Half a Million of Money. A novel.-

Front matter

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Chapter I. The Passing Of

A HUNDRED TEARS. When the princess in the fairy tale went to sleep for a hundred years, everything else in that enchanted palace went to sleep at the same time. The natural course of things was suspended. Not a hair whitened on any head within those walls. Not a spider spun its web over the pictures ; not a worm found its way to the books. The very Burgundy in the cellar grew none the riper for the century that it had lain there. Nothing decayed, in short, and nothing improved. Very different was it with this progressive England of ours during the hundred years that went by be tween the spring-time of 1760 aud that of 1S60, one hundred years after. None went to sleep in it. Nothing stood still. All was life, ferment, endeavour. That endeavour, it is true, may not THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED TEARS. 27 always have been best directed.

Some cobwebs were spun ; some worms were at work ; some mistakes were committed ; but, at all events, there was no stagnation. En revanche, if, when we remember some of those errors, we cannot help a blush, our hearts beat when we think of the works of love and charity, the triumphs of science, the heroes and victories which that century brought forth. We lost America, it is true ; but we conquered India, we annexed the Canadas, and we colonised New Zealand and Australia. We fought the French on almost every sea and shore upon the map, except, thank God ! our own. We abolished slavery in our colonies. We established the liberty of the press. We lit our great city from end to end with a light only second to that of day. We invented the steam engine and the electric telegraph. We learned to decipher those records which have been laid up during countless ages in the heart of the everlast ing rocks.

We discovered an unsuspected science in the very speech we use. We originated a system of coaching at twelve miles the hour, which was unrivalled in Europe; and we superseded it by casting a network of iron roads all over the face of the country, along which the traveller has been known to fly at the rate of a mile a minute. Truly a marvellous century ! perhaps the most marvellous which the world has ever known, since that from which all our years are dated ! And during the whole of this time, the Trefalden legacy was fattening at interest, assuming overgrown proportions, doubling, trebl ing, quadrupling itself over and over and over again. Not so the Trefalden family. They had in creased and multiplied but scantily, according to the average of human kind; and had had but little opportunity of fattening, in so far as that term may be applied to the riches of the earth.

One branch of it had become extinct. Of the other two branches only three representatives re mained. We must pause to consider how these things came to pass, but only for a few moments ; for of all the trees that have ever been cultivated by man, the genealogical tree is the driest. It is one, we may be sure, that had no place in the garden of Eden. Its root is in the grave ; its pro- THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED YEARS. duce mere Dead Sea fruit — apples of dust and ashes. The extinct branch of the Trefaldens was that which began and ended in Mr. Fred. That ornament to society met his death in a tavern row about eighteen months after the reading of the will. He had in the meanwhile spent the whole of his five thousand pounds, ruined his tailor, and brought an honest eating-house keeper to the verge of bankruptcy.

He also died in debt to the amount of seven thousand pounds; so that, as Mr. Horace Walpole was heard to say, he at least went out of the world with credit. William, the youngest of the brothers, after a cautious examination of his prospects from every point of view, decided to carry on at least a part of the business. To this end, he entered into partnership with his late father's managing clerk, an invaluable person who had been in old Jacob's confidence for more than thirty years, and, now that his employer was dead, was thought to know more about indigo than any other man in London. He had also a snug sum in the Funds, and an only daughter who kept house for him at Islington. When Mr. Will had ascertained the precise value of thi3 young lady's attractions, he proposed a second partnership, was accepted, and married her.

The fruit of this marriage was a son named Charles, born in 1770, who became in time his father's partner and successor, and in whose hands the old Trefalden house flourished bravely. This Charles, marrying late in life, took to wife the second daughter of a rich East India Director, with twelve thousand pounds for her fortune. She brought him four sons, the eldest of whom, Edward, born in 1S15, was destined to indigo from his cradle. The second and third died in childhood, and the youngest, named William, after his grandfather, was born in 1S22, and educated for the law. The father of these young men died suddenly in 1844, just as old Jacob Trefalden had died more than eighty years before. He was suc ceeded in Basinghall-street by his eldest son. The new principal was, however, a stout, apa thetic bachelor of self-indulgent habits, languid circulation, and indolent physique — a mere Roi Faineant, without a Martel to guide him.

He THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED TEARS. reigned only six years, and died of a flow of turtle soup to the head in 1850, leaving his affairs hopelessly involved, and his books a mere collection of Sibydline leaves which no accountant in London was Augur enough to decipher. With him expired the mercantile house of Trefalden; and his brother, the lawyer, now became the only remaining representative of the youngest branch of the family. For the elder branch we must go back again to 1760. Honest Captain Jacob, upon whom had now devolved the responsibility of perpetuating the Trefalden name, took his five thousand pounds with a sigh; wisely relinquished all thought of disputing the will; sold his commission; emigrated to a remote corner of Switzerland; bought land, and herds, and a quaint little mediæval chateau surmounted by a whole forest of turrets, gable-ends, and fantastic weather-cocks ; and embraced the patriarchal life of his adopted country.

Switzerland was at that time the most peaceful, the best governed, and the least expen sive spot in Europe. Captain Jacob, with his five thousand pounds, was a millionnaire in the Canton Grisons. He was entitled to a seat in the Diet, if he chose to take it ; and to a vote if he chose to give it ; and he interchanged solemn half-yearly civilities with the stiffest old Republican aristo crats in Chur and Thusis. But it was not for these advantages that he valued his position in that primitive place. He loved ease, and liberty, and the open air. He loved the simple, pastoral, homely life of the people. He loved to be rich enough to help his poorer neighbours — to be able to give the pastor a new cassock, or the church a new font, or the young riflemen of the district a silver watch to shoot for, when the annual Schutzen Fest came round.

He could not have done all this in England, heavily taxed and burthened as England then was, upon two hundred and fifty pounds a year. So the good soldier framed his commission, hung up his sword to rust over the dining-room chimney-piece, and planted and drained, sowed and reaped, shot an occasional chamois, and settled down for life as a Swiss country gentleman. Living thus with the wife of his choice, and enjoying the society of a THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED YEARS. few kindly neighbours, he became the happy father of a son and two daughters, between whom, at his death, he divided his little fortune, share and share alike, according to his own simple notions of justice and love. The daughters mar ried and settled far away, the one in Italy, the other on the borders of Germany. The son, who was called Henry, and born in 1762, inherited his third of the patrimony, became a farmer, and married at twenty years of age.

He was neces sarily a much poorer man than his father. Two thirds of the best land had been sold to pay off his sisters' shares in the property; but he kept the old chateau (though he dwelt in only a corner of it), and was none the less respected by his neighbours. Here he lived frugally and indus triously, often driving his own plough, and brand ing his own sheep ; and here he brought up his two sons, Saxon and Martin, the first of whom was born in 1783, and the second in 1786. They were all the family he reared. Other children were born to him from time to time, and played about his hearth, and gladdened the half-deserted little chateau with their baby laughter ; but they VOL. i. i> all died in earliest infancy, and the violets grew thickly over their httle graves in the churchyard on the hill.

Now Henry Trefalden knew right well that one of these boys, or a descendant of one of these boys, must inherit the great legacy by-and-by. He knew, too, that it was his duty to fit them for that gigantic trust as well as his poor means would allow, and he devoted himself to the task with a love and courage that never wearied. To make them honest, moderate, charitable, and self denying; to teach them (theoretically) the true uses of wealth ; to instruct them thoroughly in the history and laws of England; to bring them up, if possible, with English sympathies ; to keep their English accent pure ; to train them in the fear of God, the love of knowledge, and the desire of excellence — this was Henry Trefalden's life long task, and he fulfilled it nobly. His boys throve alike in body and in mind.

They were both fine fellows; brave, simple, and true. Neither of them would have told a lie to save his life. Saxon was fair, as a Saxon should be. Martin was dark-eyed and olive-skinned THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED YEARS. like his mother. Saxon was the more active and athletic ; Martin the more studious. As they grew older, Saxon became an expert mountaineer, rifle-shot, and chamois-hunter; Martin declared his wish to enter the Lutheran church. So the elder brother, stayed at home, ploughing and planting, sowing and reaping, shooting and fishing, like his father and grandfather before him ; and the younger trudged away one morning with his alpenstock in his hand and his wallet on his back, bound for Geneva. Time went on. Henry Trefalden died; young Saxon became the head of the family ; and Martin returned from the University to accept a curacy distant about eight miles from home.

