 CHAPTER 38 Maria turned very pale on hearing her uncle's name, and her eyes unconsciously glanced towards her aunt. But poor Lady Fleetwood had turned paler still, for she seemed to divine in an instant all the consequences which acting unadvised in the affairs of others, with nothing but the best intentions to support her had produced, and when she saw that Mr. Scriven on entering the room was followed by Mr. Stolterforth, the banker, her heart sank farther still. The movements of all parties in the room were characteristic. Mr. Hargrave sat calmly for a minute on his chair, scanning Mr. Scriven with a curious and inquiring eye. Henry stood firm and erect, with no other appearance of that emotion which the struggle about to commence must necessarily have produced, than a slight contraction of the brow and the least possible curl of the lip. Charles Marston, who was talking with Lady Anne, murmured in a low tone as soon as he saw the banker following the merchant, Scriven and company once more, and took a step forward to Henry Haley's side. Mr. Winkworth broke off a conversation with Mrs. Bryce, put on a large pair of spectacles, and stared full at Mr. Scriven with a keen searching look. The two county magistrates conferred together in a low tone, glancing from time to time at the entering party, and Lady Anne, with graceful ease but with a colour somewhat heightened, advanced a little before the rest to receive her not unexpected visitor. Mr. Scriven himself could not be said to be graceful, but he was perfectly unembarrassed. He was pursuing his system following his game, acting in the same character which he had sustained through life. He had nothing he thought to be ashamed of or afraid of, nothing to agitate him but eagerness, and although it must be confessed, he was more eager in this instance than on ordinary occasions, yet his eagerness was much less intense than that of most men, when seeking even less important objects. Good morning, Mr. Scriven, said Lady Anne, in a calm tone. Good morning, Mr. Salterforth. He was her banker. To what may I owe the pleasure of seeing you, I fear funds must have fallen terribly, or else risen so high that you cannot invest for me, Mr. Salterforth. I am sorry to say that our business at your ladyship's house is of a much more painful nature, replied Mr. Scriven, but it is not with you. Whatever happens in my house must be business of mine, answered Lady Anne, and therefore I must beg to know it. Mr. Salterforth, who had an infinite reverence for Lady Anne's hundreds of thousands, even more indeed than for her beauty, though he admired both, remarked a certain twinkle of the eye which was not satisfactory to him. But Mr. Scriven pushed his point coolly, and advancing towards Henry Haley he said, My business is with this person. Sir, I am now in a position to charge you directly, with being here under an assumed name and character. Your real name is Henry Haley. Is it so, or is it not? Greatly to the surprise of Maria and to the utter astonishment of Lady Fleetwood, Colonel Middleton answered in a cool, determined tone, It is not. Well then, sir, replied Mr. Scriven, I am in a condition to prove the fact, and moreover, that in the month of August 18 blank the same Henry Haley was charged upon oath with forgery and a warrant obtained for his apprehension. You approve, sir, what you are able to prove, replied Colonel Middleton, with the same degree of coolness, for everything like agitation had vanished from the moment the struggle began. However, as you are making a serious charge, you have better, in the first place, consider it well, and the grounds upon which it is founded, and secondly, you had better make it in a more proper place than the drawing-room of Lady Anne Mellon. What, and give you an opportunity of running away again, replied Mr. Scriven, there, my good sir, you are mistaken, for I do not intend to lose sight of you till I lodge you in jail. Hitherto poor Lady Fleetwood had been totally overcome, but she now rose from her chair trembling and exclaimed, Oh, my dear brother, for heaven's sake, don't you promise me, you know, that you were hush, exclaimed Mr. Scriven, Margaret, you're a fool, you have better leave the room. No, stay, your evidence may be wanted. I was told at the house of a gentleman named Hargrave, a magistrate for this county, that I should find him here, if he be present, I must beg his assistance in this case. My name, sir, is Hargrave, replied that gentleman, rising, and I am, as you say, a magistrate, and the chairman of the magistrates of this district. I am quite ready to afford any assistance in my power, in a legal manner. Here are also two of my brother Justice's present, Sir Harry Henderson and Colonel Mandrake, whose opinion will be valuable. May I ask what charge you have to make against this gentleman, Colonel Middleton? I charge him, sir, with forgery, replied Mr. Scriven, committed rather more than ten years ago by putting my acceptance to a bill with intent to defraud Mrs. Stalteforth and Company, one of the partners of which house is now here with me. Where was the forgery committed, demanded Mr. Hargrave. In London, sir, replied Mr. Scriven. I am afraid we cannot entertain that charge, said Mr. Hargrave. Information should have been swarmed, sir, in the county where the act was committed, but I am very willing to give any help in my power. Have you a copy of the depositions, or a warrant against this gentleman, or a copy of the informations, in fact, anything for us to go upon? I have not answered Mr. Scriven. I was not aware of such technical niceties and set out at once with my friend Mr. Stalteforth as soon as I had procured evidence sufficient to justify his apprehension, and I do think that, by a fair construction of the law, you yourself can grant a warrant rather than suffer a person who has already escaped the hands of justice to abscond again. It may be so, replied Mr. Hargrave, and then, after speaking a few words to his brother magistrates, he added, it is my opinion, Mr. Scriven, and that of the other two justices here present, that you should so frame your charges to bring it more immediately within our cognizance. You state that Colonel Middleton is here under an assumed name, and if you suspect that name is assumed for any illegal purpose, an information upon oath to that effect will quite alter the case, and enable us more satisfactorily to deal with the charge. Are you prepared to make one? I am, answered Mr. Scriven. I charge him with being here under an assumed name upon fraudulent purposes towards my niece, and also with the view of avoiding apprehension upon a more serious accusation. That will do, answered Mr. Hargrave, but we must conduct matters a little more formally. One word, if you please, my dear sir, said Henry advancing a little. For my own part I have not the slightest objection to your dealing with the whole case, although several persons who my might wish to call upon as evidence are now in London. And, as this is merely, I take it, a preliminary examination, I promise you, if you like to go into the whole case, I will myself take no steps whatsoever hereafter, in consequence of a want of jurisdiction. We shall see as we proceed, replied Mr. Hargrave. Mr. Scriven's information must be reduced to proper form, but it very luckily happens that our clerk has come over this morning on some business, and with Lady Anne's permission we shall convert her library into a justice-room and deal with the case at once. I trust it is to be an open court, said Lady Anne, for where so serious a charge is made against one of my guests, I feel, of course, personally interested. Oh, undoubtedly it is an open court, replied Mr. Hargrave, for I could not suffer an investigation of so serious a nature to be carried on in secret, even if the accused were my most intimate friend. We will adjourn then to the library, if you please, which will be more convenient, and I will send for the magistrate's clerk. You shall sit upon the bench, fair lady, although I almost think the interest of the matter may be too much for you. Oh, dear, no! replied Lady Anne. I can bear up against harder things than this. Come, Maria! And she linked her arm in that of her friend. The emotions of Maria Moncton during the whole of this scene would be difficult to describe minutely. Much pain, much agitation she had certainly suffered, and the colour had risen warmly in her cheek, when her uncle had coupled her name with Colonel Middleton, but upon the whole her courage had rather risen than fallen, and her composure had in a great degree returned. His perfect coolness and the gentlemanly dignity, with which he treated her uncle's charge, had not been without their effect upon her, and she had remarked with surprise, but with satisfaction also, that the accusation had not called forth an expression of wonder from the magistrates before whom it was made, in short, that they all seemed in some measure prepared for it. The party then proceeded to the library, Lady Fleetwood, as they went, endeavouring to communicate something to Mr. Scriven in a low tone, and that worthy gentleman turning rudely away from her. The magistrates took their seats on one side of the large, old-fashioned library table. The clerk was sent for, and almost immediately appeared, and after a good deal of trouble he contrived to reduce the somewhat loosely worded charge of Mr. Scriven to a technical form. When this was done the accuser was sworn to his information, and Mr. Hargrave then, turning towards him, said, Now, Mr. Scriven, will you have the goodness to bring forward your proofs? In the first place, said Mr. Scriven, the likeness is so exceedingly strong, that there can hardly be a doubt. From the likeness alone I am ready to swear that I believe the person calling himself Colonel Middleton to be no other than Henry Haley. We have so many cases of mistaken identity, said Mr. Hargrave, that it will require very strong evidence to establish the fact by mere resemblance. Pray, how long ago is it since you saw this Henry Haley? Somewhat more than 10 years, answered Mr. Scriven. Hm, said Mr. Hargrave. What age was he then? I believe between 16 and 17, answered the merchant. Are they of the same height? Inquired the magistrate. Oh, dear, no, was the reply. Henry Haley was decidedly shorter. But if you recollect his age, that is easily accounted for. Hm, said Mr. Hargrave again. Have you any other persons ready to swear to the identity? Yes, was the reply. Mr. Sorterforth here must remember him very well. We are ready to take his deposition, said Mr. Hargrave, and Mr. Sorterforth coming forward with some hesitation, deposed to the best of his knowledge and belief that the person before him was the same Henry Haley who had absconded 10 years before. Mr. Scriven then called upon Charles Marston, who came forward without hesitation, and was asked as to the resemblance. They are very like, certainly, he said with a smile, but still either my sight is not as good as my uncle's, or else my spectacles do not magnify as much as his, for I must confess that, though I was at school with Henry Haley and have been long acquainted with Colonel Middleton, I did not perceive the likeness till Mr. Scriven pointed it out. I always sought him like somebody I had known, but could not tell whom. Have you any question to ask the witness, Colonel? Said Sir Harry Henderson, turning to the accused. Mealy this, replied Henry. You have said that you have known me long, Marston. Have you frequently seen me in society? Oh, dear, yes, replied Charles, in the Society of Englishmen, Spaniards and Italians. Then by what name did I usually go, and how