The Squire's Legacy

Chapter I

"VTOT by any means that sort of room through -*- ' which we steer correctly in the darkness, to lay our hand on any certain book or packet. On the contrary, it was that kind of room in which the book we seek has vanished out of sight (as books we seek have ever such a vicious trick of doing) and in which the one required packet of papers is always hidden in the last drawer we think of opening. A room in which the furniture had a knack of turning up unexpectedly in new spots, as if it enjoyed a revel on its own account, when left alone in the wide and lofty solitude ; and in which, when the oak shelves were cleared, and the books dusted every Springtime, paper- VOL. I. B knives and old letters fell from between their leaves as thickly as the white flakes of cherry blossom fell in those long and dusky orchards by the river.

Not a neat and orderly room by any means. The first volume of Puritan Divines stood side by side with the second volume of Black Sheep ; one riding-glove and a whip lay on a half finished letter, and a little angry terrier stood with his fore-paws planted on a rare archi tectural design, while he snapped defiance, and wondered over the forbearance of half a dozen canine curios who lay about, unmoved by the sound to which they have been obliged, by de grees (and patience) to accustom themselves. Not a neat room, indeed ; and it would be as difficult to fancy it so as to realise what Tur ner's brush would have made of a modern London drawing-room ; but who could deny its artistic luxury and beauty ? High up to tho arched roof — on which the frescoed gods and goddesses osa long-lived mythology had danced, and sung, and smiled, and slept, while genera tion after generation of the living occupants be low passed from their sight — extended the rows of volumeswhich it had taken centuries to gather; and, though so many were wrongly placed, the Squires of Kingswood — who all had loved their books and known them well, in a pleasant, desultory fashion — had been offered fabulous sums for only a few of these rare chosen vol umes.

And, though there were ink-spots on the gilded leather, and dogs lying on the vel vet ; and though the carving and the work of Florence but little accorded with the trophies of South Africa ; or old Egyptian with the newest English devices ; yet the medley formed a picture of true warmth and beauty and refinement. From the long row of windows, on one side of this room, stretched a wide view of the spreading park, with the deer peeping from its dim retreats, and the river gleaming like silver in the Spring sunshine, before it hid itself behind the slope of wooded park on the west. But only from one corner window could a glimpse be caught of the woods which rose behind the mansion like a crown above its calm grey front. It is said that a Squire of Kingswood once, at a royal supper in the Brighton Pavilion, offered to present Kingswood, as a gift, to any commoner in England who could simply B show him a finer estate.

And the merry guests accepted the challenge, and the Prince himself offered to be umpire. But it is said, too, that no seat could be found so wonderfully enriched by nature and art, and that the Prince came over and gave his verdict to that effect, under the carved and frescoed roof of this very librai-y ; and then had such a week of revelry within the fine old house that even he remember ed it, until — his revelry over — he wore that plain court dress which boasts no flash of jewels. The library at Kingswood was rarely unoc cupied, and upon that bright Spring morning the fretful bark ofthe little terrier was not the chief sound which climbed to the painted ceil ing. There seemed further cause for that broad smile upon the face of old Silenus ; for Scot Monkton, the old Squire's only son, lying back in a folding chair of Italian workman ship — his hair almost the colour of the old bronze velvet cushions — had his cornet to his mouth, and was rehearsing his favourite airs in one unbroken programme, and in one key ; a little excruciatingly now and then, it must be confessed, but generally with clear tone and unfaulty modulation.

" Capital !" Scot bestowed that word of praise upon him self after he had, very softly and slowly, played through " Napolitaine ;" but when, in the flush of self-satisfaction, he had attempted and re attempted a peculiar variation of terrific com pass, in which he could not please his own correct ear, he drew a slide from his instrument, and turned and glanced at the deerhound, who, in but ill-concealed anguish, sat behind the low chair, and occasionally just touched his mas ter's tumbled hair with his nose, as a gentle reminder that he had had what he considered quite sufficient in the way of musical entertain ment. " A failure, Monarch," Scot said, with a laugh in his warm blue eyes ; " an ignominious failure. But make the most of this delicious pause, old fellow, for I mean to try again and conquer.

