He had thought, " perhaps 
 if I had remained, and all gone well, Maria 
 might have become my wife:" and then, 
 the beautiful eyes that he remembered, and 
 the sweet smile, and the many affectionate 
 looks of the past would return to the sight, 
 almost as distinct and clear as if her face 
 were still before him. He knew not — 
 when, to save a father, he abandoned his 
 country, and encountered danger, sorrow 
 and despair — how much he really loved the 
 girl who now sat beside him again ; but he had 
 discovered it afterwards : and now, how 
 sweet — how very sweet it was to find that 
 her bosom could thrill with such emotions 
 on his account. 
 
 He gazed on her face while she spoke ; 
 but when she paused, he bent down his 
 eyes again, and let the mind plunge into a 
 sea of memories. 
 
 Maria suffered him to think for a few 
 minutes, believing that his mind was busy 
 
THE FORGERY. 193 
 
 with the circumstances of his present 
 situation and future fate. 
 
 She had none of that grasping vanity 
 which makes many a woman believe tliat 
 each male companion must be thinking 
 only of her. She had never asked herself one 
 question as to what might have been Henry's 
 feelings to her, or hers to him, had he remained 
 in England. She had only thought of him, 
 during his long absence, as the dear com- 
 panion of her childhood and her early youth 
 ■ — as one, excellent, amiable and noble, who 
 by some strange, mysterious fate, which she 
 did not try to scan, had been destined to sor- 
 row, undeserved disgrace, and early death. 
 A whole crowd of tender regrets, it is true, 
 had gathered round his memory, like 
 flowers showered upon a tomb ; and it is like- 
 wise true that the characterof Henry Hay ley, 
 as she had conceived it and decorated it 
 with her own fancies, had served her as a 
 touch-stone to try that of other men ; but 
 still, she never fancied that she had loved 
 him otherwise than merely as a brother. 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 THE FORGERY. 
 
 She let him think, then, for a short 
 time ; but at length she said, 
 
 " Well, Henry, what do you intend to 
 do? Is not your presence in this country 
 dangerous to you ; for you must now see that 
 many may recognize you?" 
 
 '' None but you," said Henry, " no, none 
 but you." 
 
 " Oh, yes! indeed ;" replied his com- 
 panion, " there is at least one who will do 
 so, I am sure. I mean Lady Ann. We 
 have often talked of you together, and I 
 am quite sure, she will at once remember 
 you. Perhaps, indeed, you intended to tell 
 her, as you were going to her house." 
 
 " No, certainly not," answered Henry, 
 " there were only two, to whom I proposed 
 to acknowledge my own name, unless I ac- 
 knowledged it at once to all the world : her 
 father and yourself. To her father because, 
 as the kindest friend I ever had, I intended 
 to ask and follow his advice as to my con- 
 duct — to you, Maria, because I would not 
 have quitted England again without telling 
 
THE FORGERY. 195 
 
 you, how I have thought of you, how I 
 have remembered you, how I have blessed 
 you for all the kindness you once showed 
 me, for all the happiness you poured upon 
 my happiest days." 
 
 Maria's cheek turned somewhat pale; 
 and after pausing for a moment, Henry 
 went on saying — 
 
 " Lady Ann Mellent will not remember 
 me, depend upon it." 
 
 Maria shook her head. 
 
 '' You are mistaken," she said : " I am 
 quite sure she will. She has your portrait ; 
 and it is still very like." 
 
 " My portrait !" exclaimed Henry Hay- 
 ley : " impossible, dear Maria ! I only 
 sat for my portrait once ; and that was 
 to Saunders, for a miniature for my poor 
 father." 
 
 ^' She has it, at all events,'' replied 
 Maria, with something like a sigh, " per- 
 haps she bought it at poor Mr. Hayley's 
 sale." 
 
 " That is very odd," said Henry, " under 
 K 2 
 
196 THE FORGEKY. 
 
 such circumstances, I had better not call 
 at all — Yet even if she did recognize me, it 
 could do no harm. No one now living, dear 
 Maria, knows who I really am but yourself 
 — no one can prove it but you, to whom I 
 have acknowledged the fact ; and with you,'* 
 he added laying his hand gently upon hers, 
 " I know I am as safe as if the secret still 
 rested in my own breast. People might 
 suspect — people might feel sure; but yet 
 no one, I repeat, could prove that I am any 
 but Frank Middleton, an officer in the ser- 
 vice of Spain; and I can prove that I am 
 what I am not, beyond all possibility of re- 
 futation — the son of an English gentleman 
 and a Spanish lady, brought up in Italy, 
 and serving long in the Spanish army." 
 
 Maria looked bewildered. 
 
 '' This is very strange," she said, " I do 
 not comprehend it. Every one here cer- 
 tainly thinks you dead; and indeed I now 
 remember the officer saw you lying ap- 
 parently a corpse, and a certificate of your 
 death was sent over by the consul — I do 
 
THE FORGERY. 197 
 
 not wish Henry to enquire into any- 
 thing that you may wish to conceal; but 
 still—" 
 
 " Still I can have nothing to conceal 
 from you!" he answered. " The strange 
 part of my history is very soon told and 
 explained. First as to my innocence, 
 Maria ; a few words will clear that up at 
 once;" and he dropped his voice to a low 
 and sad tone : " my father forged your 
 uncle's name — in a moment, I believe — I 
 trust — of madness. He sent me to get the 
 money for the draft, without my knowing 
 anything of the deed. He then despatched 
 me on a long journey to seek the means of 
 paying the sum he had so wrongfully ob- 
 tained before the draft came due, furnishing 
 me with several of the notes, which had 
 been given him for the draft, and which 
 were doubtless used to prove my guilt. On 
 my return from the north, he told me all, 
 and left me the choice of seeing him executed 
 as a felon, or flying from the country .and 
 bearing the load of suspicion myself. I 
 
198 THE FORGERY. 
 
 hastened on to Ancona ; but, having caught 
 a fever by the way, I was carried, almost 
 insensible, not to the hospital, but to the 
 Franciscan Monastery in the town. There 
 were several Irish monks in the brother- 
 hood, and one of them nursed me with the 
 utmost tenderness. I told him all, under a 
 solemn promise of secresy, and proved to 
 him my innocence. When the officer ar- 
 rived in search of me, I was rapidly re- 
 covering; but in the same monastery, was 
 the son of a Spanish lady, the wife of a 
 Mr. Middleton, who had separated from her 
 husband, and who, fearing on her death-bed 
 that her son would be brought up as a 
 Protestant, had placed him in concealment 
 with the monks. He had caught the same 
 fever as myself, for it was then raging in that 
 part of Italy ; and on the very night the 
 officer first applied at the gates, in order 
 to have me delivered up, the poor boy died. 
 The monks consulted together, and agreed 
 to shelter me against pursuit, in the hope 
 I believe of ultimately converting me ; they 
 
THE FORGERY. 199 
 
 removed me from the cell where I had been 
 placed, carried the dead body of the poor 
 lad thither, and passed it, both upon the 
 officer and the consul, for mine. Thus I 
 escaped pursuit, and in the cemetery at 
 Ancona stands a little tomb inscribed with 
 the name of Henry Hay ley." 
 
 " Ah, but tell me more, Henry !" ex- 
 claimed Maria, " what became of you 
 then?" 
 
 " Does it interest you?" he asked with 
 a sad smile. " Well then, I will sketch out all. 
 I remained in that monastery three months 
 longer; the good monks instructing me 
 diligently in the Roman Catholic faith." 
 
 Maria's countenance fell; but Henry 
 went on. " At length there came a letter 
 from the uncle of Mrs. Middleton, in Spain, 
 demanding that his niece's child should be 
 sent to him, with a promise that he would 
 provide for it. The monks accordingly 
 sent me, with instructions to personate the 
 poor boy : but I had resolved what to do ; 
 for although their ideas did not permit 
 
200 THE FORGERY. 
 
 them to see any evil in a deceit, which, they 
 said, would confer much happiness on the 
 uncle, as well as ensure my own safety, yet 
 I could not make up my mind to benefit by 
 a cheat. The old man received me most 
 kindly, but was surprised to find how 
 little Spanish I knew, for I had only learned 
 the mere rudiments in the convent ; and, as 
 he could speak no other tongue, I was 
 obliged to wait for more than six months 
 ere I could tell him the whole, as I had 
 resolved to do. During that time he con- 
 ceived the greatest affection for me, sent me 
 to a college, treated me as his heir, and 
 lavished every sort of kindness upon me. It 
 was all terribly painful ; but at length find- 
 ing myself sufficiently master of the language 
 to tell my tale, I took an opportunity when 
 he was alone, brought him every present he 
 had made me, money, jewels, trinkets all ; 
 and then informed him of the facts. He 
 was struck and very much affected; and 
 for some minutes seemed not to know how^ 
 to act ; but at length he threw his arms 
 
THE FORGERY. 201 
 
 round me and said, " Dear boy, you shall 
 not suffer, for your honesty. Say not a 
 word of this to any one ; and be still to me 
 a son." 
 
 " And did you become a Roman Catho- 
 lic?" asked Maria somewhat sadly. 
 
 Henry gazed at her for a moment, with a 
 look which she found difficult to interpret. 
 There was something almost reproachful in 
 the expression, and yet something joyful 
 too. It might perhaps have been inter- 
 preted, " Do you doubt me ? and yet your 
 very doubt shews that you do take a deep 
 interest in my fate." 
 
 " No Maria, no," he answered, " had 1 
 
 done so, I might have been now one of the 
 
 wealthiest men in Spain. Almost the first 
 
 question asked me, was regarding my 
 
 faith. You are not perhaps aware, that no 
 
 very strict religious notions of any kind 
 
 had prevailed in my poor father's house ; but 
 
 I had obtained but little religious instruction 
 
 there. Neither was my new — my adopted 
 
 father a bigot; but still he was a Eoman 
 K 5 
 
202 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Catholic, and when I told him that I hadbeen 
 brought up as a Protestant, he, like the good 
 monks, insisted that I should receive instruc- 
 tion in his own faith . Of course to that I could 
 not object; but the instruction was inter- 
 rupted. He was obliged to go to Mexico 
 and took me with him; but I had learned 
 to enquire for myself, and my enquiries left 
 no doubt. I had at first a difficulty in obtain- 
 ing books on any side but one ; but at Lima 
 whither we afterwards went, I found several 
 Englishmen from whom I got all that was 
 needful. I took the Bible and common 
 sense, and I could not be a Papist. South 
 America was at that time in a state of 
 great confusion ; and we returned to Spain 
 when I was about eighteen years old or a 
 little more. My adopted father reached 
 his native land, but with shattered health ; 
 and a few months after he felt that he was 
 dying. At that last solemn moment, he 
 required me to tell him, whether in sincerity 
 and truth, I could now embrace and keep 
 the Eoman Catholic faith. I answered 
 
THE FORGERY. 203 
 
 him sincerely, and though grieved he was 
 not offended. lie pointed out to me how- 
 ever that he could not leave the bulk of his 
 fortune to a heretic — in fact, that his doing 
 so, might prove dangerous to myself by 
 calling attention to facts, regarding my 
 opinions, which had hitherto passed un- 
 noticed. He made his will the same night. 
 Great wealth thereby passed to very distant 
 relations, who had every right to it, and a 
 more humble but still an ample share of his 
 fortune came to me. Why, he did not ex- 
 plain, but probably in order to gain me 
 good repute amongst the ecclesiastics of 
 his own church, he left several large sums 
 to be distributed by me to religious estab- 
 lishments in Madrid and Toledo ; and, as I 
 took care to comply with his instructions in 
 a liberal spirit after his death, no enquiries 
 were made, at the time, as to my religious 
 views, nor any observations upon my neglect 
 of the forms of the Eomish religion. I had 
 entered the Spanish army before my kind 
 friend's death, and ever since, have been 
 
204 THE FORGERY. 
 
 actively employed, till political changes and 
 some rumours respecting my creed, which 
 might have become dangerous, induced me 
 to go to Italy, where my first visit was to 
 the monks of Ancona. I found that 
 the good brother John, who had been so 
 kind to me, was dead ; but he had left with 
 another of my countrymen in the monastery, 
 the papers necessary to prove my real name 
 and birth, should it be necessary. I have 
 them safe; but there is no copy of 
 them, and thus there is no one living, but 
 yourself, who can prove that Frank Mid- 
 dleton is Henry Hayley/' 
 
 " I suppose that my fears proceed from 
 inexperience," said Maria, thoughtfully; 
 '' but yet I cannot feel so well assured as, 
 you seem to be, Henry; and oh, how I 
 wish that you could boldly proclaim and 
 clearly prove your innocence, and take 
 once more your place amongst us all, free 
 from even a suspicion." 
 
 " I have had thoughts of attempting it," 
 he replied; '' and upon that very subject 
 
THE FORGERY. 205 
 
 it was that I intended to consult the Earl 
 of Milford. My poor father, before I 
 went, furnished me with a paper in case I 
 should be captured, which he believed 
 would be sufficient to exculpate me fully. 
 But I have looked at it often since, and 
 doubt that it would have the effect. He 
 therein takes the guilt upon himself, and 
 solemnly declares that I was perfectly 
 ignorant of the whole transaction ; but the 
 paper wants form, and, drawn up at a mo- 
 ment of terrible agitation, the handwriting 
 has little resemblance to his usual, clear and 
 business-like hand. Will you be my 
 adviser, Maria, as I cannot obtain counsel 
 of the Earl?" 
 
 " Willingly, willingly would I," she 
 replied, " if I had judgment and know- 
 ledge enough to render my advice worth 
 having. But I shall see you again soon in 
 London — I suppose." 
 
 '' There we may have no sweet, private 
 moments such as we have here," he an- 
 swered, with a voice shaken by some strong 
 
206 THE FORGERY. 
 
 emotions. " In the record of ten long 
 years I have much, very much, to tell to 
 the only one in all the world to whom the 
 thoughts, and feelings, and actions — ay, 
 and fancies and dreams of all that period 
 can be told. Oh, Maria, you can form no 
 idea of what has been the solitude of my 
 heart during those long, long ten years. I 
 have mingled with the world — I have taken 
 an actiA^e part therein, I have associated 
 with many, had acquaintances and friends, 
 such as the world gives; but in my own 
 breast I have been lonely. With all around 
 me there has been no one link of sweet 
 association, no memory in common, no 
 interchange of early sympathy. I could 
 never refer to the sweet hours gone by. I 
 could never talk of those I had loved. It 
 was as if I were a creature of two existences 
 — one for the world in which I moved, 
 active, eager, bustling, full of enterprise 
 and danger, and adventure, but cold, hard, 
 inanimate; the other for myself alone, 
 still, silent, motionless, confined to my own 
 
THE FORGERY. 207 
 
 bosom, but full of memories and visions, 
 kindly sympathies, aspirations, hopes, loves 
 — all still living, but entombed." 
 
 ' Maria was very pale, and her bright 
 eyes were cast down ; but over her cheek, 
 as he ended, a drop like a diamond, rolled 
 slowly. She would not wipe it away — 
 she hoped he did not see it ; but he did, and 
 it was hard to restrain himself from kissing 
 it off that fair cheek. 
 
