The three had up to this point been standing; but Sir Eustace, motioning to Bloodworth to be seated, beckoned Dr. Cruden to stand before them; then, placing a pen in the steward's hand, he guided it with his own, and wrote in large letters on a piece of blank paper that lay on the table, 'Eustace De la Mark,' the steward passively submitting to the movement.
'Whose signature?' he asked, fixing his eyes on Bloodworth. The steward trembled violently, and was about to rise, but Sir Eustace held his arm. 'Shall we make another will and let Sir Valary sign it? A pen in a dead man's hand has been found a pliant writer before now.'
There was no answer, for the culprit could not trust his voice; but an exclamation of horror and surprise burst from the doctor.
'It was so,' said Sir Eustace; 'I have the confession in full of the woman Higgs, dictated on her deathbed, and taken down and witnessed by the clergyman and surgeon who attended her—a strange device for quieting conscience and cloaking perjury. Your partner in crime, every way less guilty than yourself, saw through the flimsy cheat, and heartily repented.'
'I never heard of such shocking wickedness!' said the doctor, holding up his hands; 'oh dear, dear—no wonder my poor friend—oh, horrible!' he said, turning his back on Bloodworth. The scornful sneer with which the steward noticed this movement quickly gave way to an assumption of boldness.
'I don't know you,' he said fiercely. 'I am not to be brow-beaten for a crazy woman's ravings—got out of her, perhaps, by some impostor to get money out of Sir Valary while he was alive, or out of the son of him that was disinherited; but the will was proved and never questioned. Let me pass, I say,' he said, trying to get towards the door; 'I have much to do. Mr. Brimble is executor to Sir Valary, and I will account to him.'
'The business is in the hands of the law,' said Sir Eustace, 'as you will shortly be. You will have more help in preparing your papers than you desire.'
'You can't search my house, you have no warrant. Oh, let me go—I promise—yes, only let me go—I will indeed'—
'Confess?' asked Sir Eustace. 'It is needless.'
'No, no, explain it, and—and'—
'Give up the will. That may as well be taken from its hiding-place; the law employs expert seekers.'
'Fool that I have been!' cried the steward, who now saw his true position—that he was without hope of escape.
'It is well that you know that,' said Sir Eustace; 'there is hope that you may seek for wisdom.'
But the steward rocked to and fro in his chair, his violent passions venting themselves in choking imprecations on his own folly.
Hoping little from him in this state, Sir Eustace beckoned the doctor to the door, intending to leave him awhile; but the paroxysm had passed, and, starting up, he looked fixedly on Sir Eustace.
'Tell me one thing,' he said; 'are you employed by the son of the last Sir Eustace?' Sir Eustace nodded assent. 'Then if I were to disclose the truth of everything'—
'Needless—itisdisclosed; have I not told it but now?'
'Ay! but how it came about, and—and'—
'My dear Sir Eustace,' said the doctor, who thought his companion looked inflexible, and who was extremely and anxiously curious to know the particulars of the wonderful story, 'let him speak; let him tell it all. I long to have my poor dear friend's memory cleared. I'm sure he never could have known of such unnatural wickedness.'
Nothing of this speech came to the ears of Bloodworth but the title of him who was addressed. He looked fixedly at him, and then, falling on his knees, entreated pardon, repeatedly promising to reveal all.
Tenderness for Sir Valary's memory, and the feelings of his cousin Marjory, who had not shown any sign of recovery from the shock of his death, with a natural desire to spare the honour of his name, made Sir Eustace willing to pass with as little notoriety as possible through the strange revelations that must be made in order to put him in possession of his rights. He saw the importance of having Bloodworth's free and unconstrained testimony in order to obtain this, and conditionally promised his pardon.
