CHAPTER XIII.
A MISSING LINK.
AS letters were few and far between in those days, when they did come, they were very warmly appreciated. Therefore the arrival of a letter from Master Guy was an event in which the whole population of the Falcon Range felt impelled to manifest singular personal interest. But not being favoured as a body with a survey of such letter, and its contents being issued in small details from divers independent authorities, it was not surprising that, by the time the news it conveyed had circulated from the drawing room to servants' hall, through stables and gardens, round the villages of Falcon Range and Pine-wood End, large farms and small cottages, the original statements were somewhat altered, and scarcely so recognisable as even the grey-bearded man who left the place of his birth a simple stripling.
It must have been with infinite amazement that the recipient of one particular letter heard some days afterwards that the Pope had laid violent hands upon her son, that he had narrowly escaped an auto-da-fé, was rescued by a regiment of black savages, and safely lodged in the land of Luther. The tale might be a predecessor of "The Three Black Crows," but certainly belonged to that family, and the crows had no reason to be ashamed of the relationship. It was an important letter, for after careful perusal thereof, the heads of the mansion solemnly started on an exploring expedition through the whole immediate premises, without communicating its special object to anyone.
From garret to cellar, through galleries and chambers, servants' offices and out-buildings, went the Squire and Mistress Hazelwood, followed by Mrs. Falconer, who seemed even less eager in the search than they.
But whatever they wanted, they did not find, and were again seated in consultation when Evelyn and Maude, who had been engaged all day in the school at Pine-wood End, returned home accompanied by Mr. Herbert, without whose sympathy few events transpired concerning the interests of the family at The Moat.
A letter from Guy! And his elder friends looking grave and perplexed over it! This was enough to damp the bright spirit of Evelyn, to bring Maude in loving anxiety to her mother's side, and detain the pastor from his solitary parsonage.
The contents were eagerly listened to. First came a rapid sketch of the circumstances under which Guy had been obliged to quit Rome. He was, however, perfectly safe now, continuing his studies among some fine collections of art in Germany, proposing to remain some months there, and work his way round by northern capitals towards home.
But to the matter of Phœbe and her communications, the main object of the letter was devoted. Afraid to trust the pocket-book itself to the chances of safe transit by post, he had copied the few entries of importance.
"February 10th, 17—. Signed the document required by my wife's
trustees, settling the disposal of her property, given up to me in
consideration of an annual rent charge upon my estates at Falcon Range,
for her use during her life, and to devolve at her death upon our
younger son."
"June 7th, 17—. Received my wife's legacy under her father's will, the
disposal thereof provided for by a deed previously executed, and in the
hands of her trustees."
"January 12th, 18—. By consent of trustees, my son Guy's commission
and outfit deducted from his interest in his mother's property."
"May 5th, 18—. Attorney dead. Papers sent to Falcon Range."
Then in a tremulous hand, and written with lead pencil, appeared on a blank page the following:
"December 5th, 18—. If my son Geoffrey should not do justice to his
brother's family, a document hidden in the secret drawer of an old
bureau in my room at The Moat House, will reveal his obligation to
do so. The trustees are dead, and no new ones were appointed, but my
daughter-in-law, Guy's widow, can act for her children."
Evelyn looked anxiously from her mother to her father, and Mrs. Falconer.
"You have found this deed, of course?" said she. "Where is the old bureau?"
"We do not know," said Mr. Hazelwood; "we are afraid it may have been turned out with lumber that gave place to more modern wares when we opened the rooms that had been shut up so many years."
"We must search every hole and corner. Come, Maude! Help us, Mr. Herbert. Let us go first to the tapestry chamber. It is just like that old Judge Jeffery's wickedness to hide such a treasure in his ghostly haunts."
"Stay, Evelyn," said Mrs. Hazelwood; "your father thinks we must proceed cautiously at present: we know not what else this old secretaire may have contained, nor what inducement the present possessor may have for destroying or secreting it, if indeed it yet exists."
"You can rummage the premises at your leisure, young damsels," said the Squire, "but let nothing of this document go forth among others, until the time suits; then I will raise the county to find it."
"Dear Mrs. Falconer," said Evelyn, "we shall scour the county with one idea for the next three months. I am certain I have seen just such old furniture in many a cottage, and we shall certainly find it at last."
Thus cautioned, the earlier portion of Guy's epistle was all that underwent transformation through the social circles of Falcon Range, whilst at least six diligent individuals became more than ever indefatigable in cottage visits, and long rides to distant farmsteads.
Letters were despatched to obtain tidings of the nurse Phœbe, as her testimony would be all important in case of legal proceedings, and a restless spirit took possession of the lately calm and peaceful inmates of The Moat.
"Will it make much difference to them all, father," asked Evelyn, "if this paper should be found?"
"It won't quite buy back The Moat," said the Squire, smiling, "but it will make them sufficiently independent to do as they please, and I am afraid will make Mrs. Falconer insist upon renting the cottage instead of accepting it from us, as our offering of gratitude for all she has done for you."
"It is a lovely place, dear father, and enough to tempt her from The Moat; but I hope she will not go: I want a great deal of teaching yet to make me fit for anything."
"Fit for what?" laughed the Squire. "Is my little wench turning sentimental?"
"Fit to be Squire and Madam Hazelwood's daughter, sir," replied she,—"an honour which all our village folk loyally desire me worthily to apprehend."
"Fit or not, I suppose we have to make the best of it now, young mistress," said her father, who sometimes scarcely seemed to think further improvement needful; "so you had better convince Mrs. Falconer that your education is not completed yet. She belongs to The Moat as much as the stateliest tree on the estate, and whether she gets her rights or not, I hope she will not reject our gratitude. She promised your mother that she make no change until Guy comes home, by which time the cottage will be dry and safe, and the garden in fine order,—a fitting present from us all, I trow."
Evelyn quite agreed, as she stood with him in view of the charming little residence which he and her mother had planned and caused to be erected on one of the beautiful green slopes in the park, in anticipation of the time when they might no longer be permitted to contest with her the point of a change of dwelling.