as I recognised and received, was the next question. By the name of Colonel Middleton, replied Charles Marston, and under that name you were always recognised and received as a very distinguished officer in the Spanish service, and the nephew of Don Balthazar de Hamor, Sir, a grandee of Spain, by the marriage of his niece with an English gentleman. I have conversed with several noble Spaniards, who claim close kindred with you by the mother's side. And this is all hearsay, said Mr. Scriven, and I object. Hold your tongue, Sir, said Colonel Mandrake sharply. The magistrates will object when they think the evidence is inadmissible. Go on, if you please, Mr. Marston. I was only going to say, continued Charles, that I can take upon myself to swear that Colonel Middleton succeeded to a considerable portion of the property of Don Balthazar on account of his relationship, for I heard it from persons who shared with him. Huh! said Mr. Hargrave again. I think, as far as we have gone yet, Mr. Scriven, you have made out a case for strong resemblance, but nothing more. I will do more presently, replied Mr. Scriven dryly, but I will first call my sister Lady Fleetwood. In a state of bewilderment and agitation perfectly indescribable, Lady Fleetwood advanced to the table in that exact frame of mind from which her skilful advocate can extract anything upon earth. She would have sworn under a little management that the sun was black and the moon blue, and to say the truth, if Mr. Scriven had been wise, he would have let her alone, for at that moment she was a sort of revolving gun, and there was no knowing in which direction she would fire. As to keeping her to the point, that was quite out of the question. She said she thought it was exceedingly cruel and unpardonable of her brother to bring forward that charge, when he had formally promised her not to do so, and that she never would have told him a word about Colonel Middleton being Henry Haley, if he had not given his word, that he would do everything he could to help him. Then you know him to be Henry Haley, said Mr. Scriven, fixing his cold eyes upon her. I know you would do anything to prevent his marrying Maria, said Lady Fleetwood, now really angry. You would swear away his life, though I am quite sure he never committed the forgery at all, and I believe you're sure of it, too. But you are sure he is Henry Haley, reiterated Mr. Scriven. Remember you are on oath, Margaret. I believe you must answer the question, Lady Fleetwood, said Mr. Hargrave. Well, I do believe he is, said Lady Fleetwood, but I am sure I never would have told my brother about the man coming to my house and threatening to inform against the poor young gentleman if he had not promised to help him. That will do, said Mr. Scriven, coolly. And one of the magistrates inquired whether the accused had any questions to put to the witness. Henry, however, declined, and as Lady Fleetwood was retiring, he took her hand, saying in a kindly tone, Do not agitate yourself, my dear lady. You have not done me the slightest harm. I am very glad of it, replied Lady Fleetwood warmly, for I am sure I did it all with the best intentions. I suppose you have other evidence to produce, Mr. Scriven, said Mr. Hargrave. Mr. Scriven hesitated. He felt he was coming upon the most dangerous part of his case, for though he had been bold in anticipation, he was less some in act. Mr. Hargrave, however, continued, I must look upon the testimony of Mr. Marston that Colonel Middleton has long gone under the name he now bears, and is believed to be entitled to it by persons who have known not only him from youth, but have the best means of and strongest motives for ascertaining who he is, and for resisting his pretensions if they were false, as something very positive, against which we have a mere expression of belief on the other side. We must have something more, sir, to satisfy us. Besides, I wanted to hear something about this man who used threats, said Colonel Mandrake. I am coming to bat this moment, said Mr. Scriven, seeing that he must necessarily proceed if he was determined to succeed, and remembering that his companion, Mr. Stolterforth, was well aware that he had what appeared strong corroborative evidence against the man whom he accused. I think I have proved sufficiently that the likeness is so strong as to justify reasonable suspicion, and I must observe that you have not heard one witness yet, who, having known the defendant more than ten years under the name of Middleton, can establish that he is not the same man as Henry Haley. I therefore think you would be justified in granting a warrant against him, but I will produce further evidence if it be needful. Here the clerk whispered a word or two to Mr. Hargrave, who inquired apparently in consequence, pray, Mr. Scriven, under what circumstances was the warrant against this, said Henry Haley, quashed or dropped? The merchant hesitated for a moment, as if not very sure whether it would be better to enter into the details or not, and his first reply was vague and unsatisfactory. Don't, Mr. Hargrave, press him home. The clerk informs me, he said, that he remembers the case quite well, and that the warrant was dropped because the officer entrusted with the execution of it, after having pursued the fugitive into Italy, found him there in a dying state, and subsequently saw his dead body and witnessed his funeral. Do you admit these facts, or do not, sir? I admit that the officer saw a dead body, which he was told was that of Henry Haley, Mr. Scriven replied, and he might witness the funeral, for ought I know, but I maintain that there was a juggle in all this. Well, sir, answered Mr. Hargrave. That is, at all events, strong presumptive evidence that Colonel Middleton cannot be Henry Haley. Of course, said Colonel Mandrake, for if Henry Haley died in Italy, Henry Haley cannot be living here. We have not yet come to the resurrection of the just, Mr. Scriven. We may have come to the resurrection of the unjust, however, replied Mr. Scriven, uttering a joke, for the first time in his life, and that, I think, I can prove not withstanding all opposition. We must certainly have more evidence or dismiss the charge, said Mr. Hargrave. There is nothing before us which we can either deal with ourselves or send to another court. I say this much, although Colonel Middleton has not yet commenced his defence. Well, then, more evidence you shall have, answered Mr. Scriven. I will beg you to send for the man whom we brought hither from London in our shays. This request was immediately complied with, and in a minute or two the worthy gentleman, who has been named Sam, was brought into the room with Mr. Scriven's servant, who had received his special directions not to lose sight of him, following close upon his heels. This worthy personage, being brought to the table and sworn, declared that his name was Samuel Nugent, and that he was by trade a general dealer. He said also that on a certain night which he named, he was crossing over Frimley Common when he accidentally kicked something with his foot, which on examination he discovered to be a pocket book, that in it he found a number of papers which he proceeded to describe, and all of which, as he stated, tended to show that Henry Haley and Colonel Middleton were the same person. The book itself, said the man, and a good many of the things in it, and I threw away, but I kept these because I thought they were curious, and then a friend of mine told me I might turn a penny by them. We usually say, turn an honest penny, said Mr. Hargrave gravely. The word honest, you have judiciously left out, show me the papers. The papers were accordingly handed up to him, and he and his brother magistrates examined them carefully. Here is I find a memorandum book in which there are some entries which may very well bear the construction attempted to be put upon them. I find the remarkable words, the assumed name of Colonel Middleton, and here are two letters addressed to Henry Haley at Eaton, and several other things referring to Colonel Middleton, and to Henry Haley, which, taken with other circumstances and the striking resemblance, throw considerable suspicion on the case. I'm afraid, Colonel Middleton, I must call upon you for some clear and explicit explanation. What is your defence? Remember, sir, said Sir Harry Henderson, that you are not obliged to make any statement, and that whatever you say will be taken down and may be used against you at an after-period. I have no objection to such being the case, replied Henry calmly, while Maria, terribly agitated at the serious turn which affairs seemed to be taking, closed her eyes and bent down her head upon her hands. I will simply ask a few questions and bring forward a few facts to show the character of the man who stands before you, and the nature of the transaction in which he and Mr. Scriven have been engaged. I do not know, he continued, fixing his eyes sternly on the merchant, sufficient of the law of England, to be sure that it will justify me in requiring that gentleman to be held to bail upon a charge of subordination of perjury. And the witness before you to be committed for perjury. But I think I will show you very soon that there is ground for such a charge against each. Mr. Scriven turned very white, but whether it was from fear or anger it might be difficult to say. He certainly affected the appearance of the latter passion, and was beginning to exclaim furiously against the insolent daring of the accuser. When Henry exclaimed, C. C. Sir, you have been like the rattlesnake, and have given warning of your design before you sprang me. I have not forgotten the night at Lady Fleetwood's. However, now I will proceed to make good what I say. Joshua Brown, come forward. And as he spoke, the peddler advanced to the table. Do you know the last witness? continued Henry. Yes, sir. replied the man. Well, then, explain to the magistrates who and what he is, was the rejoinder. Why, gentlemen, he's a well-known thief, said the peddler. He and three others attacked myself, and this gentleman, Colonel Middleton, near a place called Knight's Hill, on the night of Friday the third, knocked us down, pillaged us of almost everything we had, and were only prevented from murdering us, I believe, by some other people coming up. Amongst other things they took the Colonel's pocketbook, and he employed me to get it for him. So on inquiring at the house of Mr. Olston, a silversmith and jeweler, in the town of Blank, I found that the most likely place to hear of it was at the shop of a receiver of stolen goods named Minji Bowes. He then went on to describe all that had occurred on that occasion, and ended with the fact of the pocketbook having been thrown into the fire and consumed. Mr. Scriven was somewhat alarmed, but he was too shrewd and clear-sighted to suffer any advantage to escape. Your worshipful remark, he said, that it is here admitted that that my witness had in his possession a pocketbook actually belonging to the person calling himself Colonel Middleton, and that there were papers in that pocketbook of such consequence as to induce him to offer a hundred pounds to regain it. You will also remark that I know nothing of the witness except what he himself has told me. I cannot know how he became possessed of the pocketbook or of these papers, and as he has stated that he threw the book away, but retained these, without stating whether it was into the fire he threw it or not, it seems to me that the truth of his statement and the genuineness of these papers are rather confirmed than otherwise by the evidence just given. Or you can tell very well how he became