This Indenture Witnesseth

Chapter I

" Week after week : the days go by : Come quick, thou bring est all I love." TENNrSON. It was quite true that poor Mr. Templemore's illness was mostly caused by distress about his son. Bitterly he repented having given him permission to go as a volunteer on such an enterprise as this. He had done it hastily, partly because he wanted to get him out of the way of the housekeeper's niece, and partly because he thought such an expedition, in which skilled soldiers were sent against un disciplined savages, must be short, decisive, and thoroughly uncomfortable while it lasted VOL. II. B — so uncomfortable as to put all repining after a soldier's life out of his head for ever. But it was lasting so long, and the tone of the papers was beginning to be so discouraging, while the accident with the Britomart had been such a shock to him, that ever since it took place his life had been one long agony of apprehension.

It now seemed to Mr. Templemore that he must have been a mad man to let an only son separate himself so far from him and from home, and run such desperate risks ; and he coidd neither rest by day nor sleep by night, for the thought of what he had done. But stdl the poor squire would not summon Brian home again. He considered himself pledged to abide by the result of his own rashness, but he daily grew weaker and worse, and more listless and hopeless. He did not confide the full extent of his uneasiness to his wife, but it was enough for her to see him walking languidly up and down a shady ter raced walk, unable even to throw a word to a pet dog which followed him, as in duty bound, but with as little heart for joy as its master. Then other cares came to harass the squire. Under his easy temporizing manage ment all kinds of debts had been incurred, to pay which he had been forced to borrow money ; and then came the necessity of repayment, when the scarcity of the wherewithal to do so was as great as ever.

There were times when he looked drearily round on the estate, which had been handed down intact from father to son for many a long day before he came into the world, and wondered how it had hap pened that he himself had got so far wrong. Things had been against him from the first, he supposed, for he knew he had been anxious to keep all straight ; but Brian must act very differently. He must have a good talk with Brian, and tell him plainly how affairs stood, and concert with him measures for their recovery. If Brian would but make a good marriage, that would help them all more than anything ; and the squire had already men tally chosen a satisfactory wife for him, the only daughter of a very intimate friend of his own, who had what he caded " a tidy little fortune, and was as nice a girl as ever stepped."

But his poor scheming heart ached a Httle when he thought how likely this pro ject for their safety was to end in nothing. Young men had wills of their own. He well remembered how his own poor father, now dead and gone, had found an unexceptionable young heiress for him, and how, by preference, he had chosen pretty Juliet Sandilands with never a penny to her fortune. What a struggle he had had with his father and mother before he had been able to carry his point ! For Juliet's father was but a Dormin ster attorney, and did not bear the best of cha racters for straightforwardness and honesty. "Like father, like chdd," they had said to him, and pretended to see in Juliet's bright smiles and winning manner so many proofs the more of the truth of that proverb ; but he had stood firm, and married her, and very happy she had made him.

Still, he confessed, he would not like Brian to be so headstrong when the time came for him to marry. It was quite possible to get a pretty girl who was rich, and well-born into the bargain ; and when Brian returned home, the beautiful heiress, with the money which was to save them all, should be asked to Breamore. The lad was coming. He knew his wife had written to summon him home ; and though, when told what she had done, he had looked grave and talked of honour, he had felt a thankfulness of heart which no words could describe ! But time passed, and the boy seemed so long in coming ! So much might happen to prevent him, that the squire's health and spirits flagged more and more, and at last he reduced himself to a state in which the doctors truly said any excitement might be fatal. Mrs. Templemore was a constitutionally light-hearted woman, who instinctively saw only the bright side of ad questions, but even she began to feel her heart sink when so many days and weeks passed and no letter came from Brian, and for want of that letter there seemed to be every probability of the squire fading away into his grave.

The doctor had told her that when news of the wanderer did come, it must be communicated to his father with the most scrupulous caution ; for with his disease, now that his health was so very much below par, sudden joy or grief was equaUy to be feared. When the news did at last come, Mrs. Templemore was alone. A sealed telegram from Brian was given her, to say that he was in London, and would reach home by express next day. She had the self-command to be silent in the presence of the servant. Then she burnt the telegram, and began to think how she should prepare her husband for this sudden happiness. She was a very prompt, active-minded woman, with considerable power of management ; in her hands all the mischief which had befallen the family revenues from mere want of care and punctuality would have been impossible.

