Mortimer's Money

Chapter I. The Uncle And Nephew

ON a bright summer's afternoon in the month of August, in the year 1 8 — , a youth, over whose head the frost of some one and twenty Avinters had come and gone, leaving him light-hearted and happy, might have been seen wandering along the banks of a small stream of water which meandered through the park of Elmsdale. Ever and anon the youth would stop and let his gaze rest upon the bright glittering stream which ran swiftly past his feet, making soft musical sounds as it curved gracefully in and out of green grassy banks, gurgling through some clefted stone, or dashing down in a miniature fall, scattering its silver spray over the pure limpid basin that received it. Suddenly vol. I. a raising his eyes from the brook, he turned away from the rivulet, on whose bosom the sun shone full and radiant, making its waters sparkle with light and brilliancy, as if nature had cast diamonds on its surface.

No gloom rested on the broAv of Raymond Mortimer, for there Avas nothing in his life's history to cast a shadow upon the joy of his youth. His thoughts Avere upon the pleasures which had attended his debut into London life last season. Never had the buoyant spirits of opening manhood been more joy ous than those of Raymond Mortimer ; he had plunged into the gaieties of the town, and drawn from its inexhaustible resources of pleasure those hours of fleeting enjoyment to which his mind now wandered back with regret that they had faded away from existence, but left their impress deeplv marked in his Avarm imagination. It Avas in this manner that he was passing away the soft summer's afternoon in his uncle's park. As he walked slowly along the narro av path which led to the house, smiles might iioav and then be seen to break in sweetly upon his reverie, and then fade away to give place to the outward signs of other impres sions.

Sometimes a broken sentence would fall from his lips, and then the murmur of a name would lose itself upon the fragrant summer's air ; or a few words were wast ed on the gentle breeze that kissed his lips, and gave the half-expressed thought to the listening trees which bent doAvn on every side to catch the softest sigh. " She is very pretty ; she is beautiful ; the most lovely woman that I have ever seen." The rest was lost in the air as he wandered listlessly on among the Avild flowers which clasped his feet, and spread themselves in every direc tion. It would be as well to give the reader some description of one who is to play an important role in the life history which he serves to introduce to the world. Raymond Mortimer, as we have said before, was b2 twenty-one years of age, and had come into a small property which he had inherited from his father, who had died and left him an orphan when but a child.

His mother soon followed, committing Raymond to the guardianship of his uncle. As a child, he had never known the devoted love which only a mother's heart can bestow ; the gentle kindness of the loved one burned brightly for a time, Avhen he was unconscious of its worth, but soon flickered and died out, thus depriving her son of that inestimable trea sure. The place of a father had been sup plied to him by his uncle, who cherished the little charge which his widowed sister in-law had placed in his keeping. All that a father's care could give was given by Roger Mortimer to his young nepheAv. The early life of Raymond had been the period in which the uncle had given the innocent little boy all his love, and as years passed over the head of the chUd — during that trans formation from childhood to youth which changed the Ught flaxen curls to a golden broAvn — the old man's love grew stronger and stronger.

He Avas proud of the noble youth, and longed with an impatient long ing to see the heir of his estate settled in life with a Avife and famUy. With regard to his personal appearance, Raymond Mortimer was just six feet in height, broad-shouldered, well-proportioned. All his limbs were finely and strongly turned. His hands and feet were small, but not effem inate-looking. Hair of a golden brown clustered in curls around his Avell-shaped head, and fell over a broad, expansive forehead. All the features were regular; the chin square, the mouth small and firm. The eyes were of a dark blue, the ruby glow of health suffused his cheeks. Raymond was a man Avho could inspire the fair sex with soft feelings of love, and fill the men with sentiments of respect. He was not like many men, solely given to the society of either sex, but liked to mingle equally Avith both.

Added to the personal attractions Avhich our hero undoubtedly possessed, Avas a lively fascination in his conversation, Avhich confirmed the favourable opinion his personal graces had inspired. Raymond sauntered slowly along, some times buried in a deep but pleasant reverie, from which he would suddenly aAvake, and hum an air from some favourite opera, or whistle a popular tune. It was not long before he arrived at the house, into which he entered, and made his Avay to the library. Elmsdale (which was the name of the place) was a large, rambling stone house, Avith a grand old entrance-hall, at the end of which there was a broad stair case ascending to a platform, from which tAvo pair of stairs branched, each leading to the broad corridor which extended around the second floor, and from which many doors led to the bed-rooms.