"Such a great rambling place as The Moat House," he remarked, "ought to shelter a colony instead of a family; it is a charity to help us keep the rooms aired; but of course she is his right to wish that Master Guy should come back to a home of his own. Those last pictures of his are sold at a price that has surprised her, it seems, and his own talents are likely to make the lad independent in time."
As the noun "lad" was not preceded by the offensive old adjective of former comments, Miss Hazelwood bore with it calmly, though it did strike her that possibly Guy might by this time have outgrown the extremely juvenile appellation.
"When are you going to advertise for information about the bureau, father?" she asked.
"As soon as I obtain proper advice on the value of the entries in the old book, and the safest way of proceeding, my lass. I hoped Mr. Herbert, who is going to London shortly, would make this inquiry for us, but he is strangely backward for once. I suppose he is afraid of the lawyers."
Evelyn had a different thought on the same subject, but she did not venture to expound it.
What if Mr. Herbert would rather that Maude Falconer remained portionless! She could understand the strange mingling of selfishness and generosity which might influence his heart, and deter him from instituting very active measures to restore her lost inheritance.
So Mr. Hazelwood himself went once again to pay his compliments to London in a fog, mentally expatiating on the dismal fact of candles and twinkling lamps at hours when the sun ought to have been shining, and probably was shining everywhere else.
Mr. Penacre could transact business of great importance in a fog, by candle-light, and only smiled kindly on the grumblers at whose expense he sat the chief part of his life perched on a stool at his desk.
He read attentively the copy from the pocket-book and the portion of Guy's letter in reference thereto, which the Squire laid before him, rubbed his brow, inked a pen, and wastefully dried it on the tail of his coat, laid it down again, rubbed his hands, and finally faced his visitor with a look of innocent inquiry and a chilling—
"Well, sir?"
"Well, sir," repeated the Squire, impatiently, "what do you make of it?"
"A rather singular circumstance as it has come round, certainly," said Mr. Penacre, calmly; "but you are of course aware that this memorandum has no legal weight. The poor old man must have been labouring under some delusion, and unable to remember facts. His son Mr. Geoffrey assured me that the document in question was destroyed after some satisfactory transaction between the parties concerned."
"Then he knew that such a document did once exist?" remarked the Squire.
"Certainly, certainly, but was quashed by subsequent arrangements, and mutual consent."
"I believe he stated falsely then," said the Squire, warmly, "and the matter must be looked into."
"Well, my dear sir, pray look into it, and what is to be seen? A young gentleman's letter, the writer being chiefly interested; the leaf of an old memorandum-book, which may, or may not, bear the writing of the late Mr. Falconer, and the confused story of an old black nurse, who may, or may not, be honest and sane, and may or may not have interested purposes to serve. No honourable member of the legal profession would undertake such a case. No, my dear sir, first produce this deed, then the witness of the nurse and the pocket-boo will be valuable; for questions would arise on the subject of his mental ability to understand, and his physical power to indite this sentence."
"Did anyone question the elder Mr. Falconer's mental ability and physical power to sign away his estate at the instigation of his childless son?" asked Mr. Hazelwood, sharply.
"I think not. I believe it was freely and fairly done, before competent witnesses."
"Very well, sir. Now be so good as to observe that the date of this last entry in the memorandum-book is the same as that attached to Mr. Falconer's signature on the deeds which transferred the estate of the Falcon Range. If one is open to suspicion, so is the other, seeing that both were written on the same day. Why it may happen, after all, that the proceeding was illegal, and that neither father nor son had any right to sell the estate at all!"
"Oh, pray don't be alarmed about that," said the lawyer: "the sale is valid enough."
"I am not in the least alarmed, sir; only suggesting that your insinuation, if proved, would prove too much, and endanger the whole of Mr. Geoffrey Falconer's proceedings for some years past."
Mr. Penacre contemplated the candle, smoothing his brow as if he were straightening matters in his mind, and conscious that his city notions of the mental calibre of country squires were sustaining a decided shock.
"Well, sir," said he, "the deed must be produced first. Let us see that, for without it, you have no shadow of right to make a claim on the purchase money of the Falcon Range. And even if produced, I fear there is little left now to reward the suit."
"There are other lands yet held in Mr. Falconer's name," said the Squire.
"True, but the last shred of the fine old property passes away almost immediately: the purchase money lies ready, and then the name of the Falconers is expunged from the list of British landowners."
"I protest against any payment to Mr. Falconer of money raised upon the sale of property here, until this claim is investigated and settled," said Mr. Hazelwood; "and I suppose if there is to be litigation, you will prefer to work with funds in hand."
"I certainly shall," said Mr. Penacre, smiling; "at the same time regretting that a gentleman like you should be caught by the popular delusion, which supposes that we only endorse a case which bears our own interests on its title page; however, if people will be wrong-headed, I cannot help it. Produce this deed, and I promise you that Mr. Falconer must look elsewhere for his defence against the widow and the fatherless."
This brought right hands to a hearty clasp, and having arranged the plan of procedure, Mr. Hazelwood was glad to find himself early the next morning on the box-seat of the Royal Mail Coach, with thoughts of home and its welcomes warming his heart.
The passengers breakfasted and dined on the way, and the shades of evening were beginning to gather, and tired travellers to feel cold ana cross, when the coachman dashed into a small village where a single oil lamp just lighted distinguished the wayside inn, and four fresh horses stood ready, with men at their heads, to replace the steaming beasts that had gallantly performed their ten mile task.
Speedily went strap and buckle to their proper places, for there was a kind of emulation among the men at the posting-houses on the roads in those days, with regard to the rapidity with which the operation of "changing horses" could be performed; and many a fee from the coach roof rewarded the zeal of the skilled hostler who thus expedited the journey.
The coachman was gathering up the reins, the guard was taking his last survey, when a woman rushed up past the group or gazing idlers.