By-and by, the good old priest who had been the boys' schoolmaster long years before, also passed away; and Martin became pastor in his native place. The brothers now lived with their mother in the dilapidated chateau, fulfilling each his little round of duties, and desiring nothing beyond them. They were very happy. That quiet valley was their world. Those Alps bounded all their de sires. They knew there was a great legacy D HALF A MILLION OF MONEY. accumulating in England, which might fall to Saxon's share some day, if he lived long enough; but the time was so far distant, and the whole story seemed so dim and fabulous, that unless to laugh over it together in the evening, when they sat smoking their long pipes side by side under the trellised vines, the brothers never thought or spoke of the wealth which might yet be theirs.

Thus more time went on, and old Madame Tre falden died, and the bachelor brothers were left alone iu the little grey chateau. It was now 1830. In thirty more years the great legacy' would fall due, and which of them might then be living to inherit it ? Saxon was already a florid bald-headed mountaineer of forty-seven; Martin, a grey -haired priest of forty-four. What was to be done? Sitting by their own warm hearth one bleak winter's evening, the two old bachelors took these questions into grave consideration. On the table between them lay a faded parchment copy of the alderman's last will and testament. It was once the property of worthy Captain Jacob, and had remained in the family ever since. They had THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED YEARS. 37 brought this out to aid their deliberations, and had read it through carefully, from beginning to end — without, perhaps, being very much the wiser.

" It would surely go to thee, Martin, if I died first," said the elder brother. " Thou'lt not die first," replied the younger, confidently. " Thou'rt as young, Sax, as thou wert twenty years ago." " But in the course of nature . . . " " In the course of nature the stronger stuff outlasts the weaker. See how much heartier you are than myself?" Saxon Trefalden shook his head. "That's not the question," said he. "The real point is, would the money fall to thee ? I think it would. It says here, ' in total exclusion of the younger branches of my family and their de scendants.' Mark that — ' the younger branches,' Martin. Thou'rt not a younger branch. Thou'rt of the elder branch." " Ay, brother, but what runs before ? Go back a line, and thou 'It see it says ' to the direct heir male of the eldest son of my eldest son.' Now, thou 'rt the eldest son of the eldest son, and I am not thy direct male heir.

I am only thy younger brother." "That's true," replied Saxon. "It seems to read both ways." " All law matters seem to read both ways, Sax," said the priest ; " and are intended to read both ways, 'tis my belief, for the confusion of the world. But why puzzle ourselves about the will at all? We can only understand the plain fact that thou art the direct heir, and that the fortune must be thine, thirty years hence, if thou 'rt alive to claim it." Saxon shrugged his broad shoulders, and lit his pipe with a fragment of blazing pine wood picked from the fire. " Pish ! at seventy-seven years of age, if I am alive ! " he exclaimed. " Of what good would it be to me ? " Martin made no reply, and they were both silent for several minutes. Then the pastor stole a furtive glance at his brother, coughed, stared steadily at the fire, and said : — " There is but one course for it, Sax.

Thou must marry." THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED TEARS. " Marry ! " echoed the stout farmer, all aghast. The pastor nodded. "Marry? At my time of life? At fortysev No, thank you, brother. Not if I know it." " Our poor father always desired it," said Martin. Saxon took no notice. " And it is in some sense thy duty to provide an heir to this fortune which ..." " The fortune be . . . I beg thy pardon, Martin; but what can it matter to thee or me what becomes of the fortune after we are both dead and gone ? It would go to found charities, and do good somehow and somewhere. 'Twould be in better hands than mine, I '11 engage." " I am not so sure of that," replied the pastor. " Public charities do not always do as much good as private ones. Besides, I should like to think that a portion of that great sum might be devoted hereafter to the benefit of our poor brethren in Switzerland.