Here goes !" The elaborate and original variation on " Napolitaine, I am dreaming of thee " was but two bars old, when it met an untimely death by the entrance of a tall, black-whiskered gentleman, who had been more than once heard to remark that he should have practised the cornet too, but that he considered a gentleman's butler ought to have higher tastes. "Oliver Wakeley's wife is here, sir. She wished me to tell you that her husband has been released this morning. She seemed anxious for you to know, and I promised to bring the message myself to you, sir." " Thanks, Sutton. I'm veiy sorry for the poor girl." *; Her eyes ought to have been open, sir, when she married him. He'd been in prison before. This time that's over to-day is about the sixth that I can remember. I think his wife was anxious you should know he was free, sir. I fancy she wished me to warn the keepers."

" I would forget to do it if I were you," observed the young master, the lazy attitude rather at variance with the firmness of the bearded chin, and the pleasant look of the un tired eyes. " Wakeley's poaching days are over, I fancy ; and he will scarcely rob the poultry -yard again." "But he would stick at nothing, sir. 1 am sure even his wife is afraid of what he may do next." " We'll give him a chance, though," observed Scot, fitting the mouthpiece on histornet, and drawing his handkerchief across his pointed beard, preparatory to a return to "Napoli taine." " We may be very sure that the Squire will not let him off easily if he soon offends again ; so I hope, if only for Anna's sake, that he wont offend again." " Even she has no faith in him, sir." Sutton made that remark without any ex pectation of an answer, and then retreated, silent and upright, just as Mr. Forbes, the Squire's private secretary, reached the library door, to be greeted by an upper " C," particularly clear and loud and well-sustained, from the young Squire's silver cornet.

Again Scot's original variation broke off abruptly. He lowered his instrument, seeing that his father's secretary wished to speak to him. "I am taking some business letters into Minton, to catch the afternoon mail. Can I post any for you 1 Or can I write any for you, Mr. Monkton ?" " Let me see — I'm sure I wrote it this morn ing. Is it there?" " Here are a few lines written." "What do they say?" " ' My dear father, all right. Glad you have fixed Saturday, for I think that old chum of yours has kept you long enough. You will find me ' — that is all, sir." " Oh ! well, just finish it up, Forbes, will you? Say he will find me at Grosvenor Place. I know he won't travel here on Sunday, and he won't like to be thrown back on his clubs. So I'll go up to town, and make myself at home in Grosvenor Place.

Then end it — just as you'd end a letter of your own to a pater. Thank you, Forbes," he added, courteously, when the secretary rose with the letter in his hand. " Take the Dean, if you like. He will be fresh to-day, and will bring you back within the hour. Stay one moment, though, and tell me if I have that one note right now in Pro Peccatis." Scot had just played the beautiful melody through ; and the secretary stood with bent head, as he had stood throughout, failing to detect a false note, when a letter was brought in, which Scot Monkton, by a sign, directed should be given to Mr. Forbes. " It is a request that the bearer — one Mon sieur Philippe Sourdet — be allowed to visit the picture-gallery here," explained the secretary, " and it is signed ' Stanley Monkton.' " Scot burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and laid down his cornet beside a silver statuette of the Madonna which stood on a table near him.

" Why, that is the first letter Stanley Monk ton ever wrote to me in his life. It shall be honoured, by Jove, though he is a " "Is not Mr. Stanley Monkton next heir to Kingswood?" " Yes ; so you did right to pull me up. Now what about this Frenchman ? Must 1 take Artaud as an interpreter I" Forbes laughed at the idea of an educated gentleman like Scot Monkton using his valet as interpreter. " Perhaps Monsieur Sourdet may speak Eng lish as easily as you speak French," he said. The picture-gallery at Kingswood ran along the whole length of the house, and was strik ingly beautiful as well as vast. Therefore Scot Monkton's surprise at his companion's start of admiration, clearly proved that he was not the one accustomed to show this splendid gallery. " I always preferred going alone over the foreign picture-galleries," observed Scot, sauntering along with his deerhound at his heels.