 " Hark !" cried Maria starting up, " there 
 is a carriage coming — Who can it be?" 
 
 " Compose yourself, dear girl," he 
 answered, " be calm, Maria, be calm ! 
 Remember, I have brought you a letter 
 from your cousin; and oh, Maria, remem- 
 ber also that you have given me an hour of 
 the purest happiness my chequered life has 
 ever known. Let that tranquillize the sad 
 feelings which the sight of Henry Hayley 
 has awakened." 
 
 "Ah least!" she said, holding out her 
 hand to him, '' they are not all sad, 
 Henry." 
 
208 THE FORGERY. 
 
 He pressed his lips upon the hand she 
 gave; and then she hurriedly opened 
 Charles Marston's letter, and wiped the tear 
 from her cheek. 
 
 The next moment the door was opened and 
 Lady Ann Mellent announced. 
 
THE FORGERY. 209 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 Time, the great wonder worker, had done 
 much in his own particular way with 
 Lady Ann Mellent during the last ten 
 years. When Henry Hayley had quitted 
 England she was a gay, decided, clever 
 little girl, somewhat spoiled by her mother, 
 but more reasonably treated by her father, 
 for whom she had a deep and devoted af- 
 fection, and much respect. She had then 
 been very small for her age, and being a 
 year or more younger than Maria Monk ton 
 
210 THE FORGERY. 
 
 had looked at least four or five years her 
 junior, for Maria at thirteen had been not 
 much less in height than she was at two 
 or three and twenty. Lady Ann indeed 
 had not at that time taken her start. Every- 
 thing has its start in the world, and very 
 few things go on with quiet progression ; 
 but especially in boys and girls, there is 
 generally a period at which they make a 
 great and sudden rush towards manhood 
 or womanhood; and that period is often 
 preceded by one of great inactivity of de- 
 velopment. Much greater then was the dif- 
 ference, in Henry's eyes, between the Lady 
 Ann of the present and the past, than 
 between the Maria of the present and the 
 past; and when the former entered as he 
 sat beside Miss Monkton, he was surprised 
 to find so little that had any hold of me- 
 mory in the young and graceful woman 
 who appeared. 
 
 Lady Ann Mellent was not very tall, 
 indeed; but still she was somewhat above 
 the middle height of woman. She might 
 
THE FORGERY. 211 
 
 be five foot four, or perhaps a little more ; 
 but — formed with great delicacy, small in 
 the bones, and slight rather than thin — she 
 seemed less in height than she really was. 
 Nevertheless, her figure was of course 
 greatly changed since Henry had last seen 
 her ; the child had become a woman, and 
 the features, then round and barely de- 
 veloped, were greatly altered, for though 
 still delicate and beautiful, they were now 
 clearly defined and chiseled. Her dress was 
 somewhat peculiar, for over the ordinary 
 morning habit of the time she wore a light 
 silk tunic bordered with rich and beautiful 
 fur; and on her head, instead of a bonnet, 
 was a sort of polish cap trimmed with the 
 same skin. On her hands were thick doe- 
 skin gloves, or gauntlets, with flaps almost 
 to her elbows ; and her tiny foot was lost in 
 a furred shoe. 
 
 Ushered in at once, she paused the mo- 
 ment after she had crossed the threshold, 
 in surprise at the sight of a gentleman 
 seated t4te-d-tete with her fair friend ; but 
 
212 THE FORGERY. 
 
 the next moment she advanced to Maria, 
 and kissed her with sisterly affection. 
 
 Maria was somewhat embarrassed, and 
 the trace of tears was still upon her cheek ; 
 but she gracefully introduced Colonel Mid- 
 dleton to her fair visitor ; and Lady Ann 
 turning towards him, surveyed him with a 
 rapid glance from head to heel, bowing her 
 head as she did so, and merely saying — 
 " Oh." 
 
 There was something rather brusque in 
 the tone, which did not altogether please 
 Henry, and served further to embarrass 
 Maria, whose bosom was too full of emo- 
 tions to suffer her to exert that command 
 over her demeanour which she usually pos- 
 sessed ; and in order to carry off the ap- 
 pearance of agitation, and to account for 
 the presence of a stranger, she proceeded 
 to explain to Lady Ann, that Colonel 
 Middleton had brought her a letter from 
 her cousin Charles. 
 
 '' And none for me !" exclaimed the fair 
 lady, in a gay and jesting tone. " On my 
 
THE FORGERY. 213 
 
 word, that is too bad ! But Charles Marston 
 and I are certainly the two rudest people 
 in the world — do you not think so, Colonel 
 Middleton, now that you know us both?" 
 
 " No, indeed" replied Henry, " I do not 
 think the term applicable in either case. 
 Marston is certainly not a man of cere- 
 monies ; and I have not yet " 
 
 ^' Oh, fine speeches — fine speeches !" ex- 
 claimed Lady Ann ; "when will men have 
 done with fine speeches? But, to fix you 
 to the point, first, do you not think when 
 a gentleman has promised a lady to write 
 to her every month, giving her the whole 
 account of his travels, and does not write, 
 that it is very rude ? Well, Charles Marston 
 promised me to do so, when we parted in 
 Kome ; and I have not heard a word of him 
 since." 
 
 " You never told me you had seen him 
 in Rome," said Maria, with some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 A light blush fluttered over Lady Ann's 
 cheek as she answered. 
 
214 THE FORGERY. 
 
 "Did I not? Well, love, I dare say 
 something prevented me — I do not know 
 what, and shall not stop to enquire. Now 
 for my second point, Colonel Middleton: 
 do you not think it very rude for a lady, 
 and a young lady, too — who should, of 
 course, be full of prim propriety — to stare 
 at a gentleman for full two minutes, when 
 she is first introduced to him? — Maria, 
 dear, will you order me a cup of cofiee, or 
 a glass of wine, or something, for I am 
 either quite mad, or very ill, or very happy, 
 or very something." 
 
 And she sunk quietly and gracefully 
 into a large arm-chair near her, and covered 
 her eyes with her gloved hands. 
 
 " You are indeed very wild," said Maria, 
 ringing the bell. 
 
 But Lady Ann did not answer till the 
 servant had come and gone, while Henry 
 and Maria exchanged looks of doubt and 
 surprise. Some wine and some biscuits 
 were brought, and the servant again re- 
 tired; but Lady Ann did not rise, speak, 
 
THE FORGERY. 215 
 
 or uncover her eyes, till Maria, really 
 alarmed lest she should be ill, touched her 
 gently on the arm, saying, 
 
 " Dear Ann, here is the wine — pray take 
 some. Are you ill?" 
 
 " No, no, no," said Lady Ann ; " I will 
 not have any — I will do better." 
 
 She withdrew her hand, as she spoke, 
 from her eyes; and there were evident 
 marks of tears upon her cheek. 
 
 " You have not answered me. Colonel 
 Middleton," she said, " and I will answer 
 for you. It was very rude — or rather it 
 would have been very rude, had there not 
 been a cause. But do you know, sir, you 
 are so very like a dear friend whom I have 
 lost — a friend of childhood and of early 
 days — a friend of all who were most dear 
 to me — one whom I loved as a brother, 
 though I often used to tease him sadly— 
 and who loved me in the same way, too — 
 though he used to love this dear, beautiful 
 girl here better — that in a moment, when 
 I saw you, the brightest and the sweetest 
 
216 THE FORGERY. 
 
 part of life came back ; and then I remem- 
 bered his hard fate and shameful treat- 
 ment, and I thought I should have gone 
 mad," 
 
 She paused for a moment, and gazed at 
 him earnestly again, and then, starting up, 
 she cried, 
 
 '' But what is the use of all this? — Do 
 you not know me ? Do you pretend to have 
 forgotten me ? I am Ann Mellent — Henry, 
 Henry, did you think you could hide your- 
 self either from me or her?" 
 
 And she held out her hand to him, 
 warmly. 
 
 Henry Ilayley took it and pressed it in 
 his own, saying, 
 
 " I cannot and will not attempt to de- 
 ceive you, dear Lady Ann ; but yet, I must 
 beg you to keep my secret faithfully, for 
 some time at least, till I have resolved 
 upon my course." 
 
 " Be sure of that, Henry," replied Lady 
 Ann, thoughtfully : " your course must be 
 well thought of; but I will be one of the 
 
THE FORGERY. 217 
 
 council, as well as Maria — nay, more,^' she 
 added, with a sparkling look, '' as she has 
 had one long conference with you, all alone, 
 I will have one also. It shall be this very 
 night, too, in my own house, here. There, 
 do not look surprised, Maria ! You know 
 my reputation is not made of very brittle 
 materials, or it would have been broken 
 to pieces long ago. Yours is a very differ- 
 ent sort of thing ; you have spoiled it by 
 over tenderness, like a child, and made it 
 so delicate that it will not bear rough 
 handling. I was resolved that mine should 
 be more robust, and, therefore, set out with 
 accustoming it to everything. I do believe 
 that half the mad-headed things I have 
 done in life were merely performed to 
 establish a character for doing anything I 
 pleased. They could but say that Ann 
 Mellent was mad — and I took care not to 
 go the length that is shut-up-able." 
 
 What were Maria Monkton's sensations 
 it would be hardly fair to enquire. She 
 had often talked with Lady Ann of Henry 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 THE FOliGERY. 
 
 Hay ley, and had often heard her express 
 the same feelings towards him which were 
 now so openly displayed; but perhaps she 
 had listened with more pleasure, while they 
 both thought him dead, than she did now. 
 I do not say that she was in love with him. 
 Tlmt would be a very serious assertion, not 
 to be made without proof. The little prince 
 of gods and men does not always wing his 
 way in a direct course, and if he was at all 
 busy with fair Maria's heart she was quite 
 ignorant of the fact. She had thought all 
 her life a good deal about Henry Hayley, 
 it is true ; she had liked him better, re- 
 membered him with fonder regard than any 
 one whom she had ever known ; she had 
 pitied him, w^ept for him ; and within the 
 last hour she had felt more and stronger 
 emotions on his account than she had ever 
 felt for any one on earth. But still all 
 this might be without love. The sensa- 
 tions the most decidedly like that passion 
 which she experienced were certainly those 
 which Ladv Ann Mellent's affectionate 
 
THE FORGERY. 216 
 
 greeting and frank, unfearing invitation 
 called up in her bosom. She felt inclined 
 to think her friend odder than ever — to 
 wish that she was not quite so odd. But 
 Maria's was a frank and generous character ; 
 and although she could not banish some of 
 woman's weaknesses entirely, yet whenever 
 she found them out she felt ashamed of 
 them, and tried to repress them, 
 
 " Why should I be vexed with her con- 
 duct just now?" she asked herself; "is she 
 not always the same? and are not all her 
 eccentricities amiable?" 
 
 Whether Lady Ann perceived what was 
 passing in her friend's bosom, from the 
 varied expressions which flitted over her 
 countenance, or whether she only suspected 
 it from the intuitive knowledge which 
 almost every woman has of woman's heart, 
 I cannot tell ; but after an instant's pause 
 she went on with a slight toss of her head, 
 saying— 
 
 " After all, you know, Maria, at the worst, 
 they could but say I was in love with him, and 
 L 3 
 
220 THE FORGERY. 
 
 he with me ; and, besides knowing ourselves 
 that it is no such thing, we could soon 
 prove to them that there was not a word of 
 truth in it. So now, Henry, you will come 
 to the lodge, will you not — after dinner I 
 mean — about nine o'clock?" 
 
 '' I had intended to return to London to- 
 night," replied Henry, hesitating. 
 
 " Without seeing me at all !" exclaimed 
 Lady Ann — " that is unpardonable! I 
 could punish you if I would, Henry — 1 
 could punish you if I would ; but I will be 
 generous — " 
 
 " You are mistaken, indeed," answered 
 Henry, eagerly ; " I intended to see you, 
 as Miss Monkton can tell you — indeed my 
 first visit was destined to Harley Lodge ; 
 but she thought I should find no one there 
 but servants." 
 
 ^' Miss Monkton!" exclaimed Lady 
 Ann, with a gay laugh, '' do you intend 
 to let him go on calling you that name, 
 Maria? Oh, those prim proprieties, how 
 I hate them ! — That ten years should make 
 
THE FORGERY. 221 
 
 such a difference between people who have 
 been like brothers and sisters all their lives ! 
 But I suppose that the human heart is like 
 that stone which is soft enough and easily 
 formed when first dug, but hardens by -ex- 
 posure to the air.'^ 
 
 " He was indeed going to the lodge when 
 I met him accidentally," said Maria; " and 
 I did tell him, Ann, that he would find 
 no one there, for I thought you were in 
 London." 
 
 " Whether you were right or wrong 
 depends upon how long he has been with 
 you," answered Lady Ann, with a mali- 
 cious twinkle of the eyes ; "the truth is, 
 I drove down with my beautiful ponies 
 about an hour ago; lodged my dear old 
 governess at the Rectory, where she is going 
 to dine ; stopped at the lodge for two minutes 
 to tell them to get something ready, and then 
 came on here — with a sort of second sight, 
 I suppose ; and now I will return, insisting 
 upon your coming at the time stated, and 
 giving me a full account of yourself, Henry. 
 
222 THE FORGERY. 
 
 I cannot ask you to dinner — not because 
 it would be improper — for that I should 
 like beyond everything — ^but because there 
 is nothing in the house, I believe, but 
 three or four eggs. I must go, however^ 
 for it is growing dusk, and those wild young 
 things of mine are as fresh as if they had 
 come out of the stable a minute ago." 
 
 Henry rose to conduct her to her car- 
 riage ; but before they reached the door of 
 the hall. Lady Ann stopped, saying, 
 
 " Go on. Colonel Middle ton — I want to 
 speak one word more to Maria, '^ and run- 
 ning back into the library, she threw her 
 arms round her beautiful friend, saying, 
 " Oh, is not this joyful, Maria !" 
 
 " I trust it may prove so for him, poor 
 fellow," replied Maria, with a sigh ; '' but 
 I have many fears." 
 
 " And I, none," said Lady Ann ; " but 
 you have thought me stranger than ever, 
 dear girl — I have seen it all the time ; but 
 never fear, it will all come right. I love 
 him very much, Maria ; but I am not in 
 
THE FORGERY. 223 
 
 love with him. I care not what the world 
 says, for the world will find itself a fool, as 
 it so often does, when it sees me his wife"s 
 bridesmaid, as I intend to be. But mind, 
 I warn you, I intend to do everything that 
 is odd, in the meantime ; so that every one 
 will think — but you, Maria, but you — that 
 I am making love to him in open day. 
 You will not mistake me, I think." 
 
 And away she went again, with a gay, 
 light step, leaving Maria Monkton with 
 her eyes ready to run over, under the influ- 
 ence of emotions strange and new. 
 
 ''What am I feeling? — what am I 
 doing T were questions that flashed through 
 her mind, with the rapidity of lightning; 
 but before she could answer them, Henry 
 was again by her side. There was a look 
 of hope and light in his eyes, Avhich agitated 
 her more than before ; and she was about to 
 sit down, to hide, as far as possible, her 
 emotion; but Henry took her hand, say- 
 ing, 
 
 •' Dear Maria, it is growing dark, and I do 
 
224 THE FORGERY. 
 
 not think you would wish me to stay Iong€fr 
 with you at present ; but yet before I go— for 
 we may not easily, perhaps, find such a mo- 
 ment of happy privacy, for a long time — let 
 me say that, which some words which have 
 been spoken to-day induce me to say sooner 
 than I otherwise would have done — " 
 
 " Oh, we shall easily find moments to 
 converse," replied Maria, catching at the 
 first pause, and making a great effort to 
 delay what she was sure would overcome 
 her. 
 
