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 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 VOL. I
 
 NEW HOVELS AT ALL LIBRARIES. 
 
 SYRLIN. By OuiDA. 3 vols. 
 
 THE BISHOPS' BIBLE. By D. Christie Murray 
 
 and Henry Herman. 3 vols. 
 
 WITHOUT LOVE OR LICENCE. By Hawley 
 
 Smart. 3 vols. 
 
 A YANKEE AT THE COURT OF KING 
 
 ARTHUR. By Mark Twain, i vol. 
 
 A LAST LOVE. By Georges Ohnet. i vol. 
 A NOBLE WOMAN. By Henry Greville. i vol. 
 THE HOLY ROSE &c. By Walter Besant. i vol. 
 PAUL JONES'S ALIAS &c. By D Christie 
 
 Murray and Henry Herman, i vol. 
 
 THE LAWTON GIRL. By Harold Frederic. 
 
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 Doyle, i vol. 
 
 THE MAN FROM MANCHESTER. By Dick 
 
 Donovan. 1 vol. 
 
 SENTENCED ! By Somerville Gibney. i vol.' 
 A WAIF OF THE PLAINS. By Bret Harte. 
 
 I vol. 
 London : CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly, W.
 
 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES PAYN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'BY PROXY' ETC, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 1890
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 IjONDON
 
 (V) 
 
 fi 
 
 in 
 in 
 
 d 
 c: 
 
 51 
 
 d 
 
 ga3 
 
 v.i 
 
 TO 
 
 EOBEET LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 A WRITEE DEAE TO MAN AND BOY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY HIS FEIEND 
 
 JAMES PAYN
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/cletails/burntmillion01payn
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 I. Josh 1 
 
 II. Lord Cheribert 17 
 
 III. The Memorandum 32 
 
 IV. A Suspicion 49 
 
 V. The Warning 67 
 
 VI. An Honest Lawyer 90 
 
 VII. The Will 109 
 
 VIII. The Fire 127 
 
 IX. Reunited 145 
 
 X. Speculations 163 
 
 XL An Unexpected Client . . . . . 180 
 
 XII. Mysteries 198 
 
 XIII. The Bereaved 215 
 
 XIV. Good Advice 231 
 
 XV. An Enigma 249 
 
 XVI. The Key of it 265 
 
 XVII. Elm Place 285
 
 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 JOSH 
 
 In the old Court suburb, Kensington, there 
 are still a few fine old houses standing back 
 from the road, with gardens attached to them 
 of considerable size, and adorned with noble 
 trees, especially the cedar. Its 'layers of 
 shade,' though deadly to the turf beneath them, 
 are welcome indeed to the Londoner durincc 
 the summer heats. As he sits on his rockin^^- 
 chair, shut out from all the din and dust of 
 the streets, and with only the muffled roar of 
 the great city breaking on his ear like a 
 distant sea — yet within reach of all that 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 makes life worth living — lie combines, as few 
 can do, the advantages of town and country; 
 the knowledge that the eye of the capitahst 
 and the enterprising builder is on him, and 
 that such pleasures will be short-lived, may 
 decrease his enjoyment, but not in all cases. 
 
 In that of Mr. Joseph Tremenhere, for 
 example, the tenant of Lebanon Lodge, who 
 is thus enjoying a cigar of the finest brand 
 and of the size of a sausage, this reflection is 
 rather soothing than otherwise. He is a man 
 who is not displeased with the notion of a 
 transitory pleasure so long as it will last his 
 time. As his lease has still to run for twenty 
 years, and he is sixty-five years of age, this 
 he thinks may be reckoned upon ; and Mr. 
 Tremenhere's calculations are generally 
 correct. 
 
 He may have made one or two mistakes 
 in life (though it would be difficult to convince 
 him of it), but not in figures. He may not be 
 <Tood at music and the fine arts — though they
 
 JOSH 3 
 
 are botli in a sense at liis service, in common 
 witli everything else that money can buy — 
 but at 'totting up,' as he playfully terms it, 
 he has no rival. He has totted up his own 
 fortune, from the proverbial half-crown, with 
 which as a friendless boy he came to London, 
 to something like a million of money. It is 
 difficult to appreciate the magnitude of this 
 sum, though a master of numbers has helped 
 us to do so, by pointing out that the bunches 
 of chestnut blossoms on one side of the long 
 drive in Bushy Park — which seem to the un- 
 scientific eye innumerable— may be con- 
 sidered to 'tot up' to that amount. 'Sell 
 them for a sovereign apiece,' as Josh would 
 say, ' and there you are.' Mr. Joseph Tremen- 
 here, notwithstanding the great respect in 
 which he is held by the world at large, is 
 familiarly known by it as 'Josh,' and even 
 called so by his more audacious clients to his 
 face, and without rebuke. Indeed, supposing 
 their rank is sufficiently high to justify it, he
 
 4 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 rather likes it ; for it shows that he is hand 
 and glove with tliem. Dukes have taken that 
 pudgy hand of liis with heartfelt, if transitory, 
 gratitude, for he has dragged their graces out 
 of many a hole. Its stumpy but scrupulously 
 clean fingers sparkle with costly rings that 
 have been bestowed upon him by noble lords 
 in return for the assistance which Jews and 
 lawyers have alike denied to them ; they come 
 to him as a last resort, and often express a 
 genuine regret that they have not earher 
 applied to such a benefactor of their species ; 
 often, we say, but, it must be confessed, not 
 always. 
 
 They are welcomed by him, without ex- 
 ception, with courtesy and good will ; if they 
 are but frank with him, it is ten to one that 
 they will not repent it ; he finds meat on their 
 bones, where others liave assured them there 
 is no meat ; but in cases where there is so 
 very little of it that it hardly repays Mr. 
 Joseph Tremenhere for his trouble in dis-
 
 JOSH 5 
 
 covering it, he naturally keeps it for himself. 
 He is not going to set noblemen and gentlemen 
 on their legs merely to walk away without fee ; 
 and their skeletons become his detractors. 
 But who cares for what people say who have 
 neither money nor credit ? Certainly not Mr. 
 Joseph Tremenhere. His own review of his 
 past is as favourable as any one could expect — 
 much more so than most reviews. Josh's 
 temper is something angelic ; he has stood 
 things which very few people, even philoso- 
 phers, could have borne without indignation ; 
 and his conscience is even more under control. 
 Its still small voice was always the reverse of 
 importunate, and Josh is growing a little deaf. 
 One may almost say that it never troubles him. 
 When he looks back upon his life, he is 
 astonished, like the great shaker of the Pagoda 
 tree, at his own moderation. He has done 
 pretty well for himself, no doubt, but in some 
 cases he might (as he reflects with a sigh) have 
 done even better. He thinks over his feats of
 
 6 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 finance with a pardonable pride, for indeed 
 tliey have been unparalleled. He has rushed 
 in where lawyers have feared to tread, and 
 snatched from ruin scores of great estates, or 
 at all events portions of them. He has stood 
 in the way between them and hundreds of 
 grasping greedy creditors, and defied them ; 
 whip in hand, he has gone down among the 
 snarling crowd, and slashed their faces for 
 them ; nay, he has done far more dangerous 
 things — trodden on the very confines of the 
 criminal law — the crust of the volcano — and 
 yet saved both himself and his client. 
 
 His future, so far as he concerns himself 
 with such a matter, is assured to him. If he 
 has to live on his principal, which would, 
 however, seem to him a very monstrous 
 notion, much as the idea of living by theft 
 would seem to the intelligent and doubtless 
 honest reader, he could still live all the rest 
 of his life in great prosperity, or, as he himself 
 would have expressed it, ' like a fighting cock.'
 
 JOSH 7 
 
 It is indeed the vast amount of money he 
 has made, strange as it may seem, which 
 troubles him. 
 
 ' What will become of it when I am 
 gone ? ' is the question he is always putting 
 to himself. How to preserve it to his 
 children ; how to prevent them from daing 
 away with it themselves, and especially other 
 people from doing away with it for them? 
 He does not want tlieiii to be coming cap in 
 hand to some other ' Josh,' to entreat him to 
 save something of Ms property out of the fire 
 for them. He has a bad opinion of other 
 ' Joshes,' if indeed there is one in all Christen- 
 dom worthy to be called by his great name. 
 In Judea there certainly is not. Mr. Joseph 
 Tremenhere is a Jew himself (though some 
 people call him a Samaritan), but a very 
 ' wet ' Jew ; not at all solicitous about the 
 weightier matters of the law, much less the 
 smaller ones, and seldom seen at synagogue. 
 He has fought and conquered his brethren of
 
 8 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Israel many times, and none of them, as well 
 tliey know, can stand against liim : it is some- 
 thing to be the greatest moneylender that 
 London has ever produced : but Mr. Joseph 
 Tremenhere is far more than that. He is a 
 money-maker. Out of estates mortgaged to 
 the hilt, out of fortunes sunk in the sand, he 
 has wrung the red gold. 
 
 Just at present, however, he is thinking of 
 none of these things, but of his daughter, little 
 Grace, for it is her birthday. She is now 
 coming to him down the lawn, with her straw 
 hat in both her hands, the sun shining on her 
 blue- black hair, and lighting up every line 
 of her Spanish-looking face with beauty. She 
 is slight, and not very tall ; but her figure is 
 exquisitely graceful ; she has passed the brook 
 of childhood, for she is seventeen, yet still 
 seems to be standing on the hither brink of it; 
 her father calls her 'his little fairy,' which 
 requires no great stretch of imagination, for 
 she in truth resembles one; her eyes are so
 
 JOSH 9 
 
 bright, and her face so full of glee, that under 
 the dark cedar she moves like sunshine. 
 
 ' You naughty, naughty girl ! ' murmurs 
 her proud father lovingly ; ' why are you with- 
 out your hat ? You will have a sunstroke.' 
 
 'But see what I have got mmy hat, papa!' 
 
 He has been so entranced by his darling's 
 beauty, that he has not looked at her hat, 
 which he now perceives to be full of the most 
 lovely flowers, all white ones. 
 
 His face clouds over in a moment : perhaps 
 the idea that such flowers are used at funerals 
 occurs to his mind, and connects this fracrile 
 little creature — the child of his old age — with 
 the e^rave. 
 
 'Who has sent you these?' he inquires 
 gravely, almost sternly. 
 
 'I don't know ; they have just come, with 
 nothing but this card with them, " To 
 Fairy on her birthday;" is it not kind of 
 somebody ? ' . 
 
 Mr. Joseph Tremenhere takes the card and
 
 10 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 examines the handwriting carefully, and by 
 no means with a pleased expression of counte- 
 nance. 
 
 'Do you know who it is, papa? Oh, do 
 tell me, that I may thank him when he comes 
 this afternoon.' 
 
 ' How do you know it's a liim ? ' he inquires 
 sharply. 
 
 ' Well, of course, it may be a lady, but we 
 know so few ladies ! ' 
 
 This was very true : the female visitors at 
 Lebanon Lodge were not numerous ; nor were 
 any of them likely to have sent bridal flowers 
 (for that was the view of them Mr. Tremenhere 
 had taken) to Grace ; they had a wholesome 
 fear of her father, and would have been care- 
 ful not to put such things (as matrimony) into 
 his daughter's head. 
 
 ' It must be some gentleman friend of 
 yours, papa,' continued the girl ; ' you have 
 so many friends.' • 
 
 ' Have I ? ' he said, with a queer smile.
 
 JOSH II 
 
 ' Well, of course ; have I not seen them ? 
 Shall I not see them to-day ? men of the 
 highest rank, some of them, and all (under 
 pretence of saying " Many happy returns " to 
 poor little me) coming to do you honour.' 
 
 ' You think that, do you, little one ? ' he 
 answered, taking her small hand in his, and 
 speaking with gentle gravity. 
 
 ' Think it ? I know it. Have you not told 
 me yourself how you have helped this, that, 
 and the other in their difficulties ? And have 
 I not seen with my own eyes how grateful 
 they are to you ? I am no longer a child, 
 papa, though I believe you think so, and I 
 know very well that, though of course we are 
 very rich ' 
 
 ' What ! you are rich, are you ? ' he 
 interrupted. 
 
 ' Well, of course ; that is, you are, which is 
 the same thing. Agnes and Phihppa always 
 say we are very rich.' 
 
 ' They do, do they ? ' He smoked at his
 
 12 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 cigar in rapid puffs — a sign, as slie well knew, 
 that he was displeased. 
 
 ' Is it wroncr, then ? or rio-ht for them and 
 wrong for me to say so, papa? I am very 
 sorry. They are much older, of course ' 
 
 ' Tut, tut ! They are not much wiser, at 
 all events,' he put in kindly. ' Yes, you are 
 quite right in supposing that your position is 
 as good as theirs. Like them, you are my 
 daughter, though there the likeness ends. 
 You have not offended me at all, httle one. 
 It is highly improper that there should be a 
 tear in your pretty eyes on your birthday ; 
 let me kiss it away. You were saying that, 
 though we are so rich, something happens or 
 does not happen, which was it ? ' 
 
 ' But perhaps I ought not to have said 
 anything about it, papa ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, you ought ; I like to hear my Fairy 
 talk just as she feels, just as she thinks.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I was thinking that other 
 people — Mr. Abraham, for instance, and Mr.
 
 JOSH 13 
 
 Isaacs — who are almost as ricli as you are, do 
 not have the same friends, neither so many 
 nor such great ones as you have. Miss 
 Abraham does not know a single lord, she 
 says, except one who is unhappily obliged to 
 live abroad.' 
 
 ' Very likely,' said Mr. Tremenhere with a 
 smile — this time a humorous one. ' Well, 
 and we know a dozen or so of these noble 
 personages, don't we, Grace .^ And you 
 wonder how that comes about ? ' 
 
 ' ISTo, I don't wonder, papa, because I 
 hnow^ she answered gravely. ' It is because 
 you have been so generous to them, and 
 helped them out of all their troubles. How 
 nice it must be to be so good and kind, and 
 also so powerful ! It is easy enough to wish 
 to do good. I can get that far myself; but I 
 am not a fairy, though you call me so. Kow, 
 you are like one of those nice enchanters that 
 one reads of in the Eastern tale, who makes it 
 his business to undo the work of wicked
 
 14 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 magicians, and protect the weak against the 
 strong.' 
 
 ' I am, am I ? ' Josh had taken his cicfar 
 from between his hps with one hand, and was 
 covering his mouth with the other ; there 
 was something there he did not wish his 
 child to see. 
 
 'Well, of course you are ; everybody 
 knows it. Mr. Eoscoe said, when I was 
 talking to him about you the other day, that 
 you are just as kind to animals, since he has 
 often seen you help a lame dog over a stile. 
 But, now that I liave shown you my flowers, 
 I must go and dress, dear papa, before the 
 company come ; there is just time to give you 
 a kiss before your cigar goes out for want of 
 puffing ; ' and she kissed him and tripped 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Tremenhere was very stout ; he was a 
 large man from many points of view, and 
 there were no wrinkles in his fair fat face, but 
 it had suddenly become very grey and worn.
 
 JOSH 15 
 
 On liis brow, too, tliere now sat a heavy 
 frown. His little daughter, who was all 
 truth and trust, the only human being he 
 knew of whom he could say as much, believed 
 him to be a disinterested and kindly man. He 
 knew a good deal about getting money under 
 false pretences, but this acquisition of tender 
 regard — a young girl's reverence — was some- 
 thing new and strange to him. He had imagined 
 that, somehow or other, his little Fairy loved 
 him for his own sake, though she had under- 
 stood, however vaguely, what he was. But 
 now it seemed that she had been all alono- in 
 a Fool's Paradise. How long, he wondered, 
 would she remain in it? It must needs be 
 that, sooner or later, she would be undeceived ; 
 but woe to him that should wake her from 
 her innocent dreams ! Eoscoe, of all the men 
 in the world, had contrived to amuse himself 
 with her simplicity, had he ? Eoscoe, his 
 right-hand man, who knew more of his secrets 
 than anybody, and could tell more things of
 
 1 6 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 him. If he had dared to presume upon that 
 
 fact But here Mr. Joseph Tremenhere's 
 
 indicrnation became too much for him, and 
 he rapped out an oath that would be quite 
 unintelhgible to the gentle reader. What it 
 meant was, that if the circumstance in ques- 
 tion did happen, Mr. Edward Eoscoe should 
 learn to his cost, and with a vengeance, the 
 difference between master and man.
 
 17 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 LORD CIIERIBERT 
 
 An hour later, the grounds of Lebanon Lodge 
 were filhng with gay company. Ladies, 
 mostly matrons, of dark complexion and 
 ample proportions, perhaps a trifle over- 
 dressed. Daughters of Judah, who, if they 
 made no ' tinkling with their feet,' exhibited 
 elsewhere a considerable amount of personal 
 jewellery. Young ones also, though much 
 fewer, were to be seen about the garden 
 fountain and its fishpond — full of swimming 
 buUion — like so many Eebekahs at the well, 
 waiting, in most cases in vain, for their Isaacs. 
 For of Isaacs, unless old ones, there were 
 very few. The males of the company, who 
 far outnumbered the ladies, were professing 
 VOL. L c
 
 1 8 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Christians, and in most cases had no other 
 profession. Aristocrats of noble race, but 
 who had somewhat slipped out of their order. 
 The Marquis of Baccarat, who was hardly- 
 seen at any social gathering, save those rare 
 ones at Lebanon Lodge ; Lord Petronel, Lord 
 Shotover, Lord Camballo, all three of whom 
 would have recently appeared in a court much 
 less highly thought of than that of St. James' 
 but for the kind interest which Mr. Tremen- 
 here had taken in their affairs. General St. 
 Gatien, once, but not very recently, of the 
 Guards. The band of his old regiment, play- 
 ing on the lawn, was by no means incited to 
 strike up ' See the Conquering Hero comes,' 
 on recognising him ; he was associated in their 
 minds with a piece of music of quite another 
 kind — a march. Sir Tattenham Corner, and 
 many other celebrities of the turf and of the 
 Band of Green Cloth. Some of these eminent 
 guests — for they had all achieved distinction 
 for themselves, and, if not exactly public
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 19 
 
 benefactors, had like ill winds blown some 
 people good, and laid the social journalists in 
 particular under especial obligations — were 
 still young in years ; but their appearance had 
 lost some of the freshness of youth. They 
 had the delicate and ascetic air of young 
 monks of the cloister, or of too diligent 
 students, though it had not been produced by 
 the same means ; they too, indeed, had burned 
 the midnight oil, but not ' with blinded eye- 
 sight poring over miserable books ' ; they had 
 given their attention only to the books they 
 had made themselves, which, though not 
 pubhshed at their own expense, had cost 
 them dearly. Their heavy eyes were sunk in 
 their wan cheeks, and had semicircles of black 
 under them which were not, however, to 
 judge by the looks that were cast at them by 
 the other sex, altogether unattractive. They 
 were undoubtedly distinguished-looking young 
 fellows ; but to persons who were acquainted 
 with what is confidently believed by some 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 people to be ' life,' they suggested the 
 deleterious habit of taking green cura^oa 
 and pickled walnuts for their breakfasts. 
 There was, however, one marked exception 
 to them in the person of Viscount Cheribert. 
 This nobleman was but just of age, and looked 
 much younger (his father, Lord Morella, was 
 not only alive, but had barely reached middle 
 life, which, to a young man who lives on post- 
 obits, is a very serious and expensive matter) ; 
 there was no more hair on his fresh young 
 face than on that of an Eton boy in the 
 Lower School ; his complexion was brilliant, 
 but far from hectic — it was perfectly healthy. 
 If teeth are injured by smoking, it must be — 
 to judge by those of Lord Cheribert — 
 because a little smoking, like learning, is a 
 daT]gerous thing ; a cigar was never out of his 
 mouth — it was whispered that he even smoked 
 in bed — and yet his teeth were pearls. His 
 figure, though slight, was perfect ; he was an 
 adept in all manly games and exercises, but
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 2i 
 
 had devoted himself (and many a paternal 
 acre) to piquet. He was an admirable player, 
 but, as is generally the case with games, he 
 had met with men who played better ; it was 
 said that before he was nineteen he had lost 
 eleven thousand pounds at it — without count- 
 ing what the cards cost, which was a pretty 
 penny — at a single sitting. One can't help 
 admiring a young fellow who can point to 
 such an item — though unfortunately a deficit 
 — in his accounts as that. Josh had a genuine 
 regard for him, independent of the gigantic 
 losses which in his eyes surrounded this 
 juvenile spendthrift with an auriferous halo. 
 The great money-spinner had a tenderness for 
 the great money-spender ; the Xapoleon of 
 Finance a sort of pity for this gay young 
 Blucher, who, though always defeated, never 
 seemed to know that he had been beaten. 
 •More than once Josh had faced his father for 
 him — and Lord Morella was not a pleasant 
 man to face under such circumstances — and
 
 22 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 pleaded, though not of course on sentimental 
 grounds, for his prodigal son. 
 
 Youth and good looks, especially when 
 accompanied by good manners, weigh with 
 every one who is not absolutely destitute of 
 tenderness, which was by no means the case, 
 as we know, with Mr. Joseph Tremenhere ; 
 the interests moreover of the two men were 
 (or seemed to be) identical ; but what, per- 
 haps, attached Josh to the young fellow more 
 than all was that he perceived in him, notwith- 
 standing his mad ways, a genuine stanchness ; 
 that though his money and he were so easily 
 parted. Lord Cheribert was not a fooL Josh 
 thought it just within the range of possibility 
 — though no one else thought it — that the 
 young man might one day become a decent 
 member of society. Eespectability was in his 
 blood. It was true he was going to the devil 
 (Josh's devil — Poverty) faster than any young 
 fellow of his means had ever ridden ; but 
 there was a chance, just a chance, that he
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 23 
 
 might suddenly pull up ; and if lie did pull 
 up, it was Josh's opinion that it would be for 
 good and all. He might even become another 
 Lord Morella. To the outside world this fore- 
 cast would have ' seemed rank folly ; but 
 Joseph Tremenhere, though utterly ignorant 
 of book-learning, had studied the pages of 
 human hfe to some purpose. ' In every 
 spendthrift,' he was wont to say (though only 
 to himself), ' there lives a miser.' If for one 
 single instant Lord Cheribert could be brought 
 to see his position (as every one else saw it) — 
 the gulf of ruin on which he stood, and, above 
 all, himself the laughing stock of every knave 
 who had helped to bring him there — Josh 
 believed he might be saved ; and if saved (of 
 this Josh felt sure), every farthing which 
 remained out of the wreck of his fortunes 
 would be saved with him. Whatever was 
 left to him he would stick to like a limpet to 
 his rock ; and whatever might accrue to him 
 from henceforth would be as safe as though
 
 24 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 it were in his (Mr. Tremenliere's) own strong 
 box. 
 
 Each guest, as he arrived, came up to his 
 host under the cedar tree, and said a word or 
 two. ' His little Fairy ' stood by his side, and 
 sometimes he introduced them to her, and 
 sometimes he did not. He was not the sort of 
 person to whom any man (who knew him) was 
 likely to say, ' You have omitted to introduce 
 me to your daughter, Mr. Tremenhere.' It was 
 quite possible that he might presently have 
 told him, and witli much plainness of speech, 
 Avhy he had omitted that act of politeness. 
 
 To some he held out but a couple of 
 fingers — difficult, but by none found impos- 
 sible — to hook ; to others three, to others 
 four. When Lord Cheribert came up smiling 
 — some called him ' Lucifer, son of the morn- 
 ing,' in allusion to his naughty ways and the 
 freshness of his appearance — the host offered 
 his whole hand. 
 
 ' How are you, Josh ? ' w^as the famihar
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 25 
 
 salutation upon the young man's lips ; but at 
 the sight of Gracie it became, ' How are you, 
 Tremenhere?' — an alteration which other 
 sprigs of nobility had not thought it worth 
 their while to make. 
 
 ' As well as an old man has any right to 
 be, my lord,' he said ; and then with a wave 
 of his hand, ' My daughter, Grace.' 
 
 ' This is a very auspicious occasion, I 
 understand,' said the young fellow ; ' I wish 
 you many happy returns of the day. Miss 
 Tremenhere.' 
 
 His tone was so natural and buoyant that 
 it almost seemed as though a child was speak- 
 ing to a child. 
 
 ' Cheribert lias the best manners and the 
 worst morals of any man of his age in Christen- 
 dom,' General St. Gatien was wont to say, in 
 strange forget fulness, as regards one part of the 
 verdict at least, of his own far-off youth. 
 
 Grace was put at her ease at once, and 
 thanked him prettily
 
 26 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' What a day for a birthday you have got ! * 
 he went on ; ' but then, I feel sure, you 
 deserve it. Now my last birthday was all 
 wind and rain ; you recollect my coming of 
 age, Tremenhere, for you were so good as to 
 dine with me on that occasion.' 
 
 ' I remember it was a very wet evening,' 
 said Josh with humorous gravity. 
 
 Lord Cheribert laughed as lightly as the 
 fountain played. ' What a charming scene 
 this is ! There are very few gardens like this 
 in London, where the band does not seem too 
 big for it. You like the country better than 
 the town, of course. Miss Tremenhere ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I do.' 
 
 ' I wish I were your age,' murmured his 
 lordship with a genuine sigh. He was only 
 four years older than the young lady, but, on 
 the other hand, he had spent, or at all events 
 he owed it, 100,000/. in the interval. 
 
 ' Oh, but papa likes it better too,' said 
 Grace gravely, ' if one could get him to own it.'
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 27 
 
 ' Eeally ? Are you so purely pastoral, 
 Tremenliere ? ' 
 
 ' I like my own place in Cumberland, and 
 the fishing,' said the money-lender stiffly. He 
 did not like to be chaffed about his pursuits 
 just now, even ever so little, though, as a 
 general rule, he welcomed chaff*; he made 
 grain out of it. 
 
 'And whereabouts is your Cumberland 
 home. Miss Tremenhere ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it is rather difficult to describe, for 
 it is quite up among the mountains, and away 
 from everywhere, on Halswater.' 
 
 ' I suppose your father wishes to keep it a 
 dead secret,' said Lord Cheribert, laughing, 
 ' as the way over the fells to Muncaster Castle 
 used to be kept. He has never asked m^, at 
 all events, to come and see him there.' 
 
 ' I am afraid life at Halswater Hall would 
 not be much in your line, my lord,' said the 
 money-lender with a gathering frown. 
 
 ' Don't be hard on me before Miss Grace,'
 
 28 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 said Lord Clieribert gently. ' Why need you 
 tell lier that I have no taste for the picturesque, 
 no love for the beauties of nature, no time now 
 for wholesome pleasures such as fishing ' 
 
 ' Oh, but I am sure papa didn't mean that,' 
 interposed Grace quickly ; she felt really sorry 
 for this innocent and bright young fellow, who 
 imagined himself the subject of such severe 
 reproof; ' I am sure you could not help liking 
 Halswater.' 
 
 ' Still your father doesn't ask me there,' 
 observed his lordship with humorous persis- 
 tence. ' My dear Tremenhere, I dote on 
 fishing.' 
 
 ' I was not aware of it, my lord, though I 
 see you are fishing now,' was the host's grim 
 reply ; ' but it's too bright a day for catching 
 anything, even an invitation. Grace, dear, 
 Agnes is calling you.' 
 
 ' So I am not to be asked, Josh, to this 
 country house of yours P ' said Lord Clieribert. 
 His tone now they were alone had no longer
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 29 
 
 its pretence of pleading ; he had exchanged it 
 for a good-natured familiarity, in which there 
 lurked, nevertheless, a certain seriousness. 
 
 'No, my lord, you must not come to 
 Halswater.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! The lake is not private property, 
 I conclude,' returned the young man with a 
 shght flush ; ' the river, I suppose, is open 
 to anglers ? ' 
 
 ' You have asked me a question, and you 
 have had my answer, Lord Cheribert,' was the 
 cold reply. 
 
 ' Perhaps you will kindly furnish me with 
 a map of England, Mr. Tremenhere, with the 
 places marked in red ink which I am not to 
 visit ? ' 
 
 ' It is not at all impossible that at no 
 distant date you will find the whole island 
 marked out in that way for you, my lord,' 
 was the quiet rejoinder, ' and by less friendly 
 hands than mine.' 
 
 The young man lifted his hat — not only in
 
 30 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 sign of departure ; it was a trick he had on 
 the rare occasions when the sense of his true 
 position came over him, the instinct to remove 
 a weight from his brow — and turned away 
 without a word. 
 
 ' Agnes, come here ! ' cried the money- 
 lender. 
 
 His eldest daughter, who was still talking 
 with Grace, at once left her to obey his 
 summons. She was a tall, fair woman of 
 thirty years of age, but looked older ; her 
 features were good, and even classical, but 
 her hps were thin and straight ; her hair 
 resembled hay, and there was not a luxuriant 
 crop of it ; her eyes were a cold blue, usually 
 lustreless ; her eyebrows so faint that through 
 them could be discerned the ' thin red line ' by 
 which the historian on a well-known occasion 
 described the British infantry. 
 
 ' What is it, papa ? ' 
 
 ' Keep by your sister's side this afternoon, 
 Agnes ; I don't wish strangers to talk with her.'
 
 LORD CHERIBERT 31 
 
 ' You mean by Grace's side, I suppose ? ' 
 ' Well, I suppose so,' lie answered with curt 
 
 contempt. ' I should think Philippa was old 
 
 enough to take care of herself.' 
 
 It was not a pretty speech, for there was 
 
 only a year or two between his eldest and 
 
 his second daughter ; but it was not Mr. 
 
 Tremenhere's habit to make pretty speeches, 
 
 except to his little Fairy.
 
 32 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 CHAPTEE ni 
 
 THE MEMOEANDUM 
 
 Among tlie many things that puzzled people 
 ^ who had the privilege of knowing the 
 Tremenhere family — and some people who 
 liadn't, for Josh and his affairs were much 
 talked about — was why the tw^o marriageable 
 Miss Tremenheres did not take advantage of 
 their position. Miss Agnes has been intro- 
 duced to the reader, and if her personal 
 attractions were not great, that, of course, 
 was but of little consequence in such a matter. 
 It is only a few men in these days who marry 
 for a pretty face, and their intelligence is not 
 thought very highly of. 
 
 Her sister Philippa had narrowly missed 
 being pretty. She was not so tall as Agnes,
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 33 
 
 and, indeed, rather dumpy as to figure ; but 
 her bones were better covered. I am speaking 
 of her as she was spoken of among themselves 
 — by her father's male acquaintance, who 
 were much more free of speech in discussing 
 the family than when speaking of ladies of 
 their own class. Her black eyes were ' beady,' 
 and had not much expression. She was 
 almost good-looking enough, they said, ' for 
 a cigar shop.' Of this last matter they were 
 doubtless good judges, but they were not 
 students of character, and there were points 
 in that of Miss Philippa which had escaped 
 all but one of them. To say that three 
 gentlemen out of four, who enjoyed — or at 
 all events possessed — Mr. Tremenhere's ac- 
 quaintance, would have 'jumped ' at the idea 
 of marrying one of his daughters would be to 
 give a very feeble (as well as vulgar) expres- 
 sion to their sentiments ; but they knew that 
 the grapes hung too high for them. More- 
 over, Josh stood in the way of these objects 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 of their ambition like a clievaux de frise. It 
 is comparatively easy to run off witli an 
 heiress ; even if she is a ward of Chancery, 
 you at least get the interest of her money — 
 when you come out of prison ; but it was 
 well understood that whoever married one of 
 Josh's daughters without his permission 
 might just as well have married for love. 
 This was hard upon the young ladies, but, 
 unlike most of their sex, they could afford to 
 wait. Their attractions were not dependent 
 upon mere 3^outh and beauty, but on solid 
 worth. At fifty, as everybody knew, they 
 might pick and choose for themselves — so soon 
 as Josh's will was proved — as though they 
 were fifteen. In the meantime, however, they 
 remained single. Every one has his pet an- 
 tipathy, and Mr. Joseph Tremenhere concen- 
 trated his scorn and hate upon the Fortune- 
 Hunter. He loved his Fairy with a paternal 
 passion of which few believed him capable, 
 but he loved his money more, and no one had
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 35 
 
 any doubt of tliat fact. There was no neces- 
 sity for liim to shut up his stately Agnes, or 
 liis dark-eyed Philippa, in any castle of steel 
 guarded by dragons ; for his iron will — and 
 the thought of his Will — encompassed them 
 and kept them safe. Neither tliey nor their 
 would-be suitors were under any mistake 
 about the matter. That observation of Mr. 
 Tremenhere's about Philippa being old enough 
 to take care of herself was merely a stroke of 
 humour. He meant rather that she was wise 
 enough to take care of herself, which his 
 little Fairy might possibly not be. The love 
 he had lavished on her might so far mislead 
 her as to imaoine that whatever she did would 
 
 o 
 
 be fors^iven her — even a marriage with a land- 
 er o 
 
 less lord — a catastrophe indeed to be guarded 
 against. On the other hand. Josh knew 
 that his will would be a law to Grace 
 in quite another sense than it was to her 
 sisters ; moreover, she was still so childlike 
 that the thought of ' such things' had not as
 
 36 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 yet SO much as entered her mmcl ; only it was 
 well to be on the safe side from the first. 
 
 Notwithstanding that the position of affairs 
 as regarded the two elder Miss Tremenheres 
 was so well understood, there were plenty of 
 butterflies to hover about them — or rather of 
 bees, not so much in search of immediate 
 honey as of the garnered store that would 
 some day accrue to them ; but there was 
 nothing of seriousness in their attentions. 
 The only person who addressed them with 
 any approach to familiarity was Mr. Edward 
 Eoscoe, whose intimate business relations with 
 their father gave him that enviable privilege. 
 When Agnes had been removed from Grace's 
 side, this gentleman had taken her place — not 
 demonstratively, but in a quiet, natural man- 
 ner — as her body-guard. He seemed to know 
 by intuition what would be his patron's wishes. 
 His appearance was rather remarkable. He 
 was of moderate height, but so very upright 
 that one would have taken him for a tall man.
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 37 
 
 He had a clean-shaven face, except for two 
 magnificent whiskers, which were, neverthe- 
 less, kept within due limits ; it was a handsome 
 face, and when he smiled an attractive one, 
 but its ordinary expression was grave and 
 even saturnine. His complexion was swarthy, 
 though not disagreeably so. His voice, espe- 
 cially when addressing a woman, was very 
 sweet and low ; but on occasion — and the 
 occasions were frequent — it could be firm and 
 resolute. He had an air of independence that 
 was almost obtrusive — not at all like that of 
 an underling, yet he was well known to be 
 Mr. Tremenhere's jackal. It was whispered 
 that, notwithstanding the clean and workman- 
 like way in which the lion disposed of his 
 bones, Mr. Eoscoe was wont to find something 
 on them for himself. His chief power lay, how- 
 ever, in the fact, with which every one was 
 acquainted, that he was a friend of the 
 family. 
 