"If you feel so, monsieur, I will leave you here." " I would rather," said the Frenchman, speaking in perfect, though not the purest, English, and with a smiling, though rather intent, gaze into the young Englishman's face, " that I had your society, and any information you will vouchsafe." "The man is a snob," mused Scot; "but, as my father's cousin sent him, I must forget that unpleasant fact." " You are of course a connoisseur in pictures," he observed aloud, wondering a little at the suavity of his companion's manner. "I shall have no need to point out to you the choice paintings. This ? Yes, this is valuable — though not a pleasing subject — ' St. Lawrence on the Gridiron,' by Pellegrino. Beyond, you see a whole galaxy of kings and courtiers, by Holbein and Sir Peter Lely ; no need to point out which are Vandyck's heads, or call your attention to that Sacred Head by Albert Diirer."

Scot felt that he was creditably fulfilling his novel and self-imposed task, and was very much inclined to compliment himself aloud ; but, after a few more explanatory sentences, he fell back mentally upon his old opinion as to Monsieur Sourdet's want of claim to the title of gentle man, and grew a little irritable as his elaborate obsequiousness nowand then amounted to down right servility. In no respect was the contrast between them more marked than in this — Scot's natural, high-bred ease and courtesy being in separable from him in his most careless moods, and Philippe Sourdet's fictitious polish being dropped in his unguarded moments, and resum ed with a sudden and spasmodic effort. " The value of these portraits," observed Scot, pointing down the gallery from where they stood, " is due to the artists, rather than the subjects ; for they are all my own ancestors."

" I am proud to be introduced to so many Monktons," said tbe Frenchman, with a smile and bow, and with a brightening of both tone and glance which was not lost upon the keen young Englishman. " May I ask you to assist me here with your superior knowledge ? For instance " — he had sauntered on, his heavy dark eyes leaving no pictured face unscrutinised, until he stood before the portrait of a young man in the costume of thirty years ago, with a narrow delicate face and thin dark hair — " is that the youthful portrait of the present Squire?" " My father ? No, nor at all like him, though bis brother." " His — younger brother, I presume !" " Why presume it, monsieur?" The young Squire asked the question without thought, as his eyes rested upon the painted face which formed so strong a contrast to his own ; and so he did not see how keenly the Frenchman watched him, while, without a sound, he drew something from his pocket.

" No, he was my father's elder brother," con tinued Scot, in his mellow and rather lazy tones. " He died young ; indeed he and his wife both died within two years of their marriage. Monarch, stand back ; Sir Joshua's colours were not laid on for the benefit of your nose." Scot had stepped forward after his dog ; and as he did so Monsieur Sourdet's eyes moved, quickly and shrewdly, twice backwards and forwards, between the picture of which he had spoken and something which he held con cealed in the palm of his hand. " How melancholy !" he said then, as young Monkton turned to join him again. " Did the tragic events occur at Kingswood ?" " Yes. He married just before my grandfather's death. My grandfather was very fond of Lady Emily Stuart, and wished the marriage to take place before his death, little thinking how soon both bride and bridegroom were to follow him."

" Most melancholy," observed the Frenchman, stepping back a pace, his arms folded so that the closed fingers of one hand were not visi ble. " But he certainly must have been delicate and — weak ; pardon me, for he is undoubtedly what you English call high-bred." " Undoubtedly," returned Scot, with a glimpse of the natural, quiet haughtiness which lay below his easy cordiality. "I am wearying you, I fear," said Monsieur Sourdet, with a full, critical glance into his com panion's face ; " but these, as works of art, interest me greatly." " If only as works of art," said Scot, " let me advise you to hurry on, and enjoy those land scapes of Claude's." "Ah," exclaimed Sourdet, moving only one step forward, " that must surely have been the Lady Emily Stuart — Monkton, I should say. The portraits are evidently a pair.