The long story that followed must be told in few words. The second will was executed and signed after death, as described, by Bloodworth's contrivance, in order that Sir Valary might succeed to the whole property. His motive was to open to himself a source of wealth otherwise unattainable. For some time after Sir Valary's succession he kept the dead signature an entire secret; when all things were well established and going smoothly, and a daughter was born, in whom, after the death of his wife, all his affections were centred, pretending to be pricked by conscience, he revealed it. Sir Valary's first impulse was to seek out his brother's heir and make restoration, but the steward artfully represented that the reported death of the young man must be true, or he would have sought refuge in England when left alone; again, the portionless state of his infant daughter was adroitly brought before him, and in a moment of weakness he relented, and promised to conceal the strange forgery.
This placed him wholly in Bloodworth's power. At one time he would work on his gratitude, declaring it was love for him that led him to the deed; at another, talk of conscience, and hint at the need of a public confession, wringing from him some costly gift, either to repay his service or to calm his conscience. The death of the widow Higgs, who, while she lived, was a terror to him, lest she should turn betrayer, was a great relief to Sir Valary, and to rob him of this Bloodworth had thrown doubt on its truth. The malady from which he suffered was greatly aggravated by the conflicts of his mind, which became clouded and weakened by the ravages of the disease. The steward had already obtained large sums of money, which he had invested in foreign property, to avoid suspicion, and it was his hope that morning to obtain the assignment of a valuable deposit, in return for which he intended to give up the original will to his master, over whom he had long held it as a scorpion whip, and quit with his then sufficient gains a place that would soon be stripped of its attraction; for with Sir Valary he knew would die his hope of further fortune. The true will established, and Sir Eustace De la Mark acknowledged as the rightful possessor of Parker's Dew, his rule must be considered as of the past.
Sir Valary's funeral was, according to an urgent request in his will, private; and to this will, which was attested by Shady Higgs and Mrs. Gillies, was appended a desire in his own hand that his tenants, if any had suffered wrong, should be righted; that they should be made to understand, in common with all, that his rigid economy had been occasioned by a desire to realize an honourable portion for his daughter, after such sums as had been expended by him out of the property had been repaid to his brother's son, whenever he should appear.
'This,' it concluded with saying, 'being the only way left me to repair a great wrong done, and to blot out the disgrace that I have unwittingly brought on the name of De la Mark.'
All the injustice the tenants had suffered, all extortions, were with one consent laid to Bloodworth's door, and Sir Valary was heartily forgiven by all, from his nephew downwards. Great was the rejoicing that welcomed Sir Eustace. Once more the 'Dew' would be what the old inhabitants of the place remembered it. Nay, it promised to surpass its former grandeur; for, simple and unostentatious as Sir Eustace was in his personal habits and tastes, he spared nothing in restoring the home of his ancestors. It was the delight of the squire to look over his plans, suggest improvements, and extol those already made. It seemed as if he had indeed found a son in Sir Eustace, who was able to interest him in all things; such subjects, even, as Charity seldom dared to enter on, came with acceptance from him.
'What shall we do when the Dew is finished?' said the squire to the ladies, as he looked at the drawing-room timepiece; 'already, you see, we lose him day after day; he promised faithfully to be here by seven.'
'Then he will be here,' said Mrs. Brimble, confidently; and scarcely had she said so when he entered. Most heartily was he greeted.
'Where's Char?' said the squire, looking round; 'she was here just now. I want her to see the plan of the new windows in Sir Mark's Tower. Eu has brought them to-night.'
'She will, I think,' said Mrs. Brimble, 'spend the evening with poor Marjory, whom we cannot prevail on to leave her room.'
'She seems to me to be always chosen,' said the squire, in a tone of displeasure, as he glanced at Flora.
'Yes, papa dear, she is,' said Flora; 'that's just it. Marjory likes me very well for five minutes, but at the end of that time I'm quite sure she neither sees nor hears me, though she is looking straight at me, and I am talking as fast as I can. I'm sure I can't think how Charity manages it—she can amuse her a whole evening.'
'It is not fair,' said the squire, 'that we should always lose Char in this way. Couldn't you brush up a few subjects, Flo?'