Having burnt her telegram, she went at once to her husband, who was sitting in the library, using the last hour of wintry twilight before dinner in tracing the aspect of futurity as unfolded by the position and appearance of the coals in his fire. Flaming swords seemed to attack one small dark piece, which had hitherto remained intact, darting fiery strokes in its direction and trying to sweep it into the glowing mass with the rest. The squire had his watch in his hand, and was just thinking to himself, " Of course the fire must prevail in the end, for everything put into that grate is given over to its power at a disadvantage, but if that coal keeps up its black appearance manfudy for five minutes longer, my dear boy is safe and well, and I shad soon see him." Mrs. Templemore came in while he was awaiting the result, and said, " How are you, dear?

Tired or better ? " He told her what he was fancying to him self; but at any time Mrs. Templemore had little sympathy with far-fetched ways of making yourself miserable, as she characterized such experiments — least of all now, when her heart was full of a delight she longed to, but dared not, communicate to him by her side. " You may watch if yon like, Bernard darling, but you won't get me to trouble my self about it, for I feel so happy somehow ; I can't explain it, but I have quite a presentiment that some very good thing is going to happen to us." Mr. Templemore at once forgot his black coal to look eagerly in her face. " You don't know anything, Juliet, do you ? There is only one good thing which can happen to me now — at least I seem to think so — Brian coming safely back. Have you heard any thing of him ? ' ' But even as he spoke, his tremblingly anxious voice, his nervous movements, his wistful, highly-strung face, all warned her to remember what the doctor had said, and tell her good news slowly.

" Oh no, but it is a presentiment. Don't you believe in presentiments ? " " I've had so many, and they all turn out to be nothing. No, presentiments don't go for much with me." " But black coals do," said she, laughing, "you dear, silly man! And look, there is yours remaining triumphantly black and square, and quite untouched by those vicious flames. And now they have turned their attention elsewhere." The squire was pleased, but said Mrs. Templemore had left the door open or something, and changed the direction of the draught. " Very possibly," said she; "it is no matter, for your omens and my presentiments all point one way. You may depend upon it, Bernard, we shall have that boy back before we know where we are." Mr. Templemore took his wife's hand, and held it clasped in his. He held it in a warm pressure, but he did not speak ; it was his way of expressing into what a close little loving circle they would all gather themselves when her words came true, and the wanderer returned.

" AVed, of course he must come some day," said she, fearing she was exciting ldm too much, " and, taking his being in the interior of the country into account, I don't suppose he could have' got here before this. We must, of course, not build on mere presentiments, but it would be very delightful to see him again. If only," she added earnestly, " I could be sure his coming would not hurt you, Bernard ! I am so afraid that as you have been so very long parted from him, the sudden shock of knowing he was on his way here would make you ill ; and, remember, come when he will, it must seem sudden to us ; indeed the chances are that the only letter we should get from him would be the one to announce his arrival." " If only he does arrive I can bear any thing ; the misery is thinking something may have happened to him — that he may never come."

" Oh, I have not the least fear. I am convinced he is safe. I am perfectly happy about him. Bernard dear," said she after a whde, "I would have you gradually ac custom yourself to the idea of his popping in unawares. Picture to yourself his arrival, your first hearing of it, and your running out and seeing him standing in the hall, looking round for all of us with h'is dear bright eyes." "Oh, Juliet, be quiet ! " said he ; " it is all too happy." But her words did some good, for he began to speculate a little about the manner in which Brian would make his appearance amongst them ; how he would probably go straight up to London from Southampton, and would wait a night there, and then, no doubt, he would at once telegraph. The hand that lay in the squire's trembled as he said this ; but he was trembling too, so deeply was his heart mixed up in all he said.

In came Lottie, his httle nine years' old daughter, with three kittens in her apron, wanting to know if papa and mamma would be godfather and godmother to them, their names being Joan of Arc, Grace Darling, and Black Agnes; and much did Mrs. Temple more rejoice when her husband said, as he stroked Lottie's head — " Brian will find that child wonderfully grown ; I don't think he will know her." This was the temper of mind to which she wished to bring him. She pushed her success further, and said, " Do you know, Lottie, my child, that papa and I think your brother Brian will soon be here : both of us fancy that one of these nights, just about five o'clock, when it is nearly dark, a carriage will drive up, and Brian wdl jump out and give us each a good kiss, and then we shall all be happy again."