 ' Permit me. Miss Grace, to wish you many
 
 38 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 happy returns of the day, which I have not 
 yet done by word of mouth ; ' and he looked 
 significantly at the beautiful flowers which the 
 girl now held in her hand. 
 
 ' Then it icas you who sent me these ? ' 
 she said with a grateful blush. 'It was very 
 kind of you, Mr. Eoscoe.' 
 
 ' It was a great pleasure to me, but not 
 worth speaking about, and you will oblige me 
 by not doing so. Some persons might think 
 it an impertinence in one in my position.' 
 
 ' An impertinence ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I know you would not think so ; 
 but it is not every one who estimates people 
 for themselves. I should not, for example, 
 venture to give your sisters birthday presents, 
 however humble ones.' 
 
 ' How strange ! I am sure they have both 
 a great regard for you, Mr. Eoscoe,' she 
 answered simply. 
 
 He smiled, with the least touch of bitter- 
 ness. ' When you grow older. Miss Grace,
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 39 
 
 you will know the world better, and then I 
 shall keep my distance. At present, you see, 
 I take advantage of your simplicity.' 
 
 To judge by his sarcastic look as the girl 
 cast down her eyes, one would have almost 
 said he was really doing it. It changed, as 
 her sister came up, to a smile of welcome. 
 
 ' Well, Miss Agnes, you are to be on duty, 
 I suppose ? My post is relieved.' 
 
 ' I had no orders for your dismissal, Mr. 
 Eoscoe,' she answered gently. 
 
 'Then let us keep guard together by all 
 means.' 
 
 It was not a superfluous precaution. The 
 Marquis of Baccarat was at that moment 
 lounging up to them with his cigar. Lebanon 
 Lodge was Holiday Hall as regarded smoking. 
 He was slight and of small stature, to which 
 he added an inch by high- heeled boots. He 
 had a little strut in his walk, which gave him 
 a resemblance to a pigeon — and indeed a 
 pigeon he was, and almost plucked. To
 
 40' THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 eave him the trouble of keeping his glass in 
 'his eye, it was screwed into his hat — a device 
 not so inconvenient as it appeared, since he 
 really could see equally well whether his hat 
 was on or off. 
 
 ' How are you. Miss Tremenhere ? ' he 
 lisped. ' Let me congratulate you upon the 
 great success of your garden-party. Every- 
 body is raving about it.' 
 
 Though he addressed himself to Agnes, 
 his impudent eyes were fixed upon her younger 
 sister, who, however, took no notice of him. 
 She was still rapt, or seemed to be so, in ad- 
 miration of her flowers, and talked in an 
 undertone w^ith their donor. 
 
 ' It is not my garden-party, my lord,' said 
 Agnes. She had meant to add, 'it is my 
 sister's,' but a glance from Mr. Eoscoe made 
 her pause. 
 
 'Well, I suppose not, in one sense,' 
 squeaked the Marquis ; his voice, when irri- 
 tated, was like that of a sucking-pig. 'But
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 41 
 
 as to tlie founder of the feast, your father, so 
 humble an individual as myself cannot get at 
 him even to say a word of congratulation. 
 His cedar tree yonder is quite a hall of 
 audience.' 
 
 'Sir Tattenham has left Mr. Tremenhere 
 now, my lord,' observed Mr. Eoscoe dryly, ' if 
 you have anything to say to him ; ' and as he 
 spoke he interposed himself by a natural 
 movement between Grace and the new-comer. 
 The httle lord sheered off, hurling a broadside 
 of invective — so far as looks could do it — 
 upon this faithful sentinel, who remained 
 utterly unmoved. 
 
 ' A worthless creature, but not dangerous,' 
 he murmured in the elder sister's ear. Agnes 
 nodded adhesion ; his lordship's indifference 
 to her charms had been marked enough to 
 arouse any woman's indignation. 
 
 ' Why does papa invite such people ? ' she 
 returned in the same low tones. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Agnes, he is a Marquis ! '
 
 42 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 said Mr. Eoscoe. His most winning smile sat 
 on the speaker's lips as lie uttered these words 
 of pretended reproof, and her face reflected 
 the smile. To a keen observer it would have 
 almost seemed to say, ' Your views are mine ; 
 for my part, as you should know, I prefer a 
 man to a marquis.' 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe's tone to Grace had been more 
 tender, but less confidential, than his manner 
 to her sister ; they seemed to have a mutual 
 understanding. 
 
 ' Philippa, on the other hand, loves a lord,' 
 said Agnes, more in pursuance of her own 
 train of reflection than suggested by the fact 
 that her sister was approaching them in com- 
 pany with Lord Cheribert. 
 
 ' I am afraid so,' laughed Mr. Eoscoe. 
 
 ' E'en Irish Peers, could she but tag- 'em, 
 
 With Lord and Duke 'twere sweet to call ; 
 And, at a pinch, Lord Bally-raggem 
 Was better than no Lord at all.' 
 
 Lord Morella was in the Irish Peerage.
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 43 
 
 Lord Cheribert, with his bright fresh smile, 
 shook hands with Agnes, and also with Mr. 
 Eoscoe. The latter gentleman, unsoftened by 
 that affability, obstructed, as before, the young 
 man's view of the more attractive object in 
 the background ; he did not understand that 
 he was ' on the free list,' and had already been 
 introduced to Grace by Mr. Tremenhere. 
 
 ' Papa has been telling Grace, Lord 
 Cheribert informs me,' said Philippa, that we 
 are going to Hals water early in the autumn.' 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe withdrew from his obnoxious 
 position with the swiftness of a magic-lantern 
 slide, and Agnes clapped her hands ; ' I am 
 so glad ! ' she cried. 
 
 ' So you too, like your father, are a lover 
 of the country, are you ? ' said his lordship, so 
 precipitately that it cut off the expression of 
 astonishment that had risen to Grace's lips. 
 She had no recollection of her father having 
 made any such statement, but it did not now 
 seem worth while to dispute it. Agnes was
 
 44 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 already eloquent upon the pleasures of life at 
 tlie Lakes. Lord Cheribert listened to her 
 with apparent interest. 
 
 ' You are as Arcadian as Miss Philippa, it 
 seems,' he said. ' I am, alas ! only a Burling- 
 ton Arcadian, but I hope some day to mend 
 my ways. Why does Mr. Eoscoe smile like 
 that, I wonder? ' His tone was good-humoured, 
 but, to the ear which it addressed, had a 
 certain severity. There were more reckless 
 men than Lord Cheribert in the ' gilded pale ' 
 of Lebanon Lodge that afternoon, but no one 
 with whom it was more imprudent to take a 
 liberty. 
 
 ' I was not aware that I was smiling, my 
 lord,' said Mr. Eoscoe; and he spoke the 
 truth. 
 
 ' That is the worst of having too sweet a 
 disposition,' returned his lordship dryly. ' So 
 both you young ladies fish, do you ? Does 
 Miss Grace also fish ? ' And he turned his 
 pleasant face to her for the first time.
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 45 
 
 'No, Lord Cheribert, I do not fisli. I 
 think it's cruel. 
 
 ' Eeally ! I thought they had a cartilage, 
 a somethmg expressly given them, so that the 
 hook should not hurt them.' 
 
 ' But there is the live bait.' 
 
 ' To be sure, I had forgotten that ; they 
 don't sell it in the Arcade, you see.' 
 
 ' I don't think you are quite so ignorant as 
 you pretend to be,' laughed Grace. 
 
 ' Well, that's kinder than Miss Philippa, at 
 all events, who made the same remark just 
 now about my innocence. But I am really 
 like a cliild in this matter — and a good child 
 too, for I know nothing of the rod. I was in 
 hopes that some of you young ladies would 
 teach me how to catch trout. I only know 
 one way — when the stream is very dry, to 
 cut what water there is off and leave them 
 stranded.' 
 
 ' Not a very sportsmanlike proceeding, I 
 must say,' observed Agnes, smiling.
 
 46 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' Never laugh at tlie ignorant or tlie poor, 
 and I'm both,' said Lord Cheribert reprov- 
 ingly. ' What I want is teaching.' 
 
 ' Well, if you come to Halswater,' said 
 Agnes, ' Philippa and I will teach you to 
 throw a fly.' 
 
 'Thanks; that's a bargain. And what 
 will you teach me, Miss Grace ? ' 
 
 ' I ? Nothing ; I have everything — so 
 everybody tells me — to learn.' 
 
 'Then everybody doesn't tell the truth. 
 Come, you must do sometliing when you are in 
 the country, or else, like me, you would feel 
 tempted there to (zoxmrnt felo-de-se.' 
 
 ' No, I do nothing ; I only wander over 
 the hills and far away.' 
 
 'Then you must know your way about.' 
 
 ' Not a dalesman of the dales, not 
 a cragsman of the fells, I flatter myself, 
 knows it better,' said Grace with conscious 
 pride. 
 
 ' Thanks ; that's another bargain. I'll put
 
 THE MEMORANDUM 47 
 
 it down in my little book at once.' And here 
 he produced his betting-book, a duodecimo 
 volume he had bought for little, but which 
 had cost him much. 
 
 ' Mem. : September, to learn how to fish 
 from Miss Agnes and Miss Philippa Tremen- 
 here ; to learn " my way about " from Miss 
 Grace.' 
 
 'But I never promised to teach you,' she 
 remonstrated. 
 
 ' But you did not say you wouldn't, and 
 you looked as if you would,' he replied gaily. 
 ' Your excellent father is coming this way, 
 doubtless to ask me to Hals water ; but Ids 
 invitation is now superfluous. I shall be 
 there.' He smiled, nodded instead of taking 
 his hat off, but very pleasantly, and was gone. 
 It was very cool of him, of course, but his 
 manner robbed his nod of any impertinence. 
 It was said of Lord Cheribert by his de- 
 tractors, who after all were few, that he 
 owed much of his personal popularity to tlie
 
 48 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 exercise of a certain ' agreeable insolence ' ; it 
 was not, however, really insolence, but only 
 the perfectly natural manner of a very kindly 
 young fellow who was always accustomed to 
 have his own wav.
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A SUSPICION 
 
 LoED Cheribert was in error in supposing, or 
 at least asserting, that Mr. Tremenhere had 
 come up to the little party, like a dove with 
 the olive branch, with an invitation for him 
 to Halswater in his mouth. If that gentleman 
 looked like a dove at all, it was one whose 
 feathers have been very much ruffled ; his 
 appearance was more like that of an angry 
 hen, who sees her pet chicken endangered by 
 the attentions of a hawk in chick's feathers. 
 Of the hawk proper, with beak and claw 
 highly developed, it was evident he stood in 
 no fear, or he would not have brought General 
 St. Gatien with him, unless, indeed, his haste 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 was such that it did not admit of his getting 
 rid of that gallant officer, with whom he had 
 been conversing nnder the cedar tree. The 
 General was a tall hairy man, with a sinister 
 expression, and, but for his great height, 
 which seemed to unlit him for naval evolu- 
 tions, less resembled a soldier than a buc- 
 caneer. As he took off his hat with a sweep 
 to the ladies, he looked as if he would have 
 liked to buy all three of them — the youngest 
 for choice — and had forgotten for the moment 
 that he had not the money. 
 
 ' The three Graces,' he said, ' upon my 
 life, in the Garden of Eden.' 
 
 The mythology, perhaps, was a little 
 mixed, but that the General thought he had 
 paid a pretty and acceptable compliment was 
 certain, by the way in which he smiled and 
 drew out his waxed moustaches — a sure sign 
 of self-satisfaction with him. 
 
 ' Our Eden is not without a serpent, how- 
 ever,' replied Miss Philippa, who had a ready
 
 A SUSPICJON 51 
 
 tongue, and was not the least afraid of this 
 warrior, ' for I have seen him.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' he said, with a flush upon his 
 swarthy face. 
 
 ' Don't be afraid, General,' she added, with 
 a light laugh ; ' I meant nothing personal. It 
 was only a musical instrument ; they have a 
 serpent in your band.' 
 
 • You're too clever for me. Miss Philippa,' 
 he answered, frowning ; there were reasons, 
 though she did not know them, why allusions 
 to his old regiment were displeasing to him. 
 
 ' What was Cheribert so eloquent to you 
 about just now? You didn't make fun of 
 hiin^ I'll warrant.' 
 
 Philippa was about to make some jesting 
 reply, when she noticed that her father, who 
 was speaking to Mr. Eoscoe, had suddenly 
 paused as if to listen to her. 
 
 ' He was enlightening us upon sporting 
 matters.' 
 
 ' No doubt he fancies himself immensely 
 
 e2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNiVERStiY OF mmm^
 
 52 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 in liis own colours, but, mark my words, he'll 
 break liis neck some day.' 
 
 Grace looked up quickly, with an ejacula- 
 tion of dismay. 
 
 ' Yes,' pursued the General ruthlessly, ' I 
 would recommend no young lady to set her 
 affections upon Cheribert till he has learnt to 
 ride, or given up steeplechasing.' 
 
 ' He lias given it up,' observed Mr. Tre- 
 menhere. 
 
 ' Not a bit of it, my good fellow ; he only 
 said he was thinking of giving it up. You're 
 a better judge of what his thoughts are worth 
 than I am, and doubtless have persuaders for 
 him as sharp as his spurs ; but I'll back his 
 obstinacy, though I wouldn't back his horse. 
 He's booked for the Everdale, at all events, 
 and it's a stiffish course.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' replied Mr. Tremenhere in- 
 differently. But the news was in reality 
 displeasing to him. There were certain 
 arrangements of great importance to him,
 
 A SUSPICION 53 
 
 which, ' if anything should happen ' to Lord 
 Cheribert, would turn out very disastrously ; 
 and though his business operations were often 
 of a most speculative kind, he resented their 
 being made unnecessarily so. He had two 
 mottoes : one was 'Push' (which he pro- 
 nounced like 'rush'), and the other, 'No 
 Eisks, as the goose said when she stooped 
 under the barn door.' It might be said of 
 him that lie was much less like a goose than 
 a fox, but he was quite as anxious as that 
 prudent bird not to knock his head, and also 
 that other people in whom he had a pecuniary 
 interest should not knock their heads — against 
 a stone wall in a steeplechase, for example. 
 He even mechanically cast an uneasy glance 
 at Mr. Eoscoe, as though he would say, ' Do 
 you hear that ? ' to Avhich, however, that 
 gentleman, who was in earnest conversation 
 with ' his little Fairy,' gave no response. 
 
 They were bending over those white 
 flowers together, the arrival of which had
 
 54 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 already given Mr. Tremenhere some discom 
 posure. 
 
 ' General, an idea has just struck me,' he 
 exclaimed suddenly ; ' I think I see my way 
 out of that business about which we were 
 talking together just now.' 
 
 ' And do you see my way ? ' returned the 
 General pertinently. 
 
 ' I think so,' and he thrust his stout arm 
 through that of his astonished guest and led 
 him away. 
 
 The two elder sisters looked at one another 
 significantly. 
 
 ' Papa is very angry,' said Philippa in a 
 low tone. 
 
 ' There is no need to tell me that, since I 
 know papa as well as you do,' was the dry 
 reply. 
 
 ' I suppose it's about Lord Cheribert ; I 
 could not help bringing him Avith me ; he 
 asked me to bring him ; it is so difficult some- 
 how to refuse him anything.'
 
 A SUSPJCION 55 
 
 Agnes did not answer ; her attention 
 seemed to be distracted by Avliat was going 
 on between Mr. Eoscoe and Grace. Pliilippa 
 observed this, and a strange expression flitted 
 across her face ; it had displeasnre in it, and 
 also a certain cruelty. 
 
 ' After all,' she said, ' it is not surprising 
 tliat Grace should have taken his fancy.' 
 
 ' Whose fancy ? ' inquired Agnes sharply, 
 the little colour she possessed suddenly de- 
 serting; her cheeks. 
 
 ' Well, of course. Lord Cheribert's ; you 
 did not suppose I meant General St. Gatien's 
 surely ? ' There was a touch of mockery in 
 her tone which did not escape the other's 
 ear. 
 
 ' Instead of chattering here with me, 
 Philippa,' she said severely, 'it seems to me 
 you ought to be attending to our guests.' 
 
 ' Why don't you do the honours to them 
 yourself, my dear ? ' returned the other ; ' you 
 are the eldest.'
 
 56 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Agnes's brow grew very black, and a gleam 
 of anger flashed from lier eyes ; the tone was 
 quiet enough, however, in which slie replied, 
 ' Papa has placed me here to take charge of 
 Grace.' 
 
 Philippa laughed softly, but not sweetly, 
 and cast a half glance at the couple behind 
 them. What her laugh seemed to say was, 
 ' I cannot congratulate you upon the way 
 in which you are performing your duties.' 
 ' Mr. Eoscoe,' she said, ' I have been moved 
 on by the police. Will you give me your 
 escort to the refreshment tent ? ' 
 
 The gentleman appealed to looked up with 
 a quick start, and glanced at Agnes. ' I am 
 unable to oblige you, Miss Philippa,' he 
 answered coldly ; ' I am under orders to re- 
 main on guard here with your sister.' 
 
 It was Philippa's turn to look black now ; 
 the blood rushed to her face, she pressed her 
 lips closely together as if to restrain herself 
 from speaking, and moved slowly away.
 
 A SUSPICION 57 
 
 ' Why did she want you to go with her ? ' 
 inquired Agnes under her breath. 
 
 ' A httle shy, I suppose ; there are so 
 many people about.' 
 
 'Shy? You should rather say sly,' said 
 Agnes contemptuously. 
 
 ' If so,' replied Mr. Eoscoe gravely, ' there 
 is only the more reason for that caution, the 
 necessity of which I have so often ventured 
 to impress upon you. — Your father is coming 
 back to us, Miss Grace ; you have an attraction 
 for him to-day, it seems, even greater than usual.' 
 
 Mr. Tremenhere had now a lady on his 
 arm ; she was dark and plump, had hardly 
 reached middle age, and, but for a certain 
 coarseness of feature, w^ould have been de- 
 cidedly good -looking. Her name was Linden, 
 and she was a widow. Her dress was magni- 
 ficent — indeed, a great deal too much so for a 
 garden-party — and sparkled with jewels ; but 
 the good nature in her eyes outshone them. 
 Mr. Tremenhere had not many favourites
 
 58 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 among the female sex, but Mrs. Linden was 
 one of tliem. It was whispered that she 
 entertained the ambition of becoming some- 
 thing nearer to him than his confidential 
 friend and domestic adviser — a circnm stance 
 that prevented her from gaining the good 
 graces of either Agnes or Philippa. 
 
 ' They are so devoted to their father,' the 
 widow nsed to say to her intimates w^ith a 
 strange mixture of frankness and sarcasm, 
 ' that it makes them jealous of me.' What 
 she said to herself was, ' They think I Avant 
 his money — or what they consider their money 
 — as if I had not more than I know what to 
 do with already ! ' . And doubtless, though 
 they objected to her influence with their 
 father, their opposition would have been far 
 less keen, could she have placed their minds 
 at ease on this point. Young people can 
 never understand why old people should want 
 to marry, and are ahvays quick to impute bad 
 motives for it ; but the true reason for Mrs.
 
 A SUSPICION 59 
 
 Linden's admiration for Mr. Tremenhere was 
 never even guessed at by his daughters. 
 Money, as they suspected, was at the bottom 
 of it, but not greed. The late Mr. Linden had 
 distinguished himself in the same profession ; 
 had been, as it were, the attorney-general 
 among money-lenders, but Mr. Tremenhere 
 was the Lord Chief Justice ; she bowed down 
 less to the golden calf, than to the intelligence 
 of the man who had built it up, though she 
 perceived no folly in his worshipping it. The 
 hunger for gold is at least as strong with 
 some people as that for land, of which we 
 have lately heard so much ; and the pleasure 
 of satisfying it, even to those who have heaps 
 of it, is fully equal to that of earth-eating. 
 The atmosphere Mrs. Linden had always 
 breathed was aureate ; the ground she had 
 trodden upon was auriferous ; her very dreams 
 had been golden. She had been brought up 
 all her life, as indeed had been Mr. Tremen- 
 here, in the worship of wealth, which has a
 
 6o THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 cult, just as rank and position have ; only, 
 instead of the ' Peerage ' and the ' County 
 Families,' ' plums ' and ' warmth ' are the 
 objects of adoration. This respectable sect 
 place the possessors of a hundred thousand 
 pounds, of five hundred thousand, and so on, 
 where lords and dukes are put in the other 
 scale. In Mrs. Linden's eyes Mr. Joseph 
 Tremenhere was a prince of the blood, because 
 he was said to have a million of money ; if he 
 had died worth all that, he would have seemed 
 to her to enter into a sort of Walhalla, antd 
 she would have spoken of him ever after with 
 a hushed reverence. But she hoped he would 
 not die, but live to make her Mrs. Tremen- 
 hercj that she might shine by his reflected 
 splendour. Except for that, her regard for 
 him was as unselfish as that of any village 
 maiden for her swain ; she would not have 
 asked for a pennyworth of settlement ; and 
 underneath all that yellow mud she had a 
 tender heart.
 
 A SUSPICION 6l 
 
 ' How beautiful your little Fairy is looking, 
 dear Mr. Tremenhere ! ' she had been saying 
 with genuine admiration, as, emerging with 
 him from the refreshment tent, her eyes fell 
 on the girl and her body-guard. ' If I were 
 you I should feel quite nervous at having so 
 bright a jewel in charge.' 
 
 ' Grace is as good as she is pretty,' said 
 the money-lender in a tone that was not only 
 confident but had something of reproof in it. 
 
 ' No doubt, as good as gold. But her very 
 simplicity and ignorance of her own attractions 
 have danger in them.' 
 
 'That is true,' said Mr. Tremenhere. It 
 was even truer than she thought ; he felt that 
 it was his duty — some day — to point out to 
 his Httle Fairy, that, kind and tender as he 
 seemed to her, he could — and would — be 
 inflexible as iron in certain circumstances ; on 
 an occasion too, perhaps, when she might 
 have expected him to be soft as wax ; but 
 he shrank from showing? her a side of his
 
 62 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 character whicli, thougli so often turned to 
 others, she had never beheld. 
 
 'You are a woman and have keen eyes,' he 
 continued gravely ; ' do you suspect danger — 
 I mean from any particular quarter ? ' 
 
 ' I would rather not answer that question, 
 Mr. Tremenhere.' 
 
 ' But I insist upon it, Mrs. Linden ; my 
 child has no mother.' 
 
 'That is an appeal I cannot resist,' she in- 
 terrupted hastily ; 'but I am no meddler, and 
 hate to make mischief, and, moreover, I may 
 be quite wrong. There is also another reason 
 which disinclines me to speak.' 
 
 ' Out with it ! let us get that over first,' 
 he said. His manner was more brusque even 
 than usual ; it concealed an anxiety. 
 
 'Perhaps, Mr. Tremenhere, what I am 
 about to say would not be to your taste. You 
 have strong likings as well as prejudices. I 
 do not wish to suffer in your opinion by going 
 counter to one of them.'
 
 A SUSPICION 63 
 
 ' You shall not suffer ; even if you are 
 wrong, I shall be your debtor, Mrs. Linden. 
 Who is it you suspect ?' 
 
 'I suspect no one. But, in my judgment, 
 the most likely quarter for danger to Grace 
 to come from is the one in which you have 
 placed most confidence.' 
 
 'He dares not,' replied Mr. Tremenhere in 
 low, hoarse tones. It was unnecessary to 
 mention names, for his own eyes and those of 
 his companion were fixed, while they were 
 speaking, upon the man in question. He was 
 standing with smiling lip, stroking a whisker 
 ' as the rabbit fondles his own harmless face,' 
 between the two ladies, and making himself 
 agreeable as it seemed to both of them. 
 
 ' There is nothing in my opinion that he 
 dares not do,' was Mrs. Linden's quiet re- 
 joinder. 'His will is as strong as yours, and 
 he is very subtle.' 
 
 'You are right so far, but you do not 
 understand how well he understands me.
 
 64 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Moreover, if what you imagine were the fact, 
 Agnes, who is as sharp-eyed as yourself, would 
 not fail to discover it.' 
 
 There was a reply on Mrs. Linden's lips 
 which, if expressed, would have surprised her 
 companion very much; but it never passed 
 them. 
 
 'Agnes suspects nothing because she 
 deems her sister still a child,' she answered 
 after a moment's pause. ' That very circum- 
 stance, however, may be to Grace's dis- 
 advantage. She may come under his influence 
 without knowing it, and the knowledge may 
 come too late.' 
 
 It would have been impossible to guess 
 from Mr. Tremenhere's face that the suspicion 
 of this very thing had already occurred to him, 
 and that not an hour ago ; but he nodded and 
 jerked his hand out in a manner that informed 
 Mrs. Linden, who had studied his sign language 
 to some purpose, that what she had said to 
 him had had its weio-ht, and would be attended
 
 A SUSPICION 65 
 
 to. His anger, however, must have been 
 great, smce even tlie presence of his httle 
 Fairy did not prevent his addressing his 
 subordinate, when he came up with him, in the 
 harshest tone. 
 
 'What are you hanging about here for, 
 Eoscoe, instead of making yourself useful 
 about the place ? ' 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe looked quite unmoved, and, as 
 Agnes knew, was perfectly well able to answer 
 for himself under much more trying circum- 
 stances ; but to have him thus spoken to in 
 the hearing of Mrs. Linden was unendurable 
 to her. 
 
 ' If there is any one to blame,' she inter- 
 posed, ' blame me ; for it was at my request 
 that Mr. Eoscoe kept us company.' 
 
 It was the first time she had ever evinced 
 to her father the smallest interest in that 
 gentleman, and she regretted the speech the 
 instant she had uttered it. 
 
 Mr. Tremenhere, however, did not appear 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 displeased, and seemed even mollified by it. 
 His suspicions had taken another direction, 
 and were monopolised by another object. 
 
 ' In that case,' he said coldly, ' I will take 
 Mr. Eoscoe's place ; ' and, so saying, he dis- 
 missed him with a wave of his hand. 
 
 Mrs. Linden dowered Agnes with a smile 
 of such quiet significance as that young lady 
 would have liked to recompense by strangling 
 her on the spot. 
 
 Even in the richest households there are 
 drawbacks to perfect happiness, and there 
 was more than one skeleton in the closet at 
 Lebanon Lodge, the existence of which it was 
 highly desirable should not be suspected by 
 an outsider.
 
 67 
 
 CHAPTER Y 
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 It was Mr. Tremenhere's custom, wlien the 
 labours of eacli day were over, to write down 
 the result of tliem m a certain ledger, fur- 
 nished with great locks like a prison door, in 
 company with his faithful assistant, Mr. 
 Roscoe. The place of meeting of these two 
 recording angels was a small upper room 
 (such as could not be spied upon), furnished 
 like a bank parlour, and in which more money 
 (in paper) was wont nightly to change hands 
 than in the saloons of Monaco, and with a 
 much greater percentage in favour of ' the 
 table.' Even when there had been but httle 
 business done, they would still meet together 
 and concert benevolent scliemes for getting
 
 68 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 this and that poor fellow out of his difficulties, 
 and also for recompensing themselves for their 
 trouble in the matter. It was not done in the 
 prim stiff way in which affairs are — sometimes 
 — conducted in the City, but over cigars and 
 brandy and soda ; and these discussions, 
 especially so far as Josh was concerned, were 
 carried on with much dramatic force and 
 freedom from convention. These two spiders, 
 working in the same web, w^ere in strong 
 contrast to each other ; the one somewhat 
 bloated and unwieldy, but uncommonly deft 
 and keen, and the other lank and agile, and 
 quick to supply a thread where it was wanted, 
 and the gluten to fix it. 
 
 Even after the birthday party at Lebanon 
 Lodge they met as usual, though a trifle later ; 
 for, because a day had been spent in con- 
 viviality, it by no means followed with these 
 diligent workers that no ' operation ' had been 
 effected. From the flower Pleasure it was 
 quite as much their habit to pluck the blossom
 
 THE WARNING 69 
 
 Business as from the more ordinary sources ; 
 the nettle Danger was more often bound up 
 in it in that case than usual, and required 
 their more particular attention. 
 
 Mr. Tremenhere's face was graver to-night 
 than customary, and had even a sullen look, 
 which to do him justice, it rarely wore. If he 
 was not the best-mannered man that ever 
 picked pocket, as some eulogist described him, 
 who knew ^^erhaps more of pickpocketing 
 than of manners, he was of a much more 
 genial nature than could be expected from 
 any one in his line of business ; he had his 
 likings, not altogether misplaced, and was 
 always more willing to do a kindness that cost 
 him nothing than an injury. He was not an 
 honourable man, of course ; there were legal 
 authorities of high standing who had pro- 
 nounced him dishonest ; but he was not one 
 of your mean and miserly money-lenders. His 
 huge fortune had not been built up by scraping 
 and paring ; it was even said that from bones
 
 JO THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 on wlilcli he had found unexpected pickings 
 he had sometimes taken less than he might 
 have done, though that idea perhaps owed its 
 origin to tlie love of romance which, I am 
 thankful to say, pervades every section of 
 society. But he hked his comforts, and never 
 allowed himself to be put out by a small thing. 
 Yet it was a small thing, as Mr. Eoscoe thought, 
 that had put his companion out to-night, and, 
 as his custom was, he at once grappled with it. 
 His own marvellous power of intuition was 
 one of the things, as he well knew, for which 
 his lord and master valued him ; and he never 
 shrank, as a mere subordinate would have 
 done, from treading on a tender place, or 
 hinting that the other had, here and there, been 
 less sagacious in his proceedings than became 
 him. 
 
 ' General St. Gatien tells me that you are 
 going to let him have that money,' he ob- 
 served quietly as he lit his cigar. 
 
 Even in his talks with his patron, Mr.
 
 THE WARNING 71 
 
 Koscoe always gave his clients their full title, 
 whereas Josh was terribly at his ease in Zion, 
 and would speak of persons of the highest 
 position with the most shocking familiarity. 
 
 ' Of course you know best ' (a phrase he 
 never used unless he was quite sure the other 
 was in the wrong), ' but in my opinion the 
 General is a squeezed lemon.' 
 
 Mr. Tremenhere threw out his hand in his 
 contemptuous fashion. 
 
 ' Damn St. Gatien ! ' he said ; ' I'm going 
 to have a word or two with you ! ' 
 
 Eoscoe had a command over his features 
 which would have fitted him for a diplomatist 
 or a poker player of the highest order ; but, 
 though he raised his eyebrows and looked up 
 in his companion's face with well-afiected 
 surprise, he felt the tell-tale colour in his 
 cheeks as he did so. 
 
 ' If you are deceiving me, Edward Eoscoe/ 
 continued Mr. Tremenhere, speaking with a 
 sternness that was almost savasre in its inten-
 
 72 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 sity, and gazing at liim with angry eyes, ' it 
 will be the worst piece of work you ever did 
 for yourself — by Heaven, it will ! ' 
 
 ' Deceiving you, Mr. Tremenhere ? ' His tone 
 was one of sheer amazement, but still the tell- 
 tale blood would not be kept down, but rose 
 and rose till it sang ' traitor ' in his very ears. 
 
 ' Have I taken you from the gutter. I 
 wonder, and clothed and taught and fed you, 
 only that you should turn like an ungrateful 
 cur, and snap at my hand ? — for you cannot 
 bite me, sir, you cannot hite me. No I ' 
 
 The speaker's excitement was extreme, 
 and made the greater impression on his com- 
 panion, because such a state of mind in his 
 patron was without a precedent. The fear 
 which filled Mr. Eoscoe's mind was also as 
 great a stranger there. He had secrets of his 
 own — and damaging ones — but if all of them 
 (save one) had been discovered, he would 
 have met his accusers with a front of brass- 
 The question that stirred his scheming soul to
 
 THE WARNING 73 
 
 its muddy depths was, ' Had that one been 
 discovered ? ' No ! if it had been, he would 
 have been by this time in the street with Mr. 
 Tremenhere's door closed for ever behind 
 him ; but, nevertheless, it might be suspected ; 
 nothing less, he felt, than such a suspicion 
 could have moved his patron thus. 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean, Mr. 
 Tremenhere ; I cannot defend myself, since 
 you are striking me in the dark. I only 
 know that you are doing me a grievous 
 wrong.' 
 
 ' It may be so, I hope it is — for your sake, 
 not for mine, sir, be sure of that. I say again, 
 it does not lie within the power of man to 
 hurt me ; I have no weak point — none.' 
 
 His appearance physically was not cor- 
 roborative of this statement. His huge and 
 flabby frame shook from head to foot ; his 
 eyes were bloodshot ; and on his forehead 
 there was a ghastly dew. Under circum- 
 stances less affecting his own vital interests
 
 74 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe would have been seriously alarmed 
 for his patron ; but for the moment it behoved 
 him to look to himself alone, and be armed at 
 all points, though indeed, if the stroke he 
 awaited should be that he had in his mind, 
 even his ready skill and buckler of bull's hide 
 would little avail him. 
 
 ' I am here to ask you nothing,' continued 
 the money-lender after a long pause ; ' for if 
 you are guilty, I know I should only meet 
 with lies.' 
 
 It was not a complimentary observation, 
 but, to the person addressed, it gave more 
 satisfaction than under other circumstances 
 any eulogy could have done. He uttered a 
 silent sigh of relief, and bowed his head with 
 Eastern humility — behaviour so foreign to his 
 character, that, if his companion had not been 
 blinded with passion, it might have itself 
 betrayed him. 
 
 ' I am here, Edward Eoscoe, to warn you 
 for the first time and the last. You think
 
 THE WARNING 75 
 
 yourself my right hand, and I do not deny 
 your use ; you trade on it, I know, and I don't 
 blame you ; you have lived on the crumbs 
 that have fallen from my table, and grown fat 
 upon them ; let that content you. Beware of 
 interfering between me and mine ! ' 
 
 ' Then it is so,' was the other's in- 
 ward thought; 'he does suspect it.' He 
 dared not meet his patron's eye, but, 
 looking critically at his cigar (which was 
 natural enough, since it had gone out, but 
 that he did not notice), replied deferentially, 
 ' I have no remembrance of ever having 
 done so, Mr. Tremenhere.' 
 