On the south east corner was a passage, which led to a large picture-gallery, and from thence to a portion of the house which had not been in habited for many a long year. Common superstition gave to this lonely portion of the old house a ghostly occupant, and some of the oldest servants even said that they had heard the noise of this visitor from the grave. The housekeeper's mother, who was nearly eighty, proclaimed without a doubt that she had seen this unearthly apparition on the night of the old master's death. This story the old crone Avould tell to the assembled ser vants, avIio Avould tremble as they heard it, and ever after carefully avoided the old part of the house, as if some dreadful pestilence had filled the atmosphere. But more of this family ghost — for such it was — anon. The first floor of the house had a suite of draAving-rooms, a grand old oak dining-room, a morning-room, a study, and a library filled with choice old and new books.

In the last named apartment was seated an old man of some seventy winters, Avhose hair had been silvered by the frosts of age and whose massive brow was furrowed with many a line. Though naturally tall, age had bent his once erect figure. A benevolent expression played over his features, and his grey eye had lost but little of its former brightness. Roger Mortimer, for such was his name, had never married. His father had been a man of large estate, but such had been his extrava gance and recklessness, that he had been compelled to sell it, and when he died his wife and children were lestwithout a farthing; but happily for the family, Mrs. Mortimer had a fortune of some eight hundred a-year, Avhich was settled on her eldest son. About six hundred pounds came to Roger, Avho Avith this pittance went to the East Indies, whence he returned in some thirty years, broken in health, but rich enough to buy back the family estate, for which he had sighed dur ing the long years of labour in the oppress ive climate of the East.

On returning from India, still single, for the close attention which he had paid to business lest him no time to marry, he found his brother dead, and his sister-in-law almost at the end of her pilgrimage. The union of the elder brother had been blessed with three sons and three daughters; of whom only one of the boys had lived. These Avere placed under the guardianship of Mr. Roger Mor timer, with his sister's dying injunction to Avatch over and protect them. This the old man had faithfully done, resolving to make his nephew his heir. His health had been failing for some time, but his decline had been so gradual, that he had managed to hide it from all, for he Avas aware that had it been known, he Avould have been pestered with an amount of attention which would have been distasteful to him.

Mr. Morti mer, who was engaged in reading a favourite author, on hearing the door open, looked up, and saw his nephew enter. Laying aside the book, he said, " Come and sit down, Raymond. I hope that you have enjoyed yourself this morning — it is a rare beautiful day ; would that my weak limbs Avould permit me to join you in your rambles ; but I am old and shaken, Avith many a pain and ache," con tinued the venerable gentleman, with a sigh. " You are not umvell ? " inquired the nephew, anxiously. "No, my dear boy, I am not unwell for one Avho has the infirmities of which I am the subject — I am quite as well as usual," replied the uncle. " I am glad of that, as I feared you might not be in good health," said the young man. " You have not told me if you have had a pleasant morning," said Mr. Mortimer, a smile of pride and satisfaction, at the noble appearance of his nepheAA^, crossing his face as he repeated the question.

" I have enjoyed the day immensely ; the morning I passed in riding ; the afternoon in sauntering listlessly through the park, now and then seating myself on the bank of the beautiful stream." " Indulging in many a day-dream, I'll be sworn, nephew!" exclaimed the old man, with a smile. " I did yield myself up to my thoughts," replied Raymond, on whose cheek a slight crimson was stealing. " Many and many were the happy day dreams I used to indulge in years gone by, before your grandfather wasted his pro perty. Ah ! boy, if that same grandfather of yours had husbanded his resources more carefully, you would be the master here in stead of me." " I should be very sorry to occupy a place which you so well fill," cried Raymond, sincerely. "Well spoken, my boy; but in a few short years you will be the lord of this broad estate, which our famUy held for many generations.

When it was sold, I thought my heart would burst ; my pride was bent, but not broken, and I determined to regain the home of my ancestors, that when death closed my eyes I might be laid with my forefathers. The hateful thought that a stranger should be the lord over the lands I loved so well, at times almost drove me wild !" A tear here stole into the old man's eye, which he hastily brushed away. " I trust, uncle, you may be spared many a long year, to enjoy the fruit of your well spent life," exclaimed Raymond, earnestly. "Hope you so, boy? — well, well, I fear it cannot be. I would fain linger in this world to watch over you. The world is wicked, nephew ; unless one has been well versed in the dealings of mankind, he is in great danger of being made the dupe of designing men, who live by the mistakes of the inexperienced.