"Sir, please, Muster Guard!" she cried. "Wull ye do a kindness for a poor body without any pay, just only for the love of God?"
"Well, what is it?" said the guard gruffly. "Profitable business, any way."
"It's only this, sir. Just when you come up to Oak Lodge—that's the doctor's, sir, three mile off, you know,—please blow your horn sharp, and throw it o'er the gate,—this paper, I mean; it's for him to come and see a poor body as I'm afeard is dying. They'll come out and look when they hears the horn."
"Some one belonging to you, good woman?" asked the Squire, bending down from his perch, his quick ear having caught the sound of poverty, and the plea of the love of God.
"No, sir, only in my cottage. My lad found her on the road, faint with tire and hunger, about two hour agone, and he brought her in, and she do seem right done for, and wants to go on, though she can't stand, poor thing, and her money's all gone. You'll drop the letter. Mr. Guard?—And please blow the horn pretty brisk."
"Stay, my good woman, where does she want to go to?" said Mr. Hazelwood. "Guard, there's room inside. Take her, and I'll settle with you."
"Bless you, sir," cried the woman, "she'd be right glad, but we'd have to carry her, and the poor babe's asleep, so it's too late now. She be very bad, rambling in her head too, and looks awful in her black skin."
"A black woman, did you say?—A stranger and foreigner?" said the Squire.
"We're all ready, please, your honour," said the guard, touching his hat, not disposed to delay for a black beggar's story.
"One moment, friends. Just let us hear how far she wants to go, and perhaps she can be helped somehow. Do you know, good woman, where she was making for when your kind lad found her?"
"Yes, sir, she keeps all the while crying out about some place called 'Moat House,' and one Squire Hazelwoods, and begs to be took there, but it must be a big way off these parts."
Before the sentence was ended, Squire Hazelwood had swung himself from the coach-box to the ground.
"I shall wait here, guard," said he. "Give that letter at the doctor's gate, and if my carriage is waiting for me at 'The Nelson,' tell one of the servants to bring it on here, changing horses if needful, and another to gallop home and say all's well, but I am hindered for a few hours, and shall be with them, please God, to breakfast. Now my portmanteau—all right—good-night, guard."
The astonished coachman and guard pocketed their liberal fees with much respect, privately suggesting to the nearest passengers that anybody in distress was enough to hinder Squire Hazelwood, even if he'd been going to meet the House of Lords.
THE START.
The passengers wondered, the horn sounded, and the horses pranced gaily off.
"Now, my friend," said the Squire to the equally wondering cottager, "take me where you have sheltered this poor stranger."
A few minutes' walk brought them to a neat little thatched cottage on the roadside, where in a rude cradle by the fire rocked a white baby, and on a settle, wrapped in her Indian shawl and supported by the poor woman's coarse pillow, lay the black nurse in charge, evidently exhausted by over-fatigue.
The best nourishment the little inn afforded carefully administered, and the Squire's kind words of encouragement, seemed to revive her a little.
"Tanks, massa," she murmured, "me bery tankful to you. Just like de dear Lord to send good Samaritan dis way. Oh yes, all good Samaritan in dis nice England. Cheer up, ole Phœbe, she do it all yet."
Then dozing a little, and suddenly starting up, she exclaimed,—
"Whar dat pickaninny? Neber let dem get her." And seeing the babe sleeping peacefully, she sank back again, murmuring, "Neber fear, missy. Phœbe keep going till she find de Moat House. Massa Guy tell her she be took in: den lie down and die quiet. Dis kind 'ooman let her lie and rest till morning."
The doctor's gig was at his door when the horn sounded and the letter was thrown down, and knowing the cottager who had hastily scrawled it as one of his honest humble friends, he drove off at once, taking sundry little possible requirements into account.
And after administering a composing draught to the excited over-wrought patient, he comforted her hostess with the assurance that after a thorough rest, she would be able to continue her journey. And the Squire was not slow to convince the doctor of his appreciation of promptitude and kindness.
The night had closed in when Mr. Hazelwood's carriage arrived at the village, and great was his surprise when the door flew open, and his own Dorothy sprang into his arms.
"Why, Dorothy, my little witch, who told you that I wanted you so much? Here's work to do, my lass, and none can do it so well."
Mistress Hazelwood had taken it into her head to go with the carriage to meet him on the road, and somewhat alarmed at the orders brought by the guard, had driven on with fresh horses at once.
Very much surprised was she at the strange story he told, very much gratified also that in her loving haste to welcome her husband home, she had unconsciously come to his aid in a moment of some perplexity.
Phœbe was now on the cottager's bed, calmed into restful slumber, while her kind friends arranged for such accommodation as the cottage and the little inn afforded, until morning should announce the result.
She then opened her eyes wonderingly on the sweet face that was watching for her waking, and that no anxiety should disturb her. Mrs. Hazelwood had taken the child in her arms, that she might be instantly assured of its safety.
"Phœbe been dreaming 'bout de angels," she said. "Is der come take care oh dear missy's chile?"
"The Lord of angels has sent friends to take care of her and of you," said the lady softly; "and you must lie still until you feel quite able to move with comfort."
Then she laid her hand upon the black brow, and felt the yet feverish pulse, while the kind hostess came forward with a tempting breakfast.
"Phœbe get up; 'shamed to lie like big log; can walk now bery quick again."
But poor Phœbe found that her powers would not justify her words, and dismay succeeded her hopeful smile.
"Must go on to de Moat House,—must, must find it soon," she said imploringly. "Massa Guy help poor Phœbe if him know."
"We shall help you, Phœbe; we will take you there as soon as you can travel: you are the very person they want to find."
"Tank de Lord! Massa Guy dere?"
"No, he is still abroad, but safe and well."
"Him safe eberywhere, lady, 'cause him de Lord's chile; him b'lieve de Lord's word. Can't no real bad happen to dem dat loves de Lord. Phœbe bery wrong to fink she die on de road, and missy's dear chile in her arms. No, no, Him not 'low dat."
And drawing the little one to her, she covered it with kisses.