She is — well, hardly so beautiful as I should have imagined." " She was very winning, and very good," returned Scot, coolly. " And she obtained a wonderful influence over young Scot Monkton, who had chiefly, I believe, before that time, been notable for succumbing to evil influence only." " Your father's brother had your name, then, sir," remarked Monsieur Sourdet, with a bow, " though in features you are so great a contrast. He was pale, too, and slight in figure. Was there no likeness in any respect, Mr. Monkton — in height, say, or voice ?" " He died five years before my birth," returned Scot, quietly dismissing the personal questions. " That is the portrait of my father, the owner of Kingswood," he continued, passing slowly on ; " and there, of course, you recog nise myself; and then follow dozens more of us, whom you could not recognise, made famous only, as I said before, by Lawrence, and Rey nolds, and Gainsborough, and other master hands."

" Allow me to detain you one moment," put in Monsieur Sourdet, pausing, and pointing at random, while his eyes went back surrep titiously to that pictured face he had been studying. " That !" cried Scot, with unfeigned astonishment, as he followed the man's finger, but not his gaze. "How can you need that portrait named, when it was from the original that you brought to-day the introduction to this gal lery?" Even over the Frenchman's swarthy skin the colour spread rapidly under Scot's questioning gaze. " Yes — surely yes. I distinguish the likeness now, Mr. Monkton," explained Sourdet, with evident eagerness. " Of course I ought to have recognized Mr. Stanley Monkton's portrait in a moment, when he has been so complaisant to me." " You do know him, then ?" questioned Scot, coolly. " Know him, sir !

Is it not to him that I owe this day's enjoyment ? Has he not often talked to me abroad of this beautiful estate which — since I have had the honour of seeing you, Mr. Monkton — I feel him to have but the very feeblest chance of possessing ?" " This man," mused Scot again to himself, without a trace of the thought upon his face, " is a liar as well as a snob." " That is pretty," observed Sourdet, making an effort to interest himself further in the por traits, now that he had changed his position. " Yes," said Scot, glancing at the cold and colourless picture of a young lady in a muslin dress and sylvan hat ; " a cousin of my father's. She lived here until she was five-and-thirty, and then married and Avent abroad ; and we have never heard of her since. That is fifteen >j years ago. " How could she bear to quit the luxury of Kingswood to share a soldier's wandering life ?"

" You spring rather rapidly to conclusions," remarked Scot, with a smile. "Her husband was an engineer." M "Probably she was the first Monkton who ever formed a mesalliance ?" inquired the French man, with a sinister smile upon his lips. " She was not a Monkton." So Scot dismissed the subject, not thinking it worth while to tell this man that their notions might vary on that point, as well as on many others. They had gone down the whole length of the gallery, when the south door near them opened, and Mr. Forbes advanced to Scot, with an irre pressible smile upon his face. " A lady is below, Mr. Monkton, inquiriug for you. She arrived in the fly from Patten Sta tion, just as I dismounted ; so I am come to ask if I may supply your place here." When the introduction was over, and Scot had left the gallery, Monsieur Sourdet turned with a smile to the young secretary.

" None of these knights and dames," he said, in his slow, harsh tones, "need feel ashamed of their young representative of to-day. One is forced to admire his sunburnt face and muscular, well-knit figure. And yet perhaps in height — I do not know, but I fancy so — he would be in ferior to most of his race. Is it not fact ?" " Mr. Monkton is just the avei-age height, I believe," returned the secretary, wondering, as Scot had done, at these personal remarks. "His father is three inches taller, as was his grandfather." VOL. I. C '*t " And the uncle whose name he bears — was he not taller too ?" " I really do not know," was the almost im patient reply. " I know nothing of him save his picture ; and that proves him to have been as unlike as possible to Mr. Scot Monkton." "I owe him a debt of gratitude," observed the Frenchman, with a suave smile ; "yet I know I have wearied him ; for, with all his courtesy, he could not bide the drawing-room languor inherent in young men of his rank."