'Why, papa, there are so many interdicted, and they happen to be the very ones that come most naturally—the improvements at the Dew, and the way you tease mamma about cousin "Jobson." Of course one must not say anything about these, for fear of hurting her feelings, and reminding her; and music makes her melancholy. I'll go now with pleasure,' she said, rising, 'and send Char down; but—but—she'll go to sleep, and so shall I.'
Mrs. Brimble interposed. 'Charity had earnestly begged to spend the evening with her; and indeed,' she said, 'strange as it may seem, though Charity is so serious, she has a wonderful way of making everybody lively.'
'That is the reason we want her here,' said the squire.
While Flora Brimble was apparently never so happy as in the society of her cousin, whom, like her father, she found a great addition to their family party, Charity was restrained in her manner towards him, and seemed tacitly to avoid even speaking of him, availing herself of the plea of Marjory's preference for her company to quit the family circle when he was there.
'Well, Dr. Cruden,' said Mrs. Brimble, 'what is your opinion of the improvements going on at the Dew? Mr. Brimble will not take us till all is complete.'
'The place will be charming, and so transformed that poor Marjory will not know it. Sir Eustace has an excellent taste, has he not, squire?'
'He's excellent every way, except that he has a sort of Saunders look sometimes, Mary thinks.'
'We are none of us infallible, Mr. Brimble; and, so exposed to mistakes as we have been by your imprudence, it was necessary I should be cautious.'
'Quite,' said the squire, who was watching with his eyeglass through a side window something that attracted him, and he immediately left the room.
'I think Eustace will be a valuable person in that position, doctor,' continued the lady, looking up from her work-frame, on which she was embroidering the arms of De la Mark for a chair for her nephew.
'I feel sure of it,' said the doctor.
'We shall miss him very much when he settles at the Dew. I hope he will marry well.'
'I don't know any one better able to choose a good wife, madam, and he is worthy of the best; therefore his marriage will doubtless give satisfaction.'
'I daresay, like all young men in his position, he has been married to more young ladies than one by the country gossips.'
'Not unlikely,' said the doctor.
'I have not heard any reports,' said Mrs. Brimble; 'but of course people would be delicate in speaking to me.'
'Oh yes, very properly so,' said the doctor, not in the least divining the lady's tactics.
'I suppose,' said Mrs. Brimble carelessly, looking very intently on some shades of wool, as if her whole heart were fixed upon making a right choice, 'you have never heard anything hinted, doctor?'
'I cannot say I have not. My sister, in her numerous visits, falls in with such reports, and she has told me of several; but I think none likely, though, indeed, one lady that I am not at liberty to name would shine in married life.'
Mrs. Brimble got quite out of sorts with her wools, and had to tumble her basket over for some time before she was calm enough to ask the doctor for the lady's name, which of course she did not wish to know from idle curiosity, but out of pure disinterested affection for her dear nephew.
'I hope I am not doing wrong,' said the doctor, 'in mentioning the Honourable Amelia Groves.'
'Oh, you need not fear my mentioning it,' said Mrs. Brimble quickly; 'but that will never come to anything. I know the kind of girl he ought to marry—some one with spirit, lively and amusing, and if I know anything of Eustace, his choice is nearly made, if not quite.'
'Oh,' said the doctor, 'I am sure you ought to tell me.'
'If you have not had a guess that way yourself, doctor, I would rather not.'
The doctor looked up at the ceiling, crossed and uncrossed his legs, leant his head upon his hand, rubbed his forehead, and went through all the various manoeuvres which imply deep thought, finishing the process by guessing one of the Miss Punters.
'I am a bad hand at guessing,' he said, finding that Miss Punter was not well received. 'At one time I thought it not unlikely that poor little Marjory would be his choice, but I think now he never felt anything for her but deep pity; and as to her, poor girl, her heart is buried with her father, whom I fear she will shortly follow.'
'I thought people never died of grief, doctor.'
'Grief is a strong consumer, madam; but Marjory inherits from her mother that terrible disease that laid her in an untimely grave.'
The squire, re-entering, turned the conversation. 'Eu tells me that he must return to-night, and that you go with him, and he wants me to go too; he says he has capital quarters there, so I think of sending one of the fellows on with some dogs—eh, Mary? only for a day or so, you know.'