 ' Knowing me as you do,' continued the 
 money-lender, without paying any attention to 
 this disclaimer, ' you are aware, I suppose, that 
 if any one of those men who were in this 
 house to-day, men of rank and birth, and 
 some of them not without expectations, which 
 no one knows better than myself how to realise, 
 was to ask one of my daughters in marriage,
 
 76 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 what sort of answer he would get from 
 me?' 
 
 ' I know that he might just as well ask for 
 the moon,' replied the other dryly. 
 
 ' And if, notwithstanding that reply, he 
 should put his design into execution, and 
 persuade the silly girl to marry him, you know 
 too what would happen then ? ' 
 
 'Nothing would happen,' returned Mr. 
 Eoscoe, forcing a smile, ' except that he would 
 have found a wife. She would not, as I can 
 well believe, be the heiress he had looked for.' 
 
 ' Heiress ! ' hissed the money-lender ; ' while 
 I lived she would not have a penny, and when 
 I was dead she would have a shilling — just a 
 shilling to show that I had not forgotten her.' 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, I think it very probable.' 
 
 ' Probable ? It would most certainly 
 happen. My money shall never, never ' — here 
 he struck the table with his large, nerveless 
 hand, as a fishmonger smites his slab with a 
 flat fish — 'feed the insatiable maw of any
 
 THE WARNING 77 
 
 spendthrift — no, not if he could make my girl 
 a duchess. Do you think, then, it is likely 
 that a low-born schemer, who, notwithstanding 
 his shrewd wits, and contempt for ne'er-do- 
 wells, himself runs risks I know, and looks to 
 become wealthy in a moment by a lucky stroke 
 on 'Change, would have a better chance of 
 enriching himself by the same means at my 
 expense ? ' 
 
 Such an insult might have brought the 
 blood to any man's cheek, but it was not the 
 insult that turned that of him to whom it was 
 addressed to crimson. 
 
 ' Such a character as you describe, Mr. 
 Tremenhere,' he answered quietly, ' would have 
 most certainly no chance at all.' 
 
 ' You are right. Lay your own words to 
 heart and profit by them. Stop ! ' — for the 
 other was about to speak — ' there is one thing 
 more. Notwithstanding the conviction you 
 have expressed, it is possible that you may 
 entertain an illusion. You may think — though
 
 78 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 you ouglit to know me better — that, notwith- 
 standing what I have said on this matter, and 
 how fully purposed I am in my own mind 
 about it, there is a weak point through which 
 you may reach my heart and gain your ends. 
 " There is his little Fairy," you may be saying 
 to yourself, " who is dearer to him than all his 
 wealth, and whom he would never doom to — 
 what he most despises and detests himself — a 
 life of poverty. If I could wind myself into 
 her affections, and secure her for my own, he 
 would forgive her, though he would never 
 forgive me. Sooner or later he would come 
 to terms ; on his death-bed at least he would 
 send for her, and say, ' You are my daughter 
 still '" ; if you are thinking tliat^ Edward 
 Eoscoe, you are in a Fool's Paradise indeed.' 
 
 While his patron was thus speaking, the 
 flush had gradually left the other's cheek ; a 
 certain rigidity of limb, caused by some 
 extreme tension of the nerves, had also dis- 
 appeared ; except that he experienced a sense
 
 THE WARNING 79 
 
 of relief instead of pain, he was like a man 
 who recovers from a fainting fit, and, though 
 not unconscious of a danger narrowly escaped, 
 begins to feel himself again. 
 
 'Mr. Tremenhere,' he replied, in a tone 
 more grave than ordinary, but without a trace 
 of his recent humility, ' you amaze me. I say 
 nothing of the infamy that is pre-supposed in 
 the monstrous offence which you would by 
 imphcation impute to me, except that it is of 
 so vile a character that, even with your low 
 opinion of human nature, I feel confident it 
 did not originate in your own mind. None 
 but a woman, who had her own ends to serve, 
 could have conceived it.' 
 
 'Never you mind how it got there,' 
 answered the other curtly. ' It is there.' 
 
 ' I see it is ; I see that your mind has been 
 poisoned against me. Let it be so. Think 
 anything of me that you please. Let me be 
 as base and faithless to the trust you have 
 placed in me as malice can paint. But,
 
 8o THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 remember, in so doing you impute ingratitude 
 and disobedience to one wliom you know to be 
 incapable of such offences, an innocent and 
 loving child.' 
 
 ' Pooh, pooh ! ' answered the other con- 
 temptuously. ' None of your heroics, sir. Of 
 course she is innocent, but she is no longer a 
 child. You sent her flowers to-day.' 
 
 ' Her birthday I Even if I had sent her 
 diamonds, it would have been no such matter. 
 I should not have dreamt of your objecting to 
 it. She has been " Grace " to me ever since I 
 have known her ; but henceforward she shall 
 be "Miss Grace," like her sisters. You were 
 kind enough to say just now that anything I 
 .dnight allege in my own defence — against a 
 charge of which I knew nothing, and as little 
 expected it to be this as one of arson — would 
 probably be lies. Ask, then. Miss Grace her- 
 self what I have said to her, how I have 
 behaved to her, so long as she can remember. 
 That I have not been truthful to her may be
 
 THE WARNING 8i 
 
 justly urged against me ; but did you wish me 
 to be truthful to her ? When she asked her 
 simple, ignorant questions about her father's 
 calling ' 
 
 ' Be silent, sir,' interrupted the money- 
 lender savagely, ' and let my Grace alone ! ' 
 
 ' As you please, Mr. Tremenhere, though 
 it seems hard that a man's mouth should be 
 closed on the very matter which would estab- 
 lish his innocence. However, since that is for- 
 bidden ground, and also as it seems you think 
 me knave enough for anything, the only line 
 of defence that is left me is to plead that, if 
 guilty, I am not responsible for my actions. 
 If I have entertained such a project as has 
 been suggested by you, I must certainly be 
 stark staring mad. I put aside the fact that 
 I am double the young lady's age, and totally 
 unfitted by my position to induce her (if the 
 subject of matrimony has ever entered her 
 mind, which I do not believe) to waste a 
 thought on me ; I only urge this argument, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 that, since I have been your confidential clerk 
 for many years, I know something of your 
 character ; and what I have gathered from 
 my study of it is that, so far from 3^our affec- 
 tion for your youngest daughter being likely 
 to mitigate in your e3^e any such act of folly 
 and disobedience on her part, it would add 
 fuel to fire. You are not a man to be crossed 
 in anything on which you have set your mind; 
 but where you have set your hearty opposition, 
 if I read you aright, would turn it from stone 
 to steel. Knave let me be, if it is your plea- 
 sure to consider me such ; but, whether 
 blinded by your own passion or hoodwinked by 
 another, I qannot believe that you have been 
 brought to think Edward Eoscoe a born fool.' 
 These words flowed with a force and ear- 
 nestness that, if they were feigned, would have 
 proved the speaker to be a consummate actor 
 indeed ; the expression of his face, as he stood 
 steadily confronting the other, was almost 
 contemptuous in its defiant confidence ; his
 
 THE WARNING 83 
 
 air had lost all its habitual secretiveness and 
 reserve, and manifestedj what had probably 
 never been seen in it before, an honest indig- 
 nation. 
 
 • It may be as you say, sir ; I hope it is,' 
 was the cold rejoinder. ' I have made no ac- 
 cusation against you, and I do not regret my 
 word of warning — I have done.' 
 
 These last words were uttered thickly and 
 indistinctly, and had a terrible significance for 
 the ear that heard them. The speaker's face 
 had turned purple, and had a look in it which 
 agitated his companion with a strange mixture 
 of hope and fear. 
 
 ' You are not well, Mr. Tremenhere ? ' 
 
 A sharp and bitter cry broke from the lips 
 of the money-lender as he sunk backwards in 
 his chair. 
 
 In a moment Eoscoe was at his side, un- 
 loosing his neckcloth. It was an involuntary 
 action, and, after he had performed it, he re- 
 mained motionless as a statue ; his eye me- 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 clianically sought the bottle of brandy, but 
 his hand did not move towards it. He stood 
 watching his master hke a dog (but with no 
 such faithful or anxious look), and with his 
 ear on the stretch for any external sound. 
 Would that scream have roused the house, he 
 was wondering, or had no one heard it ? Pre- 
 sently the money-lender opened his eyes. 
 ' Brandy ! ' he gasped. With steady hand the 
 other poured out a glassful and gave it him, 
 like medicine to a child. The stimulant re- 
 vived him. 
 
 ' Tell no one of this,' he murmured. Eoscoe 
 inclined his head. 
 
 ' If I had not thought such would have 
 been your wish,' he answered gently, ' I should 
 have called assistance.' 
 
 ' You did quite right — another ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid you have been in great pain, 
 sir,' said the other, as he obeyed him. 
 
 ' Pain doesn't express it ; it was torture — 
 agony.'
 
 THE WARNING 8$ 
 
 ' For the moment you lost your breath, I 
 fear.' 
 
 ' It was not breathlessness ; it was annihi- 
 lation.' 
 
 He felt for his handkerchief and wiped 
 his forehead. 
 
 ' That was the dew of death, Eoscoe. But 
 for you ' — he had caught sight of the neck- 
 cloth on his knee — ' I should have been gone ; 
 I shall not forget it.' 
 
 ' You make much of a trifle, Mr. Tremen- 
 here.' 
 
 * A trifle, you call it ! By George, let me 
 tell you it was Touch and Go ! ' 
 
 There was no occasion to tell Mr. Eoscoe 
 that. He was fully conscious of the serious 
 nature of his companion's seizure, and also 
 that, for the time at least, there was no further 
 danger to be apprehended from it. The money- 
 lender's face had assumed its normal com- 
 plexion — not a particularly wholesome one, 
 it is true, but with no resemblance, such as it
 
 86 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 had so lately worn, to that of a man hall- 
 strangled ; it was curious, too, how, with re- 
 turning life, his old manner of speech had 
 been resumed, which, but now, in view of the 
 Beckoning Hand, had been so apprehensively 
 grave. 
 
 ^ Yes, you've had your warning, and I've 
 had mine, the same evening,' he continued 
 grimly ; ' but mine was a real notice to quit. 
 What fools we are, even the sharpest of us ! ' 
 he added in a low voice. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Mr. Tremenhere ; I 
 did not catch what you were saying.' 
 
 ' Never mind, it was not worth catching. 
 Now I shall do.' And he looked towards his 
 bedroom door, which communicated with the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 ' I don't think you ought to be left, sir,' 
 returned the other ; ' it will be no inconveni- 
 ence to me to sleep here on the sofa, so as to 
 hear you if you called.' 
 
 The words were couched in dry mechanical
 
 THE WARNING Z^ 
 
 tones, little in accordance with the sympathy 
 they suggested, and the speaker kept his eyes 
 upon the floor as he uttered them. Perhaps 
 it was some sense of shortcoming in his 
 manner,' or even some expression in that down- 
 cast face, which the other was regarding very 
 sharply, that caused Mr. Tremenhere to de- 
 cline this offer, and without thanks. 
 
 ' No, no, I shall be better alone,' he said 
 with abrupt decision. ' Good night ! ' 
 
 'Very good.' Mr. Eoscoe lit his candle and 
 left the room. His patron listened for a 
 moment as though to make sure the other 
 had gone away, then moved to the door, and 
 softly locked and bolted it. 
 
 ' My nerves are thoroughly upset,' he mut- 
 tered to himself. ' What could the man hope 
 to get by murdering me ? That woman was 
 wrong, too, I'm pretty sure, about his having 
 any designs on Grace ; still he might have had, 
 and in that case, if I had died to-night — well, 
 there shall be no more risks ; to-morrow it
 
 88 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 shall be clone.' There was a large bookcase 
 in the room filled mostly with legal works, 
 and on the top shelf an Encyclopedia in many 
 volumes ; he took down volume 1 and turned 
 to a certain article. ' This disease,' it said, 
 ' is characterised by intense pain and sense of 
 constriction ; the paroxysms begin with the 
 breastbone and extend to the shoulder. The 
 fits recur, and the patient dies in one of them.' 
 ' I thought so.' He put the book back care- 
 fully in its place, and reseated himself in his 
 chair. ' I must not allow myself, it seems, to 
 be put out by things as I was to-day. There 
 will be no occasion to be put out when one 
 has guarded against all possible consequences. 
 And in the meantime nothing shall disturb 
 me.' Nevertheless, though there was no re- 
 currence of his malady, Mr. Tremenhere was 
 a good deal disturbed that night. His sleep 
 was broken, and once, an hour or two after 
 he had retired to rest, he thought he heard 
 the handle of his sitting-room door turned ;
 
 THE WARNING 89 
 
 but that, no doubt, as he assured himself, was 
 fancy. With the morning light he was almost 
 himself again ; the impression of what lie had 
 suffered was still upon him, but greatly 
 weakened ; and though lie was no less deter- 
 mined to put into effect the resolution lie had 
 formed the previous night, there seemed no 
 such pressing occasion for it. That informa- 
 tion in the Encyclopcedia was doubtless 
 correct enough, but it might not apply to him. 
 Since doubt, however, had become a factor 
 in his case, there were two things to be done 
 instead of one.
 
 90 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 AN HONEST LAWYER 
 
 The difference between the probability and the 
 certainty of death, however shght in degree, 
 is very marked as regards the feelings of him 
 who is threatened with it. Even in a ' forlorn 
 hope ' there is still a hope of hfe, and if there 
 were none at all, there would be a great fall- 
 ing off in the number of volunteers. There 
 are more people in the world, indeed, who 
 wish to die than is commonly supposed, but 
 still they are not numerous, and Mr. Joseph 
 Tremenhere was certainly not among them. 
 He had none of the fears that a<?itated Hamlet 
 as regards the future ; though his motto of 
 ' No risks ' was not perhaps utterly lost sight 
 of even in that matter ; but on the whole he
 
 AN HONEST LA WYER 91/ 
 
 was well content with this sublunary sphere, 
 and he had a characteristic objection to 
 exchange it for nothing — which was the 
 alternative that he looked forward to. 
 
 After breakfast, on the morning after his 
 ' shaking ' (as he now called it to himself), 
 instead of sitting in his parlour as usual 
 awaiting the bright- winged flies of pleasure, 
 he left his assistant to entertain them, and 
 took his way on foot to the house of a well- 
 known physician. It was not his own doctor, 
 though he had great confidence in that 
 gentleman, and made use of him in a manner 
 very unusual ; sent him a much larger crop 
 of patients than generally arises from the seed 
 of individual gratitude, and took an interest 
 in their well-being, which, but for its close 
 connection with finance, would have stamped 
 him as a philanthropist. But though he had 
 many secrets in common with him, he did 
 not wish to make him the depositary of his 
 present apprehensions about himself. He
 
 92 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 preferred to consult a stranger. This resolve 
 had its inconveniences ; for he might have to 
 wait his turn for admission, and waiting — 
 where he was paying for it instead of being 
 paid — did not at all suit with Mr. Tremenhere's 
 humour. Who of us is so fortunate as not to 
 be acquainted with that grim antechamber 
 (the same all the world over) in which we 
 await our summons to the (medical) hall of 
 doom ? When not used for its present pur- 
 pose, it is a dining-room, but anything less 
 suggestive of conviviality it is difficult to 
 imagine. Will dainty dishes really in due 
 course supply the place of those mouldy 
 books and long-dead periodicals that lie on 
 that funereal table .^ Will these miserable 
 fellow-creatures that surround us, dyspeptic, 
 pale, and silent, be succeeded by jovial guests? 
 It seems impossible. Why do they look at 
 each one as he enters with such serious dis- 
 favour, as if their chances of life were 
 diminished by any addition to their numbers ?
 
 AN HONEST LAWYER 93 
 
 It is because tliey believe that he has, like 
 themselves, given a shilling to the butler to 
 call him before his turn. In Josh's case they 
 were wrong ; for he had bribed the man with 
 half a crown. 
 
 * Mr. Tremenhere, by appointment,' were 
 the words that dropped with due solemnity 
 from the lips of that discreet serving-man, the 
 very next time he opened the door. It was 
 even more improper in the patient than in the 
 butler, but it should be charitably remembered 
 that the Encyclopaedia had warned him to 
 avoid all mental emotions, such as impatience, 
 and ' having to wait ' was therefore bad for 
 him. If those he had wronged could have 
 seen Mr. Tremenhere's face when he emergfed 
 from his interview with the doctor, they 
 would have had their revenge. He had gone 
 in with the expectation of hearing bad news, 
 but not with the certainty of it : he came out 
 with the words of doom rinf^insf in his ears. 
 He had asked for the truth, in his plain-
 
 94 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 spoken way, and tlie truth liad been told him. 
 The doctor, knowing who he was, had taken 
 an unusual interest in him ; a wise doctor 
 always does in such cases ; human nature is 
 almost as much his study as anatomy. This 
 interest is quite independent of sympathy, or 
 even pity. ' There is nothing so beautiful as 
 a beautiful skin — except a skin disease,' said an 
 enthusiastic surgeon ; and virtue is always a 
 less attractive subject for moral diagnosis than 
 its contrary. 
 
 Sentence of death had been passed upon 
 the great money-lender. To most people in 
 such circumstances money would have taken 
 a very secondary place in their reflections, but 
 in those of Joseph Tremenhere it assumed 
 even greater proportions than usual. There 
 was not a moment, as it seemed to him, to be 
 lost in putting out of the reach of harm, of 
 guarding from greed and waste and folly, that 
 treasure, the amassing of which had been the 
 darling object of his laborious days. If life
 
 AN HONEST LAWYER 95 
 
 must needs be lost, that at least should be 
 saved, and in its entirety. The question Cui 
 bono, for whose benefit it was to be saved, did 
 not enter into his mind. The gold itself was 
 the thing sacred to him, and required no 
 temple to sanctify it. Curiously enough — 
 though not so to those who are acquainted 
 with the inconsistencies of human nature — 
 Mr. Tremenhere, despite the fancy value that 
 he placed upon his riches, had not yet made 
 his will. The folly of such an omission had 
 never struck him till last night, and that 
 soliloquy of his, ' What fools we are, even the 
 sharpest of us ! ' had referred to it. But now 
 he felt that he had not only been a fool but a 
 madman. Like one who has been livinc^ in a 
 costly but wooden house, which constitutes 
 his whole property, and suddenly remembers, 
 'I am not insured,' he stood amazed and 
 alarmed at his own recklessness. The very 
 idea of the risk he had run brought on 
 another risk ; his heart began to beat in an
 
 96 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 abnormal fashion ; his terrified fancy pictured 
 it as the premonitory symptom of that second 
 * seizure ' which the doctor had warned him 
 would probably be his last. Ten thousand 
 pounds out of his huge hoard he would have 
 given gladly for an hour, not of respite 
 from death, but of freedom from distracting 
 thoughts and fears, so that he might accom- 
 phsh the all-important task that lay before 
 him with a clear brain. His ideas upon the 
 matter — his testamentary intentions — had long 
 been made up ; but all the complex plan 
 would go for nothing unless he could commu- 
 nicate it to another. 
 
 He was in the street (how he got there he 
 did not know), holding to a lamp-post, and 
 looking to the passer-by like a man who 
 had been overtaken, not so much by fate, 
 as by liquor. It was fortunately a very 
 quiet thoroughfare, chiefly inhabited by 
 doctors, and he gradually came to himself 
 without having attracted public attention.
 
 AN HONEST, LA WYER 97 
 
 He called a four-wlieeled cab, and drove to a 
 solicitor's office at no great distance, and 
 here again, as in the doctor's case, he did not 
 choose his own solicitor. . He knew more than 
 one gentleman of that profession, and was on 
 much more intimate terms with them than is 
 usually the case with lawyer and client, but 
 he knew too much of them to wish them to 
 know so much about him as it had become 
 necessary to disclose. Mr. Allerton was 
 a solicitor with whom indeed he had had 
 deahngs, and of a confidential nature, but 
 they had not been amicable dealings. He 
 had acted for Lord Morella in connection with 
 certain transactions which the money-lender 
 had had with his lordship's son and heir, and 
 had expressed himself rather strongly on Mr. 
 Tremenhere's course of conduct. He had 
 even gone so far as to say, in a conversation 
 to which there were no witnesses, ' It is my 
 opinion, Mr. Tremenhere, that j^ou are acting 
 like a rogue in this matter.' 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 But insinuations of that sort had never 
 made the money-lender's heart ' go ; ' he was 
 too much accustomed to them ; moreover he 
 had got the better of the lawyer in the affair 
 in question, and could have afforded to put 
 up with even stronger vituperation at the 
 same price. He had a large charity under 
 such circumstances for hasty expressions, and 
 not only bore no malice because of them, but 
 rather respected him who uttered them for 
 his candour and perspicacity. There is a 
 foolish saw about rogues beheving all other 
 men to be as roguish as themselves ; but he 
 must be a poor rogue indeed, and little likely 
 to succeed in his calling, who entertains any 
 such belief There is no one who understands 
 the advantage of genuine honesty — and in his 
 way appreciates it — better than your clever 
 scoundrel. He may dislike the honest man 
 exceedingly, but if he says he despises him, 
 he is a liar. He has in truth a much higher 
 opinion of him than of any one in the same 
 line of business as himself
 
 A.y HONEST LA IVYER 99 
 
 Mr. Allerton was what many people con- 
 sider a rarity, an honest lawyer ; but he had 
 characteristics of a still more unusual kind. 
 It was cruelly said of one of his profession 
 who pretended to have them, that though a 
 professing Christian he was a practising at- 
 torney ; but Mr. Allerton was really a re- 
 ligious man. How it came about was of 
 course a subject of great speculation. His 
 detractors said that since Lord Morella, his 
 chief client, was one of the great leaders of 
 the evangelical party, it was only natural — 
 meaning that it was to his obvious interest — 
 that Mr. Allerton should be evangelical too ; 
 but those who said so knew little about him, 
 or were very shallow critics. With this side 
 of that gentleman's character, however, Mr. 
 Tremenhere did not concern himself; he 
 never meddled with matters he did not 
 understand ; but he knew that Mr. Allerton 
 was an honest and trustworthy man, and for 
 that reason, and that reason only, he was
 
 I03 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 about to entrust liim with the knowledge — 
 and he hoped the management — of his private 
 afiairs. 
 
 On arriving at the lawyer's office, he was 
 shown into tlie waiting room, which he was 
 well pleased to see unoccupied, and sent in 
 his card. The clerk who took it came back 
 with promptitude, and the intimation that 
 Mr. Allerton was very particularly engaged. 
 If Mr. Tremenhere had any communication to 
 make, he added, Mr. Allerton would be very 
 happy to receive it — in writing. 
 
 Not the least disturbed by this rebuff, Mr. 
 Tremenhere sat down and wrote, as requested, 
 just half a dozen words. 
 
 ' My business is of the most pressing im- 
 portance, and has nothing whatever to do 
 with Lord C.'s affairs.' 
 
 This he sealed with wax before confiding 
 it to the messenger. 
 
 ' Just give Mr. Allerton that^ he said, with 
 the air of a man who knows its contents will
 
 AN HONEST LA WYER loi 
 
 be attended to. Nor was his confidence mis- 
 placed. The clerk returned, though by no 
 means immediately, with a civil request that 
 Mr. Tremenhere would ' walk this way.' 
 
 He knew the way very well, for he had 
 often trodden it on no very agreeable errands, 
 and the last time had been the occasion on 
 which that injurious remark had been appHed 
 to him which the exigencies of our story 
 have compelled us (with much regret) to 
 quote. 
 
 Mr. AUerton was a short, thin, wiry man, 
 not much above middle age, but with a 
 gravity of countenance that made him appear 
 older than lie was. He looked even graver 
 than usual as the money-lender Avas an- 
 nounced, rose from his chair without, how- 
 ever, moving foot or hand, and, looking 
 keenly at his visitor through his spectacles, 
 inquired in a tone that was far from concilia- 
 tory, ' To what am I indebted, Mr. Tremen- 
 here, for this entirely unexpected visit .^ '
 
 I02 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' I want your professional assistance on a 
 matter of great moment, but not a disputed 
 one, and solely in connection with my own 
 affairs.' 
 
 ' Then I tliink you had better go else- 
 where, sir ; to speak frankly, I have no desire 
 to be connected with them, or with you, in 
 any way. I have no interest in your affairs, 
 Mr. Tremenhere.' 
 
 ' I venture to think that you will alter 
 that opinion if you will have the patience to 
 listen to me for five minutes,' was the money- 
 lender's quiet rejoinder. ' I am very unwell ; 
 will you permit me to take a chair ? ' 
 
 The lawyer frowned, but nodded ; his face 
 had not one touch of sympathy ; he seemed 
 to be saying to himself, like the diplomatist 
 who heard that his astute rival was dying, 
 ' I wonder what he does that for.' 
 
 ' I am quite aware, Mr. Allerton, of the 
 opinion you entertain of me ; and have neither 
 the time, nor, to say truth, the desire to
 
 AN HONEST LAWYER 103 
 
 attempt to controvert it. I know that T have 
 no claim upon your attention whatever, save 
 one, our common humanity.' 
 
 ' Those are strange w^ords to come from 
 your hps, Mr. Tremenhere,' said the lawyer 
 coldly, but looking at his visitor with some 
 curiosity too. He was obliged to acknow- 
 ledge to himself that the man looked ill, and 
 the sense of having wronged him had so far 
 its efiect on him. 
 
 ' I have just come from a doctor's consult- 
 ing room, who is not given to false predic- 
 tions, and he has told me that my life hangs 
 on a thread. Let the extreme urgency of my 
 case excuse, at least, my intrusion.' 
 
 ' But why come to me^ Mr. Tremenhere ? 
 You have friends of your own, as I have 
 reason to know, learned in the law.' 
 
 ' Eogues all,' interrupted the money-lender 
 curtly ; ' rogues all. I come to you because 
 you are an honest man.' 
 
 A dry smile parted the lawyer's lips.
 
 104 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' You think that a stranf:?e reason to 
 actuate me, Mr. Allerton. You may think 
 anything you hke, if you will only act for me, 
 I want you to make my will.' 
 
 The lawyer shook his head. ' I have no 
 hesitation in saying that I positively decline 
 that honour.' 
 
 ' Do you refuse to oblige a dying man by 
 performing an ordinary duty of your profes- 
 sion .^ This is not what I expected of one 
 whose name is synonymous with good feeling 
 as well as honesty. In any other case I should 
 have appealed at first to an instinct which in 
 yours, as I am well convinced, has less in- 
 fluence, namely self-interest. I propose to 
 give you a thousand pounds for this great 
 service.' 
 
 ' A thousand pounds ! ' Mr. Allerton was 
 human, and in whose bosom beats the heart 
 where the notion of earning a thousand 
 pounds in an hour or two does not touch 
 some sympathetic chord ? He was moved
 
 AN HONEST LA WYER 105 
 
 for a moment ; then suddenly recovering 
 himself, he exclaimed with some heat, ' You 
 must be insulting me, sir ; your intention 
 must be to bribe me to do something dis- 
 honourable.' 
 
 ' A very natural supposition, I admit,' 
 said the money-lender blandly. ' But your 
 suspicion is quite without foundation, as you 
 will soon be convinced. I ought to have 
 added that the sum in question is contingent 
 upon your accepting the executorship.' 
 
 ' The executorship ! Do you suppose I am 
 going to draw up a will out of which I am 
 myself to receive a thousand pounds .^ ' 
 
 ' Why not ? It is no ordinary will, I 
 promise you. If it were five thousand there 
 would be nothing strange or uncommon, if 
 it were in due proportion to the bulk of the 
 whole bequest, and in this case that is a 
 million of money.' 
 
 Even in the perilous state in which the 
 money-lender stood — with the grave, as he
 
 I06 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 felt, gaping for him, and all the things of this 
 world, which had had so magnetic an attrac- 
 tion for him, slipping from his grasp — he 
 uttered those last words with a certain proud 
 complacency. Nor were they without their 
 effect upon the lawyer himself. He was used 
 to deal with large sums, but he knew how 
 seldom a fortune of this size was placed at the 
 sole disposal of a single individual. There 
 was wonder — perhaps even a gleam of admira- 
 tion — in his keen grey eyes ; he was dazzled in 
 spite of himself 
 
 ' Of course,' continued the money-lender, 
 * a man in your position, who is so good as to 
 undertake this trust, will not be treated as a 
 layman. There may be — there must be — 
 many obligations connected with it, the dis- 
 charge of each of which will, of course, 
 receive its proper remuneration. If I were 
 speaking to some lawyers whom you and I 
 know, I should say, " There will be pretty 
 pickings ; " but I am well aware that such con-
 
 AN HONEST LAWYER 107 
 
 siderations will have little weight with you. 
 What I would rather dwell upon is the oppor- 
 tunities such a position will afford you of ad- 
 ministering a vast estate to good advantage — 
 the advantage, that is,' he added hastily, ' of 
 helpless and innocent young people — for I 
 have three daughters, Mr. Allerton, who are 
 not so well acquainted with finance as their 
 father, and will doubtless stand in need of 
 your advice and assistance.' 
 
 The latter part of this statement would 
 have been the reverse of attractive to most 
 persons, but Mr. Tremenhere knew his man. 
 Mr. Allerton was not averse to play the part 
 of mentor to his clients ; nor can we doubt 
 that the knowledge that in this case he would 
 be handsomely paid for it, had its weight. 
 Moreover, which was a great point with him, 
 he would be robbing no one. If the money 
 was the orphan's, it was not the sort of orphan 
 that we are in the habit, of associating with 
 the widow ; his little charges would be mere
 
 To8 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 flea-bites to her. He felt much as the honest 
 divine feels who is translated to another 
 benefice, that it would be ' a wider sphere of 
 usefulness,' and also involve an increase of 
 stipend. 
 
 The lawyer looked at Mr. Tremenhere as 
 certainly he had never thought to look — with 
 something of personal interest as well as 
 curiosity — as he replied : 
 
 ' Well, well, we'll see about it. I'll think 
 it over.'
 
 I09 
 
 CHAPTER Vn 
 
 THE WILL 
 
 When a man says on any previously debated 
 question (provided it is not an appeal to his 
 pursestrings) tliat he will ' think it over,' his 
 antagonist may generally congratulate himself 
 on having gained his point ; and under ordi- 
 nary circumstances Mr. Tremenhere would 
 have felt satisfied with the success he had so 
 far achieved in a not very promising case. But 
 there was that within him that ' voted urgency ' 
 in this matter, and made procrastination 
 almost one with failure. 
 
 ' You are forgetting, Mr. AUerton, what I 
 told you about the state of my health ; what- 
 ever is to be done, it above all things behoves 
 me to do it quickly.'
 
 no THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 There was that in the money-lender's 
 words that reminded the lawyer of the unjust 
 steward, and for a moment he hesitated as to 
 whether he should comply with his request or 
 not ; that he was touching pitch there was no 
 doubt whatever ; but his hands were at least 
 less likely to be defiled by it than those of any 
 other man whom Mr. Tremenhere would be 
 likely to employ ; and then there was the 
 thousand pounds down, and the pickings, and 
 the opportunities for good. 
 
 ' I suppose I must obhge you, Mr. 
 Tremenhere,' he said with a sigh, which blew 
 away his last remnant of opposition, and the 
 two men drew their chairs together. Like 
 adversaries at whist, who cut and find them- 
 selves in partnership with one another, their 
 old antagonism ceased at once, and they 
 became lawyer and client. 
 
 Though Mr. Tremenhere's fortune was so 
 immense, it was not one of those properties 
 which, like port wine, takes time to settle.
 
 THE WILL III 
 
 Almost the whole of it, save his Cumberland 
 estate and his lease of Lebanon Lodge, was 
 in what might be almost termed hard cash ; 
 securities, a list of which he had taken the 
 precaution to bring with him. His knowledge 
 of business matters was fully as great as that 
 of his companion, and he knew exactly what 
 he wanted — an attribute rare indeed, and 
 which facilitates the operation of will- making 
 above all others. Moreover, all that he desired 
 at present was a synopsis of his intentions, 
 duly witnessed, which, though valid in itself, 
 might afterwards be expanded into a larger 
 testament, should time and health be granted 
 to him. This last circumstance, as it hap- 
 pened, was of great service to him in over- 
 coming, here and there, certain objections on 
 the lawyer's part, who would certainly have 
 shown a more obstinate front but for the 
 thought of the better opportunity that would 
 presently be afforded him of arguing the 
 matter.
 
 112 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' I set this down under protest, Mr. Tremen- 
 here,' he said more than once ; * I hope you 
 will remember this/ And at the words, ' To 
 my faithful clerk and assistant Edward Eoscoe 
 I bequeath the sum of 5,000/.,' he could not 
 restrain an ejaculation of astonishment. It 
 was an unusual thing to do, of course ; the 
 will-maker should be a machine in such cases ; 
 but then he knew the gentleman — not person- 
 ally but in his relations with his client — 
 so well. 
 
 ' Quite so ; I know what you are thinking, 
 Mr. Allerton,' said the money-lender, ' as 
 though you spoke it. He has feathered his 
 nest pretty well for himself, no doubt, and 
 out of my birds ; but this is a promise. He 
 saved my life last night, when he might have 
 let me die, and greatly to his own advantage. 
 This cannot happen now, as I shall frankly 
 tell him, in case the temptation shpuld occur 
 acrain and be too stronsf for him. But one 
 must keep one's word. You will do me the
 
 THE WILL 113 
 
 justice to say, I think, that I have always done 
 that much.' 
 
 Mr. Allerton inclined his head assent- 
 ingly ; he could do so without scruple ; 
 Josh's word had always been as good as his 
 bond, which could only in a facetious 
 sense have been said of most of those he dealt 
 with. His will had been strong, but his pro- 
 mise had been irrefragable, however much 
 to his disadvantage might have been its per- 
 formance. 
 
 There were items in Mr. Tremenhere's 
 testamentary instructions which went more 
 against the grain with Mr. Allerton than that 
 legacy to Mr. Eoscoe ; and though lie looked 
 upon the document as a temporary one, or 
 rather as a Bill in Parliament which the 
 Opposition permits to pass upon the under- 
 standing that it shall be altered in committee, 
 he did not hesitate to express his disapproval 
 of it. 
 
 ' I call this will of yours a cruel will, Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Tremenliere,' he said deliberately when all 
 was done. 
 