"Then you would like to go on this morning, and rest when you reach The Moat?" said the lady.
"But all de money gone, lady; only chile's few tings left. Whar be dey?" she suddenly exclaimed, with a look of alarm, and feeling for some great pockets.
"All right dere," said she, subsiding contentedly again. "Now, dear lady, you de Lord's angel, and Phœbe do what she tell."
Judging that, notwithstanding her enfeebled state, it would be wise to obtain as speedily as possible the complete rest and comforts of which she stood in need, Mrs. Hazelwood hastened preparations for departure, and the poor black woman was as tenderly "settled in the carriage as if she had been a white lady," the admiring villagers said; while "the real lady" took charge of the child; and after liberally rewarding all who had shared in the act of genuine charity, the Squire turned his horses' heads towards home.
Anxious faces were looking out at Falcon Range, where The Moat interests had become everybody's interests, and the gatekeeper and his wife were on the watch for the carriage.
"All well, Bennett," said the master, meeting the inquiring look with a smile as he drove in.
"Thank God, sir!" said Bennett, reverently lifting his hat. "They'll be mortal glad up at the house, for Miss Evelyn and Miss Maude have been down many a time this morning to listen for your coming."
"We have all cause to be thankful for wonderful things, Bennett," said the Squire.
"Aye, and for things that ain't wonderful, too," said Bennett to his wife, as he closed the gates; "and one of them is, that if there's a good turn to be done, he's the one to do it. I say, wife, didn't you catch sight of a queer bundle in the shay corner? There's some poor body as wanted a lift, I'll be bound, for he'd never pass such on the king's highway without lending a hand."
The wife had noticed, and moreover she noticed that the "bundle" had a curious dark top to it, unlike anything she had ever seen, but if it should even be one of the savages who had helped to rescue Master Guy in his Popish perils, he would surely be welcomed by the whole clan of the Falcon Range as warmly as by the family at The Moat House.
Poor Phœbe was perfectly bewildered at the open doors of the hall, when a youthful resemblance of the lady she already reverenced flew into the Squire's arms with a cry of delight, and another differently, but not less, attractive, greeted Mistress Hazelwood with equal warmth, while an older lady of calm and graceful mien received with smiling astonishment the infant held out to her, and then gazed at Phœbe's dark face with something of dawning comprehension of the fact.
"Dis de Moat House? Dis Massa Guy's moder?" cried Phœbe, clasping her hands with joy. "No 'casion tell, dem like as two stars ob de sky. What for de kind Lord bless ole Phœbe like dis at last?"
CHAPTER XIV.
THE OLD BUREAU.
A NURSERY was immediately extemporised, where Phœbe and her little charge were tenderly cared for, and soon became a centre of attraction to the household. Her story, when able to tell it, was sad and simple.
"Bery hard to leab dear missy," she said, as by degrees she explained to her interested hearers, how she had received from her late mistress special directions to proceed if possible to India, and place the child under the protection of its grandmother, Mrs. Geoffrey Falconer, with strict injunctions that it was to be brought up in the Reformed faith.
"She once like you, young lady, jes' so fair and happy, but it hab to be done. And when de dear Lord say so, sure find de way to do it somehow. So when de spirit gone up to hebben, I keep all quiet, make all straight, put white lily on de breast, and step out ob dat house soft and still, while all dem priests fast asleep, and get quite out ob city, rest in day, trabel in night. Den not care, all right, for ole Phœbe know dat real dear missy not left behind, only poor body, noting but bit ob dust for dem to bodder wis, jes' fit dem and dere ways, all cold, no heart, no life.
"Afore she go, she put up pretty jewels for de chile, and gib money to pay. Money too soon gone, but tings all safe, dere dem is."
And she placed several packets in Mrs. Falconer's hands, requesting her to retain them until they should be required again.
"Den at last, get on board Englis' ship, to be safe away from de priests, can't neber breave right whar dem is, no truth in dem; and anybody who know whar de chile be, must gib her up to dem: deys de Church, ob course. Good Lord 'liber us from dere cruel ways! Him, de great good Head ob de Church neber hab crooked body like dem to be His Church. Now Phœbe know about England and missionary, and dat precious martyrs die to hold fast de truth as it is in Jesus, so me tink jes' get dere first, find de old Moat House, and Massa Guy's moder, and get put in East Indiaman to get home.
"Long as de money last, poor old Phœbe bery comfortable and brave, and full of false stuff she call faith, and tink de Lord bery good and pleasant; but ah! Money too soon go, she come to last bit ob silver, and den! She frighten and fret like any poor unbelieving sinner; so Phœbe only sunshine Christian arter all! Ah, dear lady, dem dat trust in de Lord must trust Him in cloud and darkness too, else neber know half how good and true He be. But He pass ober bad ole 'ooman's doubt and fear, and when she cry to Him, He lay her down jes' whar somebody find her, and put her to sleep, and wake up 'mong eberyting she want!"
"And in the very place where you are most wanted," said Evelyn.
"Sure. Dat de Lord's way, and His way allays de best way. You 'member dat, missy, neber you do noting 'thout askin' de Lord. Den you strong, cause He say:
"'Fear not, for I am with thee; I will teach thee, I will uphold
thee.'
"When de dear Lord teach, His chillen must larn; when Him uphold, dey shall stand. Poor tings, dey wriggles about, and doesn't allays like it, but Him knows dem only worms, and wants pickin' up, and puttin' out ob way ob mischief. So He say, 'Fear not, thou worm.'
"Ah, dear missy, only tink de mighty Son ob God come to save worms from getting trod under foot when debble and hosts come sweepin' by! Dats de right Saviour for poor ole Phœbe—aye, and young pretty missy too. B'lieve dat?" she asked, anxiously, trying to look through the fair young face into the heart behind it.
"Yes, Phœbe," said Evelyn, timidly, "I do believe it; but—"
"But what, dear chile?"