"Wid he be black?" asked Lottie. "Nurse says he must have turned into a black man by this." The squire enjoyed a laugh, and then dinner was announced ; but there was a kind of thoughtful joyousness in his face all dinner time, and he drank to Brian's good health and speedy return in a calm voice, and if he had happy hopes he was none the worse for them. So in the morning early Mrs. Templemore was tempted to farther statements, and de clared that she had had a dream, and that morning dreams ad came true; and that her dream was this — that she and her husband were walking in the garden quite in the dark, and it was very warm, but there was no light — no moon, no stars ; and wherever she went she heard a voice calling, " Mother, mother I say ! " and it was exactly like Brian's ; but the squire neither heard the voice, nor would he believe any one was calling.

At last she found out that Brian really was there on the other side of the river, standing by a little foot-bridge; but the planks which formed it did not nearly reach across, and the bridge was useless. And Brian said, "That is father's doing ; he burnt those bits of the planks in the library fire last night, to see if I was coming safely home to you. Will you find the remains of the pieces, mother, if you can, and then, if you do, throw them across to me ; I know how to make it aU right." Then somehow, all at once, she said, she found herself raking amongst the ashes in the library with her fingers to find the pieces of the planks ; but nothing was there but big rough cinders which hurt her hands, and then suddenly she found Brian was by her side, raking amongst them also ; and just as they were kissing each other she awoke.

" Yon always do awake in dreams, you know, dear Bernard," said she, "just as you are reaching the highest point of happiness ; " which psychological remark of Mrs. Temple more's betrayed an aptitude for untmthfuhiess, for there was no need for her to illustrate her fictitious narratives by the results of her read ing or experience. The squire heaved a deep sigh, but re mained sdent. "What do you think of that dream, Bernard, taken in conjunction with the strong presentiment of his return which I told you I felt last night ? " The squire's was not a reasoning mind, or he might have said the dream was but the result of the presentiment and all the talk they had had about it ; but he only said, in a thoughtful, musing manner, " Well, I really think he must be coming." "Do you?" cried Mrs. Templemore, looking very bright and happy and handsome.

" Do you think it would be wed to act on these warnings, and go so far as to put a fire in the boy's room, and air the bed, and so on?" " Certainly, I should do so ; besides, a fire is neither here nor there." "I'll tell you what I believe," continued she; "I believe these warnings have all been given for a purpose, and that purpose is to prevent you in your state of health being taken by surprise. So I would have you take well into your mind that that boy may come at any hour of any day " " Bah ! " exclaimed the squire manfully ; " I am not in such a weak state of health as you suppose." And then Mrs. Templemore had the fire lighted, and the mattresses put down before it, and all made ready for the expected one — "Not that she really quite dared to count upon his coming," she said, "but just to be ready for the chance."

And the squire left his com fortable seat by the library fire, and flitted about upstairs, popping into his son's room every now and then to watch the women making then' httle preparations, feehng a keen joy when he saw the hope which visibly ani mated them, enjoying the heat which now radiated from the warm mattresses before the fire, rubbing his hands, and saying, " Upon my word, but it all looks mighty comfortable ! I should think that when that young rascal does take up his quarters in this room, he will think he is laid up in lavender, as the saying is. I guess he will soon find out that home is the best place after all ! " It was a thoroughly pleasant bright room, with everything mortal man could want in it already. And yet, for the sake of the pleasure which working for Brian gave her, Mrs. Templemore was actually finding out new comforts and luxuries where none could have divined a want.

All was being prepared as if the arrival was to take place that very day. She was even putting fresh ink and pens and paper on the table. "My goodness, Juliet, but you are making ready in earnest ! It really wdl be a pity if that nice comfortable bed does not get slept in." " It will be slept in," cried she, almost frisking about as she put last touches of adornment here and there. " I am convinced it wdl. When I dream dreams, my dear Mr. Templemore, they are not for nothing. Now, I ask you candidly, did you ever see me so positive about anything before ? " " Wed, no ; I declare it is ridiculous of both of us, but you begin to make me think he must be coming." " That's what I want ! I want you to expect him, but in a calm, sensible kind of a way — not to make yourself the least ill, for then all the pleasure of seeing him would be done away with, but just to take his arrival as a matter of course."