 ' I am cruel only to be kind,' answered the 
 money-lender. 
 
 ' That is of course your view ; I do not 
 accuse you of positive injustice, or I should not 
 be acting for you ; but in my opinion you are 
 flying in the face of nature. Those who are 
 dearest to you will think so, and not thank 
 you for it.' 
 
 ' Then that will be because they don't 
 know what is good for them,' was the quiet 
 rejoinder. 
 
 ' They know better than you do,' replied 
 the lawyer curtly ; ' what seems to you the 
 highest good, at all events,' he added in a 
 more conciliatory tone, ' will not seem so to 
 them. Money is not everything, Mr. Tremen- 
 liere, to everybody, even in this world.' 
 
 ' No doubt ; but if they prefer something 
 else — call it by what name you will — there is 
 nothing here to prevent them indulging their
 
 THE WILL 115 
 
 inclinations. If they choose to be Quixotic 
 they can be so, and yet not starve.' 
 
 ' Yes, fortunately for yqur intentions there 
 is a certain ^^ solatium^' independent of the 
 conditions ; but even so, if this testament 
 should be disputed, it is my duty to tell you 
 that it is by no means unassailable.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to say that a man cannot 
 leave his own money as he pleases ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Tremenhere scornfully. 
 
 ' Certainly not, in all cases,' returned the 
 lawyer dryly. ' I do not say, however, that 
 all I have set down here is not perfectly legal ; 
 but the Court is always prone, and rightly 
 prone, to look with a jealous eye, unless there 
 are the strongest reasons for it, on any 
 restraint of marriage.' 
 
 'And is religious scruple not a reason .^ ' 
 put in the money-lender, with virtuous 
 indignation. 
 
 Mr. Allerton passed his hand over his lips 
 to hide a smile. 
 
 I 2
 
 Ii6 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' That also has been a point to be decided 
 by the judge, ever since Lord Hardwicke's time. 
 However, as I have told you, the conditions are 
 perfectly legal. But I say again, Mr. Tremen- 
 here, that it is a cruel will.' 
 
 ' I am sorry that you entertain that opinion, 
 but I think a father should be the best judge 
 of the interests of his own children. Outside 
 that, if you have any objection to offer, I am 
 ready to hear it.' 
 
 ' Then permit me to say that I think this 
 conditional reversion of your property towards 
 the discharge of the National Debt is very 
 little to your credit. It surprises me more 
 than your other provisions, though it shocks 
 me less. I should have thought a man like 
 you would be above such egotism.' 
 
 'Very good,' said the money-lender, in- 
 differently, ' let us strike that out.' 
 
 This ready compliance with his suggestion 
 amazed the lawyer and gave liim hopes. It 
 was plain that the expression of his views had
 
 THE WILL 117 
 
 no little influence witli liis strange client ; and 
 it surely behoved him to do his best to guide 
 him aright. 
 
 ' Mr. Tremenhere,' he said, in a tone very- 
 different from that he had hitherto used, ' you 
 have just now asked me to bear witness to 
 your fidelity to your word; may I ask you, in 
 return, to believe that I am no hypocrite ? ' 
 
 ' I am quite sure that you are not,' 
 answered the other simply ; ' if I had thought 
 so, I should not be here.' 
 
 'Then let me adjure you to think again 
 before you leave this legacy of wrong behind 
 you. Do one good act, at all events, upon 
 which, when you come to lie on your death- 
 bed, you may look with satisfaction.' 
 
 ' I shall have no death-bed,' was the dry 
 rejoinder. ' I shall die suddenly, Mr. Allerton ; 
 very likely in the street.' 
 
 ' Then between this and then, let there be 
 something on which your mind can rest with 
 comfort. I cannot see into your mind, but I
 
 iiS THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 am mucli mistaken if there is not something 
 that troubles it. You are not so satisfied with 
 what you have just done here' — he laid his 
 finger on the will — ' as you would have me 
 believe.' 
 
 'I am perfectly satisfied with it.' 
 
 ' I am sorry to hear it ; it is not my business 
 to speak of such things, but is there nothing 
 you repent of, and for which even now some 
 reparation can be made ? ' 
 
 The speaker was like one who shoots at a 
 venture, but where he knows there is plenty 
 of game. 
 
 ' Yes ! ' interrupted the money-lender 
 sharply ; ' there is no need to go into the 
 matter, but there is. I am obliged to you for 
 reminding me of it. Instead of my property, 
 in the contingencies referred to, reverting to 
 the State, let it in the first instance revert to 
 Eobert Vernon — Heaven knows where he is 
 now, but you may say some time of Cocker- 
 mouth.'
 
 THE WILL 119 
 
 ' A relaticSn ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; the only one I have in the world — 
 my cousin.' 
 
 ' There is some sense in tliat^ at all events,' 
 observed the lawyer, as he made the alteration 
 in favour of Eobert Vernon. He had seen 
 too much of the ' pious founder ' to have any 
 respect for lihii^ and he had almost as much 
 objection to the posthumous benefactors of 
 the State. 
 
 Then he copied out the will with his own 
 hand, and two of his clerks came in and 
 witnessed it. 
 
 ' You have laid me under a great obliga- 
 tion,' said the money-lender, when all was 
 done. 
 
 ' You will best discharge it, Mr. Tremen- 
 here,' returned the other gravely, ' by taking 
 a juster view of your responsibilities when we 
 are treating this affair at large.' 
 
 Mr. Tremenhere smiled and held out his 
 hand, which, this time, was not refused.
 
 120 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 As ' a fellow feeling makes us wondrous 
 kind,' so a common interest unites those who 
 would be otherwise as far asunder as the poles. 
 
 ' If you would call in some day and make 
 the acquaintance of my girls, Mr. Allerton, I 
 should take it as a great kindness. It will 
 make things easier for them afterwards. You 
 know Lebanon Lodge ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' replied the lawyer ; but 
 whether the answer referred to the invitation, 
 or only to his knowledge of the locality, was 
 doubtful. 
 
 Mr. Allerton knew Lebanon Lodge well 
 enough, but hitherto it had certainly not been 
 one of tlie places on his visiting list. What 
 would Lord Morella say, he wondered, with 
 his dry smile, if he came to know that Josh 
 Tremenhere had become a client of his ? 
 
 The money-lender left Mr. Allerton's office 
 in a more tranquil frame of mind than that 
 with which he had entered it. Even physically 
 his visit to the lawyer had benefited him
 
 THE WILL 121 
 
 as much as that to the physician liad 
 depressed him. He felt that so far as the 
 future was concerned — for Mr. Tremenhere's 
 horizon was a very Hmited one — he could 
 now snap his fingers at Fate. His reflections 
 were no longer personal, as they had been a 
 few hours ago ; his mind was free to concern 
 itself with others. He was just as likely to 
 die as before, of course, but the matter was 
 not so pressing or important, and he could 
 speculate upon it apart from himself. What 
 would become, lie wondered, with a grim 
 smile, of that wild team of thoroughbreds he 
 had so well in hand, but of the management 
 of which none but he possessed the secret? 
 How they would rear and bolt, and kick over 
 the traces, and upset the coach, when he 
 should be no longer on the box-seat ! Eoscoe 
 thought a good deal of himself as a whip, no 
 doubt, but he would probably make a precious 
 mess of it. Mr. Tremenhere felt the same 
 satisfaction in contemplating the overturn as
 
 122 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 did tlie diplomatist wlio observed ' After me 
 the Deluge.' Eoscoe would step into his 
 shoes, no doubt, and try to wear them, unless 
 indeed he contemplated that shorter way to 
 wealth of which he had so lately accused him. 
 Whether he did so or not was not of much 
 consequence now ; but either way there 
 would be disappointments for Eoscoe. Five 
 thousand pounds is a large bequest to one who 
 is no relation to the testator, but he was well 
 aware that it would not satisfy the legatee in 
 this case. He would look for more than half 
 per cent, of what his employer left behind 
 him : for he had good reason to expect to be 
 left executor. It is not always a judicious 
 act, however, to make a poacher one's game- 
 keeper. How he would stare to find AUerton's 
 name, of all names, in that little document 
 that had just been executed, instead of his 
 own ! And, above all, how the document 
 itself would make him stare ! 
 
 ' You are not so satisfied with it as you
 
 THE WILL 123 
 
 would have me believe,' the lawyer had said ; 
 but Josh was perfectly satisfied with it. 'A 
 juster view of your responsibilities,' forsooth ; 
 that was the only bit of cant which the other 
 had induked in — that and his absurd remark 
 that the girls knew what was good for them 
 better than he did. Why AUerton didn't even 
 know the girls. Would he call, he wondered, 
 and see Grace ? She would be certain to 
 interest him, and it would be well indeed for 
 his little Fairy to do so — to have some one, 
 outside Lebanon Lodge and all belonging to it, 
 to whom to apply for counsel. 
 
 He was walking through the Park beside 
 the Eow, but at the upper end of it, where 
 there were few people, and sat down on an 
 empty bench to rest a little. 
 
 His httle Fairy ! She was the only being, 
 as he believed, in all the world that would 
 regret him ; and even so would be regrettiug 
 some one else that was not himself at all. It 
 would be better for her that he should go
 
 124 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 before her eyes were opened. If his chances 
 of life had been good, things might have been 
 very different. As he thoughtfully puffed at 
 his cigar and watched the smoke, a picture 
 rose before him of what might have been. 
 He saw himself ' retired from business ; ' 
 greatly looked up to by the world at large 
 on account of the money he had made, but 
 with no desire — and this was the strangest 
 part of his dream — to increase his store. He 
 had no friends, for he had never made any, 
 nor sought to make them ; but there was one 
 house which was always open to him, and 
 where he was welcomed by its mistress with 
 open arms. It was one of those ' stately 
 homes of England ' at whose size and 
 splendour foreigners stand amazed ; a place 
 he had seen pictured many times. Its master 
 was a young fellow he had always liked, but 
 there had been faults and flaws in him of old 
 which no longer existed. He was a peer of 
 the realm, but also a good husband. There
 
 7'HE WILL 125 
 
 were little children in the house, one of them 
 the image of his little Fairy, as she had 
 looked some twelve years ago or so, and they 
 called him ' Grandpapa.' 
 
 It was rather a snobbish and pinchbeck 
 dream, perhaps, but such as it was it soothed 
 and pleased him wonderfully. He felt quite 
 annoyed when a couple of riders, passing at 
 full speed, aroused him from it. 
 
 'How are you. Josh?' one called out as 
 they swept by, and afterwards the breeze 
 brought to his ear from both of them — 
 or so it seemed to him — a sound of mockinor 
 laughter. 
 
 The horsemen were Lord Cheribert and 
 General St. Gatien. 
 
 There was nothing of novelty in the 
 incident ; certainly nothing that under 
 ordinary circumstances would have ruffled 
 the money-lender ; but, just now, it did 
 ruffle him. 
 
 ' I have been an old fool,' he murmured ;
 
 126 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' but only for five minutes. It shall never 
 happen again. St. Gatien yonder was once 
 good enough to tell me that he had heard 
 Josh Tremenhere called all sorts of names, 
 but that he had never heard anybody call 
 him a fool. And I'll take good care that it 
 never shall be so.'
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 THE FIKE 
 
 The niceties of religious scruple are among the 
 most curious things in human nature, and not 
 the less so to those who entertain them — 
 though in a different form from those which 
 excite their wonder — themselves. I have seen 
 an excellent young woman, devoted to suet 
 pudding and treacle, take the pudding without 
 the treacle because the day was a Friday. I 
 have known a man, who wouldn't touch a card 
 on Sunday for the wealth of the Indies, play 
 at bagatelle without a prick of conscience. It 
 is in the matter of amusement, indeed, that 
 these refinements of propriety are most ob- 
 servable. In what is called ' the religious 
 world,' for example, to take a walk upon a
 
 128 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Sunday (except in some parts of Scotland) is 
 permissible, but to mount a tricycle is sacri- 
 legious ; to attend dramatic representations is 
 held to be impious, but to listen to Shake- 
 speare Headings is an innocent recreation. 
 The opera is a synonym for the infernal 
 regions, but the concert-room is a place 
 which the best of men can patronise without 
 risk of their eternal welfare. 
 
 That a person of good sense and intelli- 
 gence like Mr. AUerton should strain at these 
 gnats, and yet be a soHcitor in large practice, 
 may seem strange ; but he did other things 
 quite as unwarrantable in the eyes of reason, 
 which the world at large was not at all sur- 
 prised at. He was a bachelor, and had no 
 one to work for but himself; he was not 
 greedy for gain, and yet he passed eight hours 
 a day in a dingy office, adding to a fortune 
 that was already far too large for his simple 
 needs. For my part, such conduct seems the 
 act of an idiot ; but other people may think
 
 THE FIRE 129 
 
 me an idiot for indulging in my little eccen- 
 tricities, which travel in another direction. 
 We all possess glass houses of some kind or 
 another — though yours and mine, reader, are 
 mere cucumber frames — and should not throw 
 stones. 
 
 Mr. Allerton was very fond of music, though 
 he would not have listened to an orchestra in 
 a theatre to oblige Lord Morella himself (and, 
 indeed, it was very unlikely that his lordship 
 would have asked that favour of him) ; and 
 he thought it no harm, a few nights after his 
 interview with Mr. Tremenhere, to find him- 
 self sitting in a stall at the new Harmony 
 Hall in South Kensington. 
 
 It was an edifice the old lawyer knew 
 something about, for he had been the sohcitor 
 to the company who built it, but it was not 
 on that account that it now enjoyed his pat- 
 ronage ; he would have gone anywhere else, 
 and at no small inconvenience to himself, to 
 hear such singing as its programme promised 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 him to-night. He had come early, though 
 not so much from fearing to miss any of it as 
 from habit — you could be five minutes too 
 late for everything in the world worth having, 
 he used to say, but you could not be five 
 minutes too soon — and he amused himself by 
 watching the house fill. He was a little deaf, 
 and had consequently taken a stall close to 
 the stage, and he stood up with his back to it, 
 opera-glass in hand, and looked about him. 
 There were a good many people he knew, and 
 they him : for the most part, quiet, unfashion- 
 able folks, very different from the sparkling 
 throng that chat and smile with one another at 
 the playhouse ; he thought little of them at the 
 time, but circumstances afterwards arose which 
 caused him to remember them all very par- 
 ticularly. In his vicinity, however, there were 
 only strangers. Presently a party of three 
 entered the house, one of whom at once ar- 
 rested his attention. She was a young girl of 
 great beauty, but what attracted him in her
 
 THE FIRE 131 
 
 was the animation and pleasure tliat lit up her 
 face. Scenes of pubhc amusement, it was 
 plain, were unfamiliar to her ; and she was 
 lookincr forward to her comino- treat with 
 childish expectation. Innocence has an attrac- 
 tion, it is said, for lawyers, but for this one it 
 had a peculiar and quite unprofessional charm ; 
 like the spectacle of a fair landscape at early 
 dawn, it seemed to do Mr. AUerton good. He 
 was so rapt in contemplation of the girl that 
 only the sense that she was growing much too 
 large reminded him that he miofht be bestowing? 
 an unacceptable attention on her. She was 
 coming very near him, and he shut up his 
 glasses rather hastily and took his seat, and 
 consulted his programme. When he looked 
 up from it he perceived, not without satisfac- 
 tion, that she was sittings next to him. 
 
 ' What a wicked old man ! ' some people 
 would have said, had he confessed as much ; 
 but ' some people ' are unable to appreciate 
 the finer pleasures ; what he looked forward
 
 i3i THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 to was a reflected happiness, the delight he 
 knew would be aroused in that charming and 
 innocent face at what she had come to hear. 
 Beside her, of course, were sitting her two 
 companions, one of them a tall, well-built man, 
 of powerful frame, and with a face that most 
 persons would have pronounced handsome ; 
 when he smiled, it was certainly so, but when 
 he was not smiling, it struck the lawyer that 
 it had a sinister expression. He was dark, 
 ike the young lady, but had no other resem- 
 blance to her ; he could hardly be her father, 
 yet his manner to her seemed parental, aflec- 
 tionate, and almost playful in its protective 
 kindness ; with the other, a commonplace 
 young woman, tolerably good-looking, and 
 with very bright eyes, he was famihar, but 
 less demonstratively so. Mr. Allerton con- 
 cluded, though there was a considerable differ- 
 ence in their ages, that the party were brother 
 and sisters. 
 
 The performance was musical as well as
 
 THE FIRE 133 
 
 vocal, and when the notes of the organ, ' hke 
 a god in pam,' began to fill the hushed air, 
 'it was pretty' (as Mr. Pepys with much 
 inappropriateness would have said) to watch 
 the changes that swept over the girl's speaking 
 face. At times, even, thought Mr. Allerton, 
 in his ' serious,' commonplace way, she seemed 
 to be communino; with the blessed angels 
 themselves ; at others, the dew stood in her 
 eyes and an intense melancholy seemed to hold 
 possession of her, caused, perhaps, by some 
 exaggerated sense of her own unworthiness. 
 
 When the first singer came to the front 
 she was less moved, but not less pleasant to 
 look upon, for she was more herself. The 
 song was a very difficult one, and tried the 
 vocal powers to the utmost ; she seemed to 
 follow every note and sympathise with every 
 obstacle surmounted, and her small hands met 
 together at the close with eager appreciation. 
 But with the enthusiasm it evoked in some 
 quarters it was plain she had no sympathy ;
 
 134 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 it touched the sense of her, but not the soul. 
 Then came a simple ballad, such as when trilled 
 by a cracked voice in the streets will reach 
 the heart, but when sung, as now, by one 
 formed by art and nature to do justice to it, 
 makes the whole world of listeners kin. In 
 the midst of it, whilst the girl was weeping 
 with bowed-dovrn head, Mr. AUerton and her 
 companion shot a glance at one another over 
 it, full of dread significance. There was 
 smoke proceeding from one side of the stage, 
 followed by a solitary tongue of flame. 
 
 ' Fire ! Fire I' screamed some one from the 
 gallery, and the whole house rose at once as at 
 the National Anthem, only a great deal quicker. 
 
 ' Fire I Fire ! ' was echoed in a dozen 
 places, and all that decorous, respectable 
 assemblage was transformed in another instant 
 to a Pandemonium. 
 
 It is easy to say ' What cowards ! ' as we 
 read of such things in our own chairs at 
 home, with the serene conviction that if such
 
 THE FIRE 135 
 
 an event had happened to ourselves, we should 
 have been as cool as cucumbers ; but the fact 
 is tliere is a thing called ' panic ' against 
 which ordinary courage — the courage of the 
 soldier — struggles in vain ; even the Die 
 Hards, we read, were once victims to it. 
 Nevertheless there were a few exceptions to 
 the general stampede that at once took place 
 from every part of the concert room. Mr. 
 Allerton's first thought was for the girl beside 
 him. He heard her companion exclaim, 
 ' Keep your seats, both of you ! ' by which he 
 knew that he was well fitted to be a protector 
 to one of them ; but it was also plain that in 
 that rao^ine^ rout no one man, however strono^ 
 and resolute, could save two helpless women. 
 The same thought, he saw, was passing 
 through the other's mind. Even in that 
 awful moment the passions depicted on that 
 swarthy face did not escape his observation ; 
 its vehement resentment of the Fate that 
 seemed about to overtake them, and then the
 
 135 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 terrible struggle as to wliicli of his two 
 charges should be his care, could be read 
 distinctly in it ; and finally — though the whole 
 thing did not take a moment — the man's eyes 
 fixed themselves on the elder woman. 
 
 ' I will take care of the young lady,' said 
 the lawyer, in quiet but unhesitating tones. 
 
 ' Thank you, Mr. Allerton,' returned the 
 other, a flush of gratitude lighting up his dark 
 features; ^ there is not a moment to lose.' 
 
 If there had been, the fact of being 
 addressed by his own name would certainly 
 have struck the lawyer ; but at the time he 
 was unconscious of aught but the peril to 
 which the other referred. The flame was 
 already licking the side scenes, and the heat 
 was becoming unbearable ; the advice of 
 ' Keep your seats ' to those who, hke them- 
 selves, were near the stage could no longer be 
 followed. The two men helped the women 
 over the backs of the emptied stalls to the last 
 row, and waited for the doorway to be cleared.
 
 THE FIRE 137 
 
 The spectacle was frightful. The room itself, 
 in spite of the myriad lights that hung about 
 it, was getting dim with smoke, but they 
 could see the remnant of the frantic crowd 
 fio^hting and tearincj at one another at the 
 narrow exit like fiends incarnate. The girl 
 released her arm from Mr. Allerton's hold, and 
 covered her face with her hands, as if to shut 
 out the shocking scene. She had not spoken 
 a word from first to last, but had done exactly 
 as he had instructed her to do ; whereas her 
 sister had uttered shriek on shriek, and had 
 been so possessed with terror that her com- 
 panion had had to carry her in his arms over 
 the last three rows of stalls. In spite of their 
 terrible situation this had aroused his anger. 
 
 ' If you mean to perish miserably, you 
 are going the way to do it, Philippa,' he 
 exclaimed in passionate tones ; ' whereas if 
 you will but keep your feet and stick to me, 
 I will cut my way through these cowardly 
 fools ; ' and he had looked at them as he
 
 138 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 spoke so savagely that it was easy to imagine 
 him, hatchet in hand, putting his threat into 
 execution. His words, however inappropriate 
 from a moral point of view, were not without 
 their good effect upon the person he addressed, 
 and revived her not a little, as harshness is 
 said to bring to themselves persons in hysterics. 
 She murmured something in his ear, to which 
 he nodded a grim assent. 
 
 Mr. Allerton would have been incapable of 
 applying such strong remedies, even if the case 
 of his companion had called for them, but he 
 too addressed to her a few words of quiet 
 assurance. 
 
 ' The doorway will soon be clear, my dear,' 
 he said ; ' and you may be sure, whatever 
 happens, that I will not desert you.' 
 
 She looked up in his pitiful eyes with an 
 expression of ineffable gratitude, reading the 
 generous and earnest purpose in them, and 
 murmured her simple trust in him. It seemed 
 to both these strangers of ^^^ minutes ago
 
 THE FIRE 139 
 
 that they had known one another for years. 
 By this time the fire had wrapped the whole 
 of the stage, and sparks from they knew not 
 whence were flying in all directions. They 
 all moved hastily towards the door, now 
 blocked by only a few stragglers, and presently 
 emerged with them into a low and narrow 
 passage. Except that the fire was for the 
 moment hidden from view, their position 
 seemed now even more helpless and inex- 
 tricable. A compact mass of human beings, 
 their features distorted with rage and fear, 
 their garments torn and dishevelled, and tramp- 
 ling one another under foot with the most 
 shocking indifference, filled the entire space 
 between them and the entrance hall. 
 
 ' There are no stairs,' Mr. Allerton heard 
 his male companion mutter, as if to himself; 
 then aloud, ' Philippa, put your arms round 
 my waist, and if you loose your hold, 
 remember, you lose your life.' 
 
 As he spoke the words, he threw himself
 
 I40 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 on the struggling tlirong, and by sheer strength, 
 like a wedge beaten by the hammer, forced 
 his way slowly throiigli it, dragging his com- 
 panion after him. 
 
 'I have riot the strength for that,' mur- 
 mured Mr. Allerton, ' even if I had the will.' 
 
 The girl at his side heard him ; the look 
 of fear in her pale face had changed to one of 
 horror. 
 
 ' I would rather die,' she said, ' than do it.' 
 
 To die to some persons is easy, but to 
 perish by devouring flame is appalling to the 
 best and bravest of us. The air in the 
 un ventilated passage was by this time almost 
 suffocating, and above the crackle and the 
 roar of the fire rose the eddying smoke and 
 found its way to them. The mass of people 
 in front was moving onward, but almost as 
 imperceptibly as the march of a glacier ; it 
 seemed impossible that the last of them — and 
 they two were the very last — could reach the 
 outer air alive.
 
 THE FIRE 141 
 
 Suddenly a thought struck Mr. Allerton ; 
 there rose up before his inward eye a plan of 
 the hall, as he had seen it before it was built. 
 From one of the two passages opening from 
 the stalls, there was a stone .staircase, he 
 remembered, leading under the stage, and 
 at the side of it a door opening into an un- 
 frequented court ; his impression was that it 
 was the passage in which they were, but he 
 was not sure. We cry for faith in the fathom- 
 less Future, but what would he not have given 
 — about this matter of the Present seemingly 
 so small — for certainty ! Should he try that 
 way and be mistaken, they would both with- 
 out doubt be lost ; yet the other way seemed 
 almost devoid of hope. For once the lawyer 
 felt a responsibility that was too great for his 
 own shoulders. Like a rider who has lost his 
 way, and in despair throws his reins upon his 
 horse's neck, he decided to leave the matter 
 to his companion's choice ; there was no 
 instinct, indeed, in her case to guide her, but
 
 142 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 perhaps He, wlio gives instinct and all other 
 good things to His creatures, might in His 
 mercy give this innocent girl a right judgment. 
 In a few hasty words he therefore put the 
 matter before her. 
 
 ' If I am wrong, my child,' he added, but 
 the thought, that in that case she w^ould perish 
 and by his own act, was too much for him, 
 and he could not finish the sentence. 
 
 ' If you are wrong,' she put in, ' you 
 will have done your best for me ' — it was 
 not selfishness but her appreciation of the 
 nobility of the other's conduct that forbad 
 her to say ' for us ' — ' and more than could 
 have been looked for in any stranger. As to 
 my choice in the matter, I say any way but 
 that way,' and she pointed with a shudder to 
 the surging crowd above which her late 
 companion's form could be discovered at some 
 distance battling without scruple, but not 
 without success, for the dear life. 
 
 ' So be it then,' said Mr. Allerton solemnly ;
 
 THE FIRE 143 
 
 * this way, my child.' And he took her hand 
 as though she were a child indeed. In turn- 
 ing their backs on their fellow-creatures, they 
 did not feel as if they were deserting them, 
 but rather as if they themselves were bidding 
 good-bye to life. If the crowd in fact had 
 turned to the right instead of the left, not 
 one in ten would probably have been tlien 
 alive, for after about ten feet it terminated in 
 a steep stone staircase down which even those 
 two in the gathering smoke had to feel rather 
 than see their way. They were much nearer 
 to the seat of the fire than they had been 
 before, and the roaring of the flames on the 
 other side of the brick wall that alone inter- 
 vened between it and them was terrific. The 
 heat, too, was growing almost insupportable. 
 Had the gashghts then gone out, which 
 happened a few minutes afterwards, no 
 human power could have saved them. At 
 the end of the staircase, however, they could 
 see the closed door of which they were in
 
 144 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 searcli ; their clasped hands clutched one 
 another as they caught sight of it, but neither 
 spoke. The thought which was in the mind 
 of each was, ' Is it locked or unlocked ? ' 
 There were some tools lying on the floor — a 
 chisel and hammer among them — ^which, how- 
 ever, there would have been no time to use ; 
 perhaps some one had already used them to 
 force the door, or rather it was more likely 
 they had been flung down by the stage work- 
 men who knew this way of egress and had 
 escaped by it. Mr. Allerton turned the handle, 
 and the door yielded to his touch. They were 
 saved.
 
 MS 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 REUNITED 
 
 There was a wind that night which carried 
 the smoke and flame from the burning hall to 
 the opposite side of it, and left the court in 
 which Mr. AUerton and his young companion 
 now found themselves canopied by the flying 
 clouds and the quiet stars. As they looked 
 up to them both the old man and the girl said 
 something, though not to each other, and then 
 the girl poured out a few broken words of 
 passionate thanks to her human preserver. 
 
 ' Tut, tut, my dear,' he answered gently, 
 ' if it had not been for your wise choice 
 and your most admirable behaviour, we 
 should not ' 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 'PHlippa! let us find dear Philippa and 
 Mr. Eoscoe.' slie interrupted excitedly. 
 
 ' To be sure,' he said, putting her arm in 
 his, and hurrying on. He was not very much 
 alarmed on their account as he remembered 
 his last glimpse of them. If any man could 
 make his way to the front, it was, he felt 
 from what he had heard as well as seen of 
 him — it vfas that man, but the name of course 
 was a revelation to him. 
 
 ' Mr. Eoscoe is your brother, I suppose,' 
 he said, conscious of a certain involuntary 
 lessening of interest in his young charge, of 
 which he was nevertheless ashamed. 
 
 ' No, no ; he is no relation ; but he lives at 
 home with us. He is papa's secretary.' 
 
 ' What, is your father Mr. Tremenhere ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am his daughter Grace. Is it 
 possible that you know him ? How grateful 
 he will be to you ! Oh, if Philippa should 
 only be safe ! What a dreadful crowd ! What 
 a frightful scene ! '
 
 REUNITED 147 
 
 As they turned the corner of the court, 
 the spectacle that presented itself was striking 
 indeed. A mass of people, all in black as it 
 seemed, filled every inch of standing ground, 
 and were only kept back from tlie approaches 
 to tlie hall by mounted police. Everything 
 above and about them was wet, and shone in 
 the lurid flame that was now leaping up to the 
 skies. The roar of the fire mixed with the 
 mechanical beat of the engines which were 
 playing on it torrents of water in all directions. 
 The conflagration was not kept under, but it 
 was delayed. 
 
 ' I feel quite assured, Grace, that your 
 sister and her companion are by this time in 
 safety ; but it is impossible that you can either 
 get to them or they to you. I will take you 
 home, where doubtless they will have arrived 
 before us.' 
 
 ' But, dear Mr. AUerton, it feels as thougli 
 we were deserting them.' 
 
 It was on the lawyer's lips to reply that 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 tliey had not shown much scruple about 
 deserting lier^ but the thought of the perilous 
 state of the money-lender's health suddenly 
 occurred to him. 
 
 ' If only for your father's sake, my dear/ 
 he said, ' we ought to go home at once, and 
 break what has happened to him. If the news 
 of the Hall being on fire should reach him 
 by other means, it might have serious conse- 
 quences.' 
 
 ' To be sure, it would frighten dear papa 
 very much, would it not ? ' she assented. 
 
 It was clear to her companion that she 
 was unaware of her father's state of health ; 
 that it did not enter into her mind that it 
 might even frighten him to death. 
 
 ' Even if Philippa, as you say, has got 
 home,' she continued thoughtfully, ' he will 
 still be in great anxiety upon my account.' 
 
 ' Indeed I should think he would,' returned 
 the lawyer, ' for he ought to be very fond of 
 you.'
 
 REUNITED 149 
 
 * Oil, but he w,' she answered eagerly, 
 ' much fonder of me than I deserve. He calls 
 me his little Fairy.' 
 
 ' Eeally ? ' 
 
 The fact itself astonished the lawyer. He 
 could not fancy Josh Tremenhere using a pet 
 name even to his own daughter ; but when he 
 coupled it with those remarkable provisions 
 in his will, it seemed amazing in its incon- 
 sistency. 
 
 ' Well, I am sure you are a good fairy,' he 
 answered as hghtly as he could. In spite of 
 the presence of mind his companion had 
 shown, far beyond her years, he perceived 
 from her distracted air and the broken tones 
 of her voice that she was deeply agitated, 
 and that but for her sense of obligation she 
 would probably not have replied to him at 
 all. 
 
 As they walked on together homeward, 
 she kept glancing back at the fire, and shook 
 and shuddered at the appalling noise it made.
 
 ISO THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 It was with difficulty that they made their 
 way through the crowds that were hurrying 
 to the spectacle. A commissioner of police 
 came galloping down the road, and stopped a 
 mounted patrol coming at full speed from the 
 other direction. 
 
 ' The people are all out, sir,' they heard 
 the latter say, in reply to some hurried 
 question. ' There have been no lives lost.' 
 
 ' You hear tliat^ my dear,' said the lawyer, 
 comfortingly ; and the answering pressure of 
 her hand upon his arm was very welcome to 
 him. The idea he was glad to think had not 
 occurred to her which had occurred to him, 
 that since there were at least two persons 
 not accounted for whom the patrol knew 
 nothing about, his statement could not be 
 very trustworthy. 
 
 They walked on in silence, the girl, though 
 somewhat consoled, still full of fears for her 
 sister, the lawyer reflecting on the strange 
 chance which, despite his resolution to the
 
 REUNITED 151 
 
 contrary, was taking him to Lebanon Lodge. 
 If the money-lender could have looked into 
 his mind, he would have been well assured 
 that the man he had made his executor and 
 trustee would take an interest in one at least 
 of his three charges, and would have been 
 duly grateful for it. Strange to say, however, 
 this good will was not reciprocated ; for just 
 in proportion to the admiration Mr. AUerton 
 felt for the brave girl beside him, Mr. Allerton 
 despised his client. How a man could possess 
 such a daughter, and even as it would seem 
 to some extent appreciate her, and yet set such 
 a fancy value upon his money, was amazing 
 to him. He had many clients who thought a 
 great deal of their wealth, yet always in con- 
 nection with its advantage to them or theirs ; 
 but Joseph Tremenhere worshipped his wealth 
 itself, as though it were the final good. 
 
 There were lights in the drawing-room at 
 Lebanon Lodge, but nowhere else ; nor was 
 there any stir about the house, such as there
 
 152 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 doubtless would have been had their absence 
 excited alarm. It was plain to them that 
 Phihppa and her companion had not arrived, 
 and at Mr. AUerton's request Grace said 
 nothing to the servant as to the reason of 
 their delay. Mr. Tremenhere, he informed 
 them, to the lawyer's great relief, had already 
 retired to rest, but Miss Agnes was in the 
 drawing-room. She was of course surprised 
 to see her sister in company with a stranger ; 
 but when she heard the cause of it, her 
 agitation and alarm seemed almost to deprive 
 her of her senses. 
 
 ' The Hall on fire ; with Phihppa and 
 Edward there ! and you left them ! ' and 
 she threw a look at her sister full of such 
 anger and contempt that poor Grace quailed 
 beneath it. 
 
 ' On the contrary, madam,' said Mr. 
 Allerton, fired at an accusation so unjust 
 hurled at so innocent an object, ' Mr. Eoscoe 
 left us. I feel very certain that he has taken
 
 REUNITED . 153 
 
 good care of liimself, and of Miss Philippa 
 likewise.' 
 
 ' You deserted them. He is lost ! ' cried 
 Agnes, turning upon the lawyer with angry 
 vehemence ; then bursting into tears, she 
 threw herself into a chair and gave vent to a 
 passion of tears. 
 