"I've never been tried, Phœbe. There are no troubles at The Moat House; everybody here is kind and good, and I'm afraid of being as you said just now, only a sunshine Christian."
"Is dat it? Bless de Lord. Why, don't missy know dat de Lord's sweet flowers must hab de sunshine to grow in, as well as the clouds? And while He gib sunshine, tank Him, and lub Him dearly, and grow, and spread out nice colours and fragrance. Neber be lookin' for troubles to find out 'bout self, leave dem all to de Lord; and, chile, dey 'll come sometime, 'cause Satan hate happiness eberywhar, and he'll find de way to de Moat House, and 'sturb de peace somehow; but never fear, keep close to the Lord Jesus, and so keep looking at Him, and 'miring Him, dat not care bery much 'bout oder tings; maybe deys bery holler, arter all, but de Lord, Him sure and true and full ob blessing."
"You have known Him well, and loved Him long, Phœbe, haven't you?" asked Evelyn.
"Pretty long spell now, missy, but de Lord Him know and lub poor Phœbe first. He gib her His own word. Good missionary tell, and Phœbe larn; den no more idols, no more priests. Dey talk to Phœbe foolish tings, but she know better and say, 'You go 'long, and neber tink to lead dem dat knows de blessed Gospel; Phœbe lead you now to de foot ob de cross, and you larn with her de salvation ob de true God."
"And did any of them listen to you, Phœbe?"
"Ah, Phœbe not know; she got de good seed, and she drop it in. De Lord gib de hearing ear, only His servants take care to speak, and He do say:
"'My word shall not return to me void.'
"Maybe some poor broder 'mong dem meet Phœbe in glory and tank her for true word. But, missy, dem priests in Italy won't neber listen to de true word, dey blind leaders ob de blind. Ah, de poor sheep got no good shepherds dere! Dey say, 'Bery fine 'ligion for priests, fine shows, fine robes, fine chants, fine little box to hold dere God, but who b'lieves anyting? Ah, no God, no noting; we lib and die, and dere's de end.' Poor tings! Dem want missionary much as Hindoos. You don't know, missy, cause ob de blessed Gospel in your country. No priests, no nuns, no popes here, blindin' poor souls from looking to de Lamb ob God."
"Phœbe, I want to know how it is that you can repeat texts from our English Bible so correctly?"
"Well, dear chile, it jes' dis ways. Phœbe bit ob a gal once when poor slave, and Missy Falconer like her, and made fader buy her; so when missy go away from West Indies to Calcutta, she take Phœbe dere too, and make her free. Den Phœbe hear good missionary teach de Gospel, and de blessed Lord make it go right in her heart, and Phœbe free indeed. Den she want see good words with her own eyes and tell dem to odor sinners: plenty sinners dere too. So poor Phœbe try to read Bible in English, and learn plenty chapters, and say dem to dear missionary lady. Dis ways make say texts all right, in good words, but when Phœbe talk random, she only like poor chile, to de end ob her days. Ah! Noting like speakin' de Lord's own words, missy, allays say right den."
"I wish I could always say right, Phœbe, but I have such a jumble of things in my foolish head, that the right ones are seldom found in time."
"Ah! Dat not right, missy; what she lub best sure come uppermost. Lub de dear Lord Jesus, and eber be tinking what please Him; dat's de secret ob de Lord, and bery strong blessed secret too. Missy lub fader and moder, don't she?"
"I should think so, indeed!" said Evelyn, quickly.
"Sure, neber doubt it; and missy do anyting dey tell; neber stop to say, is she sure she lubs dem 'nough to wish please dem. Oh, no, cause she dere own chile, born to lub dem. Same ting de chile ob God, born again to lub Him; it's in de new heart, and can't help it so long as feel like chile. It's dem dat don't b'lieve Him real kind fader dat forgets, and wants windin' up like clock. God don't want no chillen ob dat sort, but livin', lovin' chillen, dat run in His ways free and happy, and willin'. Can't force no lub, missy. God make His chile born with it in new heavenly life."
In her frequent visits to the nursery, and loving reverence for the "black but comely" Christian there, Evelyn learned much and also taught something; and became scarcely less an object of interest to Phœbe than the orphan infant on her knee. The nurse was easily prevailed on to remain at The Moat House until circumstances should render her important evidence available in the matter of the missing document, and while Mrs. Falconer undertook correspondence with the maternal grandparent of the babe.
* * * * * *
Among the warm friends taken into the family confidence concerning the old bureau was Mr. Spadeley, whose knowledge of circumstances amongst the living and dead of the Falcon Range was indisputable. But it cost him many scratches of the head, many vigorous digs into the old churchyard, many untimely whisperings beneath the elms with the worthy landlord of "The Falconer's Arms," before he could make anything of it. Then a glimmer of light seemed to arise in his mind, and before he had exactly fixed whether its source was north, south, east or west, Miss Evelyn flitted before him, to enjoy the first effect of its beam.
"Well, Mr. Spadeley, you really look mysterious. Have you made any discovery?" she asked, seating herself on the low wall that divided the churchyard from her father's lands.
"Well, miss, I've got a bit of idea, as it were, but I doubt if it brings us any nearer after all."
"Surely it will," cried Evelyn, eagerly; "you will tell it me, won't you, Mr. Spadeley? Or shall I run for my father?"
"Bless you, miss, I'd rather tell you than fifty fathers, and no disrespect to his honour but what will your pretty wit do with it, I wonder?"
"Only try," she replied, laughingly, "it will be the greatest compliment you can pay it."
"Well, then, I've been reminding and recalling things, as it were, for some years back, and I do mind when them rooms was opened, a lot of lumbering things all lying about in the way, and the master bidding the work-people do what they liked with them, and some I know was broke up for fire-wood."
"But no one would break up a piece of furniture that could be put to any use," said Evelyn. "Don't you think it more likely that someone took it home, and that after all it may be standing in some cottage not far away?"
"Well, no, Miss Evelyn, I don't; 'cause why, what sort of folks would they be that would keep anything they found in it that didn't belong to them? No, no, I don't believe there's any of that sort near the old Moat House."