But enough of this — I must not weary you with long preachings, " added the uncle, smiling kindly on the youno man. " You do not tire me ; I Uke listening to your advice, as it wiU no doubt be of much use to me in time to come," repUed Ray mond. "You will be of age the day after to morrow, nepheAv, and we must celebrate the event in a manner worthy of the old name you bear. A Mortimer must not sneak into his manhood, like a thief into the dark, but come boldly forth, with the full light of his ancient family glory around him. We A\dll make such a day of it as the old Hall has not seen for years ; the old walls shall ring and reverberate with the merry-making, until the woods take up the shout and spread it through the whole estate." The old man had grown so excited, that his eyes gloAved Avith more than their usual brilliancy, his cheeks burned Avith a neAv and strange colour.

The strain was too much for him, and he sank back into his chair, exhausted with the effort. Raymond gazed anxiously at his uncle Avithout uttering a word, for his attention Avas Avholly absorbed by the unusual excitement of the old man, Avhom he had never seen in such a state before. " What say you, nephew, to this ?" cried the old man, regaining his strength — " will it not be glorious ? When I was of your age," he continued, in an altered voice, " I was a miserable clerk in a rich East India house — but no more of that ; I must let the past sleep, that I may enjoy the present." " It will indeed be a proud day for me to be hailed as the future master of this noble property," said Raymond, enthusias tically. " Of course," said the uncle ; " your ten ants must come as we arranged, and join Avith mine in the jubilee."

It may be necessary to remark here that this property, adjoining his uncle's, Avhich Raymond inherited from his father, was an estate of eight hundred a year, brought into the family by his grandmother. The accu mulation of some nineteen years of minority had served to pay off the portions of his sisters, so that the estate was entirely clear and unencumbered. " Most certainly," replied Raymond ; " nothing Avould give me greater plea sure than to see the tenants of the tAvo estates join together in their acclamations of joy at the time which heralds me into manhood. Believe me, uncle, that I feel all the honour of becoming, through your generous kindness and love, the heir to the ancient estate of Elmsdale, and I trust that the dignity of the family will not lose one tithe of its ancient greatness and time-honoured splendour by me."

" Well and nobly said, nephew. I see that the old blood has not thinned in your young Areins ; your words make me young again. I live in your youth." Here the old man paused for a moment, pressed his hand upon his forehead, and then continued — " You had better leave me, as the excitement of the conversation has been rather too much for me, and I have not had my nap to-day." " Shall I send you a glass of wine ?" asked Raymond, as he arose to Avithdraw. IL \r 71 lou may. Raymond then lest his uncle to himself. The old man, over the Avine brought him by the footman, allowed his thoughts to wander through a long vista of years, the recollections of which brought many a sigh from his heart, but seldom caused a smUe to play around his lips. Although a young man Avhen he left England, he had already met and loved a maiden, his union with whom circumstances too strong to be re moved effectually barred.

The curse of poverty had hung over his young life like a dark incubus, shutting out the light of hap piness that otherAvise might have gladdened his youth, and shed a soft effulgence around his declining years. The lady's father would not listen to the suit of the well-born beggar, as he termed Roger Mortimer, and so ended the dream of his manhood. The sweetest flower that had bloomed in the spring of his life was blasted in its bud, never more to bloom. 0« VOL. I. c

Chapter II. The

sisters. T)AYMOND MORTIMER had, as we Jhave already stated in our foregoing chapter, three sisters, named respectively Alice, Fanny, and Margaret. Alice, the elder, had been married for some six years to George Benton, a gentleman of a good estate in Norfolk. The union as yet had not been blessed with children, nor was there so far the least prospect that they would have any. As George Benton was the last of his name, having neither uncle nor female heirs, the property, in case of not having any children, would naturally come into the Mortimer family. The two junior sisters still remained at the home of their uncle ; and although they were both young and attractive, no suitor as yet had come forward to sue at their feet and claim their hands. As their uncle was not much egiven to society, the routine of their life was as dull and unexciting as it is possible to imagine.

Fanny, who had just turned her twenty-fourth year, Avas in the full bloom of perfect womanhood. She was tall and graceful, Avith a full, Avell rounded figure, the soft contours of which the closely-fitting dress displayed to the greatest advantage. The neck was swan like and of dazzling whiteness, Avhich grew more pure and soft as it joined with the bosom of which the open dress gave to the eye a slight view. Her hands and feet were small and well shaped, and the ankles were exquisitely turned. Her hair was brown, wavy and glossy, and the forehead, though not high, was broad. The eyes were of a soft dreamy brown hue, with depth enough to droAvn a lover's heart. c The nose was a straight Grecian, and a short upper lip, Avith a beautifully small rosy mouth and lovely chin, completed Fanny's portrait.