 ' At all events, he has not been lost for 
 very long,' observed Mr. AUerton dryly ; he 
 pointed to the window which looked into the 
 little courtyard, where the missing couple 
 could be seen emerging from a hansom. 
 
 Agnes leapt to her feet with a little cry 
 of joy ; then at once recovered her self- 
 control. 
 
 ' I am sorry to have spoken as I did, Mr. 
 Allerton,' she exclaimed, ' but I was almost 
 out of my mind upon my sister's account.' 
 
 ' Your apology is due, madam,' he replied 
 coldly, ' less to me than to your other sister.' 
 
 She ran up to Grace and embraced her at 
 once ; the best thing she could have done to
 
 154 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 show her penitence, and one which con- 
 siderably molhfied the lawyer. 
 
 ' Let them make less noise below, if you 
 please,' he said ; ' I happen to know that your 
 father is far from well, and that all excite- 
 ment has been forbidden to him.' 
 
 He spoke with earnestness and with a cer- 
 tain air of command which in a stranger must 
 have seemed to require explanation ; but 
 Agnes did not question his authority ; she was 
 very willing to conciHate this man, whoever he 
 was, before whom she was conscious she had 
 committed a great imprudence ; she thought he 
 was some doctor whom her father had consulted. 
 Even if what he said was true, however, it 
 was just then comparatively of small matter 
 to her ; her mind was full of more pressing 
 things. Grace, on the other hand, had run 
 downstairs at once, as much to hush the noise 
 in the hall as to welcome the new-comers. 
 
 Philippa embraced her with passionate 
 fervour.
 
 REUNITED 155 
 
 ' Thank Heaven, thank Heaven ! ' she sobbed 
 as she pressed her to her bosom. An unmis- 
 takable touch of remorse mingled v^^ith her 
 joyful accents. 
 
 ' Imagine,' she murmured, ' our horror, 
 when we strained our eyes in vain to see you 
 come out of that horrible place.' 
 
 ' I told her, however, my dear Grace, that 
 you were in safe guidance,' put in Mr. Eoscoe, 
 smiling. ' If I had not been sure of that, we 
 would never have left you.' 
 
 ' It was all for the best,' said Grace, as he 
 wrung her hand. She knew that her tone 
 was colder than she wished it to be. She 
 was not displeased with him for leaving her, 
 but for the manner of it as regarded others. 
 She still seemed to see him shouldering those 
 poor frightened creatures to left and right ; 
 it had been to some degree a revelation to 
 her of his true character. She could never 
 think of him as being ' nice,' in any sense, 
 again.
 
 156 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 His quick intelligence perceived the ground 
 lie had lost with her, but not the cause. 
 
 'I am afraid, Grace, you feel a grudge 
 against me,' he said plaintively. ' Philippa 
 will tell you that directly I had saved her I 
 tried to go back again for you.' 
 
 'He did indeed, Grace,' put in Philippa 
 earnestly, ' only the pohce would not permit 
 it. How dreadful it was pushing through 
 that shrieking crowd ! when they came out 
 it was in great knots and bundles, not like 
 human beings at all ; that was why we were 
 unable to recognise you. My dress is torn to 
 pieces, but yours — why you look as if nothing 
 had happened to you ! ' she added, with 
 amazement. 
 
 ' Mr. Allerton and I escaped by another 
 way, quite alone.' 
 
 ' There ! I told you how good a guide 
 she had got, Miss Philippa,' exclaimed Mr. 
 Eoscoe triumphantly. 
 
 ' You might have also said how kind a
 
 REUNITED 157 
 
 one,' said Grace with tender enthusiasm. ' I 
 owe him more than words can say.' 
 
 'I shall certainly write to-morrow to 
 express my deep sense of obligation to him,' 
 observed Mr. Eoscoe. 
 
 ' Mr. Allerton is at this moment in the 
 house,' she answered ; ' he saw me home, and 
 naturally waited here for your arrival. Poor 
 Agnes has been in a dreadful state about you 
 both.' 
 
 ' No doubt,' said Mr. Eoscoe, ' but more 
 particularly, of course, upon your sister's 
 account. I think, Miss Philippa, it would be 
 very kind of you to go up to Miss Agnes ; 
 she can hardly leave her guest alone.' 
 
 Phihppa left the room at once — they had 
 been talking in one that led out of the hall — 
 and Grace was about to follow her, when 
 Mr. Eoscoe stopped her. 
 
 ' One moment, dear Miss Grace. Mr. 
 Allerton, I suppose, knows who you all are ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes ; I told him, and, as you are
 
 158 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 aware, lie is an intimate friend of dear 
 papa.' 
 
 'I think you are mistaken there. They 
 have had business relations with one another, 
 but that is all.' 
 
 ' But it is not so ; he must be very in- 
 timate with him ; he told me what alarms 
 and pains me very much, that there is some- 
 thing seriously amiss with papa's health, of 
 which he has never spoken to us.' 
 
 ' How strange ! ' Mr. Eoscoe's astonish- 
 ment was perfectly genuine. He knew, of 
 course, of his employer's ailment, but that he 
 should have confided it to Mr. Allerton, of all 
 men in the world, was news indeed — and bad 
 news. His mind leapt at once, if not to the 
 right explanation of the matter, to a sus- 
 picion of it. He remembered that on the 
 day after his seizure Mr. Tremenhere had 
 passed the whole morning away from home, 
 on some business of which he had never 
 spoken. Was it possible that he had made
 
 REUNITED 159 
 
 his will with the apprehension of what might 
 happen to him any day strong upon him, and 
 had gone to Mr. Allerton for that purpose ? 
 The chagrin that Mr. Eoscoe's face exhibited 
 as the thought crossed him was beyond even 
 his powers to conceal. Grace naturally took 
 it for sympathetic sorrow. 
 
 ' Then you, too, were unaware,' she said, 
 ' of anything very wrong with dear papa ? A 
 sudden shock, Mr. Allerton said, might be 
 serious to him. Good Heavens ! can it be 
 possible that he has heart disease ? ' 
 
 ' I have never heard a whisper of such a 
 thing. Miss Grace ; but a person has only to 
 be eminent in any walk of life to have all 
 sorts of stories told about him, and Mr. 
 Allerton is in the way of hearing such matters. 
 Did he happen, by the way, when you were 
 alone together, to speak of me ? ' 
 
 ' Not a word. We were too much en- 
 gaged, I fear, with selfish thoughts to talk of 
 anybody.'
 
 i6o THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Slie said this with some embarrassment, 
 arising from an unaccustomed sense of dupli- 
 city, for she well remembered what they had 
 thought of Mr. Eoscoe, though they had not 
 spoken of him. 
 
 ' I am glad of that,' he answered, smiling. 
 ' Mr. AUerton and I have been antagonists — 
 not personally, of course, but in business 
 matters — and that might have prejudiced him 
 against me. Henceforward, I need hardly 
 say, I can never regard him save with the 
 most heartfelt gratitude. Oh, Grace — for I 
 must call you Grace, if it be but for this once 
 only — never shall I forget the horror of that 
 moment when I was compelled to entrust 
 your precious life to another. It was no 
 question of choice, believe me.' 
 
 ' How could it have been ? ' she put in 
 simply. It was evident she had missed his 
 meaning, which had referred to his taking 
 Philippa instead of herself. The innocence of 
 her tone convinced him of the stupendous
 
 REUNITED i6i 
 
 error that lie had been on the point of com- 
 mittino'. 
 
 ' Your generous nature prompts you to say 
 to yourself, " Necessity has no law," ' he con- 
 tinued, ' but I can never forget that in that 
 moment of danger and despair I turned my 
 back upon you.' 
 
 'I don't see how you could have done 
 otherwise, Mr. Eoscoe,' she replied calmly. 
 She had almost said, ' I don't see, so fcu\ how 
 you could have done otherwise.' It was 
 again not the remembrance of his desertion of 
 her at all (which had seemed really a neces- 
 sity), but that of his behaviour to others, 
 which made her tone so cold. But he had 
 not the key of this, and he felt that his pro- 
 testations had missed fire. 
 
 ' I think you should be wishing Mr. Aller- 
 ton good-bye,' he observed deferentially, with 
 a little sigh. 
 
 ' True, it is getting late. Let us go very 
 
 VOL. 1. M
 
 1 62 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 quietly upstairs, so as not to risk waking 
 dear papa.' 
 
 But when she reached the drawing-room 
 she found, to her surprise, that Mr. Eoscoe 
 was not following her. She thought it strange, 
 considering what had happened, that he should 
 omit to make his personal acknowledgments 
 to Mr. AUerton ; but perhaps his modesty 
 suggested that they should more fitly come 
 from her father.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SPECULATIONS 
 
 Mr. Alleetox, when Grace left liim, as lie 
 thought, a httle ungratefully, alone with her 
 sister, was by no means pleased with his 
 position. He was not favourably impressed 
 with Miss Agnes and her late outbreak of 
 temper, and, if he had followed his own 
 inchnation, would have then and there bade 
 her adieu. To depart, however, in peace and 
 solitude was impossible, since he would have 
 had to run the gauntlet of the little party in 
 the hall ; and, moreover, as he reflected — 
 since he had accepted the trust Mr. Tremenhere 
 had pressed upon him — here was an oppor- 
 tunity of learning something of the character 
 of one, at least, of the three ladies who would
 
 1 64 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 probably at no distant date become his charge. 
 He already knew that she had not a very good 
 temper ; but, on the other hand, he did not 
 do her the injustice of supposing that it was 
 a small thing that had put her out. The 
 apprehension that her sister stood in danger 
 of death by iire was enough to upset the 
 equanimity of any woman, and tp kindle her 
 indignation against those whom she suspected 
 of having failed in providing for her safety. 
 But, had she been actuated by this emotion, 
 she would have shown a corresponding joy 
 in welcoming Grace on her escape from her 
 severe peril ; and this he had noticed she had 
 not done. She had been glad to see her safe 
 and sound, of course ; but there had been 
 no ecstasy of congratulation, such as he had 
 looked for. She might, indeed, have cared 
 more for the elder sister than her younger, 
 but this idea the lawyer dismissed as im- 
 possible. In his view there could be no 
 comparison between these two young women
 
 SPECULATIONS 165 
 
 The conclusion lie came to was that, since 
 Miss Agnes had shown such an unmistakable 
 agitation at the thought of the peril in which 
 the missing couple stood, it must have been 
 on account of Mr. Edward Eoscoe. 
 
 As a rule, he was not much given to the 
 study of the human heart. It does not, as in 
 the case of the physician, affect the lawyer in 
 his professional practice, and Mr. AUerton was 
 a lawyer to his linger tips. But to-night he 
 was not himself He liad just passed through 
 an experience which had moved his very soul ; 
 he had been brought into intimate relations 
 with a person quite out of his usual ex- 
 perience, but in whom he felt an interest, for 
 the moment, absorbing, and all connected 
 with her seemed to have a claim upon it. To 
 be on good terms with her eldest sister would 
 obviously be of advantage to him, in his 
 future role (as he pictured it) of Grace's friend 
 and protector ; and though he did not like 
 Miss Agnes, he resolved to make an effort to
 
 1 66 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 produce a contraiy impression on her as 
 regarded himself. From what he knew of 
 her father, and guessed of her bringing up, 
 as well as from the glimpse he had caught of 
 her masterful and passionate spirit, he con- 
 cluded that compliments would be wasted 
 upon her, or, at all events, compliments paid 
 by liim. He was naturally inclined to say 
 something of the courage and good sense that 
 had been exhibited by her sister in the late 
 trying circumstances ; but he riglitly judged 
 that a reference to some one else, who was of 
 greater consequence to her materially, if not 
 n:iore loved, would be more likely to prove 
 attractive. 
 
 ' As we have these few moments together, 
 Miss Tremenhere,' he said, ' I must excuse 
 myself for having unwittingly betrayed a 
 professional secret. You have been all 
 hitherto, he tells me, unaware of the state of 
 your father's health.' 
 
 The abstracted look — for she had been
 
 SPECULATIONS 167 
 
 listenino- to tlie voices in the hall — vanished 
 from her face at once, and was succeeded by 
 one of eager interest. 
 
 ' You are his medical man, I presume ? ' 
 ' No, madam, his confidential lawyer.' 
 It was a bold stroke, and a doubtful one ; 
 but there was no time to consider matters in 
 all their bearings ; directly he had spoken, 
 however, he felt that he had done well. He 
 had certainly lost no ground with her by 
 telling her the truth so far ; she was all 
 attention. 
 
 ' The imminence of the danger to which I 
 knew your father would be exposed by any 
 sudden shock,' he continued, ' compelled me 
 to speak out on a matter on which I should 
 have been otherwise bound to silence. I trust 
 that you will not take advantage of my con- 
 fidence to reveal the fact to others.' 
 
 ' Grace heard it,' observed Miss Agnes sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 ' Yes ; but I think I have sufficient influ-
 
 J 68 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ence with her to induce her to keep silence 
 about it.' 
 
 (She was discussing the matter at that very 
 moment with Mr. Eoscoe below stairs — the 
 man of all others from whom the lawyer would 
 have kept it.) 
 
 Miss Agnes nodded, and looked unmistak- 
 ably for more. 
 
 ' I have told her no details ; she is impulsive 
 and impressionable, and such things would 
 only alarm her ; but I believe I am now 
 speaking to a young lady of practical good 
 sense. I may say at once that your father 
 has heart disease.' 
 
 ' Poor papa,' she said. 
 
 If the invalid had been a lapdog, most 
 women would have said ' Poor Pido ' with 
 more feeling. It was a revelation, though 
 not altogether an unexpected one, to the 
 hearer. 
 
 ' Yes ; I had it from his own lips, and under 
 circumstances that leave no doubt of its cor-
 
 SPECULATIONS 169 
 
 rectness. I would urge upon you, therefore, 
 to remove from him as much as possible all 
 exciting causes, without, of course, letting him 
 know that you are taking such precautions.' 
 
 ' What circumstances ?' she inquired gravely. 
 
 For the moment the lawj^er knew not what 
 she meant. It seemed incredible that she could 
 have thus ignored the important advice he had 
 been giving her ; nor, indeed, had she done 
 so ; the simple fact was that, lost in the 
 thoughts his communication had awakened, 
 she had not heard him. 
 
 ' That is a matter concerning your father's 
 private affairs,' he answered coldly. 
 
 She nodded significantly and unabashed. 
 If she had said, ' I understand ; he was making 
 his will,' she could not have expressed herself 
 more distinctly. 
 
 ' I have often heard of '• a woman of busi- 
 ness," ' thought the lawyer — and indeed he 
 had often heard from them (or rather from 
 ladies Avho called themselves such), and at
 
 I70 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 considerable length ; ' but here for the first 
 time do I see one in the flesh. Wliat a partner 
 she'd make for some gentlemen in my profes- 
 sion ! ' 
 
 Here Phihppa entered the room, and the 
 two sisters flew into one another's arms, but 
 not, he noticed, as birds fly, or at least love- 
 birds. If Mr. Allerton had been a playgoer 
 it would have struck him that there was a 
 good deal of ' stage direction ' about it. What 
 seemed contrary to expectation, the younger 
 
 sister was far the more efiusive. 
 ^- -. 
 
 ' Oh, Agnes ! what have I sufiered since I 
 
 saw you last ! Never, never, did I expect 
 
 to see you again. But Mr. Allerton — oh, sir, 
 
 how can we ever thank you for preserving 
 
 our dear Grace! — has doubtless told you 
 
 all!' 
 
 ' He has told me about Grace and himself,' 
 she answered coldly; 'but it appears you got 
 separated from her.' 
 
 'Yes, in that dreadful turmoil. Mr. Al-
 
 SPECULATIONS \^l 
 
 lerton will bear witness that it could not be 
 lielped. What a scene it was ; would that I 
 could forget it ! ' 
 
 'Still, while it is fresh in your memory, 
 tell me how you escaped.' 
 
 If Miss Philippa had been alone with her 
 sister she would doubtless have told her 
 whatever she thought proper to tell ; but in 
 Mr. Allerton's presence, who had witnessed 
 the whole transaction, it was not such an easy 
 task. She was far from being ashamed of 
 having taken the only means that had been 
 offered her of getting out of the burning hall, 
 but the details she had her reasons for being 
 unwilling to communicate. She was really 
 unable to recall what words her companion 
 liad said to her in that moment of horror 
 when she had almost lost her wits, but she 
 had an uneasy sense that it was unfortunate 
 they had been overheard ; she did remember 
 how she had clung to him in that crowded 
 passage. She couJd hardly say. ' Mr. Eoscoe
 
 172 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 gave me his arm and helped me out,' in the 
 presence of a person who had seen how the 
 thing was done, and might even have ah'eady 
 described it. 
 
 ' The wdiole affair, my dear Agnes,' slie 
 said desperately, 'is so painful and shocking 
 to me that I must be excused from dwelling 
 upon it, just at present.' 
 
 The cold blue eyes of Miss Agnes flashed 
 incredulously ; her thin lips curled with the 
 promise of something extremely unpleasant 
 to come, when fortunately at that very 
 moment Grace entered. The look of both the 
 sisters was at once concentrated on the door ; 
 they had expected some one else, or some one 
 besides ; and it was obviously a relief to both 
 of them that he had not come. It was also a 
 relief to Mr. Allerton, who had seen quite 
 enough of Mr. Edward Eoscoe, and had heard 
 too much. 
 
 ' Now I see you all three united,' said the 
 lawyer, rising from his chair, ' I will take my
 
 SPECULATIONS 173 
 
 leave. You must have a great deal to talk 
 about, and it is getting late.' 
 
 Agnes offered him some refreshment, but 
 he dechned it. 
 
 ' I will not forget,' she whispered, with a 
 grateful smile, as she took his hand. 
 
 rhilippa pressed his fingers, as much per- 
 haps to bespeak his good will as to acknow- 
 ledge his services, but said nothing. 
 
 ' If I should once begin to say what I owe 
 you, Mr. Allerton, I should never have done,' 
 said Grace softly. ' Dear papa will see you, 
 of course, to-morrow ? ' 
 
 " I hope so ; not that I want his thanks ; 
 but tell him I shall hope to see him,' said the 
 lawyer earnestly. ' Good-bye, my dear.' 
 
 Mr. Allerton walked home that night, 
 instead, as was his usual custom, of taking a 
 cab. He was full of reflections evoked by 
 tlie events of the last few hours, and he gave 
 them rein. The tliree sisters, and the very 
 different behaviour they had exhibited, in-
 
 174 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 terested him extremely. It was clear to him 
 that their executor and trustee would have 
 his work cut out for him. About Grace he 
 had no apprehensions ; it would be his pleasure 
 and privilege to do his best for her, and she 
 would g;ive him credit for o^ood intentions ; 
 but with Miss Agnes and Miss Philippa he 
 foresaw there would be trouble. What was 
 very curious, considering the position Mr. 
 Eoscoe evidently occupied in the house, his 
 name had been never mentioned by either of 
 them ; nor could this arise from Want of 
 regard for him, since in the case of Miss 
 Agnes, at all events, a very particular interest 
 had been shown in his welfare. It was in- 
 telligible enough that Miss Philippa should 
 have been disinclined to describe to her sister 
 the manner of her escape, which, however. 
 necessitated by circumstances and satisfactory 
 in its result, could scarcely be a subject for 
 pleasurable reminiscence ; but her avoidance 
 of Mr. Eoscoe's name was remarkable. Since
 
 SPECULATIONS 175 
 
 tliere could have been no secret as to his 
 having been her companion on the occasion 
 in question, why should she have been so 
 reticent about him ? Perhaps she suspected 
 that her sister entertained an attachment for 
 him, and . disapproved of it ; perhaps she 
 entertained one for him herself, and did not 
 wish it to be suspected. If this was so, in 
 either case, and Mr. Tremenhere had any 
 inkling of it, the provisions of his will, the 
 lawyer admitted to himself, were not so strange 
 as he had thought them to be. Under such 
 circumstances, if that document came to be 
 disputed, it struck him — and the idea evoked 
 his grimmest smile — that the Court would be 
 inclined to indorse the intentions of the tes- 
 tator. Nevertheless, it was a cruel will ; and 
 now that he had come to know and like one 
 of the three persons whose destinies were 
 affected by it, it seemed to him more cruel 
 than ever. As he had told Miss Grace, he 
 did not want her father's thanks, but he was
 
 176 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 not without hopes that the service he had 
 rendered to his favourite daughter might 
 induce the money-lender to listen to those 
 remonstrances on the matter he had intended 
 to have made in any case, but which had now 
 personal feeling to back them as well as a 
 sense of right. 
 
 That Mr. Eoscoe had left Grace to his 
 protection in the concert hall was a source of 
 self-congratulation, but that he had apparently 
 made his choice as to which of the two sisters 
 he should save, and had chosen the other, 
 aave him a still keener sense of satisfaction. 
 It was clear, at least, that the man had no 
 matrimonial designs upon Josh's little Pairy. 
 Had it been otherwise, the lawyer almost felt 
 that he would have defended Mr. Tremenhere's 
 will at his own expense rather than have per- 
 mitted it to be ' upset.' But what would 
 become of the little Fairy as it was .^ This 
 thought occupied Mr. Allcrton's mind to an 
 extent that would have astonished liis cUents,
 
 SPECULATIONS 177 
 
 could tlic}^ have been aware of it, exceedingly ; 
 some of them would doubtless have even gone 
 so far as to say, ' Why this old fool has 
 actually fallen in love with a young girl ! ' 
 They would have done him, however, a great 
 injustice. He was not even actuated by that 
 sentimental emotion, not at all uncommon 
 with gentlemen of his years in relation to 
 young persons of the other sex, which is 
 termed (somewhat too contemptuously per 
 haps) philandering. His feelings towards 
 Grace were not only Platonic and paternal, 
 but had their root in what was best in his 
 nature, without the narrowness and conven- 
 tionality that clung to his best. Her courage, 
 her gentleness, and her simplicity had carried 
 tlie old lawyer's heart, though not by storm ; 
 her beauty of course had also been a powerful 
 ally, but his thoughts about it were quite 
 unselfish. Strangely enough, they were now 
 vaguely travelling on the same road whicli 
 tliose of Mr. Tremenhere had gone some hours 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ago, when busied with the future of his httle 
 Fairy. The lawyer wondered whether it was 
 possible that a certain young fellow, of whom 
 he knew a great deal not much to his credit, 
 but still had some hopes of, could be won 
 from his wild ways by love and innocence : 
 and if so, what a chance there might be for 
 him. It was probable that he had seen Grace, 
 and if so, it was certain that she must have 
 had attractions for him. There would be 
 enormous obstacles, of course, but there would 
 also be immense advantages in such a union. 
 There were reasons why a man of Mr. Aller- 
 ton's principles should not have dreamt of 
 such a contingency : as one indeed with a 
 genuine respect and admiration for the young 
 lady in question, it seemed almost incredible 
 that he should do so ; and to do him justice, 
 but for those hopes of amendment in the 
 young fellow he had in his mind, and which he 
 perhaps unconsciously exaggerated, he would 
 have reirarded such a scheme with scorn.
 
 SPECULATIONS 179 
 
 But Mr. Allerton, as we have said, was a 
 lawyer to his finger tips, and the idea of re- 
 estabhshing a great estate, and refurbishing a 
 noble name from which not a little of the gilt 
 had been rubbed off, had an attraction for 
 him, such as few laymen can understand. 
 In the case supposed, however, which was 
 (indirectly) that of a client of his own, it 
 would be necessary to drive a coach and 
 horses through the will of another client, 
 which was of course utterly out of the ques- 
 tion — a reflection that brought him round to 
 the point from which his speculations had 
 started, that he must persuade Mr. Joseph 
 Tremenhere to alter his will. 
 
 n2
 
 i8o THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AX UXEXPECTED CLIENT 
 
 OxE of the great charms of romance ta 
 my mind is its opportunism. The novelist's 
 characters do not Hve actually longer than 
 people in real life ; there are very few centen- 
 arians in our love tales ; but they die just 
 when they ought to do ; generally all in a 
 lump (with the exception of the hero and 
 heroine and the very good people) at the end 
 of the third volume. 
 
 What is the good of describing an indi- 
 vidual with great accuracy and considerable 
 detail if he is to be cast off in an early 
 chapter ? Tliis is one of the reasons why the 
 realms of fiction are so much more pleasant 
 to dwell in than the real world, where those
 
 AjV unexpected client i8i 
 
 whom the Gods — and ourselves — love die 
 young. Unhappily, our present story is very 
 far from a romance, being about what ordi- 
 nary folks call money, and the more excellent 
 persons who despise it. Mammon. We are 
 therefore obliged to take people in it as we 
 find them, and occasionally to take them 
 away. Charles the Second excused himself 
 to his weeping Court because he was ' such an 
 unconscionable time in dying,' but the narrator 
 of a story of real life seems to owe an apology 
 to his readers for killiniy off his characters 
 too soon. 
 
 On the very morning after the events 
 narrated in the previous chapter a letter 
 arrived for Mr. Allerton by hand at his 
 private address, for he had not yet left his 
 house, to inform him that ' Josh ' was 
 dead. The letter was written by Mr. Eoscoe, 
 and ran thus : — 
 
 ' My dear Sir, — It is with the utmost 
 sorrow that I have to inform yoti that your
 
 1 82 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 late client, Mr. Joseph Tremenliere, died 
 suddenly last night, or rather this morning, 
 within a few hours of your having quitted his 
 house. ' Yours truly, 
 
 'Edward Eoscoe. 
 
 ' Bearer waits.' 
 
 The note was very brief, and, on that 
 account, in the lawyer's eyes, very significant. 
 The news it brought shocked him more than 
 — a week as[0 — he could have conceived it 
 possible for it to have done. Of course he 
 did not like the money-lender, and even now 
 could almost have said he was better out of 
 the world than in it. But he felt no inclina- 
 tion to say anything of the kind. His last 
 relations with him had been friendly, and 
 somehow, though he had most seriously 
 differed from him even in that interview, he 
 seemed to have gathered from it that there 
 was at least more good in the man than he 
 had ever suspected. He had been a man
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 183 
 
 of his word, and was so far trustworthy ; he 
 had shown himself open to reason, and not 
 utterly deaf to conscience ; it was possible 
 — the lawyer with unconscious charity even 
 represented to himself that it was probable — 
 that if he had lived he would have taken a 
 larger and a better view of his responsibilities. 
 It was too late for that now, of course ; too 
 late, alas ! for everything ; but the reflection 
 softened the lawyer's heart towards him, or 
 rather towards his memory. At once, too, 
 the same thought occurred to him (though it 
 evoked in his case no smile of satire) which had 
 occurred to the dead man when he last left the 
 lawyer's door. What would become of that 
 team of thoroughbreds which the money-lender 
 had held so well in hand, now that death had 
 dragged him from the box seat ? What would 
 become of Lord Cheribert for one, now that 
 he had lost that guiding hand which, if it 
 had never kept him straight, had restrained 
 him with bit and curb from leaping into the
 
 1 84 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 gulf of ruin ? Lord Morella, his father, indeed, 
 was of opinion that ' Josh ' had put his head 
 to it, and urged him thither with rein and 
 whip, but Mr. AUerton knew better. There 
 were many worse hands into which the young 
 man might have fallen, and now probablj^ 
 would fall. 
 
 For the present, however, the catastrophe 
 that had happened to Josh himself loomed 
 most largely in the lawyer's mind. It is the 
 privilege of death to oust for the moment all 
 other considerations ; all other objects of in- 
 terest are d^varfed in its tremendous presence ; 
 and the old lawyer, even while speculating 
 about the consequences of the event, was 
 held in thrall by the event itself. Mr. Tre- 
 menhere's death, however sudden, was not of 
 course a thing to be wondered at, for he had 
 foretold it with his own lips. 
 
 'I shall have no death-bed,' he had said, 
 ' I shall die suddenly ; very likely in the 
 street.'
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 185 
 
 Kor would it have been surprising if lie 
 had heard on the previous night of the fire in 
 the concert hall, and been made anxious for 
 the safety of his children, that he should have 
 fallen a victim to mental excitement ? But 
 he had known nothing of this till all appre- 
 hension was over, and his family had been 
 warned to break to him what had happened 
 with the utmost care. It was doubtless some 
 mental shock that killed him; but what shock? 
 He had died that morning it seemed, but very 
 early, ' within a few hours,' wrote Mr. Eoscoe, 
 ' of your quitting the house.' That must have 
 been about two or three o'clock. Was it 
 possible that, in spite of the necessity for 
 precaution of which they had been informed, 
 any of his family could have awakened him 
 and tokl their news ? Though brevity might 
 have been looked for in Mr. Eoscoe's note, 
 it seemed to the lawyer brief without being 
 concise. And then there was the phrase 
 ' your late client,' which appeared wholly un-
 
 i86 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 necessary. He had only had one transaction 
 with the money-lender in liis life (though, in- 
 deed, it was a most important one) as regarded 
 his private affairs, and he felt quite certain 
 that Mr. Tremenhere had not spoken of it to 
 his underling. It must, therefore, have been 
 Miss Agnes that had done so ; a strange thing 
 under the circumstances in itself, to be talking 
 ' during the small hours,' when there was a so 
 much more enthralling theme to discuss, about 
 business affairs ; but that Mr. Eoscoe should 
 have alluded to it was still more strange. Mr. 
 Allerton's best explanation of it was that the 
 information given him by Miss Agnes seemed 
 of such prodigious importance to Mr. Eoscoe 
 that he couldn't get it out of his mind, eveix 
 when announcing the catastrophe. It would 
 have seemed reasonable enough that the dead 
 man should have been described as his client 
 if Mr. Allerton's presence had been requested 
 at Lebanon Lodge, since some relation between 
 Mr. Tremenhere and himself must have been
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 187 
 
 taken for granted for tlie invitation to be 
 given. But no sucli request had been made. 
 On the other hand, something was evidently 
 expected of him by the phrase ' Bearer waits/ 
 What that meant seemed to be, 'you may 
 come or not as you please.' Had Eoscoe 
 written the note of his own head, he wondered, 
 or had the ' little Fairy,' with the recollection 
 of his kindness to her still vivid, asked him 
 to do so ? That it was Eoscoe's composition 
 was certain. ' What the fellow wants,' was 
 the lawyer's conclusion, ' is to lie low, and to 
 make me show my hand.' 
 
 In order to show as little as possible to 
 begin with, he gave a verbal reply to the 
 messeno^er to the effect that he would be at 
 Lebanon Lodge in one hour, and took a cab 
 to his office, which was on the way. The dead 
 can always wait, and not to look in at his 
 place of business was an unnecessary act of 
 abnegation ; but it was not of business that 
 the lawyer thought as he sat in his hansom
 
 1 88 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 He thought of an innocent girl with tender 
 eyes and gentle looks who, after her first burst 
 of sorrow was over, would be dependent upon 
 him in what would perhaps be very difiicult 
 circumstances for advice and succour, and he 
 made up his mind that they should not be 
 wanting. 
 
 His chief clerk opened tlie door of his 
 office to him ; he had been waiting to do it 
 for the last ten minutes. ' You have heard 
 the news, sir, I suppose ? ' he said respectfully. 
 
 Mr. Allerton nodded gravely, much to the 
 other's disgust ; no one likes the wind — even 
 though it be an ill wind — to be taken out of 
 his sails. He had, however, a second shot in 
 his locker, which ' told ' even beyond his ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 ' Lord Cheribert, sir, is waiting for you.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' The lawyer was more than 
 astonished ; the visit w^as most unexpected, 
 for he had always been upon the side of Lord 
 Morella, and adverse (though, of course, for
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 189 
 
 liis own good) to his heir-apparent ; but there 
 was an association of ideas in his mind besides, 
 which made what was now told him more 
 astounding stilL 
 
 He Avalked into his private room with 
 rapid steps. Lord Cheribert rose from the 
 chair on which he had been sittincr, and 
 frankly held out his hand ; his manner was 
 friendly and even cordial, but it had none of 
 its usual elasticity. 
 
 ' Poor old Josh is dead, Allerton,' he said 
 simply. 
 
 ' So I have heard, my lord.' 
 
 ' Don't milord me, I beg ; let us have none 
 of that rubbish. You have no OTudsfe agfainst 
 me, I know, and I want to be friends.' 
 
 ' I was always your friend. Lord Cheri- 
 bert ' 
 
 'I ask you again to drop that jargon, 
 interrupted the young fellow. ' Why, I can 
 remember when you used to call me Cherry.'^ 
 
 ' So can I,' sighed Mr. Allerton ; nor was
 
 I90 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 it SO very long since he had done so. The 
 picture of the charming child, in his Vandyke 
 suit of velvet, hand-in-hand with the sweet 
 lady whose only quarrel with death was that 
 it parted her from her darhng boy, recurred 
 to him. If she had lived to lead the lad by 
 love, and soften his father's ways towards him, 
 his future might have been different ; but, as 
 it was, it was well that she could not foresee 
 it. There was a look of her still m his eyes 
 when they were at rest, and in his winning 
 smile, the smile General St. Gatien used to 
 say was the only winning thing about young 
 Cheribert, for whatever he put his money on, 
 he was sure to lose it. No one of his rank — 
 for the fortunes of vulgar milhonaires melt 
 away on the turf more quickly than those of 
 the well-born, probably because they have 
 more people to look after them — had ever got 
 through so much money so early and in such 
 a little time. Nor was the way in which he 
 had got through it by any means respect-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 191 
 
 able ; in the lawyer's view, with that streak 
 of puritanism running through his respectable 
 nature, it was disgraceful and even something 
 more. Yet he could not help liking the 
 young fellow. The expression of his face 
 was always attractive, but just now it had a 
 certain tender seriousness which Mr. Allerton 
 had never seen in it before. 
 
 ' I must confess the thing has knocked me 
 all of a heap,' said the young lord, apologeti- 
 cally. ' Old Josh was a better fellow than 
 you think, Mr. Allerton, and very kind to me. 
 Yes, you may laugh ' — the other had smiled 
 ever so slightly — ' but it was so. Of course, 
 he made his pile out of me ; so would any 
 man who had the plucking of such a well- 
 feathered bird ; but there are different ways 
 of doinor it. I have sometimes thousfht that 
 he really liked me— treated me tenderly, as 
 the angler says of liis worm. At all events, 
 if 3"0u please, I don't want to have a word 
 said against him,' lie added impetuously.
 
 192 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' I am not going to say a word against 
 him, Cheribert,' said the lawyer softly. ' What 
 you have said is his best epitaph, and I have 
 nothing to add to it, except this — that I agree 
 with you.' 
 