possessed of the papers, replied the peddler, looking him full in the face, because you know you told him what he was to say here. Why, didn't you, in Lady Fleetwood's dining-room the other morning, put him up to saying that he found the pocketbook as he was crossing the common? This was said in the most simple and natural manner in the world, but its effect on Mr. Scriven was very terrible. His lips turned livid, and for a moment he remained speechless and motionless, holding the edge of the table as if for support. What is that? What is that? exclaimed Colonel Mandrake. He told him what he was to say here, did he? Yes, your worship, replied Joshua Brown. He told him in Lady Fleetwood's dining-room on Wednesday morning last. They can't deny it, either of them. Mr. Scriven was utterly confounded, and for the moment had not a word of reply. But Sam Nugent, who was as bold in lying as in other things, answered at once with an oath, I do deny it, it's false. How came you to know, or rather how can you know, what took place in Lady Fleetwood's dining-room, demanded Mr. Scriven, taking courage from the man's bold tone? Because I was in the next room, sir, and heard every word of it, answered the peddler with the utmost composure. Pray, how happened you to be there, my good sir? demanded Mr. Hargrave. I went on purpose, sir, with another witness, replied Joshua Brown deliberately. The way was this. The man, Minjee Bowes, that is, the fence, as they would call him, or receiver of stolen goods, called twice upon the Colonel there, to try and frighten him out of some money. He did not see him either time, but the last time he saw me, and a very unpleasant sight it was for him, I was sitting with the Colonel's servant, when he was shown in, and having got my hand upon his neck about the robbery, I soon brought him to reason, and made him tell me all about their plans. I found that he and this young gentleman were to go to Lady Fleetwood's on Wednesday morning last, and that they hoped to get a thousand pounds out of her on account of the papers they pretended to have. So I made my arrangements accordingly, knowing that my lady was to be out of town, and that they were to see Mr. Scriven, which I learned by accident. And so I told Mr. Carlini, the Colonel's servant, not to say a word to his master for fear he should not like it, but just to ask leave to stay one day behind him in London. It was granted readily enough, and as Mr. Carlini knew her ladyship's housekeeper and one of the other servants, we got a mission. And you went to listen to what I said, you scoundrels, exclaimed Mr. Scriven. No, sir, begging your pardon, replied the peddler quite civilly. I did not go to learn what you said, for I had no thought you would say anything like what you did say. I went to hear what this man said to you, that I might detect his trick and punish him as he deserved. However, I heard enough to surprise me very much, for I never fancied a gentleman would condescend to trade with a thief and promise him 500 pounds if he was swear away another man's life. There was a dead silence in the room for a minute after these strong words, and then Mr. Hargrave looked round to the other magistrates saying, this is becoming very serious, gentlemen. Very serious indeed, said Colonel Mandrake, slowly. And so Harry Henderson echoed his words, adding, is the person who was with you on this occasion in the room? No, sir, replied Joshua Brown, but he is in the house and can be called in a minute. Let us hear you out first, said Mr. Hargrave. Be so good as to relate the whole conversation you overheard. The pebbler did so with wonderful accuracy, and Carlini, having been called in, gave exactly the same account. At first Mr. Scriven was silent, confused and overpowered, but he soon recovered himself. He was not a man either to believe or to admit that he had done a wrong thing, and by the time the tale was told, he was prepared to face it. Well, gentlemen, he said, addressing the magistrates, I do not well see what this has to do with the case. If I did suggest to the man a way of accounting for having the pocketbook in his possession, it does not at all prove that these papers are not genuine. It is proved, sir, that you suggested to him to take a false oath, said Mr. Hargrave, very sternly. It is proved that he did take a false oath, and the credibility both of the man's evidence and your own is very seriously affected by his character, his conduct, and your dealings with him. Calling a constable there, I shall give him into custody and send him to London upon the charge of the robbery, if not of the perjury. With you, sir, I really do not know how to deal." And he leaned his head upon his hand and thought gravely. It is not ten minutes ago, sir, said Mr. Scriven sharply, that you refused to entertain a charge against this person calling himself Colonel Middleton, because the act with which he was charged had been committed in another county. I did not refuse to entertain the charge, replied Mr. Hargrave. I informed you of what the usual course, and I believe the strictly legal one. Magistrates, however, must sometimes overstep mere technical difficulties, and in the case of this man, Samuel Nugent, I have no doubt at all, but will send him to London in custody upon my own responsibility. In the same way, also, I have now determined to enter fully into your charge of forgery against Colonel Middleton, if the prosecutor and he are both desirous of our doing so. Otherwise, I certainly shall take no steps whatever. I suppose, sir, I am the prosecutor in this case, technically speaking, said Mr. Stoltenforth, stepping forward, and as such, I shall be perfectly satisfied with your decision upon the whole case, whatever that decision may be. I was very unwilling, I must say, to open the matter again at all, and would have let it rest had not misdiscovered and pressed me earnestly to proceed. It is so long ago that it might very well be dropped, and moreover, I always entertained some doubts as to whether the party charged was the one really criminal. The evidence certainly was strong, but I had known the boy long, and it was hardly possible to believe him guilty. In regard to the question of identity, I certainly thought the proofs brought forward by Mr. Scriven were convincing, but my view has been altered since I came here, and now I entertain many doubts. Under these circumstances, I am the more anxious that the whole matter should be investigated at once, and I pledge myself to abide by the decision of the magistrates present. And whatever their decision may be," said Henry, I shall be satisfied with it. There was a momentary pause as if no one knew well how to commence the somewhat irregular proceeding agreed upon, but at length Henry took another step forward to the table, and taking Mr. Stolterford's hand, he said, my dear sir, you have done me justice, and from my heart I thank you for your good opinion. To simplify all your proceedings, however, I will at once admit that I am Henry Haley. I beg your pardon, my dear sir," said Mr. Hargrave, laughing, but you are under a mistake. You are not Henry Haley. My brother magistrates and myself have just this moment agreed that you are not, and I can take upon myself to affirm of my own positive knowledge that we are right. Then why admit it? asked Mr. Scriven harshly, while Mr. Stolterford, and most of the party present, but perfectly bewildered. Nay, let me make the admission, my dear sir," said Henry, addressing Mr. Hargrave. This painful scene has already continued too long, and I have only suffered it to do so in order to show the vehement animosity excited against me. I will therefore, in order to curtail every unnecessary detail, admit, moreover, that I was charged with forgery upon a due and formal information upon oath, that a warrant was granted against me, and that I fled the country. That is enough, I think," exclaimed Mr. Scriven, the matter ought now to be sent to a competent court. Stop, sir," said Henry sternly, and be so good as to hear me out. I admit, I say, that I fled the country, but not to escape the arm of the law, for I had with me full proof of my innocence, and as you have heard from the witness Joshua Brown, the man who burned the pocket-book of which he had robbed me, acknowledged that it was in it a document purporting to have been written by the late Mr. Haley, which clearly stated that the forgery was his, that I knew nothing of it, and that I had consented to abandon my country and rest under the imputation of crime, in order to save a father from death. All very pretty," said Mr. Scriven, that we have not the paper to examine. We cannot ascertain whether it was genuine. I myself believe it to have been a fabrication, and the evidence was overpowering against you. You fled at once to Northumberland, thence to Wales, thence to London, thence to the continent, changing everywhere the notes in which the forged bill had been paid. I wish, sir, you would not interrupt me, said Henry. You have surely had sufficient licence of the tongue to-day. Allow me, at least, to make my own statement, connectedly. Mr. Haley one day gave me a draft upon your house, of which he had been very lately a partner, apparently accepted by yourself, to discount at Mrs. Stoltzerforth's bank. At the same time he entered into an explanation of some of his affairs, which I already knew to be seriously deranged, telling me that he must absolutely have two thousand pounds more within a week, and that, as soon as I had got the draft discounted, I must go down, with all speed, to this very house, and borrow that sum for him, of his friend Lord Melent, then in attendance on his father at this house. Mr. Stoltzerforth kindly discounted the bill at once. I now believe the money to be obtained from Lord Melent was destined by Mr. Haley to take up the bill before the forgery was discovered, but I knew nothing of that, and set out that night for Belford. When I arrived here I found that the Earl of Milford was dead, and that his son had set out to convey the body to the family vault near Carmarthon. As I had been told that the necessity of Mr. Haley's case was urgent, I followed, changing as Mr. Scriven says, several of the notes which Mr. Haley had given me, at different places, to pay my expenses. I missed Lord Milford at Carmarthon, but passed him, while in the mail, on my road to London, as he was being carried into an inn with concussion of the brain, his carriage having been overturned, and nearly dashed to pieces. It is false, however, that I changed any notes whatsoever, after I went to the Continent, but Mr. Haley had himself provided me foreign gold, so that I had no notes whatever to change. I recollect, I recollect, said Mr. Stolterforth. I have a memorandum of it here. Several notes were traced to a money-changer, who said he had received them for Napoleons from an elderly man, of whom he could give no particular description, and could not identify him. I went to London in the most open manner, continued Henry, in the public mail-coach, with my name at large on my portmanteau, and proceeded from the post-office at once to Mr. Haley's house. There I found him up and waiting for me, and for the first time learned the crime he had committed. Everything was already prepared for my instant departure, and he besought me in an agony of distress and agitation, to save him from disgrace and death. Could a son refuse a father under such circumstances? I could not, and I fled. The statement seems exceedingly likely, said Mr. Stolterforth. The only improbable part of the whole is, that Mr. Haley should send his son, a boy of sixteen or seventeen, to borrow a sum