" AU right, my love. I am rapidly getting into the open your mouth and shut your eyes and see what God will send you state." He was already tired, and had thrown him self on a very luxurious sofa which had been brought upstairs a short time before, with an idea that it would conduce to the wed-being of Mr. Brian to have it at hand. Now, Mr. Templemore was watching his wife turning all the books right-side up, and patting them gently on the backs with her own duster. How she was working ! It was wonderful to see this usually sensible woman let a super stitious idea run so completely away with her ! "It is all very well to light a fire here, Juliet — that will do the room good ; and the books are no worse for a httle arranging — but now, dear wife, confess the truth : you would not give any very serious pledge of your belief in your dreams and fancies, would you ? 1 vol. ir. c mean, you would not do anything which could not be undone ?

" " Yes, I would ! " cried she almost dancing, and certainly clapping her hands, "and I have done it ; I have had the little pig killed. You know that abominable young epicure, Brian, always liked that dinner better than any other, so if he comes to-night he will get it." The poor squire then knew that she was in earnest, for a little pig always supplied a motive for a large appreciative dinner party, and yet this fatted calf had been sacrificed to do honour to the possible guest to-night. Such a thing was enough of itself to keep the boy away. He said nothing ; he lay back on the sofa, partly resting, partly enjoying watching his busy wife, but certainly neither ill nor anxious. He was more like a child who has been told that at a certain hour on Christmas Eve a beautiful fairy will descend and shower presents on all there assembled, and who watches and waits with an eager interest, unchequered by doubts or difficulties.

He had a long sleep in the afternoon, and awoke much refreshed by it just about a quarter of an hour before the carriage which had been sent for Brian might be expected to return. " I am vexed you have cooked the pig, Juliet," was his first speech. "It seems quite a pity." "Dear me ! I am not. It must have been cooked some time ; it was its mission." "But, dear child, I know you don't care for it. And I am quite sure it is not proper food for me." " There is something else for you." "Well, it really is silly — ex-cess-ive-ly sidy ! It is absurd to expect Brian to come here to-night for no earthly reason but because you have had a foolish, unmeaning dream." Mrs. Templemore was extremely delighted to hear him speak in this way; for it proved to her that he had begun to believe that Brian was coming, and was so vexed with himself for doing so on what seemed to be such in sufficient grounds, that he pretended to be cross with her, partly to hide his expectation and partly to convince himself how foolish he was.

She must buoy him up and keep his convictions firm. " Not silly at all — only assure me of one thing, that if the dream should be true, and the dear boy should come, you won't think it necessary to make yourself ill. Now, that would be foolish, if you like ! " " I? I am not such an ass! If I were to hear wheels this very minute, I should only think that you had been so idiotic as to send the carriage all the way to the station on a fool's errand." Mrs. Templemore did hear wheels ; far away on the hard road they roiled and echoed in the frosty afternoon. " Why idiotic to send the carriage ? Is it likely that I would order a nice young sucking pig to be cooked for dinner, and not do ruy best to get some one to eat it ? " Poor woman ! She tried hard to smile and jest, but big tears of suppressed nervousness were rolling down her face.

There was a silence of a few minutes ; the' carriage was coming nearer and nearer; it was marvellous that he did not hear it. " I wonder what o'clock it is ? " said the squire ; "I declare I am very hungry. I wish I dared to eat your pig. What a thing to do. to be sure ! " She was kneeling now by the side of his sofa ; she laid her face against his, and put one arm round his neck. The carriage wheels sounded plainly now, but he neither heard them nor the beating of her heart. " By George, Juliet ! " cried he at last, starting up, "I do believe there is a carriage coming round to the front door ! " "Didn't I tell you?" said she, faint with nervous fear — " did I not say he was sure to come ? " "But has he come?" said he, staring into the twilight with bright, dilated eyes. " Of course he has," was the answer.