 ' And yet you have always told me that he 
 was such a blackguard ! ' 
 
 'If I have, I retract it. We often say 
 things, as we do things, which we are after- 
 wards sorry for. No man is wise at all times 
 — nor yet a fool.' 
 
 ' You cunning old fellow,' continued Lord 
 Cheribert, admiringly. ' So you are making 
 things easy for me, are you ? Well, it is 
 better than making things hard. It is a pity 
 the governor has never seen that.' 
 
 ' Your father has always loved you, Cheri- 
 bert.' 
 
 ' Then he has a deuced disagreeable way 
 of showing it,' was the quick reply. ' A man 
 should know how to pat his foot down with- 
 out treading^ on another man's toe ; when it's
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 193 
 
 his own flesh and blood, too, he should be 
 more careful.' 
 
 ' He has been very injudicious, Cheribert, 
 as I have often told him. Men should make 
 allowance for one another.' 
 
 ' And a good one when they can afford it,' 
 interrupted the other, laughing. 
 
 The lawyer was pleased to see him laugh ; 
 he had guessed the young man's errand, or 
 the nature of it, and it filled him with joyful 
 hopes ; the bird had come back to tlie cage 
 of its own accord, but he was not inside it ; 
 an ill-selected word, even a gesture, might, he 
 well knew, frighten it away, and probably for 
 ever. Seed and sugar, sugar and seed, were 
 what were wanting, and not the coin of 
 reproach. 
 
 ' You and your father are of very different 
 natures, Cheribert ; and if, as you say, he has 
 not made allowance for you, perhaps you, too, 
 have judged him harshly.' 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 'The strictest sect of the Pharisees,' ob- 
 served the young man grimly. 
 
 ' Quite so ; that is how you have judged 
 him ; it is a mistake.' 
 
 ' It is a mistake that is shared by a great 
 many people. I hate such cant.' 
 
 ' No doubt ; still, in that very chair where 
 you are now sitting, I have seen him sit, with 
 his grey head bowed down, and I have heard 
 him say, "My son, my son, my dear, unhappy 
 son ! " That was not cant.' 
 
 There was a long silence. Once the young 
 man essayed to speak, and stopped ; there was 
 something in the tone of his voice which his 
 pride forbade him to let the other hear. . 
 
 ' Well, I could not come to him,, of course, 
 Allerton, but I have come to you. You have 
 always been friendly to me, and ready to 
 listen to reason, or what I call reason,' he 
 added with humorous pathos. ' I don't want 
 him to suppose that I am crying Fax^ as we 
 used to say at school, because I am beaten.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 195 
 
 I could carry on a long time yet without 
 being reduced to husks, like the other pro- 
 digal.' 
 
 ' If you ivere so reduced, you would not 
 come to him at all,' observed Mr. Allerton 
 quietly. 
 
 ' That's true,' continued the young man 
 eagerly ; ' I'd starve first. You understand 
 me, Allerton, as he never did. I'm glad I 
 came. I don't mean to say that I would have 
 done it if poor old Josh had been in the land 
 of the living. But his death — so sudden you 
 know, and all that — has sobered me. I have 
 never wished the governor to die, I sv\^ear 
 to heaven I never did.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure, Cheribert, that you 
 never did.' 
 
 ' Thank you. And yet he might die any 
 day, you know, and never see me first. I 
 can't go into the thing — you and he could 
 talk for an hour about it, but it's not in my 
 way — but thaHs at the bottom of it. That
 
 196 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 first ; and then, now that Josli is gone, and 
 supposing things go on in the old way, I must 
 go quicker down the hill, and in worse com- 
 pany. Eoscoe has often hinted he could do 
 as well for me as his master ; but he can't, 
 and the very proposal showed he was a most 
 infernal scoundrel.' 
 
 'There are also corroborative circum- 
 stances to that effect,' observed Mr. Allerton 
 dryly. 
 
 ' I dare say ; he told me, however,' said 
 the young lord, smihng, ' that I was never to 
 believe anything you said about him.' 
 
 ' I dare say,' said the lawyer, smihng in 
 his turn. He felt that his new chent and he 
 were getting on famously. 
 
 ' Well, the long and short of it is, Aller- 
 ton, that I propose to put my whole affairs — 
 so much as I know about them, that is, 
 which isn't much — into your hands. They 
 are in a precious tangle, but perhaps it may 
 be worth your while — nay, I won't say that —
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CLIENT 197 
 
 but, perhaps, for the sake of Auld Lang 
 
 Syne ' 
 
 ' ISTot another word. Cherry,' said the old 
 lawyer tremulously ; and the two men shook 
 hands together as they had not done for many 
 a day.
 
 [98 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MYSTERIES 
 
 ' May I tell your father of this most welcome 
 visit of yours ? ' inquired Mr. Allerton, after a 
 long pause. 
 
 ' Yes. Indeed I took it for granted that 
 you'd tell him.' 
 
 • You are my client, remember, now,' said 
 the lawyer, smiling. There was a little 
 duplicity in the good man's reply, since he 
 would most certainly have told Lord Morella 
 in any case, but it is probable that the Ee- 
 cording Angel blotted it out in his usual way, 
 or even set it down to the credit side of the 
 lawyer's account. It was so necessary to 
 inspire confidence in this newly caged bird, 
 who had to be kept as well as cauglit.
 
 MYSTERIES 199 
 
 ' True. I am glad to hear you talk like 
 that, for there are little items in my affairs 
 which it is just as well should go no further 
 than yourself.' 
 
 ' I can imagine that that is just possible/ 
 said the lawyer gravely. 'Be sure that I 
 shall use a judicious reticence concerning 
 them, even to your father. What you have 
 done to-day will, I am sure, rejoice him 
 exceedingly. But, Cheribert, there is a great 
 deal more to be done to effect a complete 
 reconciliation.' 
 
 ' Promises of amendment, and all that ; 
 well I suppose so.' The young man's brow 
 was clouding over. 
 
 ''Promises of amendment from your lips, 
 Cheribert, would he amendment,' said the 
 lawyer kindly ; ' like poor " Josh," as you call 
 him, you have always kept your word, I am 
 sorry to say.' 
 
 Lord Cheribert smiled his sunniest smile. 
 Here is a man, he said to himself, who is a
 
 2cx» THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 lawyer and a Puritan, and yet lias some fun 
 in him. ' Well, yes. I told the governor I 
 should go to the devil, and I did it : as to any 
 promise about going the other way, that must 
 depend upon circumstances.' 
 
 ' You know your father's conditions.' 
 
 ' Some of them. He seemed to me to be 
 an an ti-every thing-man. I must give up whist, 
 and tobacco, and wine, and promiscuous 
 dancing ; and, if I wanted to ride, to take to 
 the tricycle.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Cheribert, he was not so unreason- 
 able. Whatever he proposed, remember he 
 had been very sorely tried. If you will let 
 me mediate, I do think matters may be 
 arranged. There is one thing, however, which 
 is indispensable.' 
 
 '/ know,' said Lord Cheribert with a 
 gloomy nod, ' I must give up the turf. No 
 more strings of horses at Newmarket. No 
 more pretty little books upon the Derby. 
 Well, I am prepared for that.'
 
 MYSTERIES 201 
 
 ' I am delighted indeed to hear it,' 
 exclaimed the lawyer warmly. 'And of 
 course there will be no more riding steeple- 
 chases.' 
 
 ' No more after the Everdale. I must ride 
 there, however ; some friends of mine have 
 a pot of money on me. The race has been 
 postponed on account of the Duke's death, 
 and it will be the last of the season, and, if 
 this matter goes well with me, the last I shall 
 ever ride.' 
 
 ' But if money can settle it — even a pot of 
 money as you call it — ^I am sure your father 
 would prefer to pay it, and shake hands with 
 you at once.' 
 
 Lord Cheribert shook his head and smiled. 
 * My dear Allerton, there are some things, 
 believe me, which don't admit of compromise, 
 at least beforehand. Moreover, I have pro- 
 mised a man to ride this race. After that, if 
 my father is willing to say " let bygones be 
 bygones," well and good, I will come and
 
 202 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 stay awhile at the old home ; otherwise I have 
 promised myself some fishing at Hals water.' 
 
 ' At Halswater ! That is in Cumberland, is 
 it not ? ' inquired the lawyer after a little pause. 
 
 ' Yes, in the Lake District. I have never 
 been there,' observed the young man with an 
 earnestness of assertion which seemed un- 
 necessary. 
 
 ' I seem to remember having heard that 
 Mr. Tremenhere had a house at Halswater ; 
 is that so ? ' 
 
 'I beheve he had,' returned the other 
 indifierently. ' Poor Josh was not very com- 
 municative about his own affairs.' 
 
 ' And I suppose you were never on terms 
 of intimacy with his family.' 
 
 ' Certainly not. I have been, however, 
 introduced to his daughters.' 
 
 'So have 1,' said Mr. Allerton ; 'one of 
 them I thought a very charming girl.' 
 
 ' That was Grace — at least I think it must 
 have been,' added the young man dubiously.
 
 MYSTERIES 203 
 
 ' She is the youngest. How came you to know 
 anything about them ? ' 
 
 ' I will tell you about it another time, for 
 it's rather a long story, Cheribert. I am Mr. 
 Tremenhere's executor, and am likely to see a 
 good deal of them.' 
 
 ' Mr. Tremenhere's executor ? You ? ' 
 ' Yes. I didn't like the post, you may be 
 sure, but I do not now regret my acceptance 
 of it ; it may simplify the settlement of your 
 own affairs. The story, as I have said, is a 
 long one, and also very strange. But I have 
 no time to speak of it now. When I looked 
 in at the office this morning it was on my way 
 to Lebanon Lodge.' 
 
 ' Then you will see the poor girl ? ' 
 ' All three of them perhaps ; but the sum- 
 mons came from Mr. Eoscoe.' 
 
 ' Pray say something kind from me, 
 AUerton,' said the young man earnestly. ' I 
 really liked poor old Josh, you know ; and of 
 course I cannot call, myself, just yet.'
 
 204 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 The pressure of the young man's hand at 
 parting seemed to the lawyer to speak of 
 something more than reconcihation ; it seemed 
 to say, ' I know you will say the best you can 
 of me to Grace.' It was very unlike Mr. 
 AUerton to jump at conclusions, but his mind, 
 as we know, had been busy with this matter 
 before, although but speculatively ; the news 
 of Lord Cheribert's intention to visit Hals- 
 water struck him as very significant ; and still 
 more that slip of the tongue when the young 
 man had spoken of the poor ' girl ' instead of 
 the poor ' girls.' That the little Fairy should 
 have attracted him was nothing wonderful. 
 Yet, after all, what could come of it, with 
 that will lying in the office safe yonder, and 
 the Dead Hand ? 
 
 Mr. AUerton had much more to think 
 about for the rest of the way to Lebanon 
 Lodge, than he had had at starting. 
 
 The great house gazing on the street with 
 its many sightless eyes, was a ghastly object ;
 
 MYSTERIES 205 
 
 all about it was silence and gloom : when lie 
 rang the bell he heard the tinkle of it, though 
 it was so far away, as though it had been on 
 the other side of the door. It was opened, 
 after a long delay, by a young footman, pale 
 and dishevelled, and looking as if he had been 
 frightened by the sound. 
 
 ' Can I see Mr. Eoscoe ? ' inquired the 
 lawyer. 
 
 The man did not know : he would go 
 upstairs and see : master was dead. 
 
 Mr. Allerton bowed his head in token that 
 he knew that much. The footman hesitated, 
 apparently as to whether the visitor should be 
 left in the hall, and then pushed back a half- 
 opened door. Perhaps the gentleman would 
 wait there a minute or two, he said, and left 
 him. It was the same room, used chiefly by 
 Mr. Eoscoe, where Grace had met him and 
 her sister on the previous night. As Mr. 
 Allerton entered it, a voice half choked with 
 tears exclaimed, ' I have killed him : it is I
 
 2o6 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 who killed him.' It came from a sofa hidden 
 in shadow. Then, as he stood speechless with 
 surprise and horror, another voice, though 
 still the same lips, a fierce yet frightened voice, 
 ' How dare you come in here ? Who are you ? ' 
 At the same time the speaker sprang from the 
 sofa, and he found himself face to face with 
 Phihppa Tremenhere. Her eyes, streaming 
 with tears, stared wildly at him ; her cheeks 
 were white ; she trembled in every limb. 
 
 ' I am Mr. Allerton,' he answered gently. 
 ' The servant showed me in here. Forgive 
 me for intruding on your sorrow.' 
 
 'Kay, forgive me^ sir,' she answered 
 earnestly. ' My sorrow has almost driven me 
 mad. I did not recognise you. It was kind 
 of you to come.' She took his hand and 
 pressed it. In her case, too, as in Lord 
 Cheribert's, he felt that there was more than 
 gratitude : a pitiful appeal to him for silence. 
 He had heard something he should not have 
 heard. He was about to leave the room, but
 
 MYSTERIES 207 
 
 she detained liim. ' Sit down,' she said ; 
 ' your presence does not distress me. Do not 
 leave me.' 
 
 He sat down by her side, his hand still 
 clasped in hers. 
 
 ' You know what has happened ? ' she 
 continued. 
 
 'I do, indeed. It must have been a 
 terrible shock to you, for you were not 
 prepared for it as I was.' 
 
 ' That is true,' she answered eagerly ; 
 ' you warned us of his danger, did you not ? 
 but it seemed too dreadful to be true. We 
 were careful, too. There was no noise. We 
 all thought my poor father was asleep. 
 We meant to break to him what had happened 
 in the morning. Yet somehow, as Mr. Eoscoe 
 
 and I ' here she burst into a passion 
 
 of tears and covered her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 ' You must not talk about it. Miss Phihppa,' 
 said the lawyer gently. ' I shall hear all that
 
 2o8 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 needs to be told from others — ^liere is Mr. 
 Eoscoe himself.' 
 
 That gentleman had, indeed, entered the 
 room so noiselessly that neither of them had 
 perceived his approach ; he stood, white as a 
 ghost, but with keen, steadfast face, looking 
 from one to the other searchingly. 
 
 ' Miss PhiHppa has been telling you how 
 it happened, I conclude,' he said ; ' it is a 
 pity, for she is not in a fit state to speak 
 of it.' 
 
 ' So I perceive, and, indeed, was saying so, 
 as you came in,' said the lawyer. ' Would it 
 not be better for her to be with her sisters ? ' 
 he added in lower tones. 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe shrugged his shoulders. ' That 
 was my advice to her from the first ; but 
 there is no authority, of course, in the house 
 now. You hear what Mr. AUerton says. Miss 
 Philippa ? ' 
 
 She shook her head, still keeping her 
 hands before her face. Mr. Eoscoe beckoned
 
 MYSTERIES 209 
 
 the lawyer into a room on the other side of 
 the hall, and closed the door. 
 
 ' The poor girl is demented with her grief,' 
 he said. ' You must pay no attention to what 
 she has been saying about her father.' 
 
 ' She has been saying nothing ; you came 
 in as she was beginning to tell me the sad 
 story. What was it ? ' 
 
 ' Simply this. The young ladies and my- 
 self sat up some time together after you left 
 the house last night, talking of what had 
 happened at the concert hall. I wished them 
 good-night, and went into yonder parlour — 
 which is my business-room — to write some 
 letters. About two o'clock I went upstairs ; 
 as I passed by Mr. Tremenhere's door, tread- 
 ing very softly, he came out. I own it startled 
 me very much. He looked very agitated and 
 excited. " What has happened ? " he said. 
 " I can see b}^ your face that something has 
 happened, and is being kept from me." Then 
 he uttered a sharp cry of pain and fell down 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2IO THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 at my feet — dead. The whole thmg did not 
 take one mmute.' 
 
 ' Then he had not even heard of the fire ? ' 
 
 ' Not one word.' 
 
 ' How strange ! ' The tale seemed strange, 
 indeed ; for it did away with the explanation 
 which the lawyer had already made in his own 
 mind for that amazing exclamation of Philippa, 
 evidently intended for Mr. E/Oscoe's ears : ' I 
 have killed him ; it is I who have killed him.' 
 He had set this down to a too tender feeling of 
 remorse on her part ; since, if slie had not 
 been at the concert, she wonld not have been 
 at the fire, the report of which catastrophe — 
 as he had taken for granted — had killed Mr. 
 Tremenhere ; but now, it seemed, he had not 
 been told of its occurrence. 
 
 ' You were quite alone, then ? ' continued 
 the lawyer. 
 
 ' Quite alone ; everyone else had long 
 retired. It was a most ghastly situation, as 
 you may imagine.'
 
 MYSTERIES 211 
 
 Mr. Allerton inclined his head. This man 
 said he was alone, but Philippa liad begun 
 her narration ' as Mr. Eoscoe and I,' which 
 did not dovetail with this statement. 
 
 The whole affair was certainly very 
 strange. There ensued a little pause, during 
 which the two men regarded one another 
 thoughtfully. But they were not thinking 
 about the same things. Mr. Eoscoe looked 
 upon his late explanation as final ; there 
 appeared to him no reason for further 
 question. His mind was fixed no longer 
 upon the recent catastrophe, but on its con- 
 .equences. 
 
 ' I suppose I am right in concluding, Mr. 
 Allerton — as indeed I took for granted in the 
 note I ventured to write to you — that I am 
 addressing Mr. Tremenhere's legal adviser ; 
 perhaps, even, his representative ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I am executor under his will.' 
 
 'Indeed.' Though the other had sus- 
 pected this, his countenance fell. ' He could 
 
 p2
 
 212 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 not have chosen a better, a more upright 
 man. At the same tmie you will forgive me 
 for feeling a little disappointment. He and 
 I have been so long connected together. He 
 knew me so well.' 
 
 The lawyer could hardly restrain a flicker 
 of the lip ; the retort, ' That was the very 
 reason why he did not choose you for his 
 executor,' suggested itself so very naturally. 
 
 'I may assure you, Mr. Eoscoe,' he 
 answered dryly, ' though the information is a 
 little premature, that you have no reason to 
 be disappointed with Mr. Tremenhere's will.' 
 
 'Oh, I was not thinking of that^ Mr. 
 Allerton. It is pleasant, of course, to hear 
 that one has been remembered, as the phrase 
 goes, by an old friend ; but I should have 
 preferred a proof — though a less material one 
 — of the confidence he always reposed in me.' 
 
 This was too much for the lawyer. It 
 seemed to him that his intelligence was being 
 trifled with, and he resented it.
 
 MYSTERIES 213 
 
 * I don't know what you call remembered, 
 ]\Ir. Eoscoe. Perhaps you are thinking of a 
 mourning ring. Mr. Tremenhere has left you 
 a very large legacy. He said something 
 about your having saved his life.' 
 
 Here occurred a very remarkable circum- 
 stance. The blood rushed into Mr. Eoscoe's 
 cheeks in a crimson flood. 
 
 'I don't expect to be believed,' the old 
 lawyer used to say in narrating the fact, 
 'and unfortunately there was no witness, 
 but I do assure you the fellow blushed.' 
 There was a good reason for it, though 
 the lawyer never found it out ; but he felt 
 that there was sl reason, and it puzzled 
 him more than anything that had gone 
 before. 
 
 'Here is Mr. Tremenhere's cheque-book 
 and his banker's account,' said Mr. Eoscoe, 
 producing tliem ; ' here are the keys ' 
 
 'Never mind the keys,' said the lawyer, 
 motioning them away ; ' give them to Miss
 
 214 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Tremenhere. How is she, by the bye, and 
 Miss Grace ? ' 
 
 ' They are both utterly overwhelmed and 
 prostrated by their calamity,' returned Mr. 
 Eoscoe, 'just as you saw poor Miss Philippa 
 to be.' 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and the 
 butler entered. He addressed himself to Mr. 
 Allerton. 'Miss Grace's regards, sir, and if 
 you will kindly see her for a few minutes 
 before you leave the house, she will be obliged 
 to you.'
 
 215 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BEREAVED 
 
 This message of the butler's, tliougli incon- 
 sistent with the information just imparted by 
 Mr. Roscoe, did not embarrass that gentleman 
 in the least. He had already, though in- 
 voluntarily, shown not a little weakness, and 
 doubtless repented of it ; he was not likely to 
 make the same mistake ao^ain. 
 
 ' You are honoured indeed, Mr. AUerton,' 
 he observed smiling. ' When I saw Miss 
 Grace myself an hour or so ago, she seemed 
 unequal to an interview with anyone ; but she 
 and you have had an experience together such 
 as may well make a friend of a stranger.' 
 
 The lawyer nodded stiffly. This reference 
 to the fire at the concert-room, considering
 
 2i6 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 how the speaker had conducted himself on the 
 occasion in question, struck him as rather 
 impudent; and the more so, since he was con- 
 vinced that it was the consciousness of his ill- 
 behaviour which had caused the man to avoid 
 him after their escape. Without making any 
 reply, he followed the butler to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 It was an immense apartment, looking 
 much larger by day-light than it had done the 
 previous night, and made the ' little Fairy ' 
 (nobody's little Fairy now, alas ! ), perched on 
 a huge sofa at the far end of it, more childHke 
 to behold than ever. Yet as she rose to meet 
 him he saw that grief had already aged her. 
 A few tears rose to her eyes, but the passion 
 of sorrow, such as he had seen in Philippa, had 
 passed away, and like a mountain torrent after 
 ' spate,' left its marks upon the unaccustomed 
 road. 
 
 ' How kind and good of you to come,' she 
 murmured.
 
 THE BEREAVED 217 
 
 ' Nay, my child, it is kind of you to wish 
 to see me,' he answered gently. 
 
 ' How could I help it, since you were his 
 friend ? ' she said with mournful tenderness. 
 
 Her mistake was more touching, in the 
 lawyer's view, than any other thing which 
 filial love could have prompted her to say. 
 She was in ignorance, it was clear, not only 
 of his own relations with the dead man, but 
 doubtless of much else concerning that father 
 who, whatever had been his faults, had 
 dearly loved his child ; and, however difficult 
 might be the task, Mr. AUerton made up his 
 mind that, as regarded them, his hps at least 
 should be kept sealed, whatever she might 
 hear of them from others. 
 
 ' I want you to talk to me, a little, about 
 him,' she continued plaintively ; ' it is the 
 only comfort left to me, and yet they tell me 
 it is better not to do so.' 
 
 ' Who tells you that ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Eoscoe.'
 
 2l8 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 The advice, as he could not but feel, was 
 good ; tlie less said about poor ' Josh ' the 
 better, Avas what he would have observed 
 himself, had he been asked his opinion ; and 
 especially would he have said it, had it been 
 possible, to this poor girl, for whom the 
 revelation of the truth would open the flood- 
 gates of undreamt of shame. 
 
 ' Mr. Eoscoe is right, my child,' said the 
 lawyer gently. 'It is wrong to melt the 
 heart which is already as wax in the fire by 
 speaking of our grief to others ; with those 
 who like yourself belonged to him — with 
 your sisters — it is of course but natural that 
 you should speak of your father, but ' 
 
 ' I cannot speak of him to them,' she 
 interrupted sadly. 
 
 ' Why not ? Are they not kind to you P ' 
 
 ' Yes ; they are kind enough,' she sighed. 
 ' But Philippa, I don't know what has come 
 to Philippa ; she shuts herself away from us ; 
 and Agnes — Agnes, though she does not
 
 THE BEREAVED 219 
 
 mean it, seems a little hard. What is the 
 use of crying ? she says. And indeed it is no 
 use; but dear papa — who loved me so much 
 better than I deserved — is gone, and I am all 
 alone.' 
 
 It was clear that she was so, but why she 
 was so it was difficult to explain. In the case 
 of such a domestic catastrophe as had just 
 occurred it seemed only natural that the chief 
 sufferers — the dead man's daughters — should 
 have found comfort in the interchange of 
 their common woe ; how strange it seemed 
 that, on the contrary, they should thus shrink 
 from one another ! How hard, especially, that 
 this one, so much younger than the other two, 
 should be left alone with her misery, without 
 a word of sympathy, as it would appear, from 
 either of them! Perhaps they were jealous 
 of her, and resented the place she had held in 
 her father's affections, and felt themselves no 
 great sorrow for what had happened. Yet 
 Phihppa was plunged in sorrow, and, indeed,
 
 220 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 in something wliich looked even deeper than 
 sorrow — remorse. Could it be the conscious- 
 ness of having behaved undutifully to the 
 dead man that had caused her to express 
 herself in such strange terms? But if she 
 was penitent on that account, the most 
 natural and obvious way of showing it would 
 surely have been to do all she could to com- 
 fort the sister who had been so dear to him. 
 There was a mystery about the whole matter 
 which Mr. Allerton could not fathom. His 
 attempts at consolation were necessarily made 
 at haphazard, and of the conventional 
 type. 
 
 'What you ought to ask yourself, my 
 dear,' he said tenderly, ' since you are left to 
 your own judgment, is, what sort of be- 
 haviour, if your poor father could see you, 
 would please him most.^ It is natural that 
 you should bewail your loss, but he would not 
 wish his " little Fairy,'' I am sure, to weep 
 her eyes away.'
 
 THE BEREAVED 221 
 
 'Is there anything he would like me to 
 do ? ' she inquired eagerly ; ' anyone to 
 benefit, as he was always so ready to do? 
 But then he was so wise and powerful, and I 
 am so foolish and helpless/ 
 
 ' I don't think you foolish, my dear,' said 
 the lawyer ; ' and you certainly are not 
 helpless. Your father has taken good care 
 of that.' 
 
 ' Do you mean money ? ' she cried. ' What's 
 the use of money when one has lost all one 
 loves in the world ? ' 
 
 There was an indignation in her tone that 
 seemed uncalled for. They have been talking 
 to her already — some of them — about money, 
 was the lawyer's conclusion. How could it 
 have been otherwise in this Temple of 
 Mammon ? 
 
 ' The use of money, my child, is to do good 
 to others.' 
 
 ' True ; as lie did ; I should have remem- 
 bered that,' she answered gently. 'There
 
 222 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 will be many to lament him, though not as I 
 do. They know about it, do you think, poor 
 people ? ' 
 
 The notion of Mr. Joseph Tremenhere's loss 
 being looked upon by a large mass of mankind 
 as that of a public benefactor was a travesty 
 of the truth such as under any other circum- 
 stances would have provoked the lawyer's 
 grimmest smile. He smiled even as it was, 
 though far from grimly. 
 
 ' I know one who does,' he answered ; ' he 
 called on me this morning to express his 
 sorrow, and bade me offer to you and your 
 sisters, should I have the opportunity, his 
 heartfelt sympathy.' 
 
 ' Who was it ? Let me know his name,' 
 she answered eagerly. 
 
 ' It was Lord Cheribert.' 
 
 ' How good of him ! ' she exclaimed grate- 
 fully. ' I know papa used to like him. Li 
 his case, too, it could not, of course, have been 
 the mere sense of obhgation. It must have
 
 THE BEREAVED 223 
 
 been because he knew how kind and good 
 dear papa was.' 
 
 ' He had as high an opinion of your father 
 as any man I know,' said the lawyer. He 
 could say that much with perfect truth ; but 
 such interrogations, if pursued, would, he 
 felt, become embarrassing in the extreme. 
 ' I must leave you now, my dear, and I hope 
 in a less despairing state of mind. You know 
 where we should all look for comfort when 
 sorrow overwhelms us.' 
 
 The last reminder was rather a difficulty 
 with Mr. Allerton. To a Christian girl he 
 would have known better what to say ; but 
 his ' views ' were narrow. He had not much 
 sympathy with Jews, except for the converted 
 ones, for whom he subscribed liberally. 
 
 ' This is my address, in case you should 
 wish to send for me. You will not be sorry 
 to hear, I hope, that your father has appointed 
 me, until you come of age, your guardian.' 
 
 ' That is good news indeed,' she cried.
 
 224 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 and a grateful smile for the first time lighted 
 up her tear-dimmed face. ' How thoughtful 
 it was of him to leave me in such kind hands ! ' 
 
 She little imagined that the idea had 
 entered her father's mind only a few days 
 ago, and doubtless thought it the result of 
 a lifelong friendsliip born of mutual esteem ; 
 but this ingenuous simplicity was a better 
 passport to the lawyer's heart than the 
 keenest Avit could have devised. 
 
 An honest lawyer is quite as much 
 attracted by simplicity as a roguish one, 
 though for very different reasons. 
 
 As Mr. Allerton left the room, a ]Jortiere 
 on one side of the drawing-room landing was 
 noiselessly drawn aside, and Mss Agnes, with 
 one finger on her straight shut lips, beckoned 
 him up a side step into a little room which 
 was her boudoir. Her face was pale and 
 anxious ; it seemed to speak of apprehension 
 of calamity rather than of sorrow for its 
 occurrence ; her hghtblue eyes were cold and
 
 THE BEREAVED 225 
 
 tearless, but full of expression, of questioning. 
 Her hand closed on that of the visitor, and 
 retained it, till she had led him to a seat, as 
 though he had been a blind man. 
 
 ' One word with you before you go, Mr. 
 Allerton. I wish to know from you, who, I 
 imderstand, can tell me, am I the mistress of 
 this house or not ? ' 
 
 It was a strange question to be put by a 
 woman, far short of middle age, whose father, 
 dead but a few hours, was lying under the 
 same roof, and whose sudden fate, as one 
 might have well imagined, should have driven 
 all other matters out of her mind. For the 
 moment the lawyer thought that her wits 
 had deserted her, the more so since lier voice 
 was new to him ; hoarse, though she spoke 
 in a low key, and tremulous either with fear 
 or passion. As he looked at her, however, 
 he abandoned that theory. Her face was sane 
 enough, and, though disturbed by present 
 emotion, expressed resolve. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' It is a somewliat unexpected question, 
 madam,' he answered coldly. If tliere was 
 one thing the lawyer hated, it was a ' hard ' 
 woman, and for the moment he forgot how 
 important it was — and especially for Grace's 
 sake — to keep friends with Miss Agnes. 
 
 ' No doubt,' she answered, not brusquely, 
 but with an air of conviction. ' I am obliged 
 to risk your thinking ill of me, Mr. Allerton ; 
 under the circumstances you may well feel 
 surprised at such an inquiry ; but I am most 
 unfortunately placed, and you are the only 
 person to whom I can appeal for instruction. 
 I ask again, now that my poor father is dead, 
 am I not mistress here ? ' 
 
 'Undoubtedly you are. You are his 
 eldest daughter. His authority, in domestic 
 affairs, naturally reverts to you.' 
 
 ' And otherwise ? I mean legally.' 
 
 'What does she mean?' thought the lawyer 
 to himself. ' Is it possible she wants to know 
 whether the house is left to her ? ' — ' I am
 
 THE BEREAVED 227 
 
 afraid I do not quite understand you, Miss 
 
 Agnes.' 
 
 ' And it is so difficult to explain myself,' 
 
 she answered confusedly. ' Of course I am 
 
 speaking to you in confidence, Mr. Allerton ; 
 
 but have I any legal jurisdiction over my 
 
 sisters ? ' 
 
 ' None whatever. Miss Philippa is of age, 
 
 I believe ; and the guardianship of Miss Grace 
 
 has been placed in other hands — to be frank 
 with you, in my own.' 
 
 ' I am sincerely pleased to hear it,' she 
 answered, and she looked pleased. ' She will 
 be less exposed to injurious influences ; not, 
 however, that they could have done her much 
 harm, I believe, in any case ; she has such an 
 honest and straightforward nature.' 
 
 The lawyer nodded adhesion ; the 
 speaker's words, however, seemed somehow 
 less to praise Grace than to imply dispraise 
 of some one else, who was not so honest and 
 straightforward. TTer next sentence, as he 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 tliouglit, gave liirn the key to tlie preceding 
 one. ' With regard to other persons, not my 
 sisters, in the house, I conclude I have the 
 same authority as my father had. No 
 one, for example, could stay here without 
 my leave.' 
 
 ' No one, my dear madam, you will forgive 
 me for saying,' repHed the lawyer gravely, 
 ' ought to be now staying in the house (who 
 is not a servant) whether with your leave or 
 without it. If he has any sense of propriety, 
 however, that will doubtless strike himself.' 
 
 ' If you refer to Mr. Eoscoe, Mr. Allerton,' 
 she answered coldly, but with a tremor in her 
 voice and a fire in her eye that belied the 
 indifference of her tone, ' I would have you to 
 know that there is no man who has a more 
 delicate sense of what is becoming ; what is 
 amiss with him, if anything, is, on the con- 
 trary, an excess of gentleness which renders 
 him too charitable and lenient to the faults of 
 others.'
 
 THE BEREAVED 229 
 
 ' Even an excess of gentleness may lead 
 a man into error,' remarked the lawyer 
 dryly. 
 
 ' Quite true,' she answered eagerly, ' and 
 aggravate the very evil which it is his object 
 to do away with. What you have said about 
 Mr. Eoscoe's staying here is no doubt conven- 
 tionally correct. "We shall all miss him, how- 
 ever, very much.' 
 
 It was strange indeed, thought the lawyer, 
 that Miss Agnes should thus talk of missing 
 anyone, and yet not have had a word to say 
 about her father. At that very moment, how- 
 ever, she remedied the omission. 
 
 ' I suppose, Mr. Allerton, there will be no 
 necessity for an inquest .^ ' 
 
 ' I think not ; the doctor whom your 
 father consulted will of course be at once 
 communicated with, and will notify the cause 
 of death.' 
 
 ' That is some comfort,' said Miss Agnes, 
 with a sigh of relief. ' Of course I should
 
 230 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 like to talk to you about many things, Mr. 
 Allerton,' she continued wistfully, 'but this is 
 hardly the proper time.' 
 
 ' I think it had better be postponed for 
 the present,' he answered. 
 
 ' I suppose so,' she replied, but in by no 
 means an approving tone. ' Whenever you 
 think proper, I shall be pleased to see you. 
 A thousand thanks — take care of the step — 
 good-bye.'
 