of two thousand pounds from Lord Mellon, when it would have been much more natural and proper for him to go himself. Lady Anne Mellon smiled, and Henry replied. There was a cause, but even without any peculiar motive being assigned, the fact did not strad me at the time as the least extraordinary, for I had been all my life a peculiar favourite with Lord Mellon. He had been uniformly kind and generous towards me, and had more than once told me, if ever I should want advice or assistance of any kind, to apply to him without scruple. Mr. Haley told me to make it my own request to the young Lord, and I was prepared to do so, without much doubt of the result. I think the whole story, most improbable, from the beginning to the end, said Mr. Scriven, and I must say it should be thoroughly sifted in a court of justice, before we admit the truth of a tale, every word of which is wanting in confirmation. Confirmation it shall have to the fullest extent, said Lady Anne Mellon, coming forward to the table with a packet of papers in her hand. Only for myself and others I can give that which you so bitterly demand, sir. She was a good deal agitated, but it was evident that Anger had some share in her emotion, for as she spoke she fixed her bright, beautiful eyes steadily upon Mr. Scriven, her nostril expanded, and her lip quivered. In the first place, she continued, it shall be confirmed that this gentleman came down here to seek Lord Mellon. Stand forth, Mr. Gunnell, and tell these gentlemen who you are, and what you know of this transaction. The good stout person of Mr. Gunnell now made its way forward to Lady Anne's side, and he said, My name is Gunnell, and I am the landlord of the Bell Inn at Belford. I remember quite well a young gentleman of sixteen or seventeen, though he was very tall and manly for his age, coming down to my house by the mail in the month of August about ten years ago. That gentleman is very like him, I should say certainly, tis the same gentleman grown older. When he got out he asked how far it was to Milford Castle, and said he must go on directly for he had to see Lord Mellon upon business. I told him it was sixteen miles and that he couldn't go on that night, for all our horses were out. He took dinner, and asked very often if the horses had come in. He seemed very anxious to see Lord Mellon, but as it was a stiff journey, and there had been a run upon the road, I did not like the horses to go before they had had a night's rest. He did not change any notes at my house, but paid me in gold, and I never heard any inquiries made about it, till Lady Anne asked me the other night if I recollected the facts. When he went from my house he came straight over here in a shades of mine, but I heard from the post-boy afterwards that finding the old lord was dead, and the young lord gone with the body into Wales, the gentleman had gone on in the shades to Woola, seeming very anxious to catch his lordship as soon as possible. That's all I know upon the subject. And quite enough too, Mr. Gunnell, said Mr. Hargrave, with an approving nod at the head. I am quite satisfied, said Mr. Stoughtaforth. But Lady Anne exclaimed, No, not yet, there shall not be a shade of suspicion left upon his name. May I ask you, Colonel Mandrake, to read that paper aloud? You were acquainted with my dear father, and must know his handwriting at the bottom. The other signature I can prove, for the witness is now in this house, and shall describe what he saw and heard. I will read the paper at once, my lady, replied Colonel Mandrake. I see your father's handwriting, and would swear to it anyway from the peculiar turn of the D. The confession of Stephen Haley made in the presence of Charles Earl of Milford on the eleventh day of October, 18 blank, at Harley Lodge, in the county of Hartford. I, Stephen Haley, upon the solemn promise of the Earl of Milford, never to divulge what I am now about to write until after my death, except in case a young gentleman, known by the name of Henry Haley, now supposed to be dead, should again reappear in this country, do hereby acknowledge and confess that I did forge the name of Mr. Henry Scriven, and the word accepted on a bill of exchange. Which was discounted for me by the said young gentleman at the house of Mrs. Stolterforth and Company Bankers, and that he, the said Henry Haley, was totally and entirely ignorant that the bill was forged, when he so discounted it, and that he never either knew or to the best of my beliefs suspected, that the said bill was forged till the very morning on which he departed for the continent. Moreover, I acknowledge and confess that he left England at my earnest entreaty, and solely with the view of saving my life. I having previously furnished him with a paper to the same effect as this present, in order to ensure him from danger, if he should be apprehended and brought back. I solemnly declare every word herein above written to be true, and I authorise the Earl of Milford to produce this paper in case the said Henry Haley should not be dead, and should ever return to England, and to make whatever use of it he may think fit after my death, signed Stephen Haley. Witnesses Milford Thomas Alsiger My father's signature can be proved by Alsiger, said Lady Anne, let Thomas Alsiger be called. Mr. Hargrave, will you put what questions to him you think necessary? When the name of Thomas Alsiger had been pronounced, a stout, courtly man, Lady Anne's butler, advanced to the table, bowing to the magistrates. Thomas Alsiger, said Mr. Hargrave, did you ever witness in the presence of your late master the signature of a gentleman named Haley? Yes, your worship, replied the man. I did. Is that your handwriting, demanded Mr. Hargrave? It is, answered the butler. Describe what occurred on that occasion, said Mr. Hargrave. By your worship, replied the man, my lord had been very ill from an accident by which he had nearly been killed, but he had been recovering rapidly, and had walked out once or twice in the park, when one morning at breakfast he had taken up a newspaper, just as I was putting some things on the table, and all in a minute he started up as if he had seen something frightful, threw the paper down under his feet, and trampled upon it. I never saw him in such a way before, and he cried out, send a man on horseback immediately for that villain, Haley. Tell him to come down to me directly, and say, if he does not come, I will come and fetch him. My lady was in the room, and she tried to quiet him. He did get a little more composed, and he wrote a note, and sent the carriage instead of a man on horseback. Mr. Haley came back in the carriage, and when he got out I saw he was pale and trembling. I showed him into my lord's little room, and there he remained for about an hour, and as I passed and repast I could hear my lord's voice very high at times, till at last he rang the bell, as if he would have shaken it down. I ran as fast as possible, and I found Mr. Haley on his knees before him, crying, I will indeed, I will do it this minute. Then my lord answered, very well, sir, if you have told the truth you can have no objection to write it. You may go away, outsider. In about half an hour after he rang again, but much more quietly, and when I went in I found Mr. Haley sitting with that paper before him, not spread out, but doubled down, so that I could only see the last words, and my lord said, I wish you to witness this person's signature, outsider. Now Mr. Haley, then Mr. Haley put his hand upon the paper and said, All I have written in this paper is true, so help me God. And then he wrote his name. My lord wrote his, and I wrote mine, and went away. In a few minutes after Mr. Haley went to, but my lord would never see him afterwards, though he called once or twice. No further questions were asked of the battler, but Sir Harry Henderson remarked, Here is your name upon the back of the paper, Hargrave, I see. That was merely for verification, said Mr. Hargrave, in order to be able to prove how, when, and where this and other papers were found. Rather singular indeed, said Mr. Scriven, whose bitter spirit was not yet fully worked out, that the earl should leave such a paper about when his old school fellow's life depended upon it. He did not leave it about, sir, answered Lady Anne. He placed it in a cabinet here at Milford, a short time before his death, and sealed up that cabinet with a strip of parchment, impressing the wax at each end with his own coat of arms. The seal he left by his will to Mr. Hargrave, so that it has never been in my possession, nor have I ever been at Milford Castle since my father's death, till I came here with Mr. Hargrave. The key of the cabinet, sealed up in a letter directed to me, and explaining the nature of the papers I would find therein when I came of age, my father ordered to be given to me after his death. Mr. Hargrave witnessed my opening of that cabinet, the parchment being then uncut, and the seals unbroken, and he wrote his name upon each of the papers found therein, to identify them in case of need. I mention these facts, Mr. Scriven, lest you should suspect me of fabricating these papers, though what possible motive I could have for fabricating them. It might be difficult to discover. Not so difficult as your ladyship supposes, replied Mr. Scriven, with his last spirit of disappointed spleen. Love, we know, will make people do many strange things. Love, cried Lady Anne, with a gay smile. Well, so be it. I do love him. And she put her arm through that of Henry. I do love him most dearly, most truly, most tenderly. Then no wonder, madame, your ladyship tries hard to save a man you wish to marry, said Mr. Scriven. Marry, exclaimed Lady Anne, laughing joyously, nay, nay, my good sir, not marry my own brother. Mr. Scriven looked confounded, and there was many a one in the room who was very much, though not equally surprised. After a moment's silence, however, Lady Anne turned to Henry, placing the rest of the paper she had brought in his hands, and saying, There, Henry, my dear brother, I put you in possession of that which is yours. I am no longer mistress of this house, of this estate, or of any of the property of the Milford family. They go with the title to you. Harley Lodge and my mother's property are all that I can claim, and I do not think you will make me pay back rents, for that which I have not kept willingly. One such brother is, to me, worth all the property in the world. Henry threw his arms round her and kissed her tenderly, but bursting away from him with her own wild grace, she cast herself upon the bosom of Maria Moncton and wept. The magistrates rose from the table at which they had been sitting and shook hands with and congratulated him who had been the object of so much interest and so much investigation. Charles Marston and Mr. Winkworth were not behind them, and poor Lady Fleetwood exclaimed with a sigh, Well, this is very extraordinary and very fortunate. Very extraordinary indeed, said Mr. Scriven, dryly, and not the least extraordinary part of the whole, is a body of magistrates rising to shake hands with a persons still under a charge of felony. I dropped the charge entirely, said Mr. Stolterforth. I am perfectly convinced, as any reasonable man must be, that there is not the slightest foundation for it, whatever. Nevertheless, said Mr. Hargrave, who had heard Mr. Scriven's observation and the rejoinder, Mr. Scriven is quite right. This is an unusual manner of expressing the unanimous decision at which I believe we have arrived. We must proceed more orderly. Sir Harry Henderson, Colonel, let me have your decision. He spoke for a single moment, apart with each of