Kitabı oku: «Roger Kyffin's Ward», sayfa 11
“No one must venture to cut down timber on this property without the leave of my nephew, the captain,” said Madam Everard, drawing herself up.
“Well, that’s as may be, Ann,” answered Mr Sleech, with a forced laugh. “He who has the right to the property will have the right to cut down the trees, or law’s not law. However, that’s neither here nor there. What I want to know, Ann, is when you and Mabel will be ready to pack up bag and baggage and turn out. There’s that bow-windowed house in the town, half-way up the street, which would just suit you two spinster ladies, and the fact is that my daughters and my sons and I have rather a fancy to come and take up our quarters here. We have been kept out of the place a pretty long number of years, and you see, in my opinion, it’s time we had our rights.”
“When our legal adviser considers that we have no longer a right to remain in this house, Mabel and I will immediately leave it,” answered the old lady, with dignity. “I am sure such would be Captain Everard’s wish. In the meantime, I must request, Mr Sleech, that you and your son will bring this interview to a conclusion. As relatives I would have made you welcome; but I cannot feel that you are justified in thus coming to insult my niece and me. I must therefore request that you will take your departure.”
“As you like, Ann, as you like,” exclaimed Mr Sleech, swinging about his hat, which he had lifted from the ground. “It won’t be for long, I can tell you; we shall soon be back again, I have an idea.”
Silas endeavoured to shake hands with Mabel with a smile which he intended to be insinuating, but she indignantly turned from him.
“Oh, oh, proud as ever,” he muttered, as he followed his father out of the room, at the door of which Paul was standing sentry. He had seen them returning to the house, and it would have fared ill with either of them had they ventured to proceed much further in their insulting remarks to the ladies. Not a muscle of his countenance moved as he opened the hall-door; but his eyes glared down upon them with an expression which made even Silas wince and keep close behind his father’s heels.
“Well, that old fellow’s the essence of glumness,” observed Silas, as they got beyond hearing.
“She threatened me, she did,” muttered his father, between his teeth, not attending to what Silas had said. “But we will be even with them, or my name’s not Tony Sleech.”
Lynderton was at that time a place of fashionable resort during the summer season. People came down there to enjoy the sea breezes and the bathing in salt water, to listen to the band of the foreign legion, and to enjoy the pleasant society which was to be found in the town and its neighbourhood. During the lifetime of his sister, Lady Tryon, Mr Coppinger had declined going there; but he now acceded to the urgent entreaties of his daughters, and had taken a house for them, at which they had arrived. He himself, however, could only occasionally get down. One of the very few visitors admitted at Stanmore was the young Baron de Ruvigny. He also had soon become acquainted with the Miss Coppingers, and from the account he gave of them, as well as from the way Harry had before spoken of his cousins, Mabel more than ever was anxious to see them. Indeed, she consulted with her aunt whether she might not with propriety call upon them. The matter was discussed several times; but Madam Everard could not yet bring herself to see strangers.
“They are charming young ladies,” said the young baron, “so full of life and spirits, and so sweet and gentle; so refined in manners, so lovely in appearance.”
“What! are the six sisters all charming?” asked Mabel, innocently.
The young baron hesitated, blushed, confessed that one in particular was even more than he had described – a lovely pearl. Her name Sybella – what a sweet name. Her voice, too – she sang exquisitely.
“I have heard of her,” said Mabel, at length, “from her cousin Harry. He described her as a very interesting girl, so pray tell them, baron, that I hope soon to make their acquaintance.”
This was said before the visit of the Mr Sleeches to Stanmore, which has just been described.
The Miss Coppingers thought Lynderton a most delightful place, and were not at all surprised that Harry had praised it so much to them; their only sorrow was that he was not there. Their father, with kind consideration, had not told them that he had strong grounds for suspecting Harry’s honesty, nor had he given any reason for his absence. All he had said was that Harry had suddenly left the counting-house and had not returned, and they all thought too well of him to suspect him of any dishonourable conduct. They consequently spoke of him openly at Lynderton as their cousin. He seemed to have many friends, but only two appeared to know what had become of him: one was the Baron de Ruvigny, who was a very frequent visitor at their house, and the other was Captain Rochard, who came once or twice with the baron. He was, he told them, an old friend of Captain Everard’s, and was therefore particularly interested in the place.