I should like to think that by-and by there might be a good road made between Tamins and Flims ; and that the poor herdsmen at Altfelden might have a chapel of their own, instead of toiling hither eight long miles every Sabbath : and that a bridge might be built over the Hinter Rhine down by Ortenstein, where poor Ruth's children were drowned last winter when crossing by the ferry." Saxon smoked on in silence. " All this might be done, and more," added the pastor, " if thou wouldst marry, and bring up a son to inherit the fortune." " Humph ! " ejaculated the farmer, looking very grim. " Besides," said Martin, timidly, " we want a woman in the house." " What for ? " growled Saxon. " To keep us tidy and civilised," rephed the pastor. " Things were very different, Sax, when our dear mother was with us.

The house does not look like the same place." " There's old Lotsch," muttered Saxon. " He does as well as any woman. He cooks, makes bread ..." " Cooks ? " remonstrated the younger brother. THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED TEARS. " Why, the kid to-day was nearly raw, and the mutton yesterday was baked to a cinder." The honest farmer stroked his beard, and sighed. He could not contradict that stubborn statement. Martin saw his advantage, and fol lowed it up. " There is but one remedy," he said, " and that a plain one. As I told thee before, Sax, thou must marry. 'Tis thy duty." " Whom can I marry ? " faltered Saxon, dolefully. "Well, I've thought of that, too," rejoined the pastor, in an encouraging tone. " There 's the eldest daughter of our neighbour Clauss. She is a good, prudent, housewifely maiden, and would suit thee exactly."

The elder brother made a wry face. " She 's thirty-five, if she 's an hour," said he, " and no beauty." "Brother Saxon," replied the pastor, "I am ashamed of thee. " What does a sensible man of seven-and-forty want with youth aud beauty in a wife ? Besides, Marie Clauss is only thirty-two. I made particular inquiry about her age this a morniDg. " Why not marry her yourself, Martin ? " said the farmer. " I 'm sure that would do quite as well." " My dear Saxon, only look again at the will, and observe that it is the direct heir male of the eldest son of the eldest son ..." Saxon Trefalden pitched his pipe into the fire, and sprang to his feet with an exclamation that sounded very like an oath. " Enough, brother, enough ! " he interrupted. " Say no more — put the will away — 1 11 go down to the Bergthal to-morrow, and ask her."

And so Saxon Trefalden put on his Sunday coat the following morning, and went forth like a lamb to the sacrifice. "Perhaps she'll refuse me," thought he, as he knocked at Farmer Clauss's door, and caught a glimpse of the fair Marie at an upper casement. But that inexorable virgin did nothing of the kind. She married him. There were no ill-cooked dinners after that happy event had taken place. The old house THE PASSING OF A HUNDRED TEARS. 43 became a marvel of cleanliness, and the bride proved herself a very Phœnix of prudence and housewifery. She reformed everything — in cluding the hapless brothers themselves. She banished their pipes, condemned old Carlo to his kennel, made stringent by-laws on the subject of boots, changed the hour of every meal, and, in short, made them both miserable.

Worst of all, she was childless. This was their bitterest disap pointment. They had given up their pipes, their peace, and their liberty, for nothing. Poor Martin always looked very guilty if any allusion happened to be made to this subject. Matters went on thus for seven years, and then, to the amazement of the village, and the delight of the brothers, Madame Marie made her husband the happy father of a fine boy. Such a glorious baby was never seen ! He had fair hair and blue eyes, and his father's nose; and they christened him Saxon ; and the bells were rung ; and the heir to the great fortune was born at last!

Chapter II. Axxo Domini

1860. Two persons sat together in a first-floor room overlooking Chancery Lane. The afternoon sky was grey, and cold, and dull ; and the room was greyer, colder, duller than the sky. Everything about the place looked sordid and neglected. The rain-channelled smoke of years had crusted on the windows. The deed-boxes on the shelves behind the door, the shabby books in the book case opposite the fireplace, the yellow map that hung over the mantelpiece, the tape-tied papers on the table, were all thickly coated with white dust. There was nothing fresh or bright within those four walls, except a huge green safe with panelled iron doors and glittering scutcheons, fixed into a recess beside the fireplace. There were only two old-fashioned, horse-hair covered 1860. 45 chairs in the room. There was not even a carpet on the floor.