 "Nay, not so,'^ answered Henry; "I 
 must not leave you, now, doubtful as to 
 any part of my conduct." 
 
 He gazed at her for a moment, earnestly 
 — tenderly ; and as by the faint light he 
 saw her eyes cast down, her glowing cheek, 
 and trembling form, he went on rapidly. 
 
 " You know me too well, Maria — you 
 judge me, and have ever judged me too 
 nobly to suppose that I would seek to bind 
 you to the fate of an exile, an outcast — or 
 even a suspected man. I ask you not to 
 
THE FORGERY. 225 
 
 tell me any of your own feelings towards 
 me — I ask you not even to say one word 
 of your own situation — Your heart — your 
 hand even may be engaged to some happier 
 man — -" 
 
 " Oh, no — no," she cried ; " no !" 
 The words rushed from her heart — burst 
 from her lips, without the act of her will ; 
 but she felt that she had never loved till 
 then ; and they would be spoken. 
 
 '' Thank God !" said Henry, in a low 
 voice, and then added, " well, then, dearest 
 Maria, my mind is made up. I will cast 
 this load from me — I will clear myself of 
 ail doubt, if it be in human power to do 
 so ; and if it be done — if I stand before the 
 whole world exculpated from all charges 
 •but of deep — perhaps too deep — devotion 
 to a father, then, I will tell you how Henry 
 Hayley has loved and thought of you, from 
 boyhood till now — how he loves you still — 
 how he will love you till his last hour. 
 You will find that his course has not been 
 dishonourable or inglorious j and you shall 
 L 5 
 
226 THE FORGERY. 
 
 decide whether he is to be as happy as his 
 boyish dreams once pictured. And now 
 farewell, for the present." 
 
 He pressed his lips upon her hand, and 
 was departing; but a soft, low, musical 
 Yoice caught his ear, ere he reached the 
 door. 
 
 '' Henry," it said, " Oh, not yet, Henry 
 — do not leave me yet." 
 
 Henry Hayley turned at once, and 
 seated himself beside her; he took her 
 hand, and it remained in his, and when he 
 at length departed, the sky was quite dark ; 
 but his heart had daylight in itself. 
 
THE FORGERY. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Three chapters to one group of people 
 is almost more than it is fair to allow ; and 
 yet the fact of there being three in the 
 group, as well as a strong predilection on 
 my own part for chronological progression, 
 must excuse my remaining attached to 
 Henry Hayley and his fair companions, at 
 least till that day had reached its close. 
 Now the period of a day's close may be 
 differently estimated, according as a man 
 is astronomical, judaical, ecclesiastical, 
 or chronological. Some will have it that 
 
228. THE FORGERY. 
 
 sunset closes the day, some say midnight 
 is the day's end — which of course is a con- 
 tradiction in terms — ^some one hour, some 
 another ; but as men have never been agreed 
 upon the subject since the beginning of the 
 world, and I am decidedly fond of para- 
 doxes, I prefer midnight, and therefore 
 declare that, when I say " the close of the 
 day," I mean neither more nor less than 
 twelve o'clock at night. 
 
 With a light and joyful step Henry Hay- 
 ley took his way through the park where 
 he had so often played in infancy and boy* 
 hood, towards one of the two lodges, select- 
 ing that one, the gates of which opened 
 upon the road, near a little village, at 
 which he had left the post-chaise that 
 brought him from London. The moon, just 
 risen and not far from the full, showed 
 him many an old familiar sight ; and the 
 happiness of his own heart harmonized so 
 well with the pleasant memories of the past 
 that he almost fancied himself a boy again, 
 and all the terrible realities of the last ten 
 
THE I^OftGERY. 229 
 
 years nothing but a painful dream. There 
 was one thing indeed which might have 
 proved to him that it was not so-— that 
 there was a wide interval between the past 
 and the present; and that was the sensa* 
 tion of passion. Yes, there was now pas- 
 sion in his bosom— passion which had not 
 been there before — ^passion which even at 
 the dawn of morning he had not felt. 
 
 Let not the reader marvel. There are cer* 
 tainly such things occasionally as love at first 
 sight ; but with him it was very different. 
 If the eye which runs over these lines saw 
 the sun rise as often as mine does — I see 
 him open the curtains of the night, I believe, 
 more frequently than any man in England, 
 more frequently even than the matutinal 
 laborer of the fields— if any reader, I say, 
 saw the sun rise as often as I do, he would 
 understand the whole process of Henry's 
 love in a moment. Not that it had any- 
 thing to do with sunrise, or with sunset, 
 or with the rising setting and southing of 
 the moon ; but there is a certain comfort- 
 
230 THE FORGERY. 
 
 able arrangement which every early riser 
 practises, or should practise, in the winter, 
 and which perfectly explains Henry Hay- 
 ley's case. You direct the housemaid to 
 take a bundle of dry sticks — called in some 
 places a faggot, in other parts of the coun- 
 try a bavin : in London men use square 
 bits of deal — and laying them artistically 
 with sufficient spaces between them to allow 
 the air to pass, to place them over a mass 
 or quantity of paper — such a manuscript 
 as this would do very well, but a news- 
 paper is better, for a thousand to one it 
 contains more inflammable materials. — Over 
 all you superinduce a thin and pervious 
 stratum of bituminous coal; and then in 
 the morning when you rise, you put a candle 
 (lighted) to the paper, and the whole mass 
 is in a blaze in a moment. Now in Henry 
 Hayley's case. Fate had been the housemaid ; 
 the friendships and affections of youth, piled 
 one above the other, had been the wopd 
 nicely laid. The paper might perhaps be 
 represented by all the longing, eager me- 
 
THE FORGERY. 231 
 
 mories and fancies, of and regarding the 
 fair companion of his youth during the last, 
 long ten years; a warm, earnest, ardent 
 heart was the inflammable coal at the top ; 
 and the sudden sight, and tender interest, 
 and kindly affection of Maria were the light 
 which kindled the flame in a moment. 
 
 He had in short met her that night, lovmg 
 her very much ; and he left her, loving her 
 as much as it is possible for man to love. 
 
 He went through the park, then, with the 
 spirit of the past and the present on 
 either hand, leading him through paths of 
 fairy flowers to scenes of imaginary hap- 
 piness. Ah, that quarter of an hour was 
 well worth the ten years of suffering I 
 
 He could hardly make up his mind to 
 pass the gates; but there was no use of 
 lingering, and he sped on. Such a frugal 
 dinner as he wanted was easily obtained at 
 the little public-house ; for it did not de- 
 serve the name of an inn ; and when it was 
 over, he still sat for a time and thought of 
 Maria — not of Lady Ann — till his watch 
 
232 TfiE FORGlEliY. 
 
 which he had laid on the table showed him 
 that it was time to depart for his next 
 visit. Then indeed, he turned his mind to 
 her whom he Avas so soon to see ; but still 
 Henry Hayley was a gentleman — not in 
 manners alone, but in heart and mind — ■ 
 and a gentleman never misunderstands a 
 woman » 
 
 There was not one thought in his bosom 
 which could have pained or offended Lady 
 Ann if she had seen them all. 
 
 " She is a dear, kind, good girl," he 
 said to himself as he walked on, ^' and still 
 so like what she was as a child. Happy 
 state! Happy character, which changes 
 not with the hard world's experience— 
 which has no need to change. Mistress of 
 herself, her actions, and her fortune — - 
 armed in honesty of purpose and purity of 
 heart, why should she bend the finest feel- 
 ings and the noblest principles to the cold 
 rules of the world?" 
 
 The lodge-gate was soon reached, the 
 grounds soon passed through ; and when he 
 
THE FORGERY. 233 
 
 Stood under the portico and stretched out 
 his hand to the bell, the village clock, clear 
 and musical, struck nine. 
 
 " I am to the moment," he thought, 
 ^* and I am glad of it. I would not repay 
 such regard with the slightest appearance 
 of neglect." 
 
 The servant who opened the door, showed 
 no wonder at the sight of a young and 
 very handsome stranger asking to see Lady 
 Ann at that hour of the night. All her 
 servants had given up wondering at Lady 
 Ann long ago. Giving his name as Colonel 
 Middleton, Henry was at once led to the 
 drawing-room where she was sitting; and 
 as soon as he had entered, the door was 
 closed. She rose from the book she had 
 been reading at once, and advanced to meet 
 him, with both her hands stretched out. He 
 took them affectionately; and to his sur- 
 prise she raised her face to his, and kissed 
 his cheek. 
 
 " There, Henry," she said, " now I have 
 astonished you enough, I will try and be 
 
234 THE FORGERY. 
 
 reasonable; and first, that you may not 
 think me anything but very mad, I will 
 tell you something — but first sit down by 
 me here. — Well, I was going to say, I 
 have made up my mind that you are to 
 marry Maria Monkton — I am quite sure 
 of it. There were tears upon her cheek 
 when I came in, and love enough in 
 your eyes to show me the whole. Then 
 again, as I have told Charles Marston, if 
 he asks me some day when I am in a good 
 humour, I may marry him — it is all ar- 
 ranged. And now, you think me odder — 
 stranger — wilder than ever; and I believe 
 it is so, for the very great joy of seeing 
 you again, when every one believed you 
 dead but myself, has carried me quite 
 away." 
 
 " And did you not, then, believe me 
 dead. Lady Ann?" asked Henry. 
 
 " Do not call me that odious name !'' she 
 answered, and then added, " Only half. I 
 doubted — and so did my poor father, to his 
 last hour. Little reason had we to doubt, 
 
THE FORGERY. 235 
 
 it is true; but still, you know, Henry, 
 doubt is a very clinging plant. Look 
 here," she continued, raising a light from 
 the table, and leading the way through 
 chairs and sofas, and various sorts of fur- 
 niture, to the other side of the large room : 
 " look here ! Do you know whose picture 
 this is?" 
 
 " Mine," answered Henry, with a smile ; 
 "what could tempt you to buy it?" 
 
 "I did not buy it," she said, "it was 
 given to me, and I have always hoped — 
 — faintly, fearfully, but still hoped to see 
 that face again — the face of the brother of 
 my girlhood. I one time thought of 
 giving it to Maria, for I knew it would be 
 a comfort and a consolation to her ; but I 
 had not the heart ; and now, of course you 
 will have another painted for her, which 
 will please her better, as it will be more 
 like the present. That will do well for 
 me — it is the Henry of my remem- 
 brance." 
 
 It must be owned that Henry Hayley 
 
236 THE FORGERY. 
 
 was puzzled. He had seen and observed 
 many women acting in many circumstances ; 
 but he had never yet seen sisterly affection 
 so warmly, so plainly displayed towards 
 any one not actually akin to her who felt 
 it. Yet, let there be no mistake ; he did 
 not misunderstand Lady Ann Mellent for 
 an instant. He did not suppose that she 
 was moved towards him by any feelings 
 but those which she acknowledged ; but he 
 thought — and thought with a sigh — that 
 those feelings might be misunderstood by 
 others, for the world rarely, if ever — as he 
 well knew — understands perfect sincerity 
 of character. 
 
 He saw, however, that his love for Maria 
 was not to be concealed from her, and 
 therefore that there was no use in attempt- 
 ing to hide it, and he answered, 
 
 '' You must not suppose, dear lady, that 
 all my hopes and wishes are so near attain- 
 ment as to justify me in even dreaming of 
 painting pictures. There is much to be 
 thought of — much to be considered first. 
 
THE FORGERY. 237 
 
 You must be aware that I am even now in 
 a very dangerous situation; and although 
 I need not tell you I am innocent of all 
 that was ever laid to. my charge — though I 
 think I can prove my innocence, and am 
 resolved to attempt it, yet, there is peril 
 even in the attempt." 
 
 Lady Ann smiled gaily, " I do indeed 
 know you are innocent," she said, " and 
 my dear father knew you were innocent. 
 He told me so hiniself, upon the bed of 
 death," she added with a grave shade 
 spreading over her fair face. " He saw 
 Mr. Hayley for some hours, as soon as he 
 had recovered from a terrible accident, he 
 met with; and from his lips he heard and 
 knew the whole. But now, Henry, sit 
 down and tell me all your history, for, 
 satisfied that you are here, living, and 
 well, I have hitherto asked you no questions. 
 But still there must be a strange tale to be 
 told; for even Mr. Hayley himself was 
 fully convinced of your death, till his own 
 last hour. After you have done, I have 
 
238 THE FORGERY. 
 
 something to give you which my father left 
 you, if ever you should appear again. He 
 gave me other directions also, which I 
 ought to have acted upon before; but 
 which — whether fortunately or not, I cannot 
 say — I have not acted upon, in my thought- 
 less levity, as yet. They were to make 
 public what I knew of your innocence and 
 of the circumstances which cast suspicion 
 upon you, as soon as ever Mr. Hay ley was 
 dead. But I have been absent from England, 
 roaming about, and since my return I 
 forgot it all." 
 
 " I am glad you have not as yet said 
 anything upon the subject," replied Henry 
 thoughtfully, " your unsupported testimony 
 of what your kind and excellent father 
 believed, would do little legally to establish 
 my innocence ; and I should wish to make 
 every preparation before I discover myself. 
 At present I am so far safe. Although 
 I now see that those who knew me well, 
 may recognize me more easily than I had 
 imagined, no one can prove my identity 
 
THE FORGERY. 239 
 
 with Henry Hayley, while I can establish 
 by proofs which cannot be controverted that 
 I am Frank Middleton, the son of an 
 English gentleman, and a Spanish lady. 
 Step by step, from infancy to manhood, I 
 can show my identity with that person, 
 without, by one word from my own mouth, 
 violating truth in the slightest degree. 
 The Spanish consul general, now in London, 
 would at any time swear that I am the 
 son of Mrs. Middleton, having seen me 
 many times at the house of her uncle, 
 recognized as her son by all the family. 
 This character I shall certainly keep up for 
 some time, till I have carefully sought for 
 and arranged all the evidence that is yet to 
 be found regarding that transaction which 
 condemned me to ten years of exile and 
 disgrace. — Nay, listen, for depend upon it 
 such things are not so easily proved, to the 
 satisfaction of a court of law, as kind and 
 inexperienced hearts, like yours and dear 
 Maria's, are willing to believe. Nevertheless 
 I do think my innocence can be established; 
 
240 THE rOROERY. 
 
 for in corroboration of a paper which my 
 father gave me, acknowledging the act as his 
 and exculpating me, some of the innkeepers 
 at whose houses I stayed, while seeking your 
 father in Northumberland and in Wales, 
 must still be living, and can show that I 
 was not, as has been asserted, flying from 
 justice with the money obtained by forgery, 
 but eagerly following a nobleman of unim- 
 peached honor, upon business of importance. 
 I think it will not be difiicult, in short, to 
 prove every step of my course, so as to bear, 
 out fact after fact of the plain and simple 
 tale I have to tell. I must also seek and 
 find as soon as possible my poor aunt; not 
 only for affection's sake, but because I feel 
 almost certain that sooner or later my father 
 must have told her the truth. I will there- 
 fore beseech you, dear Lady Ann, to keep 
 my secret with the utmost care for some 
 weeks to come, and not to betray any 
 recognition of me as Henry Hayley, by a 
 word, a look, or a sign." 
 