Silas Sleech had obtained a holiday for the purpose of visiting Lynderton, not at all aware at the time that Mr Coppinger was about to proceed there himself. Great was the merchant’s astonishment when, the day after he came down, his eyes fell on his clerk, dressed in the height of fashion, walking up and down among the gay company assembled under an avenue of trees at the outside of the town to hear the band play. His amazement was increased when he saw him bow with a most familiar glance at his own daughters. Directly afterwards his clerk’s eye met his. Now Silas possessed as much impudence and assurance as most men, but his glance sank abashed before the stern look of the dignified Mr Coppinger. The young ladies were, they declared, utterly ignorant who he was. He had introduced himself as a friend of the officers of the legion, on the previous evening, without giving his name, while they had seen him dancing with several young ladies. Silas was ambitious. He was endeavouring to work his way into good society, in the outside circles of which only his family had hitherto moved, in spite of their connection by marriage with the Everards.
Meantime Roger Kyffin had returned from Ireland. His grief at finding that Harry had gone away with so grievous an imputation on his character was very great. Still he did not, he could not, believe Harry to be guilty. He found no letter, however, from him at Idol Lane, nor was there one at his own house.
“Surely the boy would have written to me,” he thought, “and told me where he was going. With all his faults, I believe he regarded me with sincere affection. I am sure he would have written.”
On speaking to his housekeeper one day about some letter which had been left during his absence, she mentioned that Mr Silas Sleech had on one occasion come to the house and requested to see Mr Kyffin’s letters, stating that he had been desired to forward some of them to him.
“I never gave any such directions,” said Mr Kyffin. “Did he take any letter?”
“Yes, sir, there was one – a particularly thick one, too – and the direction was in a good bold hand, just such as I have seen Master Harry write. I thought at the time, ‘Surely that’s the very letter master would like to have,’ so I let Mr Sleech take it off, making sure that he was going to send it on to you.”
Chapter Seventeen.
The Old Family Driven from their Home
Paul Gauntlett watched the Mr Sleeches till they disappeared at the farther end of the avenue, amid the shadows of the trees.
“I am thankful they’re gone without me doing them a mischief; but the colonel said to me, ‘Paul, take charge of this place till you deliver it up to my nephew, the captain.’ And that is what I hope to do,” soliloquised the old soldier.
He stood for some minutes inside the porch, with his hands clasped before him in a stand-at-ease position. His plans were speedily formed. There were four stout fellows he could rely on generally employed about the grounds. He placed them, with thick oaken cudgels in their hands, two at a time, to watch the approaches to the hall, while he himself, armed in a similar manner, continued at intervals night and day to pace round and round the house, to see, as he said to himself, that the sentries were on the alert.
Once or twice Mabel caught sight of him, and wondered what he was about; but he did not think it necessary to inform her and her aunt of his plans. His chief post was the front porch, where he would sit the livelong day, keeping a watchful eye up and down the avenue. His only entertainment was reading the newspaper, which was brought by a man on horseback from Lynderton. It was a very different production from the large sheet of news at the present day.
Whatever were Mr Sleech’s plans, he seemed to have some hesitation in putting them into execution; for day after day Paul was allowed to keep his post unmolested.
One morning the groom brought the paper which had arrived the evening before from London, and as the ladies were out in the grounds, Paul took upon himself to peruse it first. He had spelt down two or three columns, when his eye fell on a paragraph in which the name of his Majesty’s frigate the “Brilliant” was mentioned. He read it eagerly. The paper trembled in his hands. “We regret to state” (so it ran) “that we have received information of the loss of H.M.’s frigate the ‘Brilliant,’ on her passage out to the North American station. She struck on an iceberg, and soon afterwards foundered, eight persons only in one of her boats being saved, out of the whole ship’s company, including one lieutenant and a midshipman. Captain Everard and the rest of the officers and ship’s company met a watery grave.” (The names of the survivors were then mentioned.) “The boat reached Halifax, those in her having suffered fearful hardships, and they have now been brought home in the ‘Tribune.’” The old soldier let the paper sink down by his side.