She longed to see if her words were true ; she dared not leave her husband alone ; she was suddenly, at this last moment, woefully afraid that she had taken a very foolish way of pre paring him for what was coming. She watched every expression of his face — listened to every sound of his breathing — held his hand in hers in a strength-giving, loving grasp. "Dear Juliet," said he, "don't be so alarmed — don't, dear. If he is there I shall be a new man ; it won't make me ill at all. I am not the fool you take me for." " Thank God for that ! " said she, perfectly innocent and unconscious at the moment of the implied sarcasm of her words. " I believe he is there, Bernard ; I knew he was coming ad along." There was a sound of opening of doors, a confusion in the hall. Mrs. Templemore, followed by her husband, ran to the door ; Lottie and Brian were tumbling over each other up the few steps which led to the library.

Even then Mrs. Templemore thought of her husband, and exclaimed — " Go to your father, Brian. Oh, he has been so hard to persuade that you were coming ! " Father and son gave each other a good hearty kiss, and the poor squire was full of happiness. He bore this home-coming and all attendant excitement a thousand times better than could have been looked for. " I'll never have any faith in you again, Juliet," said he, after a whde; "but you did it for the best, and I believe you were right. I am not sure what might have happened if you had not led me on gradually to expect the boy." And the Wentworths ? Brian thought of them many a time during the evening, and wished the conversation would take a turn which would make it seem right to ask about people whom his father and mother would consider out of their own circle of intimate friends.

At present they could only speak of him ; of their joy at getting him back again ; of what they had suffered when they heard of the wreck of the Britomart, which had shaken their confidence in his safety for ever, and filled them with doubt and fear. It would have appeared heartless to bring in the name of Wentworth now, and yet he did so long to hear of them. All that he had already heard by letter was, that it woidd be impossible for them to keep Minsteracres ; he had no idea they had lost everything, but supposed they were there still, and his heart fluttered with the hope of seeing Audrey before many hours were over. " What about the Wentworths? " said he, after a long time had passed ; " tell me how they are ? " " Oh, well enough, I dare say," replied his mother indifferently; for the most loving heart is not, necessarily, even moderately loving to any who are not of its own household.

" Never mind about them just now ; tell me if you had much trouble to get away ? " " Oh no, the war is virtually over. The governor is a splendid old fedow — he knows what he is about ; he has settled those black fellows' business. No, I had no difficulty in getting away ; I might perhaps have stayed a week or two longer at Cape Town if you had not written, but there was no real need for me to do so." Mrs. Templemore saw her husband wince a Httle at this speech ; but how could Brian know how much that absence of his had cost his father ? Youth is prodigal of its treasures — lets love waste for want of apparent return ; age hastens to garner up its stores. "Well, dear Brian," said she, anxious to repair the wound, " I don't wonder at your wanting to go to Cape Town to see the Arrni tages again ; they have done us a kindness we never can repay."

"You know the Wentworths were staying at Bellosguardo when I was there, and that they were very kind too ? " " Yes, I know," replied Mrs. Templemore; " but tell me, Brian, are you sure you are quite cured ? Do you never feel that shoulder of yours hurting you now ? " " Not in the least. But tell me something about the Wentworths. Are they stid at Min steracres ? " "At Minsteracres! oh Lord, no! " exclaimed the squire. " You know, poor things, they found that old Phdip had left them nothing but his liabilities to pay. No — they are not at Minsteracres ! The young man has gone into a draper's shop at Dorminster; I don't know where the girl is." " Not know where the girl was ! Draper's shop ! " Brian's heart was strangely chilled. He had been sitting between' his father and mother looking into the fire, thinking that not a quarter of a mile away she too was sitting by her fire, and that, perhaps, when he went to bed and looked towards the place where Minsteracres used to be, he would see a little twinkling Hght, which would tell him that she also was going to rest ; and his fingers were all the time playing with a large plain gold locket he wore.

He had had it made on purpose to hold one Httle bit of paper folded and refolded, and this paper was his haff of the indenture; and he looked on the indenture as the pledge of his betrothal to Audrey Wentworth. He always wore it — not to remind him of her, for he was not likely to forget her, but for the sake of keeping it in safety. He loved her stid, not perhaps quite so much as he did when at the Cape, for absence had with him the effect of dulHng his feelings rather than of intensifying them — for his was not a poetical nature — but it would have been impossible for him to forget her. " Not know where the girl was! Draper's shop ! " The indifferent tone, the choice of words, all indicated a social chasm of the deepest and widest kind. "But you knew them when they were at Minsteracres?" said Brian in a tone approach ing reprobation of their conduct if they did not.