 '' That I will promise, and faithfully per- 
 
THE FORGERY. 241 
 
 form, Henry," replied Lady Ann, with a 
 smile ; " but still, we have mucli to talk of 
 — and first tell me all your history, and then 
 I will tell mine in return." 
 
 The same tale was told by Henry, to his 
 present auditor, as had been told to Maria 
 Monkton, though not exactly in the same 
 words. Thougli somewhat dryer in the 
 details, and though more a relation of mere 
 facts, than of facts and feelings mingled, as 
 it had been to Maria, yet it took long in 
 telling, and before it was concluded the 
 sound of a carriage driving up hurried him 
 to the end, 
 
 " That is Mrs. Br ice, my old governess, who 
 lives with me still," cried Lady Ann. 
 *' Henry, there is much more to be said. You 
 must come to me to-morroAV evening, in Lon- 
 don — I will contrive to get rid of her there. 
 Here, perhaps, I could not manage it, with- 
 out paining the good creature, and awaken- 
 ing her attention too closely to yourself — 
 come and dine with me, tete-d-tete^ at seven, 
 and tell Maria not to be jealous." 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Henry promised ; and tlie next moment, 
 Mrs. Brice entered the room. 
 
 After an introduction to that lady, by 
 Lady Ann, delivered in an easy, common- 
 place tone, the visitor took his leave, and 
 in half an hour after, was on his way back 
 to London. 
 
THE FORGEKY. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock in the day : the 
 London thunder had not begun: there 
 might be a few carts creeping about the 
 streets, but they crept lazily and almost 
 silently — the rattle of a hackney-coach 
 might be heard, here and there, but still it 
 was but a temporary rattle ; and the com 
 parative stillness of the whole town gave a 
 dreamy sort of quietude to the air, which 
 was pleasant and full of repose. It har- 
 monized well with the character of the day, 
 too, for it was quite a summer morning. 
 M 2 
 
244 THE FORGERT. 
 
 The sun was streaming into Lady Fleet- 
 woocVs drawing-room, sending oblique rays 
 over the corner of the liouses of a neigh- 
 bouring street, and the motes were dancing 
 drowsily in the long pencils of light. A 
 droning fly which had somehow or other 
 got into a long-necked, deep, blue carnation- 
 glass, and could not get out again, was 
 buzzing as if it had nearly tired itself to 
 sleep ; and the waving of the plants at the 
 open windows, stirred by a light air, had a 
 slumberous sound with it. 
 
 " Eeally, this is very pleasant," thought 
 Lady Fleetwood, as she sat, after breakfast, 
 enjoying the delicious sensation of life 
 which a fine summer day gives ; '^ it is all 
 so calm and ti^anquil that one could almost 
 go to sleep." 
 
 Strange, strange life ! That one of thy 
 best blessings should be to lose the con- 
 sciousness of thine existence ! 
 
 She soon found, however, that to go to 
 sleep was not for her. Hardly had the 
 thought passed through her l)raiii, when a 
 
THE FORGERY. 245 
 
 sliarp double-knock at the door dispelled 
 tlie stillness, and the next moment, Charles 
 Marston — the incarnation of mobility — 
 entered. 
 
 " Well, my dear aunt,'' he said, '' I have 
 determined upon my course for the day — 
 laid out everything, in the most methodical 
 and scientific manner; and having just half 
 an hour to spare, came to bestow it upon 
 you.'' 
 
 " You should really go and see your uncle, 
 my dear Charles," replied Lady Fleetwood; 
 "it would have been much better to have 
 given it to him instead of me; for he may 
 well be offended if he hears you have been 
 here twice, without going near him." 
 
 " You are wrong, dearest of aunts — you 
 are wrong," answered Charles : " you always 
 are sweetly wrong, you know, most excel- 
 lent of women. I sent, half an hour ago, 
 to ask if he was at home ; for although one 
 may have to swallow a bitter pill, now and 
 then, there is no reason one should walk a 
 mile and a lialf without need, to take it. 
 
246 THE FORGERY. 
 
 But lie was out ; and so, when I go lience, 
 I shall diligently pursue him to his dingy 
 hole in the city, Avhere, pray Heaven there 
 may be plenty of business stirring to cut 
 our conference short. I am only now wait- 
 ing for Winkworth, who is going to the 
 city too." 
 
 " I cannot think, Charles, Avhy you should 
 feel such a distaste to your uncle's conyer- 
 sation,'^ said Lady Fleetwood, meditating 
 upon the problem ; " everybody admits he 
 is a very clever man." 
 
 " Undoubtedly, my dear aunt,'^ replied 
 Charles; "but I will tell you why I am 
 not very fond of his conversation. It is 
 because that same conversation of his trans- 
 forms everything into arithmetic. Now, I 
 never had an arithmetical head in my life : 
 I know that two and two make four, but it 
 has not been the study of my life to dis- 
 cover how many blue beans make five. I 
 cannot calculate friendships by the rules of 
 profit and loss, nor look on love upon the 
 principles of tare and tret, nor subject 
 
THE rOKGERY. 247 
 
 every feeling of the heart and mind to the 
 computations of the interest-table, nor 
 measure poetry by the square foot, nor 
 extract the cube root of an acquaintance's 
 purse, in order to estimate how intimate I 
 should become with him, nor regulate my 
 own thoughts and wishes by quadratic 
 equations, nor always keep my oAvn con- 
 duct and purposes within an exact paral- 
 lelogram. The sages of Laputa must have 
 been great bores, my dear aunt; but they 
 were nothing, depend upon it, to the men 
 of the present day, who subject not 
 only their understandings but their very 
 emotions, to the stiffest rules of calculation. 
 Besides, the sight of poor Miss Hayley has 
 not altogether taught me to like my uncle 
 better — nor has what you said about him, 
 a propos, to her." 
 
 Lady Fleetwood looked scared, and in a 
 moment her mind ran back to all that had 
 passed during the preceding evening, to 
 ascertain if she could possibly, by any blun- 
 
248 THE FORGERY. 
 
 der have said ought to produce mischief 
 between uncle and nephew. 
 
 " Whj^ my dear Charles/' she exclaimed, 
 " I am very siu'e that I never uttered one 
 word to make you believe that your uncle 
 is at all aw^are of the poor thing's condi- 
 tion — he would be the first, I am sure — " 
 
 " I never said you did, my dear aunt," 
 he replied, interrupting her ; " but you told 
 me, he had been angry because you went to 
 see them in their distress at Highgate. I 
 have a strong notion he did not behave 
 well to poor Hay ley. I remember some- 
 thing of an unsettled account." 
 
 " Oh, but your uncle always said, that 
 as soon as Mr. Hayley produced certain 
 papers, he would go into that," exclaimed 
 Lady Fleetwood. " I remember quite well 
 that Hayley always declared there was a 
 large sum due to him, fifteen or twenty 
 thousand pounds; and he declared once 
 that he would put it into chancery or some 
 law court; but he lost heart, poor man, 
 after the sad business of Henry' death, and 
 
THE FORGERY. 249 
 
 though he talked a great deal he never did 
 anything. — But now I recollect, that was 
 Avhat made your uncle so angry, Charles. 
 He said Hayley had defamed him — and you 
 know your uncle is always reckoned a 
 highly honorable man, thovigh a little too 
 fond of money, perhaps." 
 
 " liich men are always honorable men," 
 replied Charles, in a graver tone than was 
 customary Avith him, " and poor and unfor- 
 tunate men are great rascals — in the Avorld's 
 opinion, my dear aunt. In this good 
 country of ours, Avealth does find Avays, if 
 not to corrupt justice, at least to fix the 
 balance and the SAvord immoveable. Law 
 is too expensive, a luxury, for poor men to 
 treat themselves to much of it, and many 
 an honest cause is lost for fear of the in- 
 separable punishment, in this land, of seek- 
 ing right by laAV — I mean expense, if not 
 ruin. I remember hearing a clerk give a 
 message to Hayley exactly to the purport 
 you mention: that Mr. Scriven had no 
 time to Avrite, but lie would go into the 
 M 5 
 
250 THE FORGERY. 
 
 account whenever Mr. Hayley was prepared 
 to produce the papers. Do you know 
 what Hayley replied, my dear aunt? — He 
 was then in a shabby black coat, and his 
 face looked as if he had been drinking, I 
 must confess ; but he spoke distinctly and 
 bitterly. ' Be so good as to ask Mr. 
 Scriven,' he said, ^ how I am to do that, 
 when all those papers were left here, and I 
 have never been able to get them out of 
 this house?' — and with a fierce imprecation 
 upon my uncle's head, he walked away 
 without waiting for an answer. I was wit- 
 ness to the whole, and a sad scene it 
 was." 
 
 " Oh, dear, that is very terrible," said 
 Lady Fleetwood; " but do you think it 
 could be true, Charles?" 
 
 " I really do not know, my dear aunt,'* 
 answered her nephew; " but I have a sort 
 of feeling that the Hayleys have suffered 
 by our family ; and consequently as I am 
 quite sure this poor thing whom I saw upon 
 Frimley common is one of them, I have 
 
THE FORGERY. 251 
 
 resolved to go down again this very day 
 and see what can be done for lier. Wink- 
 worth will go with me, and as he is one 
 upon whose advice I can fully rely, I 
 shall consult him in regard to all I do for 
 her.'^ 
 
 " But, dear me, then you will not see 
 Maria to-day," said Lady Fleetwood; "she 
 will be here by two o'clock." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I shall," answered Charles ; 
 " we do not set out till three ; and I shall 
 be back from the city by two." 
 
 Lady Fleetwood's arrangements were all 
 deranged. Slie had planned a pleasant lit- 
 tle dinner party for Charles and Mr. Wink- 
 worth and Maria, at which she proposed 
 to engage Mr. WinkAvorth in conversation 
 with herself, while Charles and Maria 
 would be thrown upon each other's hands 
 entirely ; and she did not in the least doubt 
 — being a fine politician in her way — that 
 what between Maria's natural charms, and 
 a sudden meeting after long absence, and 
 a great many other advantages of tlie same 
 
252 THE FORGERY. 
 
 kind, love and matrimony would as natur- 
 ally rise up as the flame of a spirit lamp 
 when a match is applied to it. We must 
 remark that Lady Fleetwood never doubted 
 for a moment that any of her plans would 
 succeed; nor did the experience of more 
 than twenty years, during which period 
 every one that she had ever formed had 
 broken to pieces, convince her that there 
 was always, somehow or another, some 
 element wanting in her calculations which 
 ensured their failure. She laid defeat 
 upon the back of accident — one of the 
 three or four broad shouldered accessaries 
 to human infirmities who bear all the sins 
 and misadventures of the world — the 
 scapegoats of conscience and self-reproach. 
 Accident, Ill-luck, the Devil, and Adverse 
 circumstances, are the favorite deputies to 
 whom we transfer the burden of our faults 
 in the present day, since Zeus and his 
 Olympian household are no longer cliarg- 
 able as in the days of Homer. 
 
THE FORGERY. 253 
 
 *•■ Perverse mankind ! whose wills created free 
 Charge all their woes on absolute decree ; 
 All to the dooming Gods their guilt translate, 
 And follies are miscalled the crimes of Fate.*' 
 
 Accident, however, was Lady Fleetwood's 
 pack-horse, and she thought it a most un- 
 fortunate accident indeed that Charles had 
 arranged to go with Mr. Winkworth into 
 the country that evening, rather than stay 
 and fall in love with his cousin upon her 
 plan. 
 
 While she was thinking, however, of how 
 she could induce him to give up his journey 
 for the day, and balancing with nice casuis- 
 try whether she ought or ought not to try, 
 kindly feeling for poor Miss Hayley pulling 
 her one way, and a natural hankering for 
 her own schemes tugging her the other, the 
 knocker was again heard doing its function, 
 and her servant, a moment after, announced 
 that Mr. Winkworth was below, waiting 
 for Mr. Mars ton. 
 
 '' Oh, ask him up, by all means," said 
 
254 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Lady Fleetwood ; " I shall be delighted to 
 see him.''^ 
 
 ^' I asked him, my lady," replied the 
 man ; '' but he said he had not time, at the 
 present moment." 
 
 Lady Fleetwood Avould have pressed the 
 point ; but Charles represented that if they 
 did not set out for the city at once, he 
 should not be back in time to see his 
 cousin, and ran down stairs without 
 delay. 
 
 Under any ordinary circumstances, the 
 solitary meditations of a lady on the sear 
 side of iifty, can be of no great interest to 
 the general reader. There is something in 
 youth — in its freshness, its vigor, its excita- 
 bility, its Avorld of emotions, w^hich renders 
 the young mind as well as the young frame, 
 in its bloom and perfection, a pleasant ob- 
 ject of contemplation; but with age, alas, 
 it is seldom so. I will, therefore, only say 
 that good Lady Fleetwood sat and thought, 
 for full five minutes, of hoAv unfortunate it 
 Avas that Charles should have spoiled her 
 
THE FORGERY. 255 
 
 evening plan for his benefit; and having 
 no other scheme for making people happy 
 in her OAvn way, ready-made at the moment, 
 she might have gone on for five, or even 
 ten minutes more, had she not been inter- 
 rupted by a visit from her brother. 
 
 '' Well, that is the most unfortunate 
 thing in the world !" exclaimed the poor 
 lady, as soon as she saw Mr. Scriven's face. 
 " Charles has just this moment gone into 
 the city to call upon you." 
 
 " Humph," said Mr. Scriven ; "I wonder 
 he did not call upon me last night." 
 
 " I dare say he was tired, poor fellow," 
 replied Lady Fleetwood, who had almost 
 ahvays an excuse ready for everybody ; "but 
 he sent, the first thing this morning, to see if 
 you were at home." 
 
 " It would have been better to have 
 come himself," rejoined Mr. Scriven, drily; 
 " then he might have discovered that I was 
 not ten doors ofi", and would return directly. 
 Xow, I suppose he will call at the counting- 
 house, and iindiiig I have not arrived, walk 
 
25G THE FORGERY. 
 
 away again. I must see him to-day, Mar- 
 garet : I have some important matters to 
 tell him. If he comes back, then, keep 
 him to dinner — and I will come in and join 
 you." 
 
 '' I cannot do that,'* answered Lady 
 Fleetwood ; " for he has just told me that 
 he is going down to Frimley Common, at 
 three o'clock." 
 
 "What for?" asked Mr. Scriven with a 
 look of surprise. 
 
 Lady Fleetwood hesitated; and her 
 brother's face assumed a stern look. 
 
 " Is he going to fight a duel?" asked Mr. 
 Scriven. 
 