“The captain gone!” he murmured, in a low voice – “the captain gone, and no one to stand by Miss Mabel; and that poor lad, too, on whom she had set her young heart. He lost! Oh, it will break it, it will break it.”
Paul’s courage failed him when he had to tell the two ladies of their grievous bereavement.
While still trying to bring his mind to consider what he should do, he saw a person approaching the house by the avenue. He clutched his stick and threw up his head. It might be Mr Sleech or one of his myrmidons. He would do battle with them to the death, at all events. The stranger approached; Paul kept eyeing him. His scrutiny was more satisfactory than he had expected.
“He does not look like one of Mr Sleech’s villains,” he said to himself.
The stranger came close up, without hesitation, to Paul, whose aspect was, however, somewhat threatening.
“I think I know you, my friend,” said the stranger, with a kind expression, though his look was sad. “I have come to inquire about a young man in whom I am deeply interested. I find that he was here some time back. I have been enabled to trace him. I speak of Harry Tryon. Do you know anything of him?”
“If you will tell me who you are, sir, it may be I will answer that question,” said Paul.
“I am Roger Kyffin, Harry Tryon’s guardian. Will that satisfy you, my friend?” was the answer.
“Ah, that it will, sir,” answered Paul, in a tone of sadness which struck Mr Kyffin.
“Can you give me any account of the lad?” asked Mr Kyffin, in an anxious voice.
“He went and entered aboard the ‘Brilliant,’ and now he’s gone, sir; gone!” answered Paul. “He and the captain both together. They lie many fathom deep in the cold ocean out there. I have been over the spot. There, sir, read what is writ there; that tells all about it.” And the old soldier handed Mr Kyffin the newspaper.
Roger Kyffin read it with moistened eyes, and a choking sensation came in his throat.
“It is too true, I am afraid. The account is fearfully circumstantial!” he ejaculated, as he read on, searching about for any further notice of the event.
“But are you certain my dear boy was on board the ‘Brilliant’? What evidence have you?”
“Certain sure, sir,” answered Paul. “Our Mary, who was going to marry Jacob Tuttle, saw him just as the ship was sailing, and our Miss Mabel knows all about it. She knew he was with the captain. Poor dear young lady! it will break her heart, and Mary’s, too, and Madam Everard’s, too, and mine if it was not too tough. I wish that I had received marching orders with the colonel not to see this day; and yet it is a soldier’s duty to stand fast at his post, and that’s what the colonel told me to do, and that’s what, please God, I will do, and look after these poor ladies, and little Mary, too, and widow Tuttle: they will all want help. Oh, sir! when a battle’s fought or a ship goes down with all her crew it’s those on shore feel it. I used not to think about that when I was fighting, but now I know how poor women feel, and children left at home.”
“Rightly spoken, my friend,” said Roger Kyffin, grasping Paul’s hand. “You feel for the fatherless and widow. It is a right feeling; it’s a divine feeling; it’s as our Father in heaven feels. Have all my hopes come to this? – thus early cut off, my boy, my Harry! Let me look at that paper again. I must try and see the people who are mentioned here. They may tell us how it happened. Might they, notwithstanding this account, by some means have escaped?”
“I know what it is to be on board a foundering ship in the midst of the stormy ocean, darkness around, strong men crying out for fear of death, the boats swamped alongside. Words of command scarcely heard, or if heard not attended to, and then, when the ship goes down, down, too, go all things floating round her. No, sir, no, I cannot hope, and that’s the fact of it.”
“Have you told the ladies?” asked Mr Kyffin. “It will be a fearful thing breaking the matter to them.”