" Probably, monsieur," said Mr. Forbes, with a laugh, " you have heard what sort of men make the best heroes when called to arms. At any rate, I would rather be on his side than against him, when tbe young Squire's fighting time shall come." "I scarcely follow your figurative speech, sir," said Philippe Sourdet, with a hidden sneer in his bland tone of apology. " Does Mr. Monkton intend to join the Army, do I under stand?" " Certainly not, except figuratively, as you said. He travels a good deal — he has but lately returned from the East — but he always enjoys Kingswood best of all. He loves the beautiful old place dearly ; and he is as much master here as the Squire himself." In the meantime Scot had descended to the hall, a great amusement as well as astonish ment shining in his eyes as he advanced to where a small, middle-aged lady, with a colourless complexion and in a colourless dress, stood weeping silently, while she watched two footmen carrying a huge box into the hall, and while the station fly still waited before the door, looking very shabby in the glare ofthe Spring sunshine, and in the midst of its splendid surroundings.

Scot involuntarily paused a moment, in wonder at this unexpected arrival, and then a sudden recognition broke upon his face. "Aunt Michal ! What a surprise !" "Tell them where to take my box, Scot," said the little lady, drying her tears feebly, and laying a limp hand within his arm. " I am come." " So I see, Aunt Michal," returned Scot, with his pleasant laugh. " Mrs. Sutton will manage all about tbe boxes and things. And, Sutton, you hasten luncheon, and lay for the French — gentleman who is upstairs." As he spoke, he led his unexpected visitor into the room nearest c which they had met, and stood opposite the couch on which she had sunk despondently. "I won't ask you any questions until you have rested, aunt," said Scot, at a loss as to his expected mode of consolation. " Why should you ask any questions at all ?" she cried, with unlooked-for vehemence.

" I am come back — that's all." "And I am very glad to see you, Aunt Michal," said the young Squire, with reckless hospitality, " though I ought not to have slipped back into my boyish trick of calling you aunt, ought I? Do you remember how it amused Mr. Hawthorne ?" " I remember nothing about him. And I'm your father's cousin now, as I was then, and your aunt," was the illogical retort, delivered in a flood of tears which seemed to be capable of disappearing as suddenly as they could be evoked. " I forget all about him. I'm come back Michal Windish, just as I went away." "But you went away Mrs. Hawthorne," laughed Scot, " in an open bridal carriage, with slippers falling round it, and handfuls of rice clinging to your wedding bonnet and to my cousin Hawthorne's long beard." " I hate rice — and slippers," Miss Michal an nounced, in a tone almost bordering on cheerful ness, "and I've done with Luke Hawthorne.

He's done no harm — you needn't look such a question — but we just found that, ' like the pair that tell the weather, we could never live to gether.' Thank goodness I remembered I'd another home ; so I came to it. That's all." " From where, Aunt Michal ?" " I forget ; it was three thousand miles away. Will luncheon soon be ready ?" « But " "Don't question me, Scot. You don't look rude and inquisitive, but I won't answer any questions even from you. I am Miss Windish, as I was during the five-and-thirty years I lived here before ; and I won't put it into your power to answer any interfering questions, nor oblige you to tell a falsehood for my sake." "But I was going to say, would it not be wiser to keep the name by which, for fifteen years, we have all known you ?" " I'm tired of it," was the brisk retort ; " it always was hideous.