 23] 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY 
 
 GOOD ADVICE 
 
 It has been stated by a pliysician of experience 
 that more persons are put out of the world 
 without discovery in that square mile of which 
 Belgrave Square is the centre than elsewhere 
 in all England, the inhabitants of that region 
 being peculiarly liable to temptation to that 
 crime, from the system of primogeniture and 
 other causes, and also too highly-placed to be 
 troubled by the vulgar interference of a 
 coroner's inquest. It should be some com- 
 pensation to middle-class people living, for 
 example at Kensington, to reflect that they 
 cannot be cut off prematurely by their nearest 
 relatives without some stir beino' made about 
 it ; and it may be taken for granted, since
 
 232 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 tliere was no inquest upon the body of Mr. 
 Tremenhere, that that gentleman needed 
 none. It was understood, and very properly 
 so, since nothing could be urged to the con- 
 trary, that he died of heart complaint, as the 
 eminent doctor whom he had consulted had 
 expected him to do. But though there was 
 no debate as to the cause of his death, there 
 was talk enough about the deceased himself, 
 and many an attractive ' paragraph ' he made 
 for the newspapers. It was not everybody, it 
 appeared, who had known him that knew 
 'Josh' was a Hebrew, till his burial in the 
 Jewish Cemetery at Kensal Green put that 
 matter beyond question. He had certainly 
 not been ostentatious in professing the faith of 
 his fathers, and no one except Mr. Allerton 
 had any idea what a stickler he had been 
 for it. 
 
 In the meantime, of course, his wealth 
 was trebled. If you laid it down in sovereigns, 
 as one ingenious reporter alleged, it would
 
 GOOD ADVICE 233 
 
 have reached from the Land's End to John o' 
 Groat's ; another, not to be outdone, added, 
 ' edgeways.' Perpendicularly in a pile, it 
 would, very nearly, have touched the moon. 
 These calculations, so obviously exaggerated, 
 and also differing so materially from one 
 another, nevertheless delighted the public. 
 They would stand in knots opposite the red 
 brick house shading their eyes with their 
 hands, and point out to one another the 
 room — the curtained one with the window 
 open — where the dead man lay with the 
 lonely ' watcher ' by his side, guarding, after 
 the manner of his race, what needed no longer 
 custody. 
 
 No departed greatness, whether of genius 
 or virtue, could have excited one tenth of the 
 interest that hung round the dead master of 
 * millions ; but whither his milhons had gone 
 interested them vastly more than his own 
 destination — which by most, indeed, was 
 taken for granted. ' His worst he kept, his
 
 234 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 best he gave ' could have been justly said of 
 hhn, if not quite in the sense intended by the 
 poet. Poor Josh ! His name, like Cgesar's, a 
 week ago could have stood against the world 
 — or, more prosaically, had been ' good ' for 
 anything ; and now it was a bye-word. Songs 
 were made upon it, as FalstafF threatened to 
 make upon his adversary, and sung in the 
 streets, to popular airs : ignoble thoughts 
 wedded to transitory melodies. Mr. Edward 
 Eoscoe, who had left Lebanon Lodge, and 
 whom business made peripatetic, would some- 
 times involuntarily listen to them in quiet 
 streets, not knowing whether to smile or to 
 frown. 
 
 How could he know till the will had been 
 read ? There were so many things to be con- 
 sidered before he could look at the memory 
 of his deceased friend in the proper light. 
 Personally, he had disliked him exceedingly, 
 and of late much more than ever ; but he was 
 not a man to be influenced by prejudice of
 
 GOOD ADVICE 235 
 
 that kind. He took much broader views. 
 He knew from Mr. Allerton that Josh had 
 left him what the lawyer evidently considered 
 to be a large sum, but he might not be a good 
 judge of size in that respect ; Mr. Allerton 
 dishked him — Mr. Eoscoe looked matters of 
 this kind in the face — and would have grudged 
 him his legacy, whatever it was. Still, it was 
 doubtless a considerable sum, for Josh had 
 been liberal, and even lavish on some 
 occasions ; and this had been given him, as the 
 lawyer had told him, for saving his life — 
 unbuttoning his shirt-collar and giving him 
 brandy on a certain momentous occasion. 
 
 This was a matter which Mr. Eoscoe did 
 not look in the face ; for particular reasons of 
 his own, the contemplation of it was exceed- 
 ingly distasteful to him. He kept his thoughts 
 as much as possible fixed on the legacy itself. 
 If it was really large, that, of course, would 
 be so far satisfactory ; but, on the other hand, 
 its very size was, from anotlier point of view,
 
 236 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 to be deprecated. It might have been left to 
 him, not out of gratitude alone, but as a 
 species of compensation for the extinction of 
 certain hopes which Mr. Tremenhere had, he 
 knew, suspected him of entertaining. ' Here 
 is your money,' the testator seemed to be 
 saying to him ; ' more than you expected, and 
 ten times more than you deserved ; but I have 
 taken care that you get nothing more out of 
 me, or of my family; your connection with 
 them henceforth ceases, and is at an end for 
 ever.' 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe not only possessed a keen in- 
 telligence, but a knowledge which is falsely 
 reported to be extremely rare — he knew him- 
 self, and even saw himself to some extent as 
 others saw him : and he saw himself pretty 
 much as Josh had seen him. This naturally 
 gave him great uneasiness. He had long ago 
 taken such measures as were possible to him 
 to make him independent of the opinion of 
 his deceased friend ; but strong, nay, extreme.
 
 GOOD ADVICE lyj 
 
 measures as they had been, would they now 
 prove sufficient ? This was the question he 
 was constantly putting to himself during these 
 days of doubt. 
 
 He would have given a hundred pounds 
 for one glimpse of Mr. Joseph Tremenhere's 
 will (and if he could have read it, he would 
 have given all he had in the world — in- 
 cluding his legacy — to have burnt it); but 
 there was nothing for it but patience. In the 
 handsome lodgings he had taken for himself 
 near his late employer's residence, where he 
 was treated with great consideration — for if 
 he was not the rose, the dead millionaire him- 
 self, he had been near the rose, and was sup- 
 posed to possess the very secret which he 
 yearned to learn — he passed anxious hours, 
 sleepless nights. He had been playing for 
 high stakes; he had a strong hand, and had 
 played it with admirable dexterity, but he was 
 by no means sure how the game had gone. 
 
 As to whither Mr. Josei^h Tremenhere had
 
 238 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 gone, that inquiry never so much as occurred 
 to him. It interested him not in the least, 
 which, considering the intimate relations that 
 had so long existed between the two men, 
 seems strange. And yet, how little thought 
 do most of us give to the condition of those 
 who have left us for ever, however close have 
 been the ties that bound us to them when 
 they were on earth; less, upon the whole, 
 than if they had undertaken a long journey 
 upon this planet, and concerning whom, 
 leaning on our garden ' spud ' in the summer 
 weather, we wonder how they are getting on 
 in New York or Melbourne. What Mr. Eoscoe 
 thought of was not Mr. Tremenhere but Mr. 
 Tremenhere's money ; and, with one exception, 
 everybody else was thinking, though not with 
 so interested an anxiety, just as Mr. Eoscoe did. 
 Even the great and good Lord Morella, 
 though he professed some apprehensions for 
 the sinner who had been so suddenly sum- 
 moned by that messenger wlio brooks no
 
 GOOD ADVICE 239 
 
 delay, was much more apprehensive respecting 
 his family property, a large amount of which 
 had, without doubt, stuck to the dead man's 
 hands, and helped to swell that fortune in 
 seven figures which was attracting the admi- 
 ration of the public. 
 
 Mr. Allerton's temporary interest in poor 
 Josh had utterly died away, and was trans- 
 ferred to his property — a matter which 
 occupied a good deal- of his attention : 
 notwithstanding its size, it was not unwieldy ; 
 it was, indeed, remarkably free from com- 
 plications of any kind ; it was the will itself 
 that worried him. In his heart of hearts 
 the lawyer felt that it was not only, as he 
 had told his client, an unjust and improper 
 will, but in point of law a doubtful one ; nay, 
 one which he would not have hesitated, if any 
 other man had drawn it up, to call a bad will. 
 It was liable to dispute, and on the face of it 
 suggested dispute because of its manifest in- 
 justice. If his client had lived, Mr. Allerton
 
 240 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 was convinced, or flattered himself so, tliat lie 
 could have persuaded him to alter or tone 
 down what was amiss in it. Even now, it 
 was possible, should matters turn out favour- 
 ably, if the legatees should prove amenable 
 to reason, and not be got at by interested 
 parties, that they themselves might eventually 
 get things arranged to their satisfaction ; but 
 if there should be opposition at first, and an 
 antagonistic spirit, not only might the will be 
 set aside, but, what was much more to be 
 deplored, all the safeguards by which poor 
 Josh had hoped to protect his property from 
 fortune-hunters and adventurers would be 
 swept away. 
 
 Now, though Mr. Allerton disapproved of 
 the will, he approved, though within less nar- 
 row limits, of the safeguards; the 'intention 
 of the testator' was sacred to him; and, as 
 so often happens in the case of the pious 
 founder, the lawyer's object was to carry out 
 the wishes of liis client, while at the same
 
 GOOD ADVICE 241 
 
 time avoiding the evils which a hard and fast 
 adhesion to them would infallibly bring about. 
 If the three heiresses (if they could be called 
 so) would allow themselves to be ruled by 
 him, all might still go well, he hoped ; but if 
 they were restive, or incited to antagonism by 
 others, he foresaw trouble. He knew nothinor 
 of the influences that were at work with them, 
 save one ; and that he profoundly distrusted. 
 His rock ahead, for the present at least, he 
 well perceived, was Mr. Edward Eoscoe. That 
 that gentleman was on intimate terms with 
 the family was evident; Miss Philippa had 
 shown in his presence a total absence of self- 
 restraint ; Miss Agnes had expressed her con- 
 fidence in him, and strongly, almost passion- 
 ately, resented that doubt of his delicacy of 
 feehng which the lawyer had ventured to hint. 
 That he was a designing scoundrel Mr. Aller- 
 ton was assured — his character with respect 
 to other matters forbade him to entertain a 
 more charitable opinion ; concihation, he felt, 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 would be utterly thrown away upon him ; it 
 would only, as it does in the mind of every 
 scoundrel, suggest that he was an object of 
 fear. But to show his distrust of him would 
 be even more dangerous ; upon the whole, he 
 concluded it would be best to treat him with 
 apparent confidence. He was certainly a friend 
 of the family, and, as it seemed, their only 
 friend ; next to himself it was reasonable that 
 they should look upon him as their adviser in 
 matters of business. Mr. AUerton decided, 
 therefore, to do him the compliment of asking 
 him to hear the will read. He was not with- 
 out hope that, from the manner in which Mr. 
 Eoscoe should listen to its provisions, he might 
 gather his views on the matter, or even some 
 hint of his future intentions. At all events, 
 it would give that gentleman no material ad- 
 vantage. In a few weeks, at farthest, even if 
 he did not receive the information at once 
 from the ladies, which was almost certain to 
 happen, he could read it all for a shilling at
 
 GOOD ADVICE 243 
 
 Somerset House. Upon the whole, it seemed 
 better to treat him as a friend. He therefore 
 wrote to Mr. Eoscoe, stating his intention to 
 read the will to the three sisters, on a certain 
 day, and inviting him, as an old and valued 
 friend of the family, to be present at that 
 ceremony. 
 
 The day appointed was not, as usual, that 
 of the funeral, out of regard for the ladies, 
 who, he thought, would be too ' upset ' to 
 attend to matters of business, but the day 
 afterwards ; a decision which he afterwards 
 regretted. One at least out of the three 
 objects of his solicitude was not so overcome 
 by grief as not to be anxious (though not, 
 perhaps, from mere mercenary motives) to 
 know how her future had been arranged for 
 her, and the delay was not favourable to Mr. 
 AUer ton's views. She inquired the reason of 
 it of Mr. Eoscoe, and that gentleman shrugged 
 his shoulders. ' To wink with both our eyes,' 
 the poet tells us, ' is easier than to think; ' but 
 
 K 2
 
 244 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 to wink with one of them has an effect upon 
 the observer equal, if not superior, in signifi- 
 cance to speech itself; and a shrug of the 
 shoulders is near akin to it. Mr. Eoscoe's 
 shrug spoke volumes. 
 
 ' I suppose we may take it for granted/ 
 observed Agnes — for it was she who was the 
 questioner — ' that Mr. Allerton is an honest 
 man ? ' 
 
 The two were alone, so that it was doubtful 
 whether the word ' we ' referred to herself and 
 her sisters, or to herself and her companion ; 
 he took it in the former sense, however. 
 
 ' Well, Allerton is a lawyer,' he answered, 
 smiling ; ' but, honest or not, he can do nothing, 
 one way or the other, as regards the disposi- 
 tion of your property ; he can only be guided 
 by the will. As to this delay, I think it very 
 probable that he wishes by it to impress upon 
 you the idea of his possessing a power which 
 in fact he does not possess. He was your 
 father's legal adviser — unfortunately or not it
 
 GOOD ADVICE 245 
 
 is impossible at present to say — but he is not 
 yours. You are under no obligation to seek 
 his counsel, or to take it if offered. You must 
 be guided by circumstances.' 
 
 ' You mean as to our attitude to Mr. AUer- 
 ton ? ' she answered quickly. 
 
 Again her speech was equivocal : he had 
 said ' you,' but she had said ' our ' where ' my ' 
 would have seemed more appropriate ; on 
 the other hand, the word might have been 
 used fitly enough in reference to herself and 
 her sisters, and again he took it in that 
 sense. 
 
 ' Well, of course,' he answered curtly. ' It 
 is very inconvenient for those in your position 
 to be on bad terms with those in his ; if it be 
 possible, live peaceably with all men, is a pre- 
 cept to be especially followed in the case of 
 one's trustees. If you take my advice, you 
 will be very civil to AUerton. Whatever may 
 be the information it is his duty to impart to 
 you to-morrow, receive it with as little emotion
 
 246 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 as possible, however distasteful it may be to 
 you.' 
 
 ' Distasteful ! What do you mean, 
 Edward ? ' 
 
 There was alarm in her tone, and 
 something more ; the vehemence of her feel- 
 ings had even, no doubt unconsciously, caused 
 her to address him by his Christian name. 
 He took no advantage of that circumstance 
 (which some persons — Mr. Allerton, for 
 example — would have put down as an un- 
 expected item to his credit) to adopt a more 
 familiar tone. On the contrary, his manner 
 was scrupulously grave and judicial. It was 
 evident, however, that he was putting some 
 restraint upon himself; and this was not un- 
 welcome to her — she felt that it was being 
 done for her sake. 
 
 'I mean nothing,' he said. 'I have no 
 cause even to suspect anything. But others 
 may have suspected something.' 
 
 ' What ! my father ? ' she answered with a
 
 GOOD ADVICE 247 
 
 catch in lier voice, as if someone liacl caught 
 her by the throat. 
 
 'For Heaven's sake, command yourself,' 
 he exclaimed authoritatively, almost harshly. 
 ' Yes, it is possible that your father may have 
 been too sohcitous for what he foolishly 
 imagined was your welfare, or jealous of 
 another's influence over you. For all we 
 know, there may be restrictions.' 
 
 ' Eestrictions ? I don't understand you,' 
 she murmured hoarsely. 
 
 ' Why sliould you ? It will be time 
 enough to talk of such things — and how to 
 evade them — when we learn of their existence ; 
 I only wished to put you on your guard. 
 Whatever happens to-morrow, keep a good 
 heart, sliow a firm face. There may be 
 nothing the matter. You think I am cruel, 
 but I am only cruel to be kind, Agnes.' 
 
 He dropped the word, as it seemed, after 
 a little hesitation. 
 
 ' You call me by my name, as if you were
 
 248 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ashamed of it,' she cried with sudden vehe- 
 mence. Her face assumed a colour which was 
 not becoming ; her hght blue eyes glittered 
 with passion. 
 
 ' Great Heaven, what a task is mine ! ' 
 exclaimed Mr. Eoscoe bitterly. ' Can you 
 not understand that it is not shame but fear 
 that makes me prudent ? You have some 
 suspicion of me in your mind, I know : what 
 is it?' 
 
 ' I have none, or if I had, it is gone,' she 
 answered hurriedly. ' Forgive me, Edward.' 
 
 ' I have nothing to forgive,' he said, in his 
 gentlest tones ; 'but if you wish to please me, 
 lay to heart what I have said about to- 
 morrow.'
 
 249 
 
 CHAPTER XY 
 
 AN ENIGMA 
 
 Mr. Allerton was not without his appre- 
 hensions as he went up the stairs with the 
 will in his pocket to the drawing-room of 
 Lebanon Lodge. He was used, of course, to 
 ' public readings ' of a similar kind ; but this 
 was an exceptional occasion. He was used 
 also to lady clients ; and though tender- 
 hearted, and of a gallant disposition, he much 
 preferred those of the sterner sex. Ladies 
 are more difficult to manage in matters of 
 business than men. They are more ignorant 
 but more opinionated ; more liable to be de- 
 ceived, yet more suspicious without cause. 
 
 In the present case what it was his duty 
 to communicate he was well aware would not
 
 2 so THE BURNT MILLIOA 
 
 be agreeable. The three ladies were all left 
 very well ; they were immensely rich, but 
 there were very severe conditions in restraint 
 of marriage. There w^ere, indeed, certain 
 mitigations — compensations for forfeiture in 
 this respect — ten thousand pounds apiece 
 was to be given to each upon her marriage, 
 let her marry whom she might — but the 
 rest of her money was left away from her 
 unless her husband should be of the Hebrew 
 persuasion. Moreover, it was left to the 
 other sisters should they remain spinsters or 
 be married to Jews. What was especially 
 objectionable in the arrangement was, that it 
 had been dictated, as Ish:. AUerton very well 
 knew, and the legatees must needs know still 
 better, by no conscientious motive whatever, 
 but for the purpose of keeping the testator's 
 property intact, or in as few hands as 
 possible. It w^as no tribute to Eeligion but 
 to Mammon, j^o wonder, therefore, that the 
 lawyer said to himself, ' How will they take it .^ '
 
 AN ENIGMA 251 
 
 as he took liis seat at the gilt and gorgeous 
 table, so ludicrously mappropriate to his present 
 use, and produced the all-important document. 
 His audience he found already seated : 
 Grace on the sofa, nearest to him, with 
 Philippa's arm encircling her waist — as it 
 struck him, in rather a stagey manner ; 
 Agnes on a chair apart, and Mr. Eoscoe 
 opposite them, on the other side of the room. 
 The bhnds were almost as closely drawn as 
 though the house still held its departed dead, 
 and it did not escape the lawyer's notice that 
 the friend of the family had modestly placed 
 himself where the gloom was deepest. The 
 faces of all were pale, and, with the exception 
 of that of Grace, wore an ill-concealed air of 
 anxiety. She had, as it afterwards appeared, 
 expressed a wish that her presence might be 
 spared ; but this had been somewhat sharply 
 overruled. She was old enousrh to under- 
 stand what was to take place, she was told, 
 and to suggest that her grief was too over-
 
 252 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 whelming to admit of her attending to her 
 future interests was an affectation, and even a 
 reflection upon her sisters. Phihppa had 
 vohinteered to sit by her and comfort her ; 
 and she carried out her promise to the letter ; 
 every now and then she caressed her tenderly 
 — even pitifully, as though she felt for her 
 rather than for herself — when certain passages 
 of the will were read, and concentrated her 
 attention upon her almost exclusively. Grace 
 did not return these endearments, but kept 
 her quiet face fixed on Mr. AUerton. Agnes, 
 too, regarded the lawyer with earnest solici- 
 tude, though at times she glanced furtively 
 at Mr. Eoscoe, who maintained an unmoved 
 demeanour, with his chin resting on his hand. 
 A grim smile, however, curved his lip 
 when Mr. Allerton read out the few words of 
 exordium in which Joseph Tremenhere ex- 
 pressed his unalterable attachment to the faith 
 of his fathers ; perhaps he already guessed 
 what was coming. Agnes looked serenely
 
 AN ENIGMA 253 
 
 contemptuous, Philippa amazed, and even in 
 Grace's face sat a wondering though tender 
 surprise. Then came the restrictive clauses. 
 Not a word was said, but they evidently pro- 
 duced a profound effect. Mr. Eoscoe frowned 
 and smiled — a combination which is seldom 
 becoming, and it gave him a very ugly look. 
 One must not say that a lady looks ugly, but 
 Agnes in fact surpassed him in her expression 
 of scornful disapproval ; she even uttered an 
 ejaculation of mingled disappointment and 
 defiance. Phihppa hid her face, which had 
 become as pale as death, on Grace's shoulder ; 
 Grace alone remained unmoved : she seemed 
 to listen to the bald and technical terms in 
 which her father restricted the area of her 
 matrimonial choice without understanding 
 their meaning. The sense of them afterwards 
 recurred to her, but she was, in fact, thinking 
 of something else — not of the will but of the 
 testator. Once, when her name was men- 
 tioned preceded by an affectionate epithet, the
 
 254 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 only one in tlie brief testament, the tears stole 
 down her cheeks. The silence, though on 
 the whole it was welcome to the reader, who 
 certainly expected 'sensation' rather than 
 ' applause,' oppressed the lawyer himself. It 
 was almost a relief to him wdien, near the 
 conclusion of the document, where it set forth 
 how in certain contingencies the whole of the 
 testator's enormous wealth was to revert to 
 Eobert Yernon, Mr. Eoscoe inquired in his 
 gentlest accents : 
 
 ' Pray, sir, who is he ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, who, indeed ? ' added Agnes bitterly. 
 
 Mr. AUerton gave the desired information, 
 so far as he was possessed of it, and then con- 
 cluded his task. 
 
 ' It is an infamy ! ' observed Agnes, by way 
 of commentary. 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe lifted his finger ; and though 
 it was plain she had plenty to say, she said 
 no more. Philippa kept her eyes upon the 
 carpet and was dumb. Grace drew a deep
 
 AN ENIGMA 255 
 
 breath of relief, because the business, for 
 which she had had no taste, was over. The 
 silence, broken only by the sounds in the 
 street without, was embarrassing. 
 
 'I have now performed my mission, ladies,' 
 said Mr. Allerton : ' if I can be of service in 
 explaining any detail, pray command me.' 
 
 ' The whole matter seems to me to require 
 explanation,' said Agnes fiercely ; and again 
 Mr. Eoscoe lifted his finger. 
 
 ' Whatever may be thought of your 
 father's distribution of his property — a subject 
 which I must be excused from discussinof ' 
 observed the lawyer, ' the income which he 
 places at the disposal of every one of you — 
 in the case of those who are of age at their 
 absolute disposal — is enormous ; unless certain 
 conditions are comphed with, it is, indeed, 
 but a life interest, but it is a fortune in itself. 
 I have no control over, it, but I hope the wish 
 he has here expressed, that you will come to 
 me for guidance and counsel, will not be dis-
 
 256 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 regarded ; at all events my best advice will 
 be always at your service.' 
 
 'You are most kind,' murmured Grace 
 gratefully. 
 
 ' As far as you are concerned, however, 
 you are in my power, young lady, for some 
 years to come,' observed the lawyer, smiling. 
 'If you had been listening to me, as you 
 ought to have done, you would have under- 
 stood that I was your guardian.' 
 
 ' I am very glad that it is so,' she returned, 
 with an answering smile. 
 
 Upon Mr. Eoscoe's face the lawyer noticed 
 there was the reverse of a smile. Was it 
 possible he had flattered himself that Josh 
 would have put him in loco parentis to his 
 little Fairy? When his own legacy of 5,000/. 
 had been mentioned, Mr. Eoscoe had inclined 
 his head as if in acknowledgment of that 
 benefaction, but he had exhibited no emotion. 
 His gratitude, if it existed, had been perhaps 
 swallowed up by the disappointment that the
 
 AN ENIGMA 257 
 
 will had caused his lady friends. That he 
 sympathised with them it was evident, though 
 he had given no utterance to that emotion. 
 His face was grave and dissatisfied, though 
 not more so than if, moved by such a feehng, 
 it might have been expected to be ; but to 
 Mr. Allerton, who did not for a moment credit 
 him with anything of the kind, he seemed to 
 be putting no Httle restraint upon himself, 
 while at the same time he recommended 
 patience and resignation to others. 
 
 As it seemed evident that no question was 
 to be put to him, Mr. Allerton took his leave 
 of the ladies, and was accompanied downstairs 
 by Mr. Eoscoe. As the lawyer reached the 
 hall, ' One word,' said that gentleman, and led 
 the way into his own room and closed the 
 door. 
 
 ' You have observed that it was not your 
 intention, Mr. Allerton, to discuss with those 
 ladies the document it has been your duty to 
 read to them ; but I hope that remark does 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 not apply to others, who are in a better 
 position, perhaps, to judge of the matter — 
 myself, for instance ? ' 
 
 The speaker's tone was quiet, and his 
 manner studiously respectful ; but there was 
 a tremor in his voice that belied them both. 
 
 ' I am aware that I have no locus standi^ in 
 a legal sense,' he went on hurriedly ; ' but I 
 have some influence with your clients, and 
 they will naturally look to me for an explana- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' Mr. Tremenhere's will explains itself, Mr. 
 Eoscoe,' replied the other coldly. ' You can 
 scarcely expect a man in my position to give 
 you his opinion on its merits.' 
 
 ' Certainly not ; there can, however, be 
 only one opinion on the matter. You heard 
 what Miss Agnes said : she called it an infamy ! ' 
 
 ' I was very sorry to hear such an observa- 
 tion from her lips.' 
 
 ' So was I ; I endeavoured, as perhaps 
 you observed, to restrain her ; but you must
 
 AN ENIGMA 259 
 
 admit that there was great provocation. The 
 whole thing is preposterous. Such a will 
 cannot hold water for a moment.' 
 
 Mr. Allerton smiled mechanically ; no 
 lawyer could have helped it. The idea of a 
 thing not being defensible in law because it 
 was ' preposterous ' — and not ' for a moment,' 
 too, — tickled him in spite of himself. 
 
 ' I am not speaking on my own account, 
 remember, Mr. Allerton,' the other continued, 
 with a sort of earnest indifference difficult to 
 fathom ; ' the affair is nothing to me. So far 
 as I am concerned, as you justly hinted the 
 other day, Mr. Tremenhere has " remembered 
 me," as the phrase goes, very handsomely ; 
 but there are two ladies in whom I naturally 
 feel some interest, and who will expect me to 
 manifest it, placed in a most unfortunate 
 position. They are both of a marriageable 
 
 age. 
 
 Mr. Allerton inclined his head. What was 
 said of the elder sisters was certainly quite true 
 
 s2
 
 26o THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 — they had emerged from childhood. Miss 
 Agnes, in particular, was by no means a chicken. 
 
 ' I wonder,' thought Mr. AUerton, ' which 
 of them this man has elected to marry ! He 
 would marry both of them — or at least their 
 fortunes — if he could. At heart — if he had a 
 heart — he is a Mormon. Of that I am con- 
 vinced.' 
 
 * Well, these restraints upon their affections, 
 whether they have set them on any particular 
 object or not, must be most galling. I do not 
 wish to speak upon the religious matter, be- 
 cause Mr. Tremenhere was your client. But 
 his daughters, I am quite sure, do not sym- 
 pathise with the idea their father professed 
 to have in view at all. They are Jewesses 
 only in name — that is the simple fact.' 
 
 'The majority of us are unfortunately 
 Christians only in name,' put in Mr. Allerton 
 dryly. 
 
 ' No ; the cases are not parallel. We wish, 
 at least, to be thought Christians : these ladies
 
 AN ENIGMA 261 
 
 do not wish to be thought Jewesses. I am 
 speaking to you confidentially, of course, but 
 I am speaking the truth. Under such circum- 
 stances, it is clear, these, restraints must be 
 set aside. You are concerned for the welfare 
 of your clients, I am assured. Can there not 
 be a friendly suit ? ' 
 
 ' How can that be, when there are others 
 who have a contingent interest in the matter — 
 Mr. Yernon and his heirs ? ' 
 
 ' The man is dead and has none — that is 
 my belief.' 
 
 ' That would simpUfy matters, of course ; 
 but Mr. Tremenhere certainly did not believe 
 him to be dead three weeks ago.' 
 
 ' Even so, there could be a compromise. 
 The parties could all be brought into court 
 together.' 
 
 'A very difficult operation indeed, be- 
 lieve me.' 
 
 ' Still not an impossible one ; since you 
 have drawn the will you must appear to
 
 262 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 stand by it, of course ; but you are a man of 
 honour and good feeling, and you must see 
 its injustice. Do you mean to tell me, if Miss 
 Grace, for instance, should marry without 
 regard to these limitations, that you would 
 not do your best for her ? ' 
 
 ' That is scarcely a fair question,' answered 
 the lawyer gravely, almost sternly. He could 
 hardly prevent the disfavour with which he 
 regarded his icterlocutor from appearing in 
 his voice. He did not like to hear him speak 
 of Grace, and especially in connection with 
 such a subject. It seemed a sacrilege. Was 
 this man only putting a supposititious case to 
 him, he wondered, or was he hinting at some 
 scheme of his own ? 
 
 ' I would certainly do all I could to secure 
 the happiness of Miss Grace,' continued Mr. 
 Allerton, ' but that would be very little. It 
 would be for the Court of Chancery to act in 
 such a matter. They would have the will 
 before them, and also the eligibility of the
 
 AN ENIGMA 263 
 
 husband she had chosen. If you ask my 
 private opinion, the latter consideration would, 
 I think, weigh with a judge almost as much 
 as the former.' 
 
 It was not an answer shot at a venture ; 
 the speaker had aimed it with a particular 
 object, and he saw that it had gone home. 
 On Mr. Eoscoe's impassive countenance there 
 stole a cloud, not of disappointment, for he 
 had probably expected some such reply, but 
 of something very like despair ; it was not 
 merely the corroboration of a fear, but the 
 look of a suitor who hears a final judgment 
 given against him. It struck Mr. AUerton 
 very much, for he saw no sufficient reason for 
 it. Here was a man full of audacity and 
 resource apparently overwhelmed by the mere 
 expression of his private opinion ; or, if it was 
 even the statement of a fact, one that must 
 surely have already occurred to him, if he 
 had thought upon the subject ; and who could 
 doubt that he had ?
 
 264 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' Of course you are right,' said Mr. Eoscoe 
 after a long pause. ' Thank you. I will tell 
 the ladies how the matter stands.' And so 
 they parted. 
 
 Mr. Allerton felt that he had discharged 
 an unpleasant duty in a manner even less 
 satisfactory than he had expected ; had his 
 news been received with even more antagonism 
 he would have preferred it, if only those he 
 had had to deal with had shown a little more of 
 their hand. The difficulty of the situation lay 
 at present in its obscurity ; the only thing he 
 felt sure of was that in Mr. Eoscoe he would 
 find the key to it. But Mr. Eoscoe himself 
 was an enigma to him. 
 
 ' My impression is,' said the lawyer to him- 
 self with a grim smile as he walked homeward, 
 ' that that man will annoy Lord Morella more 
 than he has ever done yet, by decreasing our 
 scanty successes in the conversion of the Jews ; 
 he will embrace the Hebrew persuasion him- 
 self, which will count for two on a division.'
 
 265 
 
 CHAPTER XYI 
 
 THE KEY OF IT 
 
 As days rolled on Mr. Allerton was surprised, 
 and perhaps as a lawyer a little disappointed, 
 that Mr. Roscoe, or rather those over whom 
 that gentleman had evidently so great a sway, 
 gave him no trouble. That remark of his 
 that the will would not hold water showed 
 that he was conscious of its weakness, and 
 any advice that he might have taken on the 
 subject would probably have corroborated 
 his opinion. If opposition was intended, there 
 seemed no necessity for delay ; but at present 
 there was no sign of opposition. Mr. Allerton 
 had seen the ladies more than once, and they 
 had fallen in with all his arrangements as 
 regarded business matters ; no allusion to the
 
 266 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 will had been made at all. Miss Agnes had. 
 taken matters almost entirely on her own 
 shoulders ; ' whatever suits my sister will suit 
 me,' Philippa had meekly said ; but she had 
 not looked meek. It struck the lawyer that 
 they were not on good terms with one another, 
 but had buried the hatchet while he was with 
 them, as in the presence of a common enemy. 
 And yet they did not treat him as an enemy. 
 Agnes even sought his advice, and put various 
 businesslike and pertinent questions to him, 
 the source of which he was at no loss to 
 discover. The two sisters were obviously 
 acting under instructions. As to Grace, 
 matters were very different. In the disposi- 
 tion of the vast income which Mr. Allerton 
 held in trust for her, she at first not only 
 took no interest, but the whole subject 
 appeared to be distasteful to her. 
 
 ' Do not let us talk of money,' she exclaimed 
 pleadingly. 
 
 'But it is necessary,' he remonstrated;
 
 THE KEY OF IT 267 
 
 then added gaily : ' you will come to take the 
 same interest in it — or in the spending of it at 
 least — I do assure you, as in shopping.' 
 
 But there was no answering smile. 
 
 ' To me, dear Mr. Allerton, money has 
 been a curse.' 
 
 'What! Already!' 
 
 ' Yes, it has altered everybody about me for 
 the worse ; so changed them, indeed, that they 
 are scarcely recognisable. Agnes talks and, 
 alas ! I believe, thinks of nothing else. Poor 
 papa is forgotten.' 
 
 ' My dear child, you must not think that,' 
 said the lawyer caressingly ; ' you are too 
 sensitive. Moreover, you must remember 
 that your sisters were not to him what you 
 were, nor he to them. You only were " his 
 little Fairy." ' 
 
 ' I know, I know,' she sobbed ; ' he loved 
 me so ; but he loved Agnes too, and Philippa. 
 And to hear them speak of him as they 
 do!'
 
 268 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' Surely not to you ? ' put in the lawyer 
 indignantly. 
 
 ' No, not to me. I am spared that. But 
 to one another.' 
 
 'Perhaps there is some evil counsellor 
 who sets them against him, who per- 
 suades ' 
 
 ' No,' she interrupted quickly ; ' to do Mr. 
 Eoscoe justice, that is not so. He restrains, 
 and even reproves them. They are not so 
 bitter as they were, I think, thanks to 
 him.' 
 
 ' That is so far well. You are right to do 
 him justice, as we should do to all. You 
 must remember, Grace, that not only did 
 your father make a favourite of you, which 
 was not judicious — though I cannot blame 
 him, for I have fallen into the same error — 
 but that the conditions under which he has 
 bequeathed his property affect them to their 
 disadvantage, which (at present at all events) 
 is not your case. You must not be hard on
 
 THE KEY OF IT 269 
 
 them because they seem hard on hun. I have 
 seen so much of this. " The evil which nien 
 do lives after them ; the good is oft interred 
 with their bones." ' 
 
 ' No, no,' she cried ; ' his good is here,' and 
 she touched her bosom. 
 