 And his poor sister, in a fright lest she 
 should produce a wrong impression, poured 
 forth the whole story of Miss Hayley and 
 Charles Marston's intentions, and Mr. 
 WinkAvorth's kindness in going with him. 
 Moreover, one part of the tale requiring, 
 in her estimation, explanation by another, 
 she went on to give sundry portions of 
 her conversation with lier nephew, to ac- 
 
THE FORGERY. 257 
 
 count for his determination to take care of 
 poor Miss Ilayley, whicli she well knew, in 
 its bald state, Mr. Scriven would think 
 very absurd, romantic and extravagant; 
 and she added various hints with regard to 
 what she and Charles judged, he — Mr. 
 Scriven — ought to do for the poor lady — 
 adding, that some people thought the 
 Hayleys had not been altogether Avell 
 treated. 
 
 There was a sort of consciousness in her 
 heart all the time that she was blundering, 
 which only made her flounder more and 
 more amongst the shallows into which she 
 had plunged ; and the deep, imperturbable 
 silence with which her brother sat and lis- 
 tened to a long story — a thing he wus 
 rarely inclined to do — only added to her 
 embarrassment. 
 
 When she had done, even, he asked no 
 questions, but only raised his eyes to the 
 time-piece ; and with a last convulsion to 
 get right again, or at least to cast the 
 
258 THE FOKGEliY. 
 
 weight from ]ier o^vll slioulders, she ad- 
 ded, 
 
 '' Well, Henry, I do not understand all 
 these matters, as you know well." 
 
 " Perfectly well," rejoined Mr. Scri- 
 ven. 
 
 " And so," she continued, " you had 
 better talk with Charles about them your- 
 self." 
 
 " I will," said Mr. Scriven. 
 
 " He will be back from the city before 
 two," added Lady Fleetwood, " and he sets 
 out for Frimley at three." 
 
 "Ha!" said Mr. Scriven. "And now, 
 Margaret, I will go — for I do not see any- 
 thing farther that can be gained by staying 
 here." 
 
 Kow, Lady Fleetwood would have given 
 a great deal to have unloosened his taciturn 
 tongue, and discovered what he was going 
 to do next; but Mr. Scriven was not in- 
 clined that it sliould be so, and took his 
 departure. 
 
THE FORGERY. 259 
 
 He had a Lrown cabriolet at the door-^ — 
 for that was an age of cabriolets — and Avhen 
 he had got into the vehicle, he first turned 
 his horse's head as if he would have driven, 
 as usual, to his house of business in the 
 city; but by the time he had got to the 
 other side of the square, he had altered his 
 mind, and sweeping round with a whirl, he 
 directed his course back to his private resi- 
 dence. 
 
 It was all very strange that he should 
 do so; for Mr. Scriven was the most me- 
 thodical of men. He arranged, in the 
 morning, all that he intended to do during 
 the day, and on all ordinary occasions he 
 did it. But there was something stranger 
 still ; for notwithstanding his having told 
 Lady Fleetwood, that he must and would 
 see his nephew Charles that day, he took a 
 very good way of preventing himself from 
 so doing. 
 
 He first looked into a posting-book, 
 then ordered one of his servants to go 
 to the counting-house, and say that he 
 
260 THE FORGERY. 
 
 should not be there till the next morning, 
 and then directed another servant to order 
 a pair of post-horses. 
 
 As soon as they arrived, he went out of 
 town. 
 
THE FORGERY. 261 
 
 CITAPTEll XIIL 
 
 With his arm linked through that of Charles 
 Marston, Mr. Winkworth, such as I have 
 described him, walked on towards the city ; 
 and much did he seem to marvel at all he 
 saw by the way. It was not, indeed, that 
 he was unacquainted with London; but 
 cities as well as people often change their 
 dress, only with this difference, that they 
 very often grow smarter as they grow 
 older. The new garb of his old friend, 
 however, was apparently not at all to Mr. 
 Winkworth's taste. He commented on all 
 
262 THE FORGERY. 
 
 he saw with splenetic costicity, declaring 
 that the good old brick houses of Swallow- 
 street with their plain brown faces were 
 infinitely preferable to the lath and plaster 
 edifices of Eegent-street and Waterloo- 
 place, which he pronounced an insult to 
 architecture, and a hodge-podge of every 
 sort of enormity. Then again the Maca- 
 dimised streets excited his indignation — 
 they had not yet been paved with wood or 
 Heaven knows what he would have said of 
 them — ^but as they were, he declared that 
 their sole object must be to wet the feet 
 and splash the apparel of the lieges of the 
 land. 
 
 " My dear sir," he said, '' this is true 
 modern reform and improvement. It is a 
 good specimen of the customs and legisla- 
 tion of theage. Everything that the wisdom 
 of ten or twelve centuries and the experi- 
 ence of whole races of men, have devised 
 and pronounced good, is swept away, knocked 
 down, chopped up, simply for the sake of 
 change; and to show that we are wiser 
 
THE FORGERY. 263 
 
 than our ancestors. Here, in my young 
 days, these good streets of London were 
 paved with large, firm, solid lumps of 
 granite; you could step across from stone 
 to stone ([uietly, easily, and drily. They 
 wanted little or no repair, except when some 
 villanous water company chose to pick up 
 the stones in order either to carry a pipe to 
 or cut it off from some of the adjacent 
 houses." 
 
 " If you ever come to drive a cab or a 
 curricle through the streets, Winkworth,'^ 
 said Charles Mars ton, " you will find it 
 much more pleasant to roll over Mr. Mc. 
 Adam than over those same jolting blocks 
 of granite you talk of." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I ever should com- 
 mit such a mad-like action V* replied the 
 old gentleman, still striding on with his 
 long legs, and his somewhat rounded body 
 and shoulders, not at all unlike a hen- 
 turkey in the moulting season, " but that 
 which strikes me as the most curious part of 
 the whole process is, that you people of 
 
264 THE FORGERY. 
 
 the present day think you are advancing 
 all the time, and call your operations pro- 
 gress, when, in fact, like a crab you are go- 
 ing backwards. Here you have very nearly 
 reduced the streets of London to the same 
 state in which they were left by King Lud 
 — whose name very appropriately rhymes 
 to mud." 
 
 " I suppose all things do go in a circle,'* 
 answered Charles Mars ton, " like that 
 wheel that you see turning round; but yet 
 the wheel in turning round rolls the car- 
 riage forward, and so, I suppose, the gyra- 
 tions of society help on the great machine." 
 
 " As bad an illustration as ever was 
 given," exclaimed Mr. Winkworth, " which 
 would break down at the first turn. Good 
 Heaven what a quantity of plate-glass !" 
 
 " You must admit that that is, at all 
 events, a great improvement," rejoined the 
 younger gentleman, " compared with the 
 small dingy panes, which even I can recol- 
 lect; you can have nothing to say against 
 the plate-glass I think," 
 
THE FORGERY. 265 
 
 " A whole Yolume," said Mr. Wink- 
 worth, " in the first place, the shops and 
 the houses must be as hot as cucumber- 
 beds. It lets the whole sun in." 
 
 " You forget you are not in India, or 
 Arabia, or on the shores of the Red Sea," 
 replied his companion ; " but what more ?" 
 
 " In the next place," continued Mr. 
 Winkworth, " every stone-throwing urchin, 
 or discontented snob, or butcher's boy with 
 a tray on his shoulder, has two or three 
 hundred pounds at his mercy. A chimney- 
 pot falling, a flower-pot overturning, or 
 almost any other accident you please, can 
 pick your pocket of much more than it 
 may be convenient to lose, in the shape of 
 glass. Then look at that jeweller's shop. 
 Think what a temptation it must be to a 
 poor rogue, to pop his hand through and 
 seize all those diamonds and pearls. Upon 
 my life, it is worth the risk of transporta- 
 tion. Then again, as a matter of calcula- 
 tion, my dear lad. — I don't know what is 
 the price of plate-glass now — but I am 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 THE rORGEHY. 
 
 very sure tliat three or four tlioiisand 
 pounds would not buy the shop-front of 
 that mercer. Who is it pays for it, sir? 
 Who is it pays for it? Why you, and I, 
 and everybody who wants a silk-handker- 
 chief or a drozen of 'gloves, or a pair of 
 silk-stockings. jN'ov/, what I want is a silk- 
 handkerchief, not plate-glass ; and I do not 
 see why I should be obliged to contribute 
 my quota to enable Harry Thompson, or 
 John Jenkins, or anyone else to cover his 
 wares with a plate of stuff only fit for a 
 looking-glass, as dear as gold, and as frail 
 as a dancing girl." 
 
 Charles Marston laughed outright " That 
 last part of your speech, my dear Wink- 
 worth," he said, " is worthy of my uncle 
 Scriven," 
 
 " Then he must be. a wiser man than you 
 seem to think him,^^ rejoined Mr. Wink- 
 worth, with a smile. 
 
 " I never said he was not wise," replied 
 Charles Marston. "Oh no ! he is a very 
 wise man in his generation. IN'either do I 
 
THE FORGERY. 267 
 
 think he would carry the matter as far as 
 you do, nor object to any one but himself 
 buying as much plate-glass as he pleases, 
 perfectly certain that if he, Mr. Scriven, is 
 obliged to pay something additional in his 
 bill on account of that commodity, he will 
 find means to make the possessor pay him 
 back with interest, if they have any farther 
 dealings together." 
 
 "Loving nephew!" said Mr. Winkworth 
 drily, " pray are you as affectionately fond 
 of all your other relations?" 
 
 " Nay that is hardly fair," replied 
 Charles Marston, " you know quite well, 
 Winkworth, how dearly I love my good 
 Aunt Fleetwood, and my noble, generous 
 hearted father. But I will tell you one 
 thing, that it is the contrast between his 
 conduct, and feelings, and thoughts, and 
 those of my good calculating uncle, which 
 makes the society of the latter so very un- 
 pleasant to me." 
 
 " It is all prejudice, I dare say," answered 
 Mr. Winkworth in a morose tone," you 
 N 2 
 
268 THE FORGERY. 
 
 love your father doubtless, because it is 
 customary. Piety, piety, you know Marston 
 — it would never do, not to love one^s father ! 
 and then you hate your uncle because he has 
 got the whip-hand of you." 
 
 '' You are very much mistaken," replied 
 Charles Marston sharply, "my uncle has not 
 the whip-hand of me in any way. Thanks 
 to my father's generosity and confidence, I 
 am as independent of him as of that 
 chimney-sweeper." 
 
 " Humph !" said the old man, " but what 
 has your uncle done?" 
 
 " Why nothing perhaps, that the world 
 would blame," answered Charles, " but 
 nothing that I ever heard of, that any man 
 of heart and mind would praise. In that 
 very business of the poor Hayleys, which 
 I was telling you about last night, he per- 
 secuted Henry in the most relentless man- 
 ner. The bankers who lost the money, 
 and were the real parties interested, did 
 not show half the eagerness after the pooy 
 fellow's blood/' 
 
THE FORGERY. 269 
 
 " That might proceed, in your uncle, from a 
 natural love of justice," said Mr. Winkworth. 
 
 " Pooh 1" exclaimed Charles Marston, with 
 an impatient look. 
 
 "Did he pay the bankers the money?" 
 demanded his companion. 
 
 " Not one penny," rejoined Charles, 
 " But let us get into some sort of vehicle, 
 or we shall never arrrive at the city ;" and 
 calling one of the street conveyances, they 
 proceeded on their way. 
 
 As the reader is already aware, Charles 
 Marston did not find his uncle at his count- 
 ing-house; and having nothing farther to 
 detain him in a place which he abhorred, 
 he drove back again, at once, to his aunt's 
 house, leaving Mr. Winkworth to finish his 
 business in the great centre of the world's 
 commerce, and rejoin him as soon as it was 
 possible. 
 
 Charles Marston found Lady Fleetwood's 
 drawing-room already well tenanted. His 
 cousin Maria had arrived earlier than she 
 had been expected ; not ten minutes after 
 
270 THE FORGERY. 
 
 her appearance, Lady Ann Mellent had 
 presented herself; and she was followed closely 
 by Colonel Middleton. 
 
 A crowd of gratulations and welcomes 
 poured warmly upon Charles, 
 
 It is at such first meetings, after long 
 absence, that to the eyes of the observant 
 and experienced in human character, the 
 deep concealed feelings of the heart peep 
 out in little traits. 
 
 Had the eyes of Lady Fleetwood been of 
 any great use to her, she would have seen 
 the ruin and destruction of one of her fa- 
 vourite schemes, upon the cheek of Maria 
 Monkton, and in the eyes of Lady Ann 
 Mellent. 
 
 The former was nearest to the door by 
 which Charles entered. She received him 
 with every appearance of affection, returned 
 his embrace warmly, and expressed, with 
 no lack of tenderness, the pleasure she felt 
 at seeing him again. But not the slightest 
 change of colour in the cheek betrayed any 
 deeper emotion ; no quivering of the lip, no 
 
THE FORGERY. 271 
 
 trembling of the frame showed the agita- 
 tion inseparable from love. 
 
 Not so Lady Ann Mellent : she sat still 
 as stone, while Charles was welcomed by 
 his cousin; but a ray of joyful light, bright 
 and pure and radiant, poured forth from her 
 eyes, while her cheek became very pale, 
 and her lips parted with a sigh that would 
 not be suppressed. 
 
 She was evidently a great deal agitated ; 
 but with a degree of command over herself, 
 which circumstances rendered more habitual 
 with her than people generally believed, 
 she overcame the emotion in a moment; 
 and by the time the greeting of Maria was 
 over, she was quite prepared to resume the 
 gay and" sparkling levity with which she 
 often covered deeper feelings. 
 
 '' Do not come near me, Charles Mar- 
 ston," she said, as the young traveller 
 approached, "I am determined not to speak 
 to you. I cast you off — I abandon you ! 
 If I were a rich grandfather, I would cut 
 you off with a shilling;" but at the same 
 
272 THE FORGERY, 
 
 time she held out her hand to him, and it 
 trembled as he took it. " Did you not 
 promise to write to me continually?" she 
 asked, " and to tell me all your adven- 
 tures; for I was quite sure you would get 
 into all sorts of scrapes, and be delightfully 
 near losing your life, a hundred times? 
 And now tell me, sir, have you written 
 me a single word for six months?" 
 
 " I wrote you two long letters : the last 
 not three months ago," replied Charles 
 Mars ton ; " and you never condescended to 
 answer either." 
 
 " Because I never received them," re- 
 plied Lady Ann ; " but you will lay it all 
 upon post-masters, of course." 
 
 " You shall see the record and the dates 
 in my journal, little infidel," said Charles 
 Marston, in a low tone, and then added 
 aloud, " but I did more than even all this. 
 I was impudent enough to write to your 
 merry old guardian. Sir Thomas "VYickham, 
 to ask him for your address." 
 
 "And what did he say? what did he 
 
THE FORGERY. 273 
 
 say?" exclaimed Lady Ann laughing, 
 " something very funny I am sure." 
 
 " He told me that he was not an astro- 
 nomer," replied Charles Marston, "and 
 could not at all calculate the transit of 
 Venus, adding in less figurative language, 
 that he could not in the least tell where 
 you might happen to be, as he had never 
 known for two hours consecutively in his 
 life ; but that, if he might venture a suppo- 
 sition, your ladyship was probably looking 
 for me, somewhere in Palestine or Crim 
 Tartary." 
 