his brother magistrates, and then, resuming his seat with the rest, he said. It is the unanimous opinion of the justices present, that there is not the slightest ground for the accusation which has been made against the gentleman known here, by the name of Colonel Middleton. Charge dismissed. Clerk, you will have the goodness to send all the papers to the proper quarter, and in case of any question as to our having acted out of our jurisdiction, I take the responsibility thereof upon myself. The prisoner, Samuel Nugent, must be sent to London with a copy of the depositions by which he is affected. Then I am to consider that the case against Colonel Middleton, alias Haley, alias Milford, is disposed of, said Mr. Scriven. As far as we are concerned, this case is, sir, replied Mr. Hargrave. There is another case, however, affecting subordination of perjury, which, not having any parallel case in remembrance, I do not know how to deal with. I will, however, when I get home, consult authorities on the subject, and confer with my brother magistrates. If you are still in the country, you shall hear from me on the matter. This delicate hint was not lost upon Mr. Scriven, although he saw that the game was against him indeed. He had a strong inclination to see if nothing could be done to retrieve it. But he was a man of calculation, hardy, persevering, it is true, in pursuit of an object, but yet unwilling to risk much upon a perilous speculation, and in the present instance he was quietly beating a retreat as soon as Mr. Hargrave's eye was off him. He was interrupted, however, in his course by a loud, clear, sharp voice exclaiming, "'Hey, Scriven, Scriven!' and turning round as almost all the rest of the party did at this sudden exclamation, he saw the eyes of Mr. Winkworth fixed upon him through a pair of large spectacles. "'Just let me remind you before you go, Scriven,' said Mr. Winkworth, that you owe the sum of twenty-one thousand two hundred and sixty-three pounds, eleven shillings and five pence, to the heirs, executors, administrators, or assigns of the late Stephen Haley Esquire, whose sole representative I take to be Miss Rebecca Haley, now in confinement by your orders at Brook Green. If Mr. Scriven ever really felt fury, it was at that moment. "'What is that to you, sir?' he demanded fiercely. "'Your assertion is false.' "'No, it is not,' answered Mr. Winkworth. "'It is quite true, and not only will I prove it so within the next three months, but I will prove that you have owed it for ten years and denied the debt, because you had got possession of the vouchers.' Mr. Scriven had waxed marvelously pale, and he gazed in Mr. Winkworth's face as if he beheld a ghost. "'And who are you?' he demanded in a dull, hollow tone. But those were the only words he seemed capable of uttering. "'I am one who have known you well,' replied Mr. Winkworth, for well nine thirty years, and if your memory of faces were as good as you pretend, me thinks you might have remembered mine. "'There, go, go, we shall meet in London within a month, and pray you see that my accounts with your house are in somewhat better order than those of unhappy Stephen Haley.' Mr. Scriven was very near the door, and a servant, opening it at that moment, gave him an opportunity of slipping out without any great bustle. Henry was at that moment speaking a few words to Lady Anne Mellon, and Pale Maria Moncton. Pale, I say, for agitation had blanched her cheek till it looked like the leaf of a lily. "'Shall I call him back and ask him to stay?' he said, in a low, but eager tone, addressing Maria. "'No, Henry, no,' she answered, laying her hand upon his arm, it would only be a misery to himself and a restraint to us. You can never be friends, for you are nature's opposites, but you will endure him for my sake, and better at a distance.' At that moment Lady Fleetwood advanced towards them, her face beaming, with every kindly purpose. "'My dear Lord,' she said, while Maria looked up in his face with a gentle smile, "'I congratulate you most sincerely, and dear Maria, too, upon the wonderful events that have happened. I don't understand it at all for my part, though I see that it has all ended quite right and happily. You must indeed forgive my poor brother, Scriven, for you know he is a dry, commonplace man of business, and I am sure did it all with the best intentions.' Maria could hardly refrain from laughing, but Sir Harry Henderson, who was standing near, said in a jocular sort of way, "'Indeed, Lady Fleetwood, few of us understand the matter completely, and should very much like to hear the whole explained, without waiting for a newspaper account of it.' "'Such explanation, my dear sir, I shall be most happy to give you,' said Henry, "'but not now. I have my sister's directions to us, the whole party here assembled, and, more especially, yourself and Colonel Mandrake, to remain and dine with us. I would hold out the explanation of all mysteries as a temptation. Did I not think that the bare request of Lady Anne would be quite sufficient for any gentleman here present?' "'Assuredly, assuredly, my Lord,' replied Colonel Mandrake, who was a very gallant old gentleman, with bushy black and white eyebrows and an aquiline nose. "'But, unfortunately, we are here in morning costume.' "'That will be easily amended,' said Lady Anne, with one of her gay looks. "'Nobody indeed will remark Colonel Mandrake's costume when he is himself present. But if he needs must attend to all those proprieties which so much distinguish him. A man and horse will be at liberty in a few minutes to bring whatever he requires. And now let us adjourn to another room, for this has been so full of agitating feelings that the air seems loaded with ill-affections.' "'Mingled with pure and noble ones, dear Anne,' said Henry, laying his hand upon hers, "'Now kind Lady Fleetwood, let me give you my arm, and let none of us regret what has passed, as we have all acted with the best intentions.'" CHAPTER XXXIX So Harry Henderson was very curious, and he longed to anticipate the explanation which he had promised for the evening. But he was disappointed for the principal actors in the scene which had just passed had given up, they thought, enough time to pass, and were now disposed to afford a larger share to emotions. For half an hour the whole party remained assembled in the drawing-room, but then one began to drop off after another, and the conversation which had at first been of an eager yet gossiping kind, discussing all that had taken place, and the demeanour of several of those who had appeared upon the stage, languished for want of fresh materials. At least the Hargrave, though the oldest man of the party, was the one for whom a sensitive heart and intelligent mind had preserved, least impaired, that delicate perception, or rather, I should have said, intuition, of the feelings of others, which is so beautiful to see at a period of life when passions have become memories, and emotions of life are stilled by the awful presence of the yawning grave. He watched the face of Maria Moncton for a moment as she sat with her cheek leaning on her hand, her eyes fixed upon the floor, and her mind evidently brooding over the scenes which had that morning taken place, her heart thrilling with sensations of joy and thankfulness. He saw the eyes of the young Earl turn to her with a longing glance, as if he would feign have cast his arms round her, and pressed her to his heart, and the old man said to himself, These young people will be better with fewer eyes upon them. Come, Sir Harry, he continued aloud, you and the Colonel must take a walk through the park with me, and see the improvements I was proposing to Lady Anne the other day. I do not know whether they may find favour with her brother, but I shall plead for them strongly, for there is no arts of full affinity as landscape gardening. Will you come and judge of them, my Lord? asked Colonel Mandrake, but Henry replied, I fear, my dear Sir, my thoughts would be so busy with other things that I should not do them justice. In a short time, I think, I shall beg the advice of all three gentlemen upon many points, both of taste and business, but today I will not venture to do so. Mr. Hargrave then, with his two companions, walked out into the park. Mr. Winkworth had quitted the drawing-room some time before. Lady Anne had disappeared, Charles Marston was not to be seen, and Lady Fleetwood, Maria, Mrs. Bryce and Henry were the only persons remaining. Mrs. Bryce slipped away quietly, and dear Aunt Fleetwood sat for a minute or two, debating with herself what she should do. She knew that it would be very pleasant for Maria to be left alone for a time with her lover. She had not so much forgotten the lessons of youth as to without that, but she thought it would distress her niece if she brought the matter about too ostentatiously, and she puzzled herself for an excuse, finding none, till at length Henry laid his hand upon Maria's arm, saying, Dear Maria, I want to speak with you for a few moments. Then Lady Fleetwood started to go up, without any excuse at all, first dropped her gloves, and then her handkerchief, and then the everlasting purse. Henry picked them up with a smile, saying, Dear Lady Fleetwood, what I said need not banish you, we are going to the little breakfast-room. No, no, stay here, said Lady Fleetwood, hurrying away. But there was a fatality about her best intentions, and directing her steps to the library, she opened the door hurriedly, trying with one hand to keep a fast hold of her gloves and handkerchief, and of the purse with the other. When on the door flying back farther than she intended, she saw before her Charles Marston and Lady Anne Mellon, with his arm round her waist. Lady Fleetwood would feign have retreated instantly, but she had to shut the door, and in so doing she dropped the purse again, and as she stooped to pick it up, the door, coming to vehemently, hit her on the head, and nearly knocked her down. But while Charles was hurrying to her assistance, and Lady Anne stood half- laughing, half-crying by the table, she contrived to pick up the purse and beat a retreat. Her next harbour of refuge was the little breakfast-room, but there again she found Henry and Maria, who had gone thither to avoid interruption, and at last she bethought her that it might be as well to try her own bedroom, which she had the happiness of finding vacant. Maria Lady Fleetwood said Anne Mellon when Charles returned, fate seems to lay traps for her, but now Charles, remember our present compact, and keep it better than you did the last. Do you suppose that I did not see, while under all your affectation of cool confidence and implicit trust, that your angry spirit was accusing me of every kind of cockatry, and grilling itself like a London woman's head in a lace bonnet going out in August, in an open carriage to a picnic at Shooters Hill? Charles Marston laughed. Well, he said, it is true, I was uneasy, dearest Anne, but not with any doubt or mistrust, as you suppose, for your love and truth I had no doubt, but it was impossible for me to divine such a cause, as has now appeared for your conduct, and you yourself must confess that nothing else but such a cause could justify it. You might have been quite sure, replied Lady Anne, that I had a sufficient cause, but I will own the trial was hard, she added in a lighter tone, for her words had been spoken gravely, and therefore I forgive you. I took a sly, quiet look at your face when the secret came out, and I must say I never saw a more remarkable look of foolish astonishment. However, perhaps I may surprise you still more before I have done today, and