"But, Mr. Spadeley, you know there is a secret drawer: it may never have been discovered."
"There now!" said the sexton, brightening up. "I thought you'd put something to it, and it do make a difference surely; for I were loath to think of false vassals hiding under the wing of the Falconers; leastways, if they've got a wing, which in course they haven't now-a-days; but it don't matter so much, seeing Squire Hazelwood's a good master to serve, and shame to them that don't be thankful. Only you see, Miss Evelyn, it might have been otherways."
"Well, then, Mr. Spadeley, for all our sakes, it is right to have a fresh search, and my father has decided to advertise, with a handsome reward to anyone who will give information."
"Well, Miss Evelyn," said Spadeley, meditatively, "I can't say as I shall feel much beholden to anybody as gives information for pay, while there's opportunity to give it without, and I don't believe we'll get any nearer to the old bit of furniture so. But you and Miss Maude just try again, out of our parish a bit, and if it be above ground, surely you'll come at it for love."
Smiling at the old man's tenacious interest in the honour of the inhabitants of the Falcon Range, and his chivalrous tribute to her own and Maude Falconer's influence, the young lady went home to discuss the melancholy fears of the bureau having been, broken up for fire-wood, and the document in question perhaps having served to feed the flame.
The Squire gave his humble neighbours credit for a little more sense than this reckless destruction would have indicated, and had some confidence in the effect of his offer, largely placarded in very large letters and figures, of "Twenty pounds reward" for the recovery of an old bureau, supposed to have been given among other lumber to any person who might think it worth carrying away, when the workmen were engaged upon repairs of the old Moat House.
In the direction of N— Park, the young ladies seldom rode, as great changes had occurred there; but now, furnished with a clue by Jane Spadeley, the efficient mistress of their school at Pine-wood End, they determined to visit the farms and cottages around a long forbidden scene of much regret to the old-fashioned Protestantism of the true-hearted Squire.
Bound for some cottages a little way beyond, Maude and Evelyn instinctively reined up their ponies at the open gates of N— Park, just within which appeared a scene well calculated to arrest attention.
On a gentle elevation, selected for picturesque effect, stood a beautiful little chapel, built in miniature imitation of an admired cathedral church. Building materials still lay scattered about, but it was evidently open for use, for two old women, one old man, and three or four children were coming slowly down the steps, and a robed priest appeared behind them, looking out and about from the doors.
Quickly observing the young horse-women at the Park gates, he retired for a moment, and reappeared in ordinary dress, to pay his respects and to request the pleasure of showing them the new church.
"We have no congratulations to offer on its completion," said Maude, gravely, "but we are duly surprised at the speed with which it has been erected."
"And the wonderful fact of a congregation already!" added Evelyn, mischievously, as the three aged villagers passed solemnly out.
"There was no reason for delay, when the death of Sir Ryland left his son at liberty to carry out his pious design," replied the priest; "and as for the congregation, the people are not yet prepared for the privileges which the Church offers in her observance of holy-days."
"Mr. Freakes, why don't you put things in the right light?" said Evelyn. "You should have said, 'as his advisers thought proper.' Everybody knows that the poor young gentleman is weak, and had no more thought of building a Roman Catholic Church than of building Noah's ark, until you put it into his head."
"Then you should estimate the advantage of wise advisers, and rejoice that the young gentleman is susceptible to such influence," replied the priest. "But can I not prevail on you even to ride round the church? The view will well repay your trouble, and you can prepare Mr. Guy for the new object in his landscape, when he returns to paint it."
"Not omitting the picturesque effect of the congregation slowly descending its marble steps, and the great encouragement to be derived from such an appreciative audience! We have an errand near, or we had not known these facts so soon."
"Possibly you will feel a little more respect for the facts, if I inform you that I am not ignorant of your errand, Miss Hazelwood; that perhaps I can be of service to you, and may find a clue to the bureau where you cannot."
And Mr. Freakes seemed to enjoy the momentary surprise he had caused.
But Maude quickly perceived his meaning, and merely replying that they sought information only by honourable means such as British subjects should employ, they bowed and rode on
"Oh, Evelyn!" she cried. "Ought not this sight to stir us up to work as we have never worked yet?"
"We'll get my father to let us have a box of Bibles to distribute at once," said Evelyn; "but after all, Maude, two deaf old women, and an old man in his dotage are flattering proofs of the success of the experiment. Even Phœbe would smile at such an exhibition."
After visiting several cottages unsuccessfully, they observed one of the same deaf old women at a cottage door, and, once more dismounting, surprised her by following as she retreated within.
"We saw you at the chapel just now," said Evelyn.
"Anan!" said the old woman, putting her hand to her ear. "I be very deaf, ladies, can't hear nothin'."
"Do you know what saint's day it is?" said Evelyn, more loudly.
"Oh, aye. A very nice gentleman indeed, miss, a pleasant gentleman."
"If you can't hear, can you read?" shouted Evelyn.
"Ah, yes, it began with a cold like, and you see I'm not so young as I was, miss; I'm stone deaf."
"What shall we do, Maude? We shall raise the village at this rate."
Maude then spread out one of the great placards, and held it before the old woman's face, but with no better result; she shook her head, and looked distressed.
"Stay, Maude, let me try again. It strikes me that she might hear some words if she chose." And putting her lips close to the old woman's ear, she deliberately uttered, "Twenty pounds."
"Eh! What? What?" cried the dame with a start.
"Twenty pounds," repeated Maude, in the other ear.
"Do ye say twenty pounds, young miss?"
"Yes, twenty pounds to anyone who can give information about a bureau that was carried away as old lumber from the Moat House some years ago. A piece of furniture something like that, I should think?" added Maude, suddenly pointing with her riding whip to a dark-looking shattered bureau or secretaire, standing in a recess by the side of the old woman's bedstead.
"Eh, what? Like that?" she cried in alarm. "It's my own, my very own. What will Hodge say? Do they want my furniture, every bit my own?"