 " My ladyship was doing nothing of the 
 kind," answered Lady Ann. " But there 
 is Colonel Middleton, exceedingly anxious 
 to say civil things to you, while I should 
 say nothing but what is uncivil — at least, 
 till you have done penance — so go and 
 speak to him." 
 
 The greeting between the two friends 
 was very warm, and Ayhile it took place, 
 Lady Ann's eyes were fixed upon Charles 
 N 5 
 
274 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Marston's countenance, with a keen and 
 scrutinizing glance. 
 
 As the secrets of all hearts are, of course, 
 in the bosom of him who writes their 
 history, I may very well aver that Lady 
 Ann was anxious to discover whether 
 Charles Marston was really as unconscious 
 of the identity of Colonel Middleton and 
 Henry Hayley as he appeared to be; but 
 there was nothing in any part of his de- 
 meanour which could induce her to suppose 
 that he entertained even a suspicion of the 
 truth. 
 
 " These men are strange beings,'^ she 
 said to herself as she gazed. " Here are 
 two girls, who discover a fact at once, and 
 an old woman who becomes very much 
 puzzled, and very doubtful, evidently — for 
 beloved aunt FleetAvood is clearly on thorns 
 at this very moment, with doubt and 
 curiosity ; and yet, quick — too -rapid Charles 
 Marston jumps over the truth, and lights a 
 hundred yadrs beyond. Upon my life, I 
 
THE FORGERY. 275 
 
 think women are creatures of instinct, more 
 than anything else — though I do not know 
 that it is a compliment to their under- 
 standing to suppose they share a gift 
 peculiarly characteristic of beasts." 
 
 The welcome was succeeded by general 
 conversation; and general conyersation 
 being the most tedious thing upon the face 
 of the earth, to all but the persons engaged 
 in it — and very often to them likewise — 
 there can be no necessity for repeating it here. 
 
 Though the sweetest tempered woman in 
 the world. Lady Fleetwood was in a mood 
 for fretting herself; and to say the truth, 
 circumstances wonderfully assisted her. 
 In the first place, she was evidently one too 
 many. The party divided itself, naturally, 
 into a quadrille without her — but it divided 
 itself not according to her taste. 
 
 Had Charles Marston attached himself 
 to the side of his cousin, and his friend 
 Colonel Middleton devoted all his attention 
 to Lady Ann, she would have borne the 
 awkward fact of her own superfluity with 
 
276 THE FORGEHY. 
 
 the utmost meekness and patience; but, 
 very perversely, they chose to do quite the 
 reverse of all this, Charles, in the window, 
 carried on with Lady Ann Mellent, what 
 seemed to his good aunt, a regular flirta- 
 tion, while Maria was left entirely to the 
 attentions of Colonel Middleton. 
 
 Still as the reader may suppose no four 
 persons could have been more perfectly con- 
 tented with their position than these four, 
 could Lady Fleetwood have been contented 
 to let them alone, and not tried to arrange 
 matters better; but she first joined in the 
 conversation of one party, and then inter- 
 rupted that of another, taking care to choose 
 the exact moments when something of im- 
 portance was to be said, or some word of 
 affection to be spoken, which was most 
 willing to hide itself from listening ears. 
 
 At length, however, Mr. Winkworth 
 was announced, and the arrival of a stran- 
 ger put out all the former combinations. 
 Advancing into the room with one hand 
 b ehind his back, and his hat in the other. 
 
THE FORGERY. 277 
 
 he made a formal, sliding bow all round till 
 his eye rested upon Charles Marston at the 
 end of the line, and the latter advanced to 
 introduce him to the rest. 
 
 Though gay, frank, and bluff as we 
 have seen, where he was intimate, Mr. 
 Winkworth was clearly very formal and 
 ceremonious amongst strangers; but yet 
 there was a certain degree of old-fashioned 
 courteousness in his manner which suited 
 the notions of Lady Fleetwood perfectly. 
 The very scrape of his left foot upon the 
 carpet, as he made his exceedingly decided 
 bow, and the little expletives with which 
 he seasoned his replies, savoured of that 
 dignified stateliness which, even within her 
 own memory, was the distinctive quality of 
 the old court. 
 
 '' You have been a long time in India I 
 think, Mr. Winkworth," she said, looking 
 rather too curiously at his sallow com- 
 plexion. 
 
 " Madam, I fear it is written on my 
 countenance," he replied, with another low 
 
278 THE FORGERY. 
 
 bow, '^ but I have, as you say, been a 
 good deal in India; and I learn from 
 your nephew, that my old friend Marston 
 is your brother-in-law." 
 
 Lady Fleetwood was delighted to hear 
 that Mr. Winkworth was an old friend of 
 her sister Maria's husband; and she soon 
 engaged her visitor in giving her a full 
 statement of all he knew concerning Mr. 
 Marston in India, which was certainly well 
 calculated to be gratifying in her ears. It 
 proved also a seasonable diversion, in favour 
 of the lovers in the other part of the room ; 
 for it occupied all the excellent lady's at- 
 tention, and prevented her from attempting 
 to make them comfortable. 
 
 The announcement that Charles Marston's 
 carriage was at the door, about ten minutes 
 after his companion's first appearance, put 
 an end to the explanations he was giving 
 to Lady Ann; and the two gentlemen de- 
 parted upon their charitable expedition, 
 leaving Henry still by Maria's side. 
 
 One gentleman amongst three ladies is 
 
THE FORGERY. 279 
 
 but small provision ; but Colonel Middlfeton 
 seemed in no degree inclined to depart ; and 
 for a minute or two Lady Ann was kind 
 enough to make a diversion in Ms favour, 
 by going over and occupying the attention 
 of Lady Fleetwood. How Maria and he 
 took advantage of this movement is not for 
 me to say. Certain it is they talked in a 
 very low voice for some minutes, till Lady 
 Ann suddenly rose as if to depart, and 
 then Maria took a liberty with her aunt's 
 house — which she would have done without 
 the slightest hesitation, where no deep feel- 
 ings were concerned, but which now, from 
 some cause or another, called the colour 
 somewhat warmly into her cheek — saying 
 aloud — 
 
 " Will you not dine with us to day. 
 Colonel Middleton? My aunt, I am sure, 
 will be very happy to see you." 
 
 Before Henry could answer, or the little 
 sort of agitated consideration of pros and 
 cons which seized upon Lady Fleetwood, 
 could resolve itself into anything like form 
 
280 THE FORGERYe 
 
 and shape, Lady Ann held up her finger, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " Remember, you are engaged to me, 
 sir, for to-night at least. To-morrow I 
 will give you up to Lady Fleetwood with 
 all my heart." 
 
 Maria certainly did think her young 
 friend very strange, and felt perhaps a 
 little mortified. It was but a transitory 
 emotion, however; but it was sufficiently 
 strong to cause Henry's answer to escape 
 her; and the next moment, while he had 
 turned to Lady Fleetwood — to answer with 
 thanks the invitation wliich she cordially 
 seconded, the moment it was declined — Lady 
 Ann, crossing the room, laid her hand upon 
 Maria's arm, saying, in a whisper — 
 
 '' Trust me, dear girl, trust me ! — I am 
 neither a flirt nor a coquette, whatever you 
 may think." 
 
 " Indeed, I think you neither, Ann, 
 though perhaps a little strange;" Maria 
 Monkton replied; and with a gay laugh 
 and a nod of her head, Lady Ann Mellent 
 
THE FORGERY. 281 
 
 ran out of the room, leaving Henry with 
 Maria and Lady Fleetwood. 
 
 There we must leave him also, dear reader, 
 for the time, to follow Charles down to Frim- 
 ley ; and though the journey was not a very 
 long one, and the stages short and easy, even 
 in those days — merely from London to 
 Hounslow, from Hounslow to Egham, from 
 Egham to Bagshot, and from Bagshot to 
 Frimley, passing by the Golden Farmer and 
 stopping at the White Hart — I should un- 
 doubtedly abridge the way by stepping over 
 the whole country — after the fashion of the 
 pair of compasses with which one measures dis- 
 tances on a map — were it not for one peculi- 
 arity which must be pointed out. The old road 
 to Southampton and a great many other 
 places, for some distance beyond Frimley 
 runs only through two counties, and those 
 metropolitan counties too — first Middlesex 
 and then Surrey — and yet perhaps, were 
 you to look for any thirty miles throughout 
 all England, which comprises more waste 
 land than any other thirty miles, you would 
 
282 THE FORGERY. 
 
 have to pitch upon these in the immediate 
 vicinity of the capital. Only take the 
 names I have given above, and add the 
 word, heath, or, common, to them, and you 
 have at least fifteen miles of waste out of 
 the thirty. 
 
 Hounslow heath, Egham heath, Bagshot 
 heath, Ffimley common, over all these they 
 rolled as fast as two good horses and a gay 
 postillion could manage to make them ; and 
 about half past six o'clock they reached the 
 spot where they had seen poor Rebecca 
 Hayley two nights before. 
 
 The carriage was stopped and out they 
 got, as near the hovel as possible ; and then, 
 wandering down the little path by the side 
 of the swampy stream smothered with 
 moss, they made their way to the door. 
 It was closed, but not locked; and Charles 
 Marston, without the ceremony of knocking, 
 lifted the latch and went in. There was 
 but one tenant in the place, and that was 
 the boy Jim ; but the poor fellow's face and 
 manner displayed no more that calm, good 
 
THE FORGERY. 283 
 
 humoured, patient, steadfast opposition to 
 adversity and sorrow, which they had so 
 lately shown. He sat by the fireless hearth 
 and wept. 
 
 "Why what is the matter my lad?" 
 asked Charles, " and where is your old 
 friend Bessy?" 
 
 " They have taken her away,*'^ replied 
 the boy, '' and I am left here alone.'' 
 
 " Taken her away, taken her away!" 
 said Mr. Winkworth, following his youn 
 friend. " Who took her away? — If your 
 story, Charles, be quite correct, I do not 
 see who can have any right to take her 
 away — Who was it took her away, Jim ?" 
 
 '' Oh, he had right enough I dare say," 
 answered the boy, " at least he seemed to 
 have, for he ordered about him quite free, 
 and the people did just what he liked; and 
 when I asked him what was to become of 
 me, he said, " whatever might happen. He 
 had nothing to do with that. He would 
 have been more civil, I think, if he had had 
 no right.'' 
 
284 THE FORGERY. 
 
 " I can't tell that," replied Mr. Wink- 
 worth, who was occasionally given to 
 moralise, as the reader may have per- 
 ceived, " wrong is often a very uncivil 
 thing — but what was he like? Was he an 
 old man, or a young one?" 
 
 "Younger than you are, a good bit," 
 replied the boy ; " but older than he is, a 
 good bit." 
 
 And he pointed to Charles Mars ton. 
 
 Farther questions elicited, that the per- 
 son who had carried away poor Miss Hay- 
 ley was a gentleman, between forty and 
 fifty years of age — tall and thin, with grey 
 hair, but no whiskers. He had come down 
 in a carriage, the boy said, having a servant 
 with him, and together, they had put poor 
 Bessy into the vehicle, whether she would 
 or not. 
 
 " She seemed to know him, however," he 
 added, " and called him by his name, and 
 was very much afraid of him. She cried 
 and sobbed very much, too." 
 
 In answer to another question, the lad 
 
THE FORGERY. 285 
 
 stated that he had forgotten the name 
 which his poor old friend had given to the 
 gentleman. 
 
 " The description is uncommonly like 
 my uncle Scriven," said Charles Mars- 
 ton. 
 
 "That's it! that's it!" cried the boy, 
 eagerly. " That is what she called him — 
 I remember now." 
 
 " I'll swear, my dearly beloved aunt 
 Fleetwood has been at the bottom of this," 
 said Charles, "with her excellent inten- 
 tions. rU answer for it, she has told my 
 uncle all about our having found the poor 
 old lady here, and tried to persuade him to 
 do something for her. Thus, he has learnt 
 all about it, and, for some reason of his 
 own, has come and carried her away. But 
 I will have this affair investigated to the 
 bottom." 
 
 " Quite right, my dear boy — if you do 
 not run your head against sundry stone 
 walls, in so doing," rej)lied Mr. Wink- 
 worth ; " but you should always remember, 
 
286 THE FORGERY. 
 
 Charles Marston, that you have got brains, 
 and that stone walls have none, so that it is 
 not a fair fight between you and them. 
 However, now let us think of the boy." 
 
 " Oh, I will take him into my service," 
 replied the younger man; " and put him 
 under my fellow, to teach him " 
 
 " All manner of wickedness," said Mr. 
 Winkworth; " and therefore, you shall do 
 no such thing. I will take him into mine 
 — ^^vhere there's no blackguard, with long 
 whiskers, to corrupt him. I'll drill him into 
 all the precise notions of an old bachelor's 
 service ; and when he's fit for that, he's fit for 
 anything. Will you like to come and live 
 with me, my good boy, and be my servant?" 
 and the old gentleman's yellow counte- 
 nance lighted up with a benevolent smile, 
 which made it look quite handsome. 
 
 " I should like it very much," said the 
 boy, eagerly: "and then, perhaps, I can 
 sometimes see Bessy." 
 
 " I dare say you can, though I know not 
 why you call her Bessy," answered Mr. 
 
THE FORGERY. 287 
 
 WinkTTortli : " at all events, I will not pre- 
 vent you. Good Heaven, my clear Charles, 
 what a much happier, and brighter, and 
 better world it would be, if we all continued 
 to love our Bessies through life as this poor 
 boy seems to love his ! There, do not stare 
 so. I mean by Bessies, the best friends 
 of our youth— not, perhaps, the mere 
 corporeal flesh and blood friends ; but the 
 pure, ingenuous, open-hearted candour of 
 early years, which would be a better friend 
 to man, if he did but cling to it with affec- 
 tion through life, than all the worldly 
 friends we gain, in passing through exist- 
 ence — shrewdness, caution, prudence, sel- 
 fishness, wit, or even wisdom. But it is no 
 use trying to indoctrinate you, I see — you 
 only laugh at all my most beautiful illus- 
 trations, and think me the most foolish old 
 man in the world." 
 
 '' Not I indeed, my dear sir," replied 
 Charles Mars ton, " I should only like some 
 day to put your sarcasms, when your spleen 
 is moved, and your fine sentiments, when 
 
288 THE rORGERY. 
 
 your enthusiasm is excited, side by side, in 
 double columns as tliey print books, and 
 see how they would look when compared." 
 
 " They would mutually balance each 
 other, and so come to nothing," said the 
 old gentleman, " but now, my good boy, 
 Jim — What is your name besides Jim?" 
 
 " Brown," replied the boy. 
 
 " I thought so !" exclaimed Mr. Wink- 
 worth, " I could have sworn it! Jim 
 always precedes Brown, and Brown always 
 follows Jim — it is a natural collocation. — 
 How strange it is, Charles Marston, that 
 particular names have such strange affinities 
 for each other, so that they appear to unite 
 by the mere attraction of cohesion ! How 
 extraordinary that this boy's godfathers 
 and godmothers, without any preconcerted 
 consideration of the subject, were driven 
 by a sort of inevitable necessity to call him 
 Jim. They had, indeed, but one alterna- 
 tive, and that was Tom — However, Tom 
 is less dignified, being frequently attached 
 to cat — And now, Jim Brown, to proceed 
 
THE FORGERY. 271 
 
 to business, you shall either have your 
 choice of getting into the dicky of that 
 carriage, and coming up with me to town 
 to be fed, lodged, receive twenty pounds a 
 year, and wait upon an old gentleman with 
 a yellow face, or you shall stay here for a 
 day or two longer, to put your little affairs 
 in order, and follow me up to town for the 
 same purposes." 
 