“I have not, sir, and I would as lief have my head blown off at the cannon’s mouth,” answered Paul; “but it must be done, and what we have to do is to consider the best way of breaking it to them. Never flinch from what must be done; that’s what the colonel always said.”
Roger Kyffin at first thought of requesting Dr Jessop to communicate the sad intelligence; but he was afraid lest in the meantime it might in a more abrupt manner reach the ears of Miss Everard and her aunt. He determined, therefore, to introduce himself, and in the presence of Paul to mention the account he had seen in the papers, expressing at the same time a hope which he himself could not help entertaining, that those in whom they were most interested might have escaped.
While Roger Kyffin and Paul were still discussing the matter, a carriage rapidly approached the house. Three persons got out of it. One of them started with a look of astonishment when he saw Mr Kyffin. It was Silas Sleech. He, however, quickly recovered his self-possession.
“Sad news this, sir, the death of our relative the captain,” he said; “it’s what sailors are liable to, though. Allow me to introduce my father, Mr Tony Sleech – Mr Roger Kyffin. Although fortune may smile on me, I don’t purpose yet deserting business and Idol Lane. ‘Business is business,’ as you’ve often observed, Mr Kyffin, and I love it for itself.”
“I really don’t understand what you mean,” said Mr Kyffin. “How can Captain Everard’s death affect you?”
“Ah! I see you are not acquainted with the state of the case,” said Mr Silas. “We won’t trouble you with it. My father and I have come to condole with the ladies who are now staying here, on their bereavement, and to tell them that we, who are heirs-at-law, beg that they will not trouble themselves to move for the next two or three days. After that, you see, it would be very inconvenient for us to be kept out of the property.”
Silas evidently said this more for Paul Gauntlett’s information than for Mr Kyffin’s, though his eye dared not meet that of the old soldier. Paul clutched the stick which seldom left his grasp. The moment for action had arrived. In another instant the Mr Sleeches – father and son – would have felt its force, had not a third person, who had got out of the carriage, stepped forward. He had from the first kept his eye upon Paul, and now saw by the movement of his hand that he meditated mischief.
“I am an officer of the law, and have been brought to see that the law is respected,” he said, stepping up to Paul. “You had better not use that stick, that’s all. Mr Sleech has sworn that he expects forcibly to be, kept out of this property, which is legally his; therefore let any one at his peril attempt to interfere with his proceedings.”
“He never swore a truer word in his life,” exclaimed Paul, clutching his stick. “I care for the law, and I respect the law, but I don’t respect such sneaking scoundrels as you and he,” exclaimed the old soldier, lifting his stick with a savage look.
Silas sprang down the steps, knocking over his father in his descent.
The constable eyed the old soldier. Though his locks were grey, he looked like no mean antagonist. The man seemed doubtful whether it would be wise to attack him.
“I call all here to witness that I have been assaulted in the execution of my duty by this man, the attendant of the late Colonel Everard,” he said, as he also retreated more slowly down the steps.
“Do you intend to prevent the rightful owners from taking possession of this their rightful property?” he exclaimed, from a safe position at the bottom of the steps, at the top of which stood Paul, still flourishing his stick.
“The rightful owners have got the property, and the rightful owners will keep it,” answered Paul.
The Mr Sleeches and their companion on this retired to a distance, to consult apparently what steps they would next take.
“You must not attempt to impede the officer in the execution of his duty, my friend,” said Mr Kyffin, “you will gain nothing by so doing.”
“I don’t expect to gain anything,” answered Paul. “I am only obeying the colonel’s orders in keeping the house against all intruders. If these people aren’t intruders, I don’t know who are.”
“If they have the law with them we must not interfere,” again repeated Mr Kyffin. “I am anxious to break the sad news to the ladies before these men do so abruptly. I should have thought better of Silas Sleech; but I suppose he has been urged on by his father.”
“One’s no better than the other, in my opinion,” muttered Paul. “However, sir, if you will tell the poor ladies what has happened in as gentle a way as possible, I will bless you for it. As for me, I could not do it, that I could not.”