I like Windish best, and I don't see why I shouldn't claim my own old property. There, we've done with that subject now ; don't mention Luke again, nor that un fortunate occurrence of the rice and slippers. He wasn't to blame — nobody was to blame, except you ; you were his best man, and took him to the church ; you were but a lad, of course, but you might have known better." "At any rate, Aunt Michal," said Scot, detecting an under-current of self-reproach in every tone, whether defiant or dejected, "my father will be delighted to find you here when he returns." A prompt burst of tears greeted this polite observation. "Delighted!" she sobbed, laying vehement hold on this new grievance. " How can he be delighted ? Who is ever likely to be delighted by seeing me ? But " (more cheerfully) " I'd nowhere else to go, so I came here.

I shall fit into my old place presently; but I've been unused to this life lately, Scot, and the house seems so enormous, and so full of servants. But still," she added, with a satisfied glance down the suite of magnificent drawing-rooms, " I'm sure I shall find enough to do in keeping the rooms neat. I can actually see two pianos open — and look at all those mathematical instruments thrown on that mosaic table." " How do you know they were thrown, Aunt Michal ?" asked Scot, pleasantly. " But see here is Mrs. Sutton, to show you to your rooms ; she evidently remembers you." " I will thank you now," said Miss Windish, standing, small and weak, before the portly figure of the housekeeper, " to drop that name by which you have falsely addressed me, my good woman. I remember you as Mrs. Sutton, you remember me as Miss Windish.

I entirely forget what has occurred since then, and so do you. That's all." "I understand, ma'am," returned the house keeper, prudently avoiding her young master's laughing eyes. In less than half an hour Miss Windish, with no trace of her three thousand miles' journey, sat just in her old place at the long dining table — a little nervous, as if tbe scene and position were unfamiliar to her, but with such a struggle against the betrayal of this fact that only shrewd eyes could have detected it ; but then the eyes round the table that day were shrewd. The dining-room at Kingswood, even during this mid-day meal, was a scene of luxury and pomp, far more novel to Monsieur Sourdet than it could be to Miss Windish, even after a fifteen years' absence. The richness and beauty of the furniture and appointments, the delica cies of the table and rarity of the wines — in fact, the splendour and profusion of everything, — caused the Frenchman a feeling oddly com pounded of both envy and self-gratulation ; and minute after minute his manner grew more painfully obsequious, while the well trained servants wondered curiously why this strange man had not been left to lunch alone.

" Have you finished your examination of the pictures, Monsieur Sourdet?" inquired Scot, pleasant and genial in his character of host, though his whole nature recoiled from this man ; " and are you not tired of it?" " I should never be tired of such occupation, Mr. Monkton ; and just as you spoke I was about to ask you if I might see the family photographs. You have some very valuable ones, I have heard." A cloud gathered on Scot Monkton's brow. Did his cousin's letter oblige him to show this man private family property ? He would do much for Stanley Monkton, because it was so hard for him to have a healthy life between himself and a fine estate which he might have inherited ; but still he surely need not do that. " You must be very fond of studying family portraits," he said, idly. " You must be very clever at it," observed Miss Windish, her light eyes fixed upon the Frenchman's face with no expression at all, though he stirred uncomfortably under their gaze ; " very clever, indeed, to have recognised me from a poor portrait taken thirty years ago."

" I could not mistake you, madam," he answered, with a bow. " And it is a favourite study of mine, Mr. Monkton." " It must be," remarked the young secretary, addressing Scot, " for Monsieur Sourdet has allowed me to understand that he has spent two years in this study among the English gentry." "Then have you not discovered," asked Scot, " that the English gentry — like the Eng lish peasantry — like to possess one or two little articles of property which they may call ex clusively their own ?" "I hope my ignorance may be excusable," rejoined the Frenchman, with a tightening of his heavy lips, " on the plea that I am not my self an Englishman. I have the misfortune to be a native of the Alps, upon the French side." Miss Windish raised her round light eyes once more. " Then perhaps," she questioned, deliberately, "you know San Remo ?"