then I suppose it will be all over, and I shall sink down into a tame, quiet, everyday sort of wife, who, if ever she ventures upon one of her old vagaries, will be scolded heartily, and will endure it with due submission. No, no dear girl, he answered, you must be ever, as far as possible, what you are now, I love you as you are, and could not love you better for any change. Depend upon it, dear Anne, it is the change after marriage from what people were, or seemed before marriage, which is the source of nine-tenths of the unhappiness one sometimes hears of in married life. Then take care what you are about, Charles, said Lady Anne, with a look of surprise, for you are actually changing already. You are talking like a reasonable man. Now you know quite well, if I had ever thought you pretended to such a character, I never would have consented to marry you. But I forgot one thing. You may very likely not wish to marry me now. Do you remember, sir, coming to me one morning with a grave and serious face, and setting me free from all promises, because an alteration had taken place in your circumstances? Now a very great alteration has taken place in mine. I have lost more than thirty thousand a year, and therefore I now set you free." Charles Marston laughed. I won't be free, he answered. I refuse emancipation, and to tell you the truth, my love, I am very glad it is so. The marriage is not now so unequal as it was. The good world would only have said, Never mind what the world would say, Charles, answered Lady Anne. The world is a great fool, and says every day the most ridiculous things which nobody should care about or think of. And now, to prove how little I care, I am going to sit with Mr. Winkworth in his bedroom for half an hour. Well, go, said Charles, I do not wish to stop you, but come down again soon, for I am determined to have a long ramble in the park with you, all alone. We shall see," answered Lady Anne, and she left him. While the conversation which I have just detailed was taking place in one part of the house, one of a very different tone went on in the little breakfast room between Maria and her lover. She had gone thither with her arm through his. But somehow, when seated on the sofa there, his arm had fallen round her, and his hand clasped hers. We have heard a velliquant silence, and I am not very fond of the expression, nor indeed of any paradoxical figures. Still, Maria and Henry were silent, quite silent, for a minute or two after they entered the room, and their silence might well indicate the presence of many powerful emotions in their hearts, too large, too powerful for words. The first which Henry uttered were, do you forgive me, Maria? Forgive you for what, Henry? She asked. For keeping you in suspense, he answered, for withholding from you that full, entire, unclouded confidence which shall never be withheld again. The only cause was, dear Maria, that my dear, kind, generous sister, who rejoices as much to see herself deprived of a large property as others would rejoice to receive one, bound me to silence, till everything was prepared, both to establish my claims, and to meet any charges against me. She was fearful that the least hint escaping might precipitate matters, and place us for a time, at least, in a difficult, if not dangerous situation. Perhaps indeed there might be a little of the spirit of adventure and romance in her desire for keeping everything secret to the last, but still you will own she has managed admirably for me. Admirably indeed, exclaimed Maria with tears in her eyes, and when at last she said, what, marry my brother? I felt inclined to run forward and cast myself at her feet. But, oh, Henry, what can I say of my uncle's conduct? What you must feel towards him, and are you quite sure that you will never let any of those feelings fall back upon me? Can you believe it for a moment, my beloved? He replied, what upon you, the dearest, the best, the earliest friend I have, you whose noble heart judged mine rightly from the beginning, you who never abandoned me, who never failed me, who received me on my return with the same affection, the same confidence, which had existed between us in childhood, you who upon my simple assurance unsupported, unconfirmed, believed the tale I told, and in the moment of danger and difficulty conferred upon me that blessed hope, which gave me strength and courage to encounter every peril and triumph over every obstacle. Oh, no, Maria, no, I shall ever look upon you and your love as the crowning mercies of all those with which heaven has compensated for a short period of anguish and disgrace. So far from my feelings from Mr. Scryphon falling back upon you, I trust, and indeed I'm sure, that my feelings towards you will sensibly affect my sensations towards him. Angry and indignant I must feel, but I will try, as soon as possible, to banish all such emotions, and will never forget that he is the uncle of one who loved and supported me in adversity and sorrow. Another silent pause succeeded, for Maria did not reply, but she thanked him in her heart, and then, looking up in his face, she said, there is much, I suppose, still to be done to establish your rights. Not much, replied Henry. The whole case, I think, is very clear. All the steps taken by Mr. Scryphon to prove that I am Henry Haley tend to establish the fact that I am the son of the late Earl of Milford, and my dear sister Anne had that in view in suffering him to go on so long without bringing forward the proofs of my innocence which she possessed. Indeed, she managed the whole with a degree of skill and judgment quite extraordinary and once so young and apparently so wild. The proofs of my own legitimacy I have myself obtained in an extraordinary manner, and two or three papers which, luckily, were not in the pocketbook of which I was robbed, fill up every break in the chain of evidence. You will hear the whole fully detailed tonight and will see that, though aristocratic by the father's side, I am plebeian by the mother's, but I do not think you will love or esteem me the less for that. Nor, to say the truth, do I myself regret it, for I believe that it is by the frequent mingling of plebeian with patrician blood that the aristocracy of this country is so different from and so much superior to that of any other. My grandfather is still living, a fine specimen of the English yeoman, and I know that my Maria will join me in making him forget his sorrows. Some prejudices, indeed, I know he has, especially against men of a higher rank and station than his own, but those I am sure will be removed when he finds that his daughter's son can be fully as proud of the upright honesty of one ancestor as of the rank and station of another. But what will you do with regard to the property you have inherited in Spain and the family there, which claims you as one of its members, demanded Maria? That will be easily managed, answered Henry, though it certainly is a curious situation in which to be, as Mrs. Malaprop calls it, three gentlemen in one, Henry Haley, Frank Middleton and Lord Milford. However, Henry Haley, we soon shall dispose of, and Frank Middleton's conduct will be very clear to renounce the name, to restore the whole property, to repay every dollar he has received from it. The family will be very well satisfied with the restitution, for it was left to me by Will, not taken as succession, and I have a letter from Don Balthazar at the time he made his will, stating that he knew me to be no relation and that he was acquainted with my name and history. He had left me the property with that knowledge. The family, therefore, could establish no legal claim to that which I intended to restore. The letter will only be useful as justifying me in all eyes for having retained the property for so long, but I would feign, in this, as in other things, come out clear of any imputation. I am sure you will, replied Maria. I always was sure of it, Henry, and I must do my Aunt Fleetwood the justice to say that she has never ceased to maintain your innocence. Dear Aunt Fleetwood, said Henry with a smile, I know Maria, she loved me when a boy, and would not easily believe any evil of me. We must not forget her in our own happiness, Maria, although ours, Will, I am sure, greatly contribute to hers. She must be with us as much as possible, and I trust and believe that her good intentions will no longer have any power of working in a contrary sense. The conversation proceeded in the same course for some time, and then the whole party reassembled at luncheon. The afternoon was spent in rambles in the neighborhood and in those various ways of killing time which we usually see practised in a country house. To Lady Fleetwood, Henry was tender kindness itself, and he soon taught the excellent lady to imagine that her good intentions, though they had taken a droll course, had operated for his benefit, and to congratulate herself upon the result. Joshua Brown was committed to the care of Carlini, and all the servants of the house, though they did not comprehend the matter clearly, addressed Lady Anne's acknowledged brother with infinite reverence, and at every other word called him my lord. End of chapter 39. Chapter 40 It was after dinner. The summer light had faded from the evening sky, yet there were roses in the west, and a bright star following like a fair handmaid upon Cynthia's footsteps through the sky. The curtains were not drawn, and the purple hue of the past day spread through the dining-room, mingling with the more powerful light of the lamps, like calm, sad memories tempering present joys. The party of Milford Castle consisted, as the reader knows, of ten persons, and they were still seated round the table. Lady Anne was at one end, her brother had assumed the other. The dessert, such as it was at that season of the year, was still before them. The excellent wine had once gone round. The commonplace chat of the dinner table had gradually subsided, and one of those fits of silence which very often indicate expectation had fallen upon the whole party. The one who was the most eager for the promised explanation was Sir Harry Henderson, who said, after the silence had continued for perhaps half a minute, you promised us a history, my lord, or perhaps even I might call it a romance, for certainly it savers of the romantic. It does indeed, answered Henry, but, like many another romantic thing, it is very true. I think, however, although with my dear sister and myself some painful memories may arise, and some gloomy thoughts may be awakened, it will be better to read you the letter of him who knew the whole circumstances, from being the principal actor in them, rather than give you my own version of the details. I will only premise that from this letter Lady Anne first learned that she had ever had a brother. The demonstrable proofs were found in the cabinet which, as you have heard, was opened by her in the presence of Mr Hargrave. Thus saying, he rose and rang the bell, ordering when the servant appeared that a green box of paper should be brought him out of his room. When it had been procured, he opened it and took out a letter from the top, containing several closely written pages, and having looked at it for a moment, he said, After the death of my father, the late Earl of Norford, this letter was delivered by his executors to his daughter, Lady Anne, whom he then believed to be his only surviving child. It contained the key of the cabinet to which you have all heard allusion made, and it bears, marked upon the back, to be opened by my daughter, Lady Anne, when she shall arrive at the age of one and twenty years, provided it should please heaven