 The boy had listened with profound at- 
 tention to Mr. Winkworth's comments on 
 his name, though with a slight expression of 
 wonder on his face, but not of stupid wonder. 
 To his proposal he gave not less attention, 
 and then thought for a moment before he 
 answered — Poor boy ! he had been taught 
 to think early ; for circumstance is a hard 
 master and often teaches severe lessons to 
 youth only fitted for age. 
 
 " I think I would rather stay for a day,'^ 
 he replied at length, '' for there are some 
 things of my poor mother's which I should 
 like to pack up and not have wasted." 
 
 " AYell then, there is a guinea for yoii 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
290 THE FORGERY. 
 
 to pay your journey up on the top of the 
 coach," said Mr. Winkworth, " and now 
 then, have you got such a thing as a pen, 
 that I may write down my address in 
 London." 
 
 " Here's poor Bessy's pen," said the boy, 
 " which she used to teach me to write 
 with." 
 
 ^Miile, with the well worn stump, a drop 
 of ink in a little vial, and a scrap of some- 
 what dirty paper, Mr. Winkworth wrote 
 down his address in London, Charles 
 Marston gazed out of the cottage-door upon 
 the heath, over which the purple shades of 
 evening were falling fast. 
 
 " Who are all those people passing across 
 the common," asked Charles Marston, turn- 
 ing to the boy, '' is there any great work 
 going on here?" 
 
 " Oh, no sir," replied Jim, " those are 
 people, I dare say, from the great meeting 
 to petition for a reform in parliament, 
 which was to be held farther up on the 
 common to-day. The men were coming 
 
THE FORGERY. 291 
 
 down all the morning, and a bad set they 
 were, too ; for they walked straight throngh 
 William Small's garden, and trampled down 
 all his beds, and gathered all the flowers. 
 He said they Avere nothing but a set of 
 thieves and pickpockets from London, and 
 they have done him damage for twenty 
 pounds or more." 
 
 "Ha! Charles, that's bad," said Mr. 
 Winkworth rising, and folding up the paper 
 on which he had written the address, " we 
 had better get away before the shades of 
 night are upon us. I hope your Whisker- 
 andos has got the pistols with him." 
 
 " I dare say he has," replied Charles 
 Mars ton; and after a few words more ex- 
 changed with the boy, they left the cottage 
 and got into their carriage again. Mr. 
 Winkworth, however, seemed to have 
 thought better of his plan of operations, 
 especially when they got into the midst of 
 a noisy and somewhat turbulent crowd, one 
 worthy member of which amused himself by 
 throwing a stone at the head of the servant. 
 3 
 
292 Tin: forgery. 
 
 " Aftei' all," said tlie old gentleman, "I 
 think it will be ))etter to stop and dine, and 
 U't these admirable reformers disperse." 
 
 Cliarles Marston was very willing to do 
 any tiling that he liked; for to say the 
 truth, his mind was very busy and wanted 
 to be busy ; and as the reader is well aware 
 when such is the case, the spiritual part 
 cares very little what the corporeal is about, 
 provided there is no intcrni])tion to its own 
 operations. They conse(iuently drove to the 
 inn where they had already stopj)ed on their 
 way to town, oi'(l(jred dinner, and, according 
 to the usual process, waited for it, and ate 
 it — not exactly in silence; for notwith- 
 standing all that philosophers can say, mind 
 or body either will oft(;n carry on two 
 operations at once, and Charles talked of 
 indiilerent subjects while his mind was occu- 
 pied with one partic^ular theme — that is to 
 say he talked mechanically; for conversa- 
 tion is much more the eilect of mere 
 machinery than we think. Now, internally 
 he was occupied in considering what could be 
 
THE FORGERY. 293 
 
 the motives of his uncle in the act lie had 
 just performed; and he mingled therewith 
 sundry doubts, hesitations, and enquiries 
 with which it is needless to trouble the 
 reader. In a word, thought mounted upon 
 imagination, went galloping away hither 
 and thither, while the mechanical part of 
 mind remained at home taking care of the 
 house. 
 
 In the meantime there was a good deal of 
 noise and bustle in the inn, which, on their 
 first visit, had seemed as quiet and tran- 
 quil a little place as any at which hungry 
 travellers ever ate new-killed chickens or 
 tough beef-stakes, and the landlord thought 
 fit to inform his respected guests, in an 
 apologetic tone, that there were several of the 
 orators of the great meeting just dispersed — 
 the spirit-shakers of that day — then dining 
 in the house, and several of their admirers 
 waiting in the yard to cheer them as they 
 went home. Now it is very natural for 
 orators to be noisy, first, because the unruly 
 member is their spoilt child, and next be- 
 
294 THE FORGERY. 
 
 cause — at least I never yet saw, met 
 with, or heard of, one of t^.em, with whom 
 such was not the case — and next be- 
 cause they never consider anyone but them- 
 selves. 
 
 Mr. Winkworth and Charles Marston 
 then, were not the least surprised at the inn 
 being noisy under such circumstances ; and 
 the only effect was, that they hurried their 
 dinner in order to get out of it as soon as 
 possible. Whenever the meal was concluded, 
 the horses were put to, the lamps lighted, for 
 it was now quite dark ; crack went the whip, 
 round went the wheels, and oif went the 
 carriage. Through the little town they drove 
 quietly and easily enough, and for some 
 distance beyond it; but at length, a^vful 
 Bagshot Heath spread around them. True, 
 it might have been any other place on the 
 earth for aught they knew. The night was 
 cloudy, the stars were all in bed and fast 
 asleep ; the moon would have nothing to do 
 with Bagshot Heath, that night; and 
 neither Charles nor his companion had the 
 
THE FORGERY. 295 
 
 least idea that tliey were in the midst of m 
 place, notorious for robbery some ten years 
 before, when a loud voice cried, " Stop," and 
 the carriage was brought to a sudden halt. 
 It is probable that some of the gentlemen 
 who, anxious for an extension of the fran- 
 chise, had attended the meeting in the 
 morning, seeing a carriage indicative of 
 wealth in the court-yard of the inn, had 
 thought that they might make their day's 
 expedition serve two purposes and tend 
 first to the expansion of their rights and 
 liberties, and secondly to a more equal dis- 
 tribution of property. At all events some 
 persons, animated by the latter object, 
 appealed to the travellers, pistol in hand to 
 convey a portion of their superfluity to 
 their more needy fellow countrymen. The 
 servant at the back of the carriage how- 
 ever instantly produced a pair of tubes very 
 similar to those in the hands of the 
 applicants, and without much ceremony 
 fired. 
 
296 THE FORGERY. 
 
 The shot was instantly returned, but with 
 what effect Charles Marston did not wait to 
 see, for, seated on the right hand side of the 
 carriage, which was opposite to that where 
 the attack was made, he put forth his hand, 
 the window on that side being down, 
 opened the door, jumped out and applied a 
 thick stick which he had with him, to the 
 head of a gentleman who was holding the 
 horses. 
 
 The head was a hard one, and pro- 
 bably not unaccustomed to such calls to 
 forbearance, but the blow was sufficiently 
 well directed, and forcibly applied, to stretch 
 him for one moment flat upon his back. 
 The next instant he was upon his feet again, 
 but not willing to take a second dose of the 
 same rude medicine, and totally forgetful 
 of his hat, which to say truth was not 
 worthy of great solicitude, he ran off across 
 the heath as fast as he could go. Xow 
 running is the most infectious of all diseases ; 
 and the two other gentlemen who were with 
 
THE FORGERY. 297 
 
 him were seized almost simultaneously with 
 the same malady. 
 
 Charles Marston did not think fit to 
 pursue the fugitives, but merely enquired 
 of the servant, who had by this time des- 
 cended from his leathern box, whether 
 the shot the fellows had fired had hit 
 him. 
 
 " No, sir,'' replied the man, in his peculiar, 
 afiected tone; "the gentlemen's line of fire 
 was not well directed. It merely damaged 
 the crystal of the carriage, I think." 
 
 And Charles Marston, calling him a 
 puppy, in his own mind, went round to the 
 other side, got in, and ordered the post-boy 
 to drive on. 
 
 For a moment or two, Mr. Winkworth 
 was completely silent; but at length, he 
 remarked, in a low, quiet tone, 
 
 " Well, I do think. Master Charles Mars- 
 ton, that I am a very unfortunate man, and 
 that my left shoulder is a very unfortunate 
 shoulder — both being subject to suffer by 
 encounters with highwaymen, whether Sv- 
 5 
 
298 THE FORGERY. 
 
 rian or English, Mahommedan or Chris- 
 tian/' 
 
 " Why, my dear sir — you don't mean to 
 say you are wounded !" exclaimed Charles 
 Marston. 
 
 " I do, indeed," replied Mr. Winkworth, 
 " and within one inch of the spot where I 
 was wounded before. Luckily, it is lower 
 down, and on the outside, so it is only in 
 the flesh, I fancy ; but I am not obliged to 
 them, nevertheless. I was just stooping a 
 little forward, to see what was going on, 
 when the ball came crashing through the 
 glass, and into my shoulder." 
 
 Charles Marston was now, as may well 
 be supposed, under a good deal of anxiety 
 for his friend; but Mr. Winkworth would 
 not consent to stop at the next inn, longer 
 than was necessary to ascertain merely that 
 the bleeding was not great. Charles insisted 
 upon putting on another pair of horses to 
 the carriage, to accelerate their progress; 
 and in about two hours and a half, they 
 reached the door of their hotel. There, a 
 
THE FORGERY. 299 
 
 surgeon was immediately sent for; and 
 after what seemed to Charles, a very 
 long delay, the man of healing entered 
 the room. 
 
300 THE FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 Human life is a strange thing, consider 
 it in what way we will. Strip it of all 
 factitious adjuncts, and leave it bare and 
 bald, as a mere lease for sixty or seventy 
 years of sensations, feelings, thoughts, hopes, 
 expectations, still it is strange, very 
 strange; but man has made it stranger. 
 Society has put so many clauses into the 
 lease, that the covenants are not always 
 easily fulfilled, and the tenancy occasionally 
 becomes troublesome. 
 
THE FORGERY. 301 
 
 I do not mean to say, that this was alto- 
 gether the case with worthy Mr. Wink- 
 worth. That he was rich was evident; 
 that notwithstanding his meagre body, 
 stooping shoulders, and yellow face, he was 
 strong and in good health, his capability 
 of enduring long fatigue, and the rapidity 
 with which he had recovered from his 
 former wounds in Syria, proved sufficiently. 
 But still he seemed very indifferent to life, 
 and when the surgeon — as surgeons often 
 will upon very slight occasions — thought 
 fit to look grave and solemn while examining 
 his wound, the old gentleman turned laugh- 
 ing to Charles Marston, and said, with a 
 nod of his head — 
 
 " I'll remember you in my will — My 
 dear sir," he continued addressing the 
 surgeon, " do not look so serious. You 
 cannot frighten me I assure you. Life in its 
 very best and palmiest state, with all its 
 joys and pleasures unimpaired, is not so 
 valuable a commodity in my eyes as to 
 make me take two thoughts about losing 
 
302 THE FORGERY. 
 
 it. There is no great chance of that, how- 
 ever, this time; and, even if there were, 
 this old, crazy, worn out body — of which, 
 as of a house long in chancery, there is 
 little more than the frame-work left — may 
 just as well go down to mother earth to-day 
 or to-morrow, as after a few score more 
 morrows, which will very soon be passed." 
 
 The ball, however, was soon extracted ; 
 and the old gentleman retired to bed 
 treating the whole matter somewhat 
 lightly. 
 
 The next morning, when Charles Marston 
 went to visit him, some degree of inflamma- 
 tion had naturally come on, rendering him 
 rather irritable, of which he was con- 
 scious. 
 
 '' Go away, Charles, go away," he said, 
 " go and see your uncle, as you ought to 
 have done before now. I am cross ; and if 
 you stay, you will find me as bitter as a 
 black dose." 
 
 " Well, I shall tell my servant, at all 
 events, to be in readiness to attend updn 
 
THE FORGERY. 303 
 
 you in case you ring," replied Charles 
 Mars ton. 
 
 " Tell him to go to the devil," exclaimed 
 ' Mr. Winkworth, " the whiskered coxcomb, 
 with his airs and graces, would drive me 
 mad in a minute — Xo, no, go away and 
 see your uncle, and leave me to myself. 
 You may come in, about one or two o'clock ; 
 but mind how you open that door, for it 
 makes such a villanous squeaking, one 
 would suppose it had not moved on its 
 hinges for half a century." 
 
 There was a house which Charles Marston 
 would undoubtedly have much preferred to 
 visit, if he had followed his own inclina- 
 tion; but, nevertheless, with a strong re- 
 solution, he turned his steps towards his 
 uncle's dwelling, feeling conscious that he 
 had certainly made no great exertions to 
 see him since his return. He was im- 
 mediately admitted ; for Mr. Scriven seldom 
 betook himself to his counting-house before 
 eleven or twelve o'clock, and being a man 
 of very regular habits, the ordinary pro- 
 
304 THE FORGERY. 
 
 cess was to read three or four articles in 
 the morning papers before he set out — 
 partly during breakfast, and partly during 
 the first steps of digestion afterwards. I 
 have said three or four articles, because in 
 reading newspapers, as in everything else, 
 Mr. Scriven went upon a system. He was 
 one of those men who always have a motive, 
 and his motive was usually one and in- 
 divisible. 
 
 There was no such thing as an impulse 
 in his nature. He did not recollect ever 
 having had an impulse. He was Babbage's 
 calculating machine, in flesh and blood. 
 
 His sister. Lady Fleetwood, had told her 
 nephew — as we have seen — that Mr. Scriven 
 had been " very angry," upon one occasion ; 
 but Lady Fleetwood made a mistake. Mr. 
 Scriven was never, very angry : it did not 
 come within his calculations to be so. He 
 could be exceedingly severe, bitter, caustic, 
 and coolly regardless of other people's feel- 
 ings ; but he was not the least angry, all 
 the while. He either wanted to prevent 
 
THE FORGERY. 305 
 
 them from doing a thing he did not desire 
 to be done, or to stop them from ever 
 doing it again. It was still upon a 
 motive. 
 
 Thus, in reading the newspaper, he read 
 those articles alone which were likely to 
 affect himself personally, either immediately 
 or remotely. He cared nothing about 
 politics, except as the price of the funds, 
 the value of merchandise, the risks of 
 speculation, or the amount of taxation, was 
 concerned. Highway robberies, murders, 
 suits in Chancery, police reports, trials at 
 bar, or in the Arches' Court, interested him 
 not in the least — except as excepted. 
 They were all about other people; and he 
 would have considered it, a want of due 
 economy, to give them the least attention. 
 Births, deaths and marriages, in the ab- 
 stract, he cared nothing about; and the 
 whole world might have been born, wedded 
 or buried, without producing one sensation 
 in his bosom, provided he could have carried 
 on his transactions without it. 
 