"No," said Maude, "but to give twenty pounds to anyone who can tell what became of ours."
"I'm not a thief, I'm not," whimpered she, rocking herself in her chair, and recovering from stone deafness with wonderful rapidity.
"Of course not. We did not say you are a thief; we only tell you about the twenty pounds for anyone who can find our old bureau, and we want you to tell your neighbours."
"I will, indeed, miss, I will. Twenty pounds, did you say, if I tell—if I hear of it? Twenty golden guineas should I get?" Again she was assured of the fact, and the young visitors had scarcely departed when the priest entered the cottage. The old woman rose with a curtsey, the door was closed, and he and his aged daughter had a long interview.
That evening a sealed packet was delivered at The Moat House, addressed to Mrs. Falconer, with Father Austin's congratulations on the recovery of a document so important to her interests, and expressions of high satisfaction that in the exercise of his holy functions, he had been permitted to afford her this assistance. Also that, with respect to the reward of twenty pounds, he felt it his duty to accept it, on behalf of the poor and sick members of his flock.
"We'll see about that," said the Squire, contemptuously; "no reward was offered for wringing secrets out of even guilty hearts, and whoever gave up the paper shall have the reward."
"But you forget that a priest may not reveal secrets told in confession," suggested Mrs. Hazelwood; "and he says, 'In the exercise of his holy functions.'"
"Tusk! Little simpleton," said the Squire, "this man forgets where he is. Our people are not the fools he takes them for, and I shall find a way to rival his confessional, or I'm not Roger Hazelwood. But now for a dose of law and justice for Mr. Penacre and his worthy client, I suspect."
Mrs. Falconer's head bent in thankfulness over the recovered deed, which detailed in legal terms the fact briefly alluded to in the memoranda confided to Phœbe's care, and there was no doubt of the fraud which had been perpetrated by the younger Mr. Falconer, nor of the power on the part of the widow and children of the late Captain Guy Falconer to demand restitution. That the claim would not be in vain was owing to the promptitude of Mr. Hazelwood, in his timely prohibition of any payments to the late owner of certain estates in England, until it should be proved and answered.
"Father," said Evelyn, gravely, "Maude and I have an idea of the conscience that has been probed in this matter, and that in reality our words screamed into two deaf ears have had more effect than the priest's 'functions.' We made a great impression with 'twenty pounds,' and another visit which we planned to make would have secured a victory. Mr. Freakes has only anticipated us."
"And," added Maude, "we think there may have been something else discovered in the bureau, because a mere old parchment like this would not sufficiently account for the old woman's evident alarm, nor for concealment of her possession of it."
"Very well thought of, my wise little wenches," cried the Squire. "We will look into it, and do to others the justice we ask for ourselves. And you must teach your old woman that if she should lose twenty pounds, it will be because of her roundabout way of doing things, instead of going straight at the truth like a Christian."
Just as the great doors of The Moat House were being secured for the night, a solitary figure shyly begged admittance to a few minutes' speech with the master.
"Hodge! Why Hodge, my man! What brings you here this time of night?" exclaimed the Squire, at once recognising the man as a thrasher who was often employed on farms in the neighbourhood. "Come in and tell me your trouble; nothing very bad, I hope, though it is a late hour for honest folk to be abroad by choice."
Hodge was bidden into the hall, and stood before the Squire, the light from the last blazing log on the ample hearth revealing his pale and anxious face.
"Your honour, sir," began Hodge, stroking his hair straight down his forehead, and kicking out behind with his right foot, "you see, I be come about that 'ere twenty pound. The old bit of furniture as was turned out of Moat got away to us, and mother she set it up in our kitchen. And, master, we never knowed of no paper in it till a week agone, and then when I hears about the advertising, we hunts it over, thinkin' it were wanted for sake of summat in it, and sure enough we finds the paper."
"And did you not think the right thing to do was to bring it here at once?" asked the Squire, as Hodge came to a pause.
"Yes, sure, master, that I did. But mother's got took up with the priest and his new religion, along of him getting her to heaven comfortable, and she goes and confesses to him summat as lay on her conscience, and he gets hold of the paper somehow, and made a deal about it. So when I comes home, I says,—
"'I'm goin' to give up that old lumber, and get twenty pounds for it, and you give me that bit of parchment to go with it.'
"And to that, she screeches out that his reverence, as she calls him, took it away, and it seems he be going to get the twenty pounds into the bargain, for the good of the Church, he says; and if we don't let him, he'll bring summat against her in t'other world, so as she'll get no blessin' nor absolution. But, master, you see, I'm not of that persuasion, not I, nor don't mean to be, and I'm a poor man with a large family, and mother to keep, so I says,—
"'I'll go and make confession too, and to a right honest gentleman what 'll do right.'
"So I come, sir, and if I'd 'a had my will, I'd 'a come at first start, soon as I knowed you'd a regard for th' old lumber. It ain't worth much, and can go into th' bargain, sir if you've a mind."
"We have no particular regard for the old lumber, Hodge, but we ought to have been asked to take the overhauling of it, after you knew it was being inquired for," said Mr. Hazelwood.
"Yes, sir, it was all along of mother going to that 'ere chapel, I do assure ye," urged Hodge, gloomily.
"Will you answer me one question, friend?" said the Squire, after a few moments' consideration. "Fear nothing, I shall not impose any penance, nor refuse absolution. But tell me truly: Did you or your mother find anything else in this old bureau with its secret hiding-place?"
Hodge shuffled, stood first on one leg then on the other, looked earnestly at the four shadowed corners of the hall, consulted the antlers of a once famous stag over the great mantelpiece, coughed a little, stroked his head, twisted his hat into indescribable shapes, and finally, resolved to bring himself through his trouble and make an end of it, he faced the Squire more boldly.