A more comfortless place could scarcely be conceived beyond the walls of a prison ; and yet, perhaps, it was not more comfortless than such places generally are. It was the private room of William Trefalden, Esquire, attorney at law, and it opened out from the still drearier office in which his clerks were at work. There was a clock in each room, and an almanack on each mantelshelf. The hands of both clocks pointed to half-past four, and the almanacks both proclaimed that it was the second day of March, a.d. eighteen hundred and sixty. The two persons sitting together in the inner chamber were the lawyer and one of his clients. Placed as he was with his back to the window and his face partly shaded by his hand, Mr. Tre falden's features were scarcely distinguishable in the gathering gloom of the afternoon.

His client — a stout, pale man, with a forest of iron-grey hair about his massive temples — sat opposite, with the light full upon his face, and his hands crossed on the knob of his umbrella. " I have come to talk to you, Mr. Trefalden," said he, " about that Castletowers mortgage." "The Castletowers mortgage ?" repeated Mr. Trefalden. "Yes — I think I could do better with my money. The lawyer shifted round a little farther from the light, and drew his hand a little lower over his eyes. " What better do you think you could do with your money, Mr. Behrens ? " he said, after a moment's pause. " It is an excellent investment. The Castletowers estate is burthened with no other incumbrance; and what can you desire better than five per cent, secured on landed property ? " " I have nothing to say against it, as an in vestment," replied the client ; " but — I prefer something else."

Mr. Trefalden looked up with a keen, inquiring glance. "You are too wise a man, I am sure, Mr. Behrens," said he, " to let yourself be tempted by any unsafe rate of interest." 1860. 47 The client smiled grimly. " You are too wise a man, I should hope, Mr. Trefalden," rejoined he, "to suspect Oliver Behrens of any such folly ? No, the fact is that five per cent, is no longer of such importance to me as it was seven years ago, and I have a mind to lay out that twenty-five thousand upon land." " Upon land ? " echoed the lawyer. " My dear sir, it would scarcely bring you three and a half per cent." " I know that," replied the client. " I can afford it." There was another brief silence.] " You will not give notice, I suppose," said Mr. Trefalden, quietly, " till you have seen something which you think likely to suit you."

"I have seen something already," replied Mr. Behrens. " Indeed ? " " Yes ; in Worcestershire — one hundred and thirty miles from London." "Is that not somewhat far for a man of business, Mr. Behrens ? " " No, I have my box in Surrey, you know, ad joining the Castletowers grounds." "True. Have you taken any steps towards this purchase." " I have given your address to the lawyers in whose care the papers are left, and have desired them to communicate with you upon the subject. I trust to you to see that the title is all as it should be." Mr. Trefalden slightly bent his head. " I will give you my best advice upon it," he replied. " In the meantime, I presume, you would wish to give notice of your desire to call in your money." " Precisely what I came here to do." Mr. Trefalden took up a pen, and an oblong slip of paper.

"You will allow twelve months, of course?" said he, interrogatively. "Certainly not. Why should I? Only six are stipulated for in the deed." " True ; but courtesy . . . " " Tush ! this is a matter of law, not courtesy," interrupted the client. 1860. 49 " Still, I fear it would prove a serious incon venience to Lord Castletowers," remonstrated the lawyer. " Twenty-five thousand pounds is a large sum." "Lord Castletowers' convenience is nothing to me," replied the other, abruptly. " I'm a man of the people, Mr. Trefalden. I have no respect for coronets." "Very possible, Mr. Behrens," said Trefalden, in the same subdued tone ; " but you may re member that your interest has been paid with scrupulous regularity, and that it is a very hard matter for a poor nobleman — Lord Castletowers is poor — to find so heavy a sum as twenty-five thousand pounds at only six months' notice."

" He did not think it too short when he gave me the bond," said Mr. Behrens. " He wanted money," replied Mr. Trefalden, with a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulders. " Well, and now I want it. Come, come, Mr. Trefalden, Lord Castletowers is your client, and no doubt you would like to oblige him ; but I am your client too — and a better one than he is, I'll be bound ! " E VOL. I. " I trust, Mr. Behrens, that I should never seek to oblige one client at the expense of another," said the lawyer, stiffly. "If you think that I would, you wrong me greatly." " I think, sir, that, like most other folks, you have more respect for a lord than a woolstapler," answered the man of the people, with a hard smile ; " but I don't blame you for it. You're a professional man, and all professional men have those prejudices."' "I beg your pardon," said Mr. Trefalden.