Margaret, the younger, was neither so beautiful nor so graceful as her sister; never theless, what Avith a tolerably good figure, a fresh rosy face, regular features, bright blue eyes, and masses of golden hair, which hung doAvn her back in luxurious ringlets, she had some claims to personal attraction ; and though not beautiful, might at least be considered pretty. The reader may ask if they were con tented with the quiet humdrum life which ran monotonously along the grooves of Time at the old place. The sisters were very much attached to their uncle, and endeavoured to render the passing hours pleasant and agreeable to the old man, oftentimes for that purpose sacrific ing their own comfort to humour a fancv or whim of his. Nevertheless, the dull routine of country life, unenlivened by society, made them feel how little of pleasure they Avere gathering from the passing days, which to the young are generally stored Avith in exhaustible enjoyment, and made them sigh for scenes more genial to their natures, and more conducive to their enjoyment.

On the whole, they Avere certainly dissatis fied with the quiet life they were forced to lead. It is true that they saw from time to time the different county families, and mingled occasionally in the county gaieties which Avere now and then held at the houses of the aristocrats of Hampshire. The coming of age of their brother would break in upon the dulness of their existence, as there was to be a ball on the evening of the day on which Raymond came of age. To this event the two sisters naturally looked forward with feelings of the greatest plea sure, one source of Avhich Avas the expected arrival at Elmsdale of a friend of Raymond's, who had been described to them by their brother in such terms of eulogy, that they were ready to admire the new-comer at his first appearance. Fanny and Margaret were seated in the morning-room, anxiously awaiting the ar rival of their sister, Mrs. Benton, who Avas to do the honours of the house.

"It is time that Alice should be here," said Fanny. " I wonder," she continued, " what can have occurred to detain her ?" " You are too impatient, sister, she Will be here soon ; there are always unaccount able delays in travelling — one is sometimes hours behind time," replied Margaret. " I am so glad that we are to have some amusement at last ; it is dull enough to kill one here. I wish that our uncle would not keep us so close; he ought to take us to Lon don, where we could enjoy ourselves," said the beauty, with her rosy lips pouting. " That would be glorious !" shouted Mar garet. " How delightful it would be to be in the midst of the gaiety and pleasure of the great tOAvn ! What a contrast to the miserable humdrum life we are forced to lead !" " I mean to make Raymond ask Uncle Roger to take us up next season for a little.

I am certain that our brother Avill not re fuse," said Fanny. " I do not think that he will ; but AviU uncle yield to his entreaties ?" " I am almost sure that he AAall. Does not he love Raymond more than most fathers do their chUdren ? I shall not give up my hope until we fail," said Fanny, reso lutely. " I wonder," cried Margaret, suddenly, "if young Mr. Warrenton is all that our brother says he is ? To tell the truth, I am rather anxious to see him." " So am I. Would that he were here now to enliven us. I feel more than usually dull to-day. Heigh-ho ! Avhen will it come to an end ?" sighed the beauty. " When you are married, good sister mine. Maybe this young fellow will do you the kindness to ask you to give up this slow life. What say you to that, my love ? Ha ! ha ! you blush. Have I probed your thoughts ?

Fie for shame, sister, to be thinking of such a thing so early in the day !" cried Margaret, screaming with laughter. " Don't be silly," said Fanny, somewhat annoyed and confused at this sally. " If you did not have some such feeling yourself, you Avould not have imputed the motive to 17 me. At this return in her " own coin " Mar garet blushed crimson, and turned away her eyes from the peering glance of her sister. The feelings of both were thus brought to light, and each saw the other's thoughts clearly. As there was no use denying the truth, they both openly confessed it. " Ah ! Fanny, you have fathomed mv mind, and I have discovered your feelings ; but do not let us quarrel over this absurd affair from which, in all probabUity, nothing will come to either of us. Let us be friends and rivals, and if either of us wins this expected guest, the other must willingly submit."

" Agreed, my little sister ; I wUl stand firmly to the bargain !" exclaimed Fanny, as her eyes flashed with an unwonted glow. " Of course I shall stand but Uttle chance against your beauty. I often envy you so many charms," replied Margaret. " Nonsense, child, men do not always choose for beauty; there are many other things which serve to attract the love of the sterner sex, or else hoAV do so many plain women manage to marry, AvhUe beauty oftentimes goes about begging. For ex ample, there is Alice ; she is, as you knoAv, not to compare with either of us in good looks ; but what mattered that, did not Mr. Benton choose her from among us all, with out so much as casting a glance upou you or me? After that, never tell me that you have no chance with me." " Raymond says that this Mr. Warrenton is about five-and-twenty, very handsome and clever, and he has, moreover, a fine pro perty," ansAvered Margaret.