306 THE FOKGERY. 
 
 The Gazette, the shipping list, the money 
 article, the commercial statement, a few 
 trials for swindling, forgery, and breach of 
 contract, together with reports of the 
 budget, the estimates, and any debates in 
 Parliament, referring to commercial matters, 
 was all that he ever thought of reading; 
 and the lucubrations of editors, in what are 
 called leading articles, he passed over with 
 utter contempt, saying that he trusted he 
 could form as good an opinion, himself, on 
 matters of fact, as any they could give 
 him. 
 
 The reader must pardon me for dwelling 
 so long on Mr. Scriven's character ; and I 
 do so, not because it is at all a singular 
 one — for it is as common as the air, under 
 different modifications — but because there 
 are very few men who, possessing the jewel 
 of perfect selfishness, are bold enough to 
 display it openly and without disguise, to 
 the eyes of all men. But Mr. Scriven was 
 at the acme of his class. He was, as a 
 naturalist would say, the most perfect spe- 
 
THE FORGERY. 307 
 
 cimen ever found ; and it requires to be so, 
 before selfishness can be considered a virtue, 
 and a matter of pride. 
 
 When Charles Marston was ushered up 
 to his uncle, he found him busily reading 
 an account of the barque Louisa having 
 been spoken with by the Arcadia mail- 
 packet, in latitude so-and-so, longitude so- 
 and-so. Neither the latitude nor longitude 
 signifies a pin to you or me, reader, though 
 it did to him. 
 
 Mr. Scriven looked up over the top of 
 the paper, as his nephew was announced, 
 dropped it a little lower when he saw him, 
 and said, 
 
 " How do you do, Charles ? — how do you 
 do, Charles? I will speak to you in a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 And he read out the ship-news, without 
 moving a muscle. 
 
 Charles Marston had a great inclination 
 to put on his hat and walk away — for it 
 must be recollected that eighteen months 
 had passed since Mr. Scriven had last seen 
 
308 THE FORGERY. 
 
 his nephew; and Charles, without being 
 angry at the coolness of his reception, 
 argued in this manner : 
 
 " He does not care to see me ; I certainly 
 do not care to see him — why should I be 
 bored by stopping while he reads the 
 paper?" 
 
 There were two or three other little pros 
 and cons in Charles Marston's mind; but 
 they were brought to an end by Mr. ScriA^en 
 finishing the subject which he was reading, 
 and turning to his nephew, with his usual 
 dry air, 
 
 " Well, Charles," he said, " here is the 
 third day since you arrived in London, 
 and I have the honour of seeing you at 
 la^t." 
 
 Charles Marston did not think fit to make 
 the slightest excuse or apology, content- 
 ing himself with the simple facts, of having 
 sent to his uncle's house, to enquire if he 
 were at home, and having afterwards called 
 upon him in the city. 
 
 " If you had come yourself, Charles," 
 
THE FORGERY. 309 
 
 said his uncle, '' the servant would have 
 told you that I was near at hand, and 
 would be home directly; and if you had 
 thought fit to remain in London till you 
 saw me, yesterday, you might have met me 
 at your aunt's house, last night — I having 
 gone there in the hope of seeing you." 
 
 " This seems to me something like an 
 accusation," answered Charles, a little 
 nettled; " and in regard to the first count 
 of the indictment, I must plead that I could 
 not divine your servants would tell lies. 
 They assured mine that they did not know 
 where you were, or when you would return. 
 In regard to the second count, I had busi- 
 ness, which I judged of importance, to take 
 me out of town; and, as you knew I was 
 gone from dear aunt Fleetwood, and Avas 
 aware, also, of the business that took me, I 
 could not suppose that the expectation of 
 meeting me among the number of her lady- 
 ship's guests, would take you to her house. 
 Had I known it, I might have hurried my 
 return to London." 
 
310 THE FORGERY. 
 
 " Then Lady Fleetwood told you that 
 she had informed me of your expedition?" 
 said Mr. Scriven, in an enquiring tone, but 
 with such perfect composure, that it pro- 
 voked his nephew. 
 
 " Not so," replied Charles, " I divined 
 it from her usual conduct, and felt sure of 
 it when I found that you had forestalled 
 me in my object." 
 
 Mr. Scriven remained silent for a mo- 
 ment, but then he replied, quite un- 
 moved, 
 
 " Your combinations are good, Charles, 
 but sometimes may be mistaken, and are 
 always rather too hasty." 
 
 " The simple question is this, my dear 
 uncle," said Charles, " did Lady Fleet- 
 wood or not inform you, that I had discovered 
 poor Miss Hay ley in very great misery not 
 far from Frimley, and that I intended to go 
 down yesterday, have her brought to town, 
 and see that she was properly taken care 
 of; and did you not set off immediately, 
 and carry her away to a mad-house?" 
 
THE FOrvGERY. 311 
 
 " Who puts the question?" asked Mr. 
 Scriven, with his usual equable manner. 
 '' I do," answered Charles. 
 " Eather respectful from a nephew to an 
 uncle," replied Mr. Scriven, drily; "and 
 now, my dear Charles, to more serious 
 matters. I wrote to you to come over 
 immediately as I wanted to see you — " 
 
 Charles was angry at the somewhat con- 
 temptuous brevity with which his uncle 
 dismissed the subject. 
 
 '' You will excuse me, sir," he said, 
 " but I wish for an answer to my question 
 before we enter upon any other matter." 
 
 '' You shall have an answer before you 
 leave the room," replied Mr. Scriven ; " but 
 I think it necessary to proceed in order ; for 
 you know, my good nephew, that I am 
 very methodical, and as my letter to you 
 is the first incident, chronologically speak- 
 ing, I wish to deal with that first." 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied Charles, " what 
 might be the occasion of your wishing my 
 immediate return?" 
 
312 THE FOKGERY. 
 
 " One of some importance," answered 
 Mr. Scriven. " You and your cousin Maria 
 have been brought up in habits of great 
 affection for each other. She is exceedingly- 
 beautiful, and her fortune, very large at 
 her father and mother's death, has not, as 
 you may well suppose, diminished under 
 my management. Although she does not 
 go so much into the world as most young 
 women at her time of life, yet there is 
 every day a probability of some proposal 
 being made to her which she may think fit 
 to accept. Xow, my dear Charles, I would 
 not have you go on wasting your time in 
 wandering about upon the continent, and 
 throw away an opportunity which may 
 never occur again." 
 
 Charles Marston smiled — 
 
 " Dear aunt Fleetwood has bit you, sir, 
 I think," he replied : " Maria and I have a 
 great deal of affection for each other; but 
 it is quite brotherly and sisterly, I can 
 assure you — and will remain so till the end 
 
THE FORGERY. 313 
 
 of our days — whether I am at Babylon, or 
 her next-door neighbour in London." 
 
 " I advise you for what I think the best, 
 Charles," replied his uncle; "you are too 
 wise, and have too much knowledge of the 
 world, I am sure, to sacrifice all the im- 
 portant objects of life for romance." 
 
 " Decidedly," answered Charles Marston ; 
 "you must be very well aware that I have not 
 a particle of romance in my disposition — 
 plenty of fun, my dear uncle, and a great 
 deal of nonsense, of different kinds, but 
 none of the kind called romance. Never- 
 theless, setting aside all objections to 
 marrying at all — which I should suppose 
 you are the last man on earth to under- 
 value — I have an immense number of suf- 
 ficient objections to the important act and 
 deed of proposing to my cousin ^laria." 
 
 " Pray, what may they be ?" asked Mr. 
 Scriven, drily. 
 
 " In the fii'st place," answered his nephew, 
 " it would take her quite by surprise — and 
 I do not wish to surprise lier ; in the second 
 
 VOL I. P 
 
314 THE FORGERY. 
 
 place, she would, to a certainty, refuse me 
 — and I do not want to be refused; in the 
 third place, if she did by some miracle 
 accept me — which nothing but a miracle 
 could produce — we should find out, in three 
 weeks, that we were not suited to each 
 other ; and in the — — " 
 
 " But why not suited to each other ?" 
 demanded Mr. Scriven, interrupting him, 
 after listening to his objections with mar- 
 vellous patience ; " you have no vices, that 
 I know of — though a great many follies — 
 and Maria is the sweetest tempered girl in 
 the world." 
 
 " You have touched the exact points of 
 difficulty, most excellent uncle," replied 
 Charles Marston ; " Maria is not fond of 
 follies, and I am not fond of sweets — I never 
 was, even from childhood, I always pre- 
 ferred a little sour in my sweetmeats — and, 
 in short, Maria and I would never do to- 
 gether. She would always let me have my 
 own way, and say, ' Do just as you like, 
 my dear Charles !' Now, what 1 want is a 
 
THE FORGERY. 315 
 
 wife who would say, ' you shan't do any- 
 thing of the kind, you mad-headed fel- 
 low.' " 
 
 " You were going to state a fourth ob- 
 jection, I think, when I interrupted you," 
 said Mr. Scriven, with the utmost com- 
 posure ; " the three first I do not judge very 
 sound." 
 
 *'I do;" answered Charles, "and the 
 fourth is still sounder. Fourthly, and 
 lastly, then, I intend to marry somebody 
 else." 
 
 "Who?" asked Mr. Scriven. 
 
 " There, my dear uncle, you will excuse 
 me," replied Charles; "I will beg to 
 keep my own secret, till I am formally ac- 
 cepted ; and I only mention the fact to you, 
 to show you that the idea of a marriage 
 ])etween Maria and myself is a horse with- 
 out legs — it won't go, my dear uncle." 
 
 " Very well," said Mr. Scriven, gravely : 
 
 " and now, there is another subject upon 
 
 which I want to speak to you. You have been 
 
 a very long time doing nothing but amusing 
 
 p 2 
 
316 THE FORGERY. 
 
 yourself; you have arrived at an age when 
 many men are making fortunes, or laying 
 the foundations of honourable distinction 
 and a great name. Worldly prosperity is 
 too insecure a thing, for any man to rest 
 contented with that which fate or fortune has 
 chosen to bestow, without farther exertions 
 of his own. A man must labour to gain, 
 if he would wish to maintain ; and I think 
 it high time that you should adopt some 
 steady pursuit, and give up this reckless 
 roaming about the world. You have past 
 the time at which those professions, usually 
 selected by young men of gay dispositions, 
 idle habits, and small brains, are open to 
 aspiring youths like yourself. I mean the 
 army and navy. For law, physic, or divinity, 
 you are not fitted, either by intellect, study, 
 or character. Mercantile pursuits, how- 
 ever, may be embraced at a later period of 
 life, and with less preparation. To them I 
 should advise you strongly, and urge you 
 warmly, to apply yourself — and that at 
 once." 
 
THE FORGERY. 317 
 
 Charles Marston was a good deal annoyed 
 by his uncle's lecture — not so much at the 
 matter (for he could not help acknowledging 
 that there was a great deal of good sense 
 in what Mr. Scriven said) as at the manner, 
 which was dictatorial, cold, and a little 
 contemptuous. He replied, therefore : 
 
 " I am quite well aware, my dear uncle, 
 that for tlie mercantile profession neither a 
 large portion of intellect, a refined educa- 
 tion, nor an amiable character is required. 
 An instinct of gain supplies all deficiencies ; 
 and although higher qualities may, and often 
 do, embellish the character a merchant, 
 many men do get on quite as well without. 
 However, there is a good deal of justice in 
 your observations; and although, as you 
 know, I am not famous for thinking, (Mr. 
 Scriven nodded his head) I have thought 
 of two or three of the topics which you have 
 discussed; and moreover, some time ago, I 
 wrote to my dear father, informing him of 
 all my views, hopes, and wishes — without 
 the slightest reserve. According to his 
 
318 THE FORGERY. 
 
 directions and advice I shall act, as soon as 
 I receive his answer — for I can perfectly 
 trust to his kindness, to his liberality, and 
 to his judgment." 
 
 " Very good," said Mr. Scriven ; " I 
 trust — and am even sure — that his views 
 will be the same as my own ; for, although 
 your father is an exceedingly eccentric 
 man, and never acts as any other man 
 would act, yet he is, in the main, a man 
 of good sense; and there are circum- 
 stances " 
 
 Charles Marston did not at all like the 
 tone in which Mr. Scriven was speaking of 
 his father. He felt himself growing angry, 
 and he knew that if he suifered the sensa- 
 tion to go on — receiving little additions 
 every moment, from his uncle's observations, 
 his anger would explode. He therefore 
 thought it better to cut the matter short, 
 and interrupt Mr. Scriven's picture of his 
 father's character. 
 
 " You pride yourself upon being a plain 
 speaker, my dear sir," he said; "butob- 
 
THE FORGERY. 319 
 
 servations upon my father's eccentricity, as 
 you term it, are not pleasant to me. 
 Having, therefore, listened attentively to 
 your exhortations on marriage and com- 
 merce, I will revert, if you please, to 
 the question I put, regarding Miss Hay- 
 ley." 
 
 " Will you propound it?" said Mr. Scri- 
 ven, '' I did not take a note of it." 
 
 "It was simply,'' answered Charles, 
 " whether my aunt did not tell you that I 
 intended to go down yesterday, at three, to 
 bring Miss Hayley to town, for the purpose 
 of having her properly taken care of — poor 
 thing ; and whether you did not immediately 
 set out to forestal me, and carry her off to 
 a mad-house." 
 
 " One answer will suffice to the three 
 clauses of your question," replied Mr. 
 Scriven, perfectly unmoved ; '^ yes." 
 
 " Then, I must beg to know," said 
 Charles, '' where you have carried her — for 
 I am determined, after the state in which 
 I lately found her, to see with my own 
 
320 THE lORGERY. 
 
 eyes that she is properly protected for the 
 rest of her life, and to provide for it out of 
 my own income." 
 
 " I promised to answer your question as 
 first put," answered Mr. Scriven, coolly, 
 "and I have done so; hut I promised no 
 more : and now, I heg leave to say that I 
 shall not tell you where I have placed Miss 
 Hayley." 
 
 " And pray, why not?" demanded 
 Charles, in a sharp tone. 
 
 " Because I have more consideration for 
 your income than you have yourself, young 
 man," replied his uncle; "you will soon 
 have need of it — every penny of it, sir — 
 and more important duties to perform with 
 it." 
 
 "I do not understand your meaning, 
 sir," rejoined Charles, a little surprised by 
 a very meaning look upon Mr. Scriven's 
 face, which was rarely suffered to convey 
 anything more than his exact words im- 
 plied. 
 
 "It is very simple,'* said Mr. Scriven, 
 
THE FORGERY. 321 
 
 rising and pushing over to his nephew two 
 papers, Avhich he had held in his hand for 
 the last five minutes ; " You will see what 
 I mean, by those two letters. The one I 
 received more than a month ago, when 1 
 wrote to you — the other, yesterday morning. 
 Your father is a bankrupt, Charles Marston 
 — that is all ! And now, I must go to the 
 counting-house, for it is past the hour/* 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
tJ^T^inWF.^^ 
 

 UNIVERSrTY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 084214482 
 
 ■'*v 
 
 h.