that she should survive me. The letter then proceeds as follows, My dearest child, you have remarked that my health has been gradually failing for some years. The medical men attribute this decay to an accident I met with, which you well remember. I myself connected with a much more painful event of which they know nothing. They cannot, therefore, by any drugs remedy the disease. I am now about to unburden my whole heart for the first time in my life to you, for I feel that I am soon about to be called hence, and the most improbable events might occur, which would render the secret of my early life important, both to yourself and others. I know you, my dearest child, well thoroughly, entirely, and I can trust implicitly both to your heart and to your understanding. You are too dutiful and affectionate a child to blame your father severely, even if you find he has committed some errors or to scorn his injunctions, even if you cannot always approve his conduct. Neither will I blame my own parent, although we did not live on those terms of tender confidence in which you and I have always dwelt together. But it is necessary that I should speak of his character to account for, if not to justify, my own actions. Let me tell you then my early history. I was my father's second son and never was loved as my elder brother was. That brother was kind and good and worthy of all affection, but even to him my father was usually stern and often even violent. To me, my father's demeanour was exceedingly harsh and imperious. Instant obedience to his slightest word was exacted in all things, as was perhaps right and due, but no command ever came unaccompanied by a threat and no threat ever remained unfulfilled if the command was, even by mistake, disobeyed. It seemed as if he wished to make fear subside both affection and a sense of duty and he succeeded but too well. I learned to dread him and even after my poor brother's death that sad lesson was not forgotten. As his heir I was furnished with ample means and received a very good education. But before my brother's death I had been placed at a somewhat inferior school where I formed a very close intimacy with a boy of the name of Haley. You have often seen him as a man and must recollect him. He was weak, timid and somewhat cowardly, but I was in the custom of defending him from the attacks of older and stronger boys and we naturally learned to love what we protect. When I afterwards went to Eton, Stephen Haley followed me thither and our friendship continued unabated. Even when I was sent on a tour through Europe with a tutor, I regularly corresponded with Haley, my new rank as Lord Mellon, making not the least change to our intimacy, though he had now become a clerk in a great merchant's house. It was not long after my return and while I was still a student at Oxford, that an event occurred, the consequences of which have checkered my golden fate with shades unalterably dark. One day in a country village where I had gone to study more quietly for my degree than I could do elsewhere, I saw a girl of the most surpassing beauty that can be conceived. The first meeting was merely accidental but the second was designed where I eagerly inquired who she was and finding that her father was a wealthy and honest farmer of the name of Graves, I contrived to introduce myself to him as a person wishing to purchase a horse. I soon made myself intimate in his family and the admiration I had conceived for his daughter ripened into the warmest and truest love. She was as gentle and kind, as good and as graceful as she was beautiful and even had such a thing be impossible, my dearest Anne, which it was not, I would not have misled her for the world. But my position was very difficult. I knew my father's proud spirit and highly aristocratic feelings and that his consent to my marriage with a farmer's daughter was quite out of all hope. But I loved her and she loved me and I told her all my difficulties. She and she alone knew who I was where I had given myself out as a merchant, at the son of a merchant, to escape visits and civilities which might be burdensome. We hesitated, we doubted long, but at length passion triumphed over prudence and she was persuaded to fly with me and unite her fate with mine. We were marriage and secret and passed nearly a year in the fondest affection. All that she exacted was permission to write to her father to assure him that she was a wife. When the time approached, however, at which she was to give birth to a child, fears assailed her and remorse for having left her parents' house. She made me promise that, if real danger occurred, I would send for him with all speed that she might receive his pardon and his blessing before she died. Danger did come, my child, and death, but she had the satisfaction she sought. Her father and her husband were with her at the last hour and she died forgiven, leaving me with a poor, helpless infant. The old man fled from the cottage almost in a state of madness and my own mind was so troubled that for three days I forgot all the dangers of my situation. Those dangers were many, as I will soon explain to you, and to avoid them I was obliged to leave that cottage with the child as soon as the funeral was over, to consign the poor infant to the charge of a nurse and to appear in the gay world of London with a calm face and none of the external signs of that morning which was sincerely in my heart. I must now go back to tell some other events which had occurred. Like most young men of my day, I had been somewhat extravagant and had lived a good deal beyond the income which my father allowed me. My debts amounted to between nine and 10,000 pounds when I first met with poor Mary Graves. My creditors were importunate. I had not the means of paying them and about seven months after my marriage one of them applied to my father. He sent for me and sternly demanded that I should give him an account of everything I owed. I did so and to my surprise I found him much less enraged than I could have imagined. But it soon appeared that he had a project in his head which would compel me to disobey and offend him. He asked me if I had ever seen a young lady whom he named. In short, your own dear mother. I told him I had not, but that I had always heard her highly spoken of. He then informed me that he was acquainted with her father and that as she was an only child and heiress of considerable wealth he had proposed to him a marriage between her and me. Your maternal grandfather had consented upon the condition that the marriage should be agreeable to ourselves. And my father now said, on condition of your marrying this young lady I will at once pay your debts and settle a larger income upon you. I cannot minutely describe the scene that ensued. Of course I was obliged to refuse and I did so decidedly and at once. There was sufficient to excite great wrath but my father smothered it in a degree and requested me at least to see the young lady before I decided. I endeavored as humbly as I could to represent to him that by pursuing such a course and then refusing to marry her, especially after what had taken place between him and her father I should be grossly wronging and insulting her. But now the storm broke forth. He told me that a rumour had reached him that I was either keeping or have married some low woman that he had refused to believe such an assertion but that my conduct gave such strong confirmation to the report that he would take means to ascertain the fact and if he found I had been guilty of so base of their election of my duty to him and of my rank and station in society he would cast me off forever would bequeath every farthing of the property which he could alienate. And that was nearly the whole to strangers and leave me what he justly called the most miserable of wretches, a titled beggar. He would not hear me utter a word but drove me forth from his presence to seek comfort with my poor wife from whom I was obliged to conceal the sorrows which my marriage with her had brought upon me. Thus matters continued till her death knowing that I was watched and obliged to have recourse to a thousand stratagems to conceal my movements. Even after the poor girl's death I knew my father too well to doubt that if he discovered I had a son by such a marriage he would carry his threat into execution and in my difficulty and distress I applied to my friend Haley meeting my confidant and induced him to promise that he would acknowledge the child as his own and super intent his education till such time as I should be enabled publicly to declare my marriage. Some months after I accidentally met with your mother in society found her beautiful, amiable and in every respect agreeable to me and I took means to make myself agreeable to her. She was quite unconscious of what had previously taken place and gave such encouragement as no well-educated woman would afford to a man whom she would afterwards reject. Her father, however, who was well aware of the whole at first treated me very coldly but as soon as I had made up my mind to offer her my hand I thought it tried to have an explanation with him and I pointed out to him that I had acted honourably towards his daughter in refusing to be introduced to her with such views unless I were positively determined to carry them out. I soon overcame all his prejudices he became attached to me his daughter accepted my offered hand and I wrote to my father whom I had not seen for some months hoping that my obedience, tardy as it was, would be accepted. He was not fond of writing and he sent for me to come to him. When I went my treatment was that which might have been shown towards a very lowly dependent. He told me that if I wished to show myself dutiful my submission came too late that now I might marry your mother or not as I pleased that he approved of the match but did not require it and that although he would allow me an income equal to my station and expectations he would settle nothing upon me. He added in a low but very menacing tone I have my doubts young man I have my doubts and if I ever find that you have degraded your name or rank I will leave you without one penny of which I can deprive you. I was obliged to bear these tidings to my future father-in-law but with a certain portion of ambition he was a kind hearted and affectionate man. He knew that his daughter loved me he felt confident from all he had seen that I loved her and his consent to our marriage was given. Unwillingly indeed for he was sufficiently wealthy to look high for a match for his daughter and to desire a settlement proportionate to her fortune. However all objections were waived and we were married. My allowance from my father was liberal her fortune was large and eight months after it was trebled by the death of her father. All the time possessed however and all the time should ever possess except a very small portion depended upon the earls never discovering that I had contracted a previous marriage and had had a son by a plebeian wife. My dear boy therefore remained under the care of Mr. Haley was brought home by him while yet almost an infant acknowledged as his son educated with great care and displayed in person and mind in character and demeanour. But I need not read all that said Henry after a few commendations on my boyhood the letter goes on thus. You have seen him often my dear Anne you know him well for I brought him up with you almost as a brother intending to tell you that he actually was so before you reached the age of womanhood. I loved him oh how dearly and how well and you loved him too I am sure with that fraternal love which was exactly what I desired. No