" The latter qualification goes a great way towards backing up the pretentions of any man. Women have a keen eye to the property qualification ; they are not level lers," rejoined Fanny, laughing heartily. Margaret joined in the merriment, and then rose to go to the windoAV ; after which, for some time, neither of the sisters spoke, the silence continuing unbroken for some ten minutes, when Margaret turned from the window, crying, " She is come ! — she is come !" " Who's come ?" asked Fanny, aroused from a deep meditation. " Oh ! I know " she continued ; "let us run to the door to receive her." So saying, the two sisters ran into the hall, and soon reached the front door, where a travelling-carriage and four had just drawn up. " Welcome, dearest Alice !" cried the two girls, as they affectionately embraced a lady of about thirty.

" We are so dehghted to see you ; Ave Avere afraid that something had happened, as you were s*o late. And how do you do, George ? — we are right glad to see you both." " You cannot be better pleased at seeing us than Ave are at seeing you. Hoav is Uncle Roger?" asked Mrs. Benton, as she repeatedly exchanged affectionate saluta tions with her sisters. " And Raymond — is he well ? Why is he not here to welcome us ?" she added, as a shade of disappointment crossed her face. " He is in the house somewhere, and Avill no doubt be with us soon ; but come in. Ah ! here comes the truant," ex claimed Fanny, as she marked the approach of Raymond, avIio, having heard the carriage as it drove up to the door, had hastened to welcome his sister. "My dearest Alice," "My darling Raymond," were the only Avords that they could utter for some time, as they stood clasped in each other's arms.

They both loved each other with all the tenderness and devotion which a sister and brother could feel. " This is indeed a pleasure to see your dear face again," said Mrs. Benton, as she gazed into the noble, frank face of her brother. " It was well your ears were not longer, Raymond," said Margaret, slyly. " Why, Margaret ?" " You would have heard a complaint for not being here to receive Alice." Raymond looked at his sister, who, with a sweet smile, said — " I was foolish enough to say you ought to have watched for me, but I know where your kind heart lies, and I am satisfied." "Well, George, my dear fellow, how have you been since I last had the pleasure of seeing you ?- It is some time now, is it not ?" said Raymond, as he shook his brother-in-law heartily by the hand. " I have been jogging on in the same old way ; my health Avas never better, and you are looking as sturdy and hale as ever," replied Mr. Benton.

" You no doubt wish to go to your rooms, as you must be tired and uncomfort able from the journey," said Margaret. " Stay !" cried Fanny, " you had better go into the library, and see Uncle Roger first, as he might not like to be lest for the last." The party, led by Fanny, accordingly directed their steps towards the Ubrary, where they found the old man seated by the table writing. On seeing the new comers, he rose from his chair, and em braced his niece with great affection, salut ing Mr. Benton warmly. After a few words of greeting and some passing re marks, the guests, accompanied by the girls, went to their rooms. We will now leave this family reunion to the privacy which is so necessary for the mutual and unrestrained exchange of feelings in which, from the long separation of the different members of the family, they were naturally disposed to indulge on their meeting.

Chapter III. Coming Of Age

rPHE morning of the 20th of August was -*- ushered in with all the glories of a bright summer's sun. The cloudless sky was suffused with the gorgeous beams shot from the day-god's golden couch, as he yet lingered behind a fir-covered hill, half hid from the expectant world. In another moment Phœ bus, in his car, burst forth, full, glorious, and sublime, over the sea and land, pouring his rich, warm rays over Elmsdale, which lay nestled in a valley, Avith lofty hUls stretch ing far away in soft blue curves, that seemed to kiss the morning sky. The golden light forced its way through the thickly-covered trees, and shed its brightness over the merry, dancing rivulet which flowed gaily through the Park. This ancient seat of the Mortimers, if we are to believe chroniclers, was in the pos session of the family since the reign of Henry the Second, from which time the male line had come doAvn unbroken, to the period of which we write.

The family had been feudal barons, then lords of the manor — a dignity which they still held. The park of Elmsdale Avas of large extent, comprising, as it did, some eleven hundred acres. The estate of which this noble park formed a part possessed a rental variously estimated at from twelve to fifteen thousand pounds. The beautiful park was plentifully wooded with oak, beeches, ash, and elm. Two long winding avenues of ancient elms, each about a mile in length, winding in and out among the most delightful scenery, led from two gate-lodges, built in the style of towers covered with ivy and creepers. Now and then, through the openings of the trees, some distant hill might be seen ; or the ear would catch the gentle murmurs of a gurg ling streamlet, as it pursued its course, or emptied itself in some smooth, beautiful sheet of water, of which the eye could catch a glimpse among the trees by which it was surrounded.