With a sad heart Mr Kyffin took his way through the grounds, hoping to fall in with Mabel and her aunt. Paul Gauntlett in the meantime kept guard at the door, while two other stout fellows with bludgeons appearing round the corner of the house, induced the besiegers to keep at a respectful distance.
Mr Kyffin soon met the two ladies. He had no doubt who they were, and at once introduced himself. The result of his announcement, though made as cautiously as possible, can better be imagined than described.
“If it is so, God’s will be done!” said Madam Everard, whose whole thoughts were centred in her niece, whom she and Roger Kyffin with difficulty bore to the house. The news soon flew around the place, and Dr Jessop hearing it at once repaired to Stanmore, where he found his old friend Roger Kyffin.
For several days Mabel lay almost unconscious, attended carefully by Dr Jessop, through whose speedy arrival, in all human probability, her life had been saved.
Scarcely had she begun to recover, than Mr Sleech, armed with further authority, arrived at the Park. Mr Wallis was in consultation with Madam Everard. She and her niece must remove at the bidding of her brother-in-law.
“Nothing can be done,” said Mr Wallis. “At all events, no attempt must be made to prevent his being admitted into the house.” With a heavy heart Paul Gauntlett heard the lawyer’s decision, though even then he seemed very doubtful whether he ought to submit to Madam Everard’s orders.
“I would rather a thousand times have fought it out to the last, and died in the breach,” he exclaimed, dashing his stick on the floor. “However, if it must be, it must be, and it’s not the first time a scoundrel has gained the day and got into the place of an honest man.”
Paul had abundance of occupation for the remainder of his stay at Stanmore.
With a countenance in which sorrow, anger, and indignation were blended, he assisted in packing up the property belonging to Madam Everard and her niece. This was at once conveyed to Lynderton, where a house had been secured for them. In as short a time as possible they removed from Stanmore Park with everything they possessed. Scarcely were they out of the house than Mr Sleech and his family took possession.
Silas, however, lost the satisfaction of taking up his abode at the Park as the owner, for Mr Coppinger informed him that he must either give up his situation or return to the counting-house. He selected the latter alternative, greatly to Mr Kyffin’s surprise. The estimation in which that gentleman held Mr Silas Sleech had of late been considerably lowered. He once had thought him a hard-working, plodding, honest fellow who could be thoroughly trusted – a valuable man in a counting-house. Several circumstances had of late come under Mr Kyffin’s notice with regard to Silas Sleech’s mode of life. What he saw of him at Stanmore and heard of him at Lynderton had also yet further lowered him in his estimation. His mind was one especially addicted to forming combinations. He put several things he had seen and heard of Mr Sleech together. To this he added his own opinion on certain documents which Mr Sleech had produced, with apparent unwillingness, to criminate Harry.
He also found from the porter in Idol Lane that the two young men had been in the constant habit of going out together, and very often not returning till a late hour. These and other circumstances which need not be narrated, made Mr Kyffin resolve to watch very narrowly the proceedings of Mr Sleech for the future. Suspicion is more easily aroused than quieted. On further inquiries he had no doubt that the letter for which Silas Sleech had called during his absence, addressed to his house at Hampstead, was from Harry, and that it had been purposely withheld, although Silas declared, when taxed with receiving it, that he had forwarded it to Ireland. Altogether there was a fair prospect that the rogueries of Mr Silas Sleech would be brought to light. Still, however, he sat at his desk, working on with apparently the greatest diligence, and the same unmoved countenance as usual.
In the meantime Mr Sleech had taken possession of Stanmore for his son, and he and his family were making themselves thoroughly at home in their own fashion. They were somewhat indignant that the neighbourhood did not immediately call and pay that respect which their relatives had been accustomed to receive. It cannot be supposed that Mr Wallis, nor even Dr Jessop, had been silent with regard to the way Mr Sleech had behaved to his sister-in-law and niece, while Paul Gauntlett took every opportunity of describing how he had defended the house, and how they had ultimately outmanoeuvred him.