act no thought of his ever gave me a moment's pain and without wishing for my own father's death I longed to be able to tell you and your mother that this boy was my son. At length I was suddenly summoned away to Belford to attend upon my father who had been seized with severe illness. I could have wished to remain in London or in its neighbourhood for I knew that the affairs of Mr. Haley were getting into a sad disorder. I had already supplied him more than once with considerable sums of money beyond the expenses of my dear boy's education and maintenance and a new demand had been made upon my purse accompanied by a vague and timid threat. However I was obliged to set out. My father died a week or two after and I proceeded from Wilford Castle to Carmarthen to consign his remains to the family vault. On my way back my carriage was overturned at the bridge at Blank and I was taken up insensible with concussion of the brain. I remained ill for several weeks and my recovery was slow and difficult. For a long time the medical men would not suffer me to read or write at all but at length one morning after I had been permitted to go out once or twice I took up the newspaper on the breakfast table and was struck with horror and dismay on reading a paragraph headed the late forgery. I cannot dwell on the particulars even now my dear child. Suffice it to say that the paragraph showed me that my son, your dear brother, had been accused of forgery to a large amount, that he had fled from the country after having been traced down to Northumberland and thence to Carmarthen in search of me at scenes and that the officer who had followed him to Ancona had there by the monks been shown a dead body which they so only declared to be his. My feelings were almost those of a madman. I knew my boy was not guilty. I saw it all in a moment. That Haley, a bankrupt gambler as he had proved had committed the forgery and had induced the boy who thought him his father to fly in order to screen his supposed parent. At the same time a vague, wild hope which haunts me yet that my child might still be alive that the officer might have been deceived by a pious fraud of the monks took possession of my mind and made me act upon the moment with a degree of fierceness and resolution which perhaps I might not have had the courage to display if I had paused to deliberate. I sent for the man Haley with a threat that if he did not come I would fetch him and when he appeared before me all pale and trembling I accused him at once of what he had done as if I had a revelation of the whole facts. He was always a coward and in his attempts to deny and equivocate he betrayed himself. But I wrung the whole from him as if I had taken his false heart in my hand and crushed out the only drops of truth it contained. I told him that if he did not instantly and at once confess the whole I would carry him from my house to the office of the magistrate that I would prove from his own letters to me that he was a bankrupt and a beggar but a few days before the forgery was committed that I would make him account for the possession of every penny which he had expended since and leave the keen hands of justice to follow out the scent. He did at length confess the whole and put it down in writing signing it in my presence and that of outsider the butler upon the condition that I would not reveal the facts still after his death unless my boy ever appeared in England again. My hopes of such being the case have daily decreased but they linger still. I have caused many inquiries to be made and secret investigations to be carried on but the only fact I have been able to discover which keeps expectation alive is that there were two lads nearly of the same age in the convent at the time my poor boy was supposed to have died in Ancona. In case he should appear again before you arrive at the age of one and twenty I have besought my dear old friend Charles Hargrave of Detch and Greed near Belford to watch carefully the events that take place in London and if Henry should come back to desire you to open this letter at once. The confession of Haley with several other papers concerning my private marriage and the boy's birth and education are in an ebony cabinet in my dressing room at Milford Castle. It is sealed up with an order written upon it to the effect that it is only to be opened by yourself after you have reached the age of one and twenty. And now my dear child farewell these lines will not meet your eyes till your fathers are closed I know I have no need to exhort you to do justice to your brother if ever you should find him and if you should not to clear his memory after Mr Haley's death your mother's ample fortune will be sufficient provision for you and the estates of the family will descend to you without being specially mentioned in my will but remember that you hold them in trust for him if ever he should reappear should such be the case I trust that the affection which existed between you and him as boy and girl may be a blessing to you both in more mature years and now that heaven may protect you and send you a happier fate than mine is the sincerest prayer of your father Milford Henry's voice faltered as he read the latter sentences of his father's letter to his sister and there were tears in Lady Anne's bright eyes but those tears did not run over to old Mr Hargrave Lady's hand upon hers say well and nobly my dear child have you fulfilled your excellent father's last behest and justified his judgment both of head and heart and I am a proud man said Mr Winkworth looking at her through his spectacles which he had been wiping more than once for some reason or another for I shall one day call her child who has so brightly performed her duty to a dead father and a living brother hush hush hush exclaimed Lady Anne starting up you will drive me away did you not promise most faithless of Indians you're as bad as a man in the fairy tale and as ugly replied Mr Winkworth laughing but I fear dear lady I shall never find a kind girl to restore me to my pristine form again though if there be a sorceress upon earth who could do it she were Anne Melent pray use your interest with her for me my dear lord for I would feign have youth and beauty back as they appeared before they had been taken away by that fell enchanter time and here are two people in the room my old acquaintance Hargrave and my dear sister Lady Fleetwood who can tell you that I was a very good-looking fellow nine and twenty years ago when I was called Charles Marston Charles Marston exclaimed Lady Fleetwood almost with a scream you Charles Marston yes my dear Meg replied Mr Winkworth even your poor brother-in-law but dear me cried Lady Fleetwood Scriven told me you were a bankrupt and Charles says you are very rich both Meg both replied Mr Winkworth there Scriven told truth and Charles too do you not know that I never did things like other men and when I was coming from India as there were some dear friends who owed me a couple of lax and were too gentlemanly to pay an old friend I made myself a bankrupt that the task of suing them might fall upon my assignees I had the hint by the way from Grange the pastry cook who made himself a bankrupt every year just to call in his accounts but I rather think I am capable of paying a hundred shillings in the pound and now all I have to say is and I say it deliberately before witnesses if Lady Anne Melent will condescend to take up with a merchant and does not object to old age and is very fond of a yellowish skin and a lean person I am ready to marry her as soon as this wound in my shoulder is quite well and I will settle a quarter of a million upon her on her wedding day whether she marries me or well well my dear I won't so complete was the surprise of all presents except Mr Hargrave and Lady Anne that there was a dead silence for half a minute and then Lady Fleetwood whose wit was always fixed upon something collateral asked aloud what a lax a burst of laughter followed and perhaps it was the best way of ending the explanation Lady Anne made good her retreat as fast as possible and after the gentleman left together Henry laid before Mr Hargrave and the rest or the papers which went to prove his title Lord Milford's account of his private marriage in a more detailed form than he had given it to his daughter the documents with which he had been furnished by the monks at Ancona to prove that he was Henry Haley notwithstanding his long assumption of the name of Middleton some letters upon the subject from Don Palthasard, Dave Hanmorsa and last the certificate of marriage of Charles Melent and Mary Graves and that of his own birth for these latter papers he said I am indebted to the activity and intelligence of that worthy man Joshua Brown and by your permission gentlemen I will have him in and thank him in your presence for all he has done for me the pebbler was soon introduced and in graceful terms the young nobleman expressed his gratitude making him sit down beside him there is a lady said Henry who longs much to thank you Mr Brown and tomorrow before breakfast you must let me introduce you to her will you take a glass of wine to drink her health willingly my lord replied the peddler for my lord you are but yet I think you will find a little hitch somewhere that will want making smooth in good truth my dear young friend he is right said Mr Hargrave who have been looking carefully over the papers here is every proof that you passed as Henry Haley every proof that Milford was privately married and had a son every proof that he believed you to be that son and that Haley told him so that no legal proof whatever that the boy who was given to the care of the nurse by your poor father was the same that Mr Haley brought home and acknowledged as his own I've got it here sir said the peddler producing an old pocket book I told the young lord that he'd want more of my help so between the time when I last saw him and the day I went to listen at Lady Fleetwoods I ran down to the part of the country where they were married but I recollected quite well having seen a pretty babby about that time at Mrs Goldie's the grossest widows with black ribbons upon its little white frock and I knew it was a nurse child for she had none of her own never had she's alive to this day and there is her certificate that the child she delivered to Stephen Haley's square was the child of Charles Mellon and Mary Graves she has got moreover the order in Charles Mellon's own hand to deliver the child to Mr Haley and Mr Haley's acknowledgement that he had received it she says too that with the child she gave him a gold box the top of which unscrews and in it she put a paper like a careful old body as she is with all the marks the child had upon it such as moulds and spots and such like which most of us have more or less I've got the box quite Mr Winkworth A. S. Marston who had broken off a conversation with his son to listen I owe that to the care of my little man Jim it was found in the goods and chattels of poor Miss Haley but there is amongst her papers a memorandum written in one of her saynamoos stating that the box was brought with the clothes of her brother's son Henry Haley when he first came home from the place where he was nursed and that she always preserved it carefully in the hope that she might sometime bear the news of the poor child's mother who must have been of some rank as there is a coronet engraved upon the box bravo bravo said Mr Hargrave the only link wanting in the chain seems to be supplied and now I think we shall do without any further question and so think I do too end of chapter 40 end of the forgery or best intentions by G. P. R. James