 ' Yes : his memory is kept green in your 
 faithful little heart,' he answered approvingly. 
 ' Still, as I have said, we must be just. Your 
 sisters have some cause for complaint — that is 
 the fact. That feeling, however, will wear off. 
 Things will settle down. You are going to 
 the riverside, I hear, for a few days, and after- 
 wards to Cumberland. That will be good for 
 all of you, but it will prevent my seeing you 
 perhaps for a long time to come. It is my 
 duty to inform you how you are situated as 
 regards your affairs. I hold in trust for you 
 a very large income ; but my hands are free. 
 You will not want a tenth of it. The rest 
 will accumulate — save what you wish to spend 
 on any object dear to you. You have some
 
 270 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 cause at heart, perhaps, to benefit ; some good 
 purpose to serve.' 
 
 ' To do some good ! That would be a 
 pleasure indeed ! ' she exclaimed. ' I have 
 never done any good. I know of no good 
 cause. Pray help me.' 
 
 It was pitiful to hear her ! Here was a 
 girl generous, tender-hearted, full of good 
 impulses, no doubt, with the means to indulge 
 them to the full, but who had never done so, 
 from sheer ignorance and lack of opportunity. 
 The charities had never been cultivated at 
 Lebanon Lodge. She was like some moral 
 Laura Bridgeman, with all the wish in the 
 world to improve herself, but the soil had run 
 barren because untilled. Eor the moment, 
 the lawyer was lost in the religious philan- 
 thropist ; he saw in this girl, with her gene- 
 rous nature and vast income, an instrument 
 ready to his hand for good. The vision 
 vanished, however, like a breath. Duty with 
 him, though it was by no means divorced
 
 THE KEY OF IT 271 
 
 from sentiment, was always in subjection to 
 it ; he had something of the zealot about him, 
 but not his greed. Grace might do good 
 with her income, for there was enough and to 
 spare of it ; but what he had in his mind was 
 to save far the greater portion of it, so that 
 when she came of age she should be in 
 possession of a fortune which, however small 
 compared with what should have been her 
 share of her father's wealth, should make her 
 independent of the conditions he had attached 
 to its inheritance, and free to marry whom 
 she chose. It was to the lawyer's credit that 
 he was well aware in this case she could 
 never have the husband he had in his mind 
 for her. A few thousand pounds would be a 
 mere drop in the ocean towards restoring the 
 family fortunes of Lord Cheribert. 
 
 ' I will do what I can,' said Mr. Allerton, 
 smiling, ' to put you in the way of finding out 
 for yourself that what you rail against is not 
 an unmixed evil. Money is dross, it is said ;
 
 272 THE BURN! MILLION 
 
 but even dross — tlie very scum and refuse of 
 things — may be turned to excellent use, just 
 as out of the most offensive substances are 
 extracted the sweetest scents ? ' 
 
 Grace shook her head : her face expressed 
 disbelief, and even pain ; it was evident that 
 her mind was dwelling on some distressful 
 reminiscence. 
 
 ' Your father himself was fond of money,' 
 said the lawyer gently. 
 
 ' True ; but for the good it enabled him to 
 do with it,' she exclaimed, with eagerness. 
 ' I thank you for reminding me of that. He 
 never spoke of his good deeds even to me ; 
 but I remember once, when I was talking to 
 him of his many friends, and how much he 
 was sought after by persons of a rank far 
 above our own, he said that it was his money 
 which gave him the power to help them. 
 " Everyone can help the poor," he said, 
 " my little Fairy ; but these fine folks who 
 are poor too, though in a different way.
 
 THE KEY OF IT 273 
 
 cannot be so easily assisted. I am the only 
 man in the world, perhaps, that can keep 
 their heads above water." ' 
 
 ' That was true,' assented the lawyer, with 
 a smile that for her had nothing of sarcasm. 
 
 ' Of course it was true. Dear papa was 
 the soul of truth. " I hope my little Fairy," 
 he used to say, " will never, never tell a 
 falsehood." ' 
 
 The lawyer nodded again. What she had 
 said was likely enough ; ' Josh ' used to aver, 
 with a wiser man than he, though not so rich, 
 that lying ' was a strain upon the memory.' 
 
 ' And yet it is against a man like him — 
 their own father — that Agnes and Philippa, 
 just because he has left his money otherwise 
 
 than they would have wished it Don't 
 
 let us talk of it ; don't let us think of it, Mr. 
 Allerton ! ' and she hid the face that was 
 blushing for the shame of others. 
 
 ' Still, as I have said, Grace, there is some 
 excuse fur them ; they have wrongs which, 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 ^^-^ BURNT MILLION 
 
 though you share them, you do not under- 
 stand at present/ 
 
 ' And I trust I never shall,' she sobbed 
 indignantly. 
 
 'I trust so, too,' he answered earnestly. 
 ' Beheve me, time will heal their disappoint- 
 ment, as it will your grief. As I have said, 
 things will settle down. Your sisters' roof, 
 remember, is your natural home. They are 
 surely not unkind to you ? ' 
 
 He asked the question in some trepidation. 
 It would be a great responsibility, as well as 
 an immense inconvenience, to have this girl 
 thrown on his own hands, to be compelled to 
 find a home for her and a protectress. 
 
 ' No, no,' she answered, much to his relief; 
 ' they mean to be kind enough ; and if they 
 only knew how wretched they made me by 
 what they say to one another ' 
 
 ' That shall be stopped,' put in the lawyer 
 confidently. ' There shall be no more of it ; 
 and when they cease to talk of their wrongs —
 
 THE KEY OF IT 27s 
 
 which are not altogether fanciful, remember 
 — they will cease to think of them ; that is 
 woman's way.' 
 
 Girl as she was, Grace could have put him 
 right on that point ; but she only inclined her 
 head ; the subject was distasteful to her. 
 
 ' Is Mr. Eoscoe in the house just now ? ' 
 inquired the lawyer. 
 
 ' I suppose so,' answered the girl in- 
 differently. It was that gentleman's custom, 
 not only like Hamlet's father ' of an after- 
 noon,' but in the morning, and also in the 
 evening, to be at Lebanon Lodge ; and she saw 
 nothing strange in the frequency of his visits. 
 
 ' Just so,' said the lawyer dryly ; ' your 
 sisters have many matters to arrange with 
 him, no doubt.' 
 
 ' Agnes has, of course : she naturally takes 
 the lead, and he is her right hand, as it were.' 
 
 ' And Miss Philippa?' 
 
 'Philippa does not concern herself with 
 affairs.' 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 ' But she feels what you were telling me 
 about this supposed injustice of your father's 
 will as keenly ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes ; I think even more,' sighed 
 Grace, ' if that were possible.' 
 
 'Well, well, that will soon be over, I 
 promise you. In the meantime, as you seem 
 a little lonely ' 
 
 ' By my own choice,' put in the girl. 
 
 ' I understand that. I shall send you a little 
 friend to keep you company — award of mine.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no strangers ; at least not yet,' 
 pleaded the girl pitifully. 
 
 ' It's only a dog, my dear,' he answered, 
 smiling. ' I have been left its trustee and 
 executor under an old lady's will ; and I am 
 sure I shall find no kinder mistress for it than 
 yourself. It is a well-conducted dog, though 
 it answers to the name of Eip. And now 
 good-bye. I want to have a word or two 
 with Mr. Eoscoe about business matters, and 
 will look in upon him as I go out.'
 
 THE KEY OF IT 277 
 
 The lawyer found Mr. Eoscoe in his room, 
 looking to the full as much at home there 
 as he had done in his patron's time. He 
 received his visitor stiffly, but courteously 
 enough ; his attitude seemed to be one of 
 armed neutrality, ready for either peace or 
 war. 
 
 * You have been interviewing Miss Grace, 
 I suppose,' he said with a quiet smile. 
 
 ' Yes. I find it rather hard to impress 
 upon her the sense of her own position.' 
 
 ' She is utterly ignorant of business.' 
 
 ' That was, of course, to be looked for ; 
 but she exhibits a want of interest in her own 
 afiairs which is unusual even in a young lady. 
 You will agree with me that, under the cir- 
 cumstances, there is some danger in that, as it 
 will prevent her from understanding the 
 motives of others, who may not be so dis- 
 interested.' 
 
 'Quite so,' returned Mr. Eoscoe blandly, 
 ' and also their feelings. The latter con-
 
 278 THE BURNT MILLIOA 
 
 sideration is of some consequence just now, 
 and I am glad to have the opportunity of 
 speaking to you upon the subject. It would, 
 in my opinion, be better, for the present at 
 least, that Miss Grace should be separated 
 from her elder sisters.' 
 
 Mr. AUerton stared in amazement — not 
 only did the proposition itself seem to him 
 monstrous and unnatural, but it was also the 
 last thing he expected the other to suggest. 
 He knew that Eoscoe must desire above all 
 things to retain his influence over the whole 
 family ; and why he should propose that the 
 youngest of them, and presumably the most 
 plastic, should be withdrawn from his control 
 was inexplicable to him. He had the worst 
 opinion of the man ; he regarded him as a 
 respectable solicitor regards a distinctly shady 
 one, and Mr. Eoscoe had not even the excuse 
 of belonging to the law. 
 
 ' You surely cannot be serious,' he repHed. 
 ' It would be a very grave step to take a girl
 
 THE KEY OF IT 279 
 
 of Miss Grace's age from lier natural pro- 
 tectors, and her own home. What on earth 
 could justify such a course ? ' 
 
 ' Circumstances,' returned Mr. Eoscoe 
 coolly. ' Very peculiar circumstances, I 
 admit, but they exist in her case. She does 
 not get on well with her sisters. They are 
 irritated — naturally irritated, as I venture to 
 think — by the provisions of their father's will ; 
 and, like most women, they are unable to 
 control their tongues. She resents their ob- 
 servations on him exceedingly, and they resent 
 her defence of him. Some day or another, I 
 am afraid, they will reveal to her his real 
 character, of which she is in a state of blissful 
 ignorance ; then she will have a very rude 
 awakening from her Fool's Paradise. That is 
 a misfortune which, for her own sake, should 
 if possible be avoided.' 
 
 Mr. AUerton thought so too ; the con- 
 templation of such a catastrophe, which he 
 felt was only too likely to happen, alarmed
 
 28o THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 him. It was impossible to surmise the effect 
 of such a shock upon a delicate nature, already 
 suffering from the keenest grief On the 
 other hand, he was convinced that it was no 
 solicitude on Grace's account that impelled 
 this man to make the proposition. What 
 could be his motive ? He could not fathom 
 it, but his very failure to do so convinced 
 him that it was a deep one. 
 
 ' Such a revelation as you speak of, 
 whether founded on fact or not,' returned 
 the lawyer, ' would, indeed, be deplorable. I 
 cannot conceive a more wicked and cruel act. 
 Nor, if it is really to be apprehended, how it 
 is possible to be avoided. Grace has no 
 other home to go to.' 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe shrugged his shoulders and 
 faintly smiled. 
 
 ' We who are bachelors, Mr. AUerton, 
 have much to learn as to the ways of women. 
 It so happens, however, that I have had 
 particular opportunities for studying the
 
 THE KEY OF IT 281 
 
 characters of the two ladies in question, and 
 under feehngs of strong irritation — I am 
 speaking to you in confidence, of course — they 
 are in my judgment, capable of anything. As 
 to avoiding such a contingency, it appears to 
 me,' he continued in the same quiet tone, but 
 flavoured with the least touch of sarcasm, ' in 
 view of this weighty consideration, and also of 
 the trust and confidence that the late Mr. 
 Tremenhere evidently reposed in you as 
 regarded this young lady, that you are the 
 proper person to provide a home for her.' 
 
 ' That is out of the question,' answered 
 the lawyer firmly. ' If circumstances com- 
 pelled her removal from her sisters' roof it 
 would involve nothing less than a public 
 scandal, since I should certainly seek for her 
 the protection of the Court of Chancery. I 
 could not have such a responsibility on my 
 own shoulders upon any account. There 
 would be some advantages in such a course, 
 no doubt. She would be secure from ad-
 
 282 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 venturers; whereas, as at present situated, she 
 must be more or less exposed to offers of 
 marriage, an acceptance of any of which 
 would, as you are well aware, be fatal to 
 her material interests, though beneficial to 
 those of her sisters. I'll think about it ; but, 
 on the whole, I am strongly of opinion that 
 this danger is less serious than the moral and 
 physical one involved in removing her from 
 her own home and belongings and trans- 
 planting her elsewhere.' 
 
 ' That consideration, I confess, has never 
 occurred to me,' said Mr. Eoscoe, biting his 
 lips, ' nor did I imagine that you would be so 
 unwilling to take personal charge of the 
 young lady. Well, I can only say, then, 
 for the present that I will do my best here to 
 smooth matters.' 
 
 ' Grace is already indebted to you, she 
 informs me,' said Mr. AUerton graciously, 
 ' for your good offices in that respect.' 
 
 ' She is very good to say so,' returned
 
 THE KEY OF IT 283 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe, but his face, as the other took his 
 leave, bore anything but a look of satisfaction. 
 Mr. Allerton felt that his difficulty had been 
 surmounted, but without knowing how that 
 object had been achieved ; he had checkmated 
 his adversary, he was convinced, but by 
 some move he did not himself understand. 
 
 ' The scoundrel was as much frightened 
 at the notion of my applying to Chancery 
 about the girl,' said the lawyer to himself as he 
 went his way, ' as I was at the idea of taking 
 charge of her. What scheme can he be 
 devising ? He did not like that prospect of a 
 " public scandal," I noticed. Of course he 
 wants her to marry. Did he think that was 
 more likely to happen if she left her home 
 than if she remained, I wonder ? My argu- 
 ment to the contrary seemed to move him. 
 But there must be something else beyond 
 all that. It seems contrary to reason that he 
 should wish to get rid of her ; yet he certainly 
 did wish it till I threatened him with the
 
 284 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Court. It cannot be that lie feels himself 
 equal to driving a pair but not the three, for he 
 has pluck and perhaps skill enough to drive 
 a dozen ; why, therefore, should he v^ish one 
 of these three women away ? ' 
 
 On this problem the old lawyer worked, 
 with his hands behind him, like a boy before 
 the Euclid board, on his road through the 
 park. Before he came in sight of * The 
 Corner ' he exclaimed with triumph, ' I've 
 got it ! Eoscoe must have done, or be intend- 
 ing to do, something he is very much ashamed 
 of and afraid of being found out. The more 
 eyes that are watching him under the same 
 roof the greater is his danger of discovery ; 
 and he wanted to get rid of at least a pair of 
 them. Yes, I feel sure that must be it.' 
 
 And the lawyer nodded to himself and 
 pulled up his ample and old-fashioned shirt- 
 collar, as was his habit when he had succeeded 
 in any obscure calculation ; he thought he 
 had hit the right nail on the head.
 
 285 
 
 CHAPTEE XVn 
 
 ELM PLACE 
 
 It is only of late years that the beauties of 
 the Thames have come to be appreciated even 
 by Londoners ; I can myself remember 
 the time when that lovely reach between 
 Maidenhead and Cookham was almost un- 
 visited except by local admirers, and when an 
 Eton eight-oar, rare as a whale that strays up 
 from the sea to some river-mouth, used to 
 create quite an excitement. 
 
 The Sunday flotillas, to which illiberal 
 shepherds give the grosser name of Pande- 
 monium, were utterly unknown, and no one 
 who Kved on the banks and had a lawn 
 stretching down to the river dreamt that it 
 could one day be his Pactolus. Even to the
 
 286 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Americans, who are so quick to discover any- 
 thing that is worth seeing in England, the 
 Thames was at that time only associated with 
 Windsor. Now all that is changed, and he who 
 visits England for the sake of the picturesque 
 and does not float down — the best way is on 
 a pleasure barge — from Oxford to Eichmond 
 has missed his aim. What is quite peculiar 
 to the Thames, and a very great convenience 
 to people of taste who have also plenty of 
 cash at their banker's, is, that there is 
 scarcely a house on it that cannot be got 
 during the summer months for money. The 
 vicar lets his modest house and garden for 
 that period for a rent that far surpasses his 
 annual stipend; the landed gentleman in 
 these bad times lets his riparian mansion at a 
 price that compensates him for the humiha- 
 tion ; the widow parts temporarily with her 
 modest cottage, and with the proceeds of 
 the transaction makes that tour on the Con- 
 tinent she has so long promised her daughters.
 
 ELM PLACE 287 
 
 but which, had not her house been on the 
 Thames, her poverty must have denied to them. 
 For from twenty-five to fifty guineas a week 
 the wealthy cit for three months of the year 
 can now secure a paradise, which, at the 
 conclusion of his term, he gives up with a 
 sigh to its proprietor, who takes it also with 
 a sigh, for he knows that his orange has been 
 squeezed, and floods and frogs will be his 
 portion for the winter. While it lasts, how- 
 ever, there is no heaven on earth to be com- 
 pared with the Thames heaven. 
 
 In the case of the Tremenhere family with 
 their immense income, it was merely a 
 question of which river palace to choose ; 
 it is my belief that they could have had any 
 one of them, excepting Windsor Castle, which 
 has never yet been advertised, nor even, so 
 far as I know, been disposed of for the 
 summer months by private contract. It was 
 late in the year, and the house agents shook 
 their heads, but nodded them cheerfully
 
 288 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 when the Tremenhere purse was shaking 
 before their eyes. If money was really no 
 object, no doubt the matter could be arranged 
 for the ladies, even if some tenant had to be 
 bribed to give up his bargain. 
 
 Mr. Eoscoe, of course, conducted the 
 negotiations ; he felt himself like a Monte 
 Cristo, though only by deputy, and im- 
 mensely enjoyed the experience. This gentle- 
 man, like his deceased partner, believed with 
 all his heart and soul in money ; the posses- 
 sion of it afforded him an exquisite pleasure, 
 dashed only by the reflection that there was 
 not more of it. There, however, the simi- 
 larity ended. In Josh's character the desire 
 of acquisition never overmastered prudence ; 
 Gain with him had been a good dog, but 
 Holdfast was a better. 
 
 Edward Eoscoe never touched a card nor 
 made a bet, and had a very wholesome con- 
 tempt for those who dissipated their fortunes 
 in such follies ; but he was a born gambler.
 
 ELM PLACE 289 
 
 The Stock Exchange for him supplied the place 
 of the roulette- table and the race-course ; and 
 his ventures, compared with his means, were 
 very large. Of this his employer had by some 
 means become aware, and, as we know, had 
 taxed him with it. It was a reason which, 
 even if he had believed him to be an honest 
 man, would have always prevented him from 
 leaving his subaltern in any position of trust 
 as regarded his own fortune ; and the know- 
 ledge of this fact made Mr. Eoscoe as bitter 
 against him as the conditions of the will 
 itself. 
 
 When he had selected such summer palaces 
 as he thought most suitable — the family only 
 wanted one for six weeks or so, which, of 
 course, greatly added to its cost — he prepared 
 to take the ladies down to make their choice. 
 The expedition promised to be a somewhat 
 exhausting one, and Agnes volunteered to 
 take this trouble off her sisters' hands. Grace 
 was well content that it should be so ; but 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Philippa objected to the arrangement, and 
 showed an unwonted decision in opposing it. 
 The conflict of opinion between them was 
 sharper than the occasion seemed to warrant. 
 PhiHppa even lost her temper, and ' said things.' 
 One of them was that Agnes was not yet 
 old enough to go roving about the country- 
 alone with a male friend. This remark, 
 though complimentary to a certain limited 
 extent, was not taken in good part. Some 
 very bitter words passed between the two 
 sisters. 
 
 ' Mr. Eoscoe shall decide for us,' at last 
 exclaimed Agnes. 
 
 ' What ! Do you mean to say that you 
 still wish to accompany him alone, notwith- 
 standing what I have said about its impro- 
 priety ? ' inquired Phihppa. ' How shame- 
 less ! ' 
 
 ' I shall do what Mr. Eoscoe thinks right,' 
 answered Agnes, with white face and lips that 
 quivered with suppressed passion.
 
 ELM PLACE 291 
 
 It would have been a pretty quarrel in one 
 sense, though anything but pretty in another, 
 had not the bone of contention, Mr. Eoscoe 
 himself, happened to come in, which of course 
 prevented the subject being pursued on exactly 
 the same lines. They could hardly discuss 
 the delicate question of ' propriety ' in his 
 presence ; but each expressed her views with 
 warmth. Between Goneril and Eegan this 
 Edmond had a difficult role to play, but he 
 played it to perfection. However angry they 
 were with one another, he so contrived it that 
 the arrows of their wrath were never aimed 
 in his direction. Now, as they each looked 
 at him as to their own counsel for his advocacy 
 in their favour, it seemed impossible but that 
 he should make one or other of them his 
 enemy. Yet it was not so ; the office he 
 undertook at once was that of judge. He 
 had favouring eyes for both, though to the 
 close observer there was a difference in the 
 favour. His kindliest words were directed to 
 
 172
 
 292 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 Agnes, his most conciliatory looks were given 
 to Philippa. 
 
 ' The question is of small importance, my 
 dear ladies, as it seems to me,' he cheerfully 
 observed, ' and there is no need to make a 
 fuss about it. I thought myself, Philippa, 
 as your sister had the management of all 
 domestic matters, that she would be the 
 properest person to make choice of your new 
 home ; and I confess I do not understand, 
 Agnes, why you, who are always so kind as 
 well as sensible, should have any objection 
 to Philippa's accompanying us ; but, on the 
 other hand, the doing so would leave Grace 
 at home alone, which it would hardly be a 
 nice thing to do. Under the circumstances, I 
 must ask you both to leave the matter in my 
 hands. The houses I have selected have all 
 their good points, so that no great mistake 
 can be made in any case, and I will go down 
 by myself and choose the best of them/ 
 
 His tone was gentle but firm ; it had a
 
 ELM PLACE 293 
 
 sort of paternal authority in it from which it 
 seemed there was no appeal, for nothing more 
 was said on the subject. There was a look of 
 patient endurance in his face, which each of 
 the ladies flattered themselves had been pro- 
 duced by her antagonist. 
 
 ' How tiresome the dear fellow must find 
 Philippa ! ' thought one to herself. ' In what 
 false positions Agnes is always trying to place 
 him ! ' thought the other. 
 
 The next week they all went down to the 
 river. The family circle had an addition in 
 the person of a little black-and-white fox- 
 terrier, Mr. AUerton's promised present to 
 Grace. He was not beautiful (from a dog- 
 fancier's point of view), but accomplished ; 
 that is to say, full of tricks. He tore every- 
 thing to pieces that he did not swallow, with 
 frantic enjoyment; and with excellent taste 
 preferred a lady's lap to the basket and cushion 
 that had been provided for him. Whoever 
 was sitting down had to accommodate him ;
 
 294 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 but, once installed, he was not troublesome so 
 long as he was allowed to absorb some article 
 of her attire ; if he had a preference it was 
 for Brussels lace, of which Philippa, who 
 w^s now always meditative and self-involved, 
 missed some yards on his first day. Notwith- 
 standing this he soon became a great favourite 
 with the sisters, but especially with his mis- 
 tress. He was affectionate and full of caresses 
 for them all ; but he had his dislikes, and one 
 of them was for Mr. Eoscoe. Sometimes he 
 would get into a sort of hysterical frenzy at 
 his presence, and bark at him as if he would 
 bark his heart out ; but he generally contented 
 himself with a pitiful whine that seemed to 
 say, ' How can you, can you, ladies, allow this 
 person to hang about your drawing-room, 
 when you know how I hate him ! ' It is 
 probable the antagonism was reciprocated, 
 but Mr. Eoscoe had his feelings more under 
 control. 
 
 Elm Place was somewhat higher up the
 
 ELM PLACE 295 
 
 river than its most beautiful reach (for some 
 reason or other Chefden had not been pro- 
 curable) ; but it was a very fine house, and 
 commanded an excellent view. It had a 
 beautiful lawn sloping down to the stream, 
 and an old walled garden at the back, in 
 which Queen Anne had walked, and on certain 
 occasions (though always at night) was even 
 said to ' walk ' now. Behind rose great 
 woods, with paths cunningly contrived so that 
 here and there the noble landscape, with the 
 windings of the tranquil river, was made to 
 form a picture set in a leafy frame. This was 
 Grace's favourite retreat ; while her sisters 
 lounged upon the lawn and feasted their eyes 
 upon the ceaseless procession of boats and 
 pleasure-barges, she would, with Hip — ' the 
 off-and-on companion of her walk ' — climb the 
 full-foliaged hill, and gaze her fill upon less 
 busy scenes mellowed by distance. She had 
 plenty to think of, and more to dream about. 
 Thanks to Mr. Allerton, she was secretly
 
 296 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 doing a great deal of good, though, as it were, 
 by leverage ; sometimes she wished that she 
 could do it with her own hands. For the 
 first time, the riddle of the painful earth 
 presented itself to her for reflection ; the 
 unequal distribution of wealth, and her own 
 undeserved freedom from the cares and pains 
 of poverty, disturbed her unsophisticated 
 mind. No doubt she was in error, since her 
 father had not been troubled by it ; but then 
 he had had larger views, and found the 
 opportunities for benevolence on a great 
 scale. Her sisters no longer pained her by 
 any reference to him ; but their very silence 
 on the subject distressed her. However his 
 wealth had benefited others while in his 
 hands, it seemed to give little pleasure to 
 those who had inherited it ; she felt that it 
 was somehow the cause of that estrangement 
 between Agnes and Philippa which daily grew 
 more marked. She knew not how to make 
 peace between them ; she only vaguely under-
 
 ELM PLACE 2()y 
 
 stood that they were jealous of one another ; 
 and any interference on her part, bemg so 
 much the younger, she felt would be resented. 
 It was a relief to her when her reflections 
 were broken in upon by some piteous and 
 smothered howls from her little companion, 
 whom half a dozen times a day she had to 
 pidl out by his tail from a rabbit-hole into 
 which the excitement of the chase had 
 carried him further than he had intended. 
 It might have been written with justice upon 
 Eip's grave that ' He never, never caught a 
 rabbit,' but he tried to catch one many times. 
 The ' motive,' however, upon which the 
 divines very properly lay such stress, let 
 us hope, was sufficiently punished on each 
 occasion by his being so nearly buried alive. 
 
 One morning Mr. Eoscoe, who was lodging 
 at Milton, a village nearly opposite Elm Elace, 
 much frequented by boating-men, brought 
 over with him a visitor, Lord Cheribert. The 
 two elder sisters were, as usual, on the lawn.
 
 298 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 and gave him an eager welcome. He was not 
 unknown to them, as we are aware, but they 
 had probably never expected to see him 
 again. They were much better informed than 
 Grace of the nature of the relations that had 
 existed between their father and the aris- 
 tocracy, and were very pleased to be thus 
 taken notice of. They had seen scarcely 
 anyone since their bereavement, and even an 
 ordinary morning caller would have been 
 welcomed with rapture — a lord was, of course, 
 a godsend. 
 
 The young fellow addressed a few words 
 of sympathy to them, in suitable tones, but 
 soon observed, much to his relief, that their 
 woe had been already relegated to what the 
 mourning establishments call ' the mitigated 
 grief department,' and it did not seem to him 
 surprising. It was impossible, he thought in 
 his artless way, that anybody should really 
 be in the doldrums who had come into such 
 a ' pot of money.' Josh's will had not yet
 
 ELM PLACE 'i(^c) 
 
 been published, but the fact of his finding 
 them where they were was proof that his 
 ' Kttle leavings ' (as his lordship spoke of 
 them, just as his nautical friends called 
 London ' the village ') had taken a natural 
 direction. 
 
 ' We did not know you were a boating man, 
 Lord Cheribert,' said Agnes graciously, with 
 a glance at his aquatic costume. 
 
 ' Nor am I,' he replied, with a slight blush 
 (by no means caused, however, by this refer- 
 ence to his airy garb) ; ' I am much better at 
 steering than pulling ; but the fact is, I had 
 some business with Mr. Eoscoe (he would 
 never call him ' Eoscoe,' which annoyed that 
 gentleman excessively), and, finding him down 
 at Milton, I could not resist the temptation of 
 looking in upon you. I hope Miss Grace is 
 well.' 
 
 He had been looking round for her with 
 some impatience, which both the sisters set 
 down to its true cause, yet, strangely enough,
 
 300 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 without the least feehng of jealousy. It 
 might have been thought by some that this 
 angelic state of affairs resulted from the 
 peculiar conditions of their father's will, 
 which made it to their advantage that Grace 
 should find a wooer ; but, to do them justice, it 
 was not so. They did not covet Lord Cheri- 
 bert except as a very eligible acquaintance, 
 and they thought it only natural that the 
 youth and beauty of their sister should have 
 made an impression on him. They had no 
 desire to be enriched at her expense, which 
 would, after all, be only an increase to their 
 incomes, concerning which they had nothing 
 to complain of. If Lord Cheribert's visit 
 had any serious intention as regarded Grace, 
 it would make little difference to her, since 
 they knew he was heir to a vast estate, 
 whether she had her money or not ; while to 
 have a brother-in-law who would one day be 
 a peer of the realm was an idea little short of 
 rapturous.
 
 ELM PLACE 301 
 
 ' As to Grace,' said Agnes, smiling, ' you 
 will probably have the opportunity of judg- 
 ing of the state of her health. Lord Cheribert, 
 with your own eyes, for here comes her avant- 
 courrier. Where is your mistress, Eip ? ' 
 
 Eip was tearing down from the house 
 to them as usual at full speed ; he whirled 
 round the ladies like a dancing dervish, 
 snatched at the hem of Mr. Eoscoe's trousers 
 with an angry bark, and then leapt into Lord 
 Cheribert's lap as he sat in the garden chair, 
 and ensconced himself on his soft flannels as 
 though he had taken a lease of them for the 
 summer months. 
 
 ' What a dear dog ! ' exclaimed his lord- 
 ship, in acknowledgment of this friendly con- 
 duct. 
 
 ' You may well say that,' said Philippa ; 
 ' we calculate that he has cost us about fifty 
 pounds already in breakages and depreda- 
 tions, and we have only had him a month.' 
 
 ' Can he swim ? ' inquired Lord Cheribert,
 
 302 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 without thinking of what he was saying ; for 
 his thoughts, hke his eyes, were fixed on a 
 figure that now made its appearance at the 
 open drawing-room window. 
 
 ' I am sorry to say he can,' said Mr. 
 Eoscoe gloomily. ' He is not charming, to 
 my mind, but he bears a charmed life.' 
 
 ' How can you talk so cruelly ! ' said 
 Philippa reproachfully, and Agnes made a 
 blow at the hard-hearted speaker with her 
 parasol which would have scarcely injured a 
 s^nat. 
 
 ' I am torn by contending emotions, Miss 
 Grace ! ' exclaimed the young lord, smiling. 
 * I want to rise to do you honour, but I am 
 afraid of disturbing your little favourite.' 
 
 ' Pray keep your seat, Lord Cheribert.' 
 
 Her tone was gracious as she held out 
 her hand to him, but very grave. She was 
 thinking of the last and only time she had 
 seen him, when he had been introduced to 
 her by her father. She wore, of course, the
 
 ELM PLACE 303 
 
 same deep mourning as her sisters, but, as it 
 seemed to the visitor, with a difference. It is 
 not the trappings and the suits of woe that 
 make us sad to look upon, but the heart that 
 mourns within us ; yet to his eye the girl 
 appeared more beautiful in^ her sorrow 
 than she had in her joy upon her birthday 
 fete. 
 
 ' I should not have called so soon,' he 
 murmured apologetically, 'but that I found 
 myself so near your house/ 
 
 ' We are glad to see you. I have heard 
 of your kind inquiries about us from Mr. 
 AUerton — they touched me very much,' she 
 added softly, and with a break in her voice. 
 
 ' I should have been very ungrateful if I 
 
 had forgotten ' Here he stopped ; he 
 
 had been about to say ' what I owed to your 
 father,' but he suddenly recollected that the 
 phrase was open to a double meaning. It 
 was not possible that what one owed to him 
 could be forgotten, since ' Josh ' had taken
 
 304 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 great care to have it put down in black and 
 white. The young man's unfinished sentence, 
 however, was undesignedly perfect, and she 
 thanked him for it with her eyes. 
 
 ' We must think it a great compliment 
 that Lord Cheribert looked in upon us,' 
 explained Agnes, ' since he is not a devotee 
 to aquatics, he tells us, though he wears the 
 garb of one.' 
 
 'I am glad to be doing so, since Miss 
 Grace's little dog seems so partial to flannels,' 
 said the young fellow. 
 
 It was rather an indirect method of pleas- 
 ing Eip's mistress ; but Agnes was too satisfied 
 with the motive to question the speech. To 
 find a lord so civil to them was in itself a joy. 
 The speaker himself, on the other hand, was 
 uneasily conscious of having said something 
 ridiculous, and, as is usual in such cases, blun- 
 dered on. 
 
 ' At least, if it isn't the flannels, I can't 
 think how I have so soon ingratiated myself
 
 ELM PLACE 305 
 
 into his affections. Perhaps our characters 
 are sympathetic. What is the little doggie's 
 name ? ' 
 
 ' Eip ! ' exclaimed Mr. Eoscoe with unmis- 
 takable significance. 
 
 Lord Cheribert laughed aloud, but the 
 colour rushed into his face. The two elder 
 ladies kept their eyes riveted on the ground, 
 in silence ; but Grace, unconscious of the un- 
 fortunate coincidence, came to the rescue. 
 
 ' Rip is a very affectionate, well-meaning 
 dog,' she said, ' notwithstanding his bad name 
 and naughty ways.' 
 
 The young lord, who was not without a 
 sense of humour, removed his cap in acknow- 
 ledgment of the unintended compliment, and 
 the rest of the party relieved their feelings 
 by a ripple of laughter. 
 
 ' I really don't see ' began Grace, 
 
 blushing to her forehead. 
 
 ' Then I beg nobody to open your eyes,' 
 interrupted the young man fervently. ' Your 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3o6 THE BURNT MILLION 
 
 sisters and Mr. Eoscoe are bent upon blacken- 
 ing my character, Miss Grace. It is as pure 
 as the snow — after it has fallen a day or two/ 
 and he joined heartily in the mirth of the 
 others. 
 
 There is nothing that puts people on such 
 easy terms with one another as a joke at the 
 expense of one of them good-humouredly 
 enjoyed ; and Lord Cheribert — who was very 
 easily put at his ease — found himself quite at 
 home. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BT 
 
 SPOTTISWOODB AND CO., NEW-STHEET SQCABE 
 
 LONDON
 
 //