Flora came into the room just in time to hear the announcement, and protested loudly against it, denouncing her cousin Eu in no very measured terms for his unreasonable proposal.
'You little vixen!' said the squire; 'isn't it enough for your mother to sit there harrowing my heart with her looks, but I must stand your tongue too? How would it be if we all went?'
'Oh, lovely!' said Flora; 'how I should like it!'
'Highly incorrect,' said Mrs. Brimble.
'My dear Mary, if you would be so very correct, you must abide by being uncomfortable. Let us share the honours; you shall be correct, and Flo and I will be comfortable. Flo, we'll go—we'll have rooms at the De la Mark Arms, and we can rough it there for a night.'
The horror of Mrs. Brimble at such a proposal was too much for the squire, and, taking the doctor's arm, with a mischievous laugh he left the room.
'I'm sure papa has got something in his head,' said Flora; 'see how he's talking, too, in the garden with Dr. Cruden; he is so delighted! What can it be?'
While Flora and her mother were watching and wondering, Charity was learning the secret that so perplexed them. She had been reading to Marjory, and a gentle tap at the door introduced, to her great surprise, her cousin Eustace. He so strongly recalled Marjory's most painful feelings that it was sometimes beyond her strength to be long in his society. To-day she felt weaker than usual, and left the room soon after he entered it.
An awkward silence ensued, then a few remarks as to her state. At length Eustace, breaking through the restraint, said, 'Cousin Charity, I fear I have driven Marjory away, and yet I cannot regret it; indeed, my purpose was to see you; yes, and to see you alone—a privilege I have sometimes thought you studiously avoided giving me. I wanted to ask you one question. Is the kind feeling with which you regarded me when I was poor Jobson quite gone?'
Charity was silent; but a glance at her satisfied Eustace that he had nothing to fear.
About half an hour afterwards Eustace joined his uncle, telling him that he had received Charity's consent, for which he had asked permission to plead, and that there was now no necessity to punish him with a secret.
The squire shook him warmly by the hand, and lost no time in taking advantage of his liberty.
'Who's ready for Parker's Dew?' said the squire, entering the drawing-room. 'Now is your time to see it, for I have just heard a grand secret—there is going to be a wedding.'
'Oh, I am so glad!' said Flora. 'Who is it?'
'Well, that is very good-natured,' said the squire, 'considering you have nothing to do with it; and yet we are all deeply interested in it. Now guess who it is. I am sure it's worth a guess.'
'Oh, it's cousin Eu, of course,' said Flora.
'Ay, but the lady, Flo, the lady'—
Mrs. Brimble looked up nervously.
'Miss Punter,' and 'the Honourable Amelia Groves,' died upon her lips.
'What! give it up without a guess?' said the squire, looking at them both.
'I know whom he ought to have married,' said Flora, with a little toss of her head.
'You?' said the squire.
'Me!' said Flora; 'he would have despised me before a month was up, as Marjory does in five minutes. Oh, no, he is beyond me, besides being too old.'
After a little more teasing, in which the squire did not spare Mrs. Brimble's penetration, the secret was out; and a day of much rejoicing it was at Brimble Hall.
It was arranged that, on the marriage taking place, Marjory should occupy rooms fitted up for her at Parker's Dew, as her own independent home; but she did not live to see their completion.
'By the grace of God, you know, Shady,' said Sir Eustace, when fairly settled, 'as you once interpreted to me, we have all things;' and constantly had Shady proof that his master knew this. As home steward and librarian, he reigned supremely happy in his paradise, but never so happy as when labouring under Sir Eustace's direction for the improvement of the poor around.
Mrs. Gillies was now truly the housekeeper of Parker's Dew, with a goodly retinue of underlings.
Squire Brimble, as years advanced and the influence of his son-in-law increased, lost the dark clouds that had at times obscured his sunshine, and enjoyed a far more solid happiness than he had known in the most joyous days of his youth.
THE END.
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