"Master, I been honest, boy and man, all my life, and I wouldn't wrong nobody; but mother be very old, and she did say how them few guineas would bury her when she's dead, and no thanks to the parish; and I didn't say no, 'cause I thowt p'raps it were providence like to find 'em there, and no harm done to nobody. Now as I'm a living man that's all I knows about it. Mother she put the gold away somewheres till the burying, and I ain't touched a penny of it."
"Very good. Then, Hodge, you must ask your mother to give up those guineas, for though I bought The Moat House as it stood, I did not bargain for secret hoards in old bureaux, and anything of that kind still belongs to Mr. Falconer, if we would do our duty to God and him. You had a right to the piece of furniture, thrown out to anyone who chose to pick it up, and you are entitled to the reward offered for the discovery of the paper found in it."
"Thank ye, sir, thank ye; I knowed you'd set it all right."
"But, Hodge, let me advise you to comfort your mother's heart by setting aside a portion for her use, and don't let any man calling himself a priest get into your house or presume to manage her or it."
"Wish I could help it, master, but ye see our young gentleman shows most favour to them as goes to his new chapel, and minds his priest, and I'm only a poor man, and can't afford to 'front him. And the children what used to go to school at Pine-wood End, why they be getting imperent and bad and lazy, and scoffs at commandments, and says priest knows better nor Bible, and bids 'em not read it no more. So then, sir, you won't give him the twenty pound?"
"Certainly not. I shall give it to you, and inform Mr. Freakes to that effect."
"And, sir, if I gets into trouble about it, would you stand a poor fellow's friend? We could live a while on the twenty pound, but I couldn't do 'thout work for any long spell, ye see."
"You may depend on me to see you through this business, Hodge, but I scarcely think it would suit Mr. Freakes' plans to interfere with you and your livelihood; the circumstances will soon be public, and will not tell to his advantage if he turns you off."
"But, sir, he makes out that everything is for the good of the Church, and to do his bidding is as good as doing God Almighty's. Lord forgive 'em! I know it ain't gospel though."
"Hodge, take my advice: read the Bible for yourself, and see what the Lord God says. Take no man's report, but, like a straightforward fellow, judge for yourself. Popery fears everything, Protestantism nothing, from God's Holy Word. Use your common sense and English birthright, and in the matter of faith and duty, listen first to Him who has told us what to believe, and guides us what to do—God in Christ, reconciling us to Himself. Between your soul and God there is nothing but sin; let that be put away by faith in the blood of His dear Son, and you and God are one, as free to speak and love and trust, as your child to you. Only take this in, my friend, by the power of God's Holy Spirit, and the priest will be much more afraid of you and your influence than you of him and his."
"I do wish, sir, if it baint taking too much of a liberty, somebody might call round, and tell all this to mother; she be greatly feared of this man," said Hodge, earnestly.
"We will see to that. I will call to-morrow, please God, and tell her that she and you are to draw on me for twenty pounds whenever you please, but Mr. Falconer's guineas must go back to him."
"All right, sir; they be in a stocking-foot tucked in among feathers of mother's own bed, against the burying, she says; but I reckon yourn 'll be a deal comfortabler to sleep on. Good-night, sir, and many humble thanks to your honour."
This turn of affairs brought a speedy visit from the priest to the Dowager Mrs. Hodge, but her deafness that day was impenetrable. In vain, he shouted in her ears,—
"You must make your son give up that money: it is sacrilege to keep it."
"Take sacrament? Oh, yes, I'll tell him," said she, demurely.
"Sacrilege, I say: it belongs to the Church. He shall be dismissed Sir Gilbert's service."
"Come with Sir Gilbert's servants? Yes, sir; thank ye, sir; be sure to."
"Stupid old crone! What am I to do with her? I don't know how to deal with such boors as these."
And reiterating his commands in a voice that brought several urchins peeping in at the window, the discomfited gentleman departed in displeasure.
"There, good riddance to ye!" muttered Mistress Hodge, shutting her door. "It's a deal too botherin', this new religion, and I don't know as I'll come to mass no more: 'taint so smooth and easy if one 'fronts 'em, I can see. Twenty pounds ain't going his way, for good of Church indeed! I shan't quarrel wi' Hodge about it, and no law won't take it from us, nor no Church neither. So if I has to go through purgatory, why let it be, and I don't see as my old bones won't stand it as well as rheumatics, so that's no odds."
While Mr. Freakes was pursuing his impracticable converts, Maude and Evelyn became cottage readers, and Bibles found way into every dwelling within reach. The Catholic experiment did not prosper in that neighbourhood, and the only funds available for the maintenance of the chapel came out of the purse of the young baronet, while he was testing in some happy novitiate abroad his vocation for monastic life, and leaving his ecclesiastical friends to prey upon the resources, and conduct the affairs of his estate at home.
With the recovery of the lost document, ended, as he had promised, Mr. Penacre's interest in the affairs of his absent client. The claim was substantiated by competent authority, and Mrs. Falconer and her children were no longer dependent upon personal exertion, or the sympathy of friends.
Phœbe, having conceived a great terror of Mr. Freakes, earnestly entreated that her departure for India with her orphan charge might be hastened, and not even the prospect of welcoming "Massa Guy" could overcome her dread of some scheme to rob her of her dear mistress's child, or keep her calm and patient after she became aware of the near neighbourhood of a priest of Rome.
She confided to Evelyn the Bible which Guy had given to the Countess, and charged her with many a quaint message of love and praise. But her ideas of England's greatness had been modified by the fact that an idolatrous temple could be erected where martyrs had died to purchase a glorious Reformation. And when instructed on the matter of liberty of conscience and tolerant rule, her simple, God-honouring faith was sorely perplexed to comprehend how national dignity could be advanced, and national character profited, by upholding Truth on the one hand, and pandering to Falsehood on the other.
"Sure," said she, sorrowfully, "dey isn't goin' to let de bad Spirit come back after the grand ole place swept clean, and de rubbish cast out; sure they knows him got seven fine friends to help him, lookin' out for nice home to lib in, and once dem gets in, dey 'll let it be tore to ruins afore dey 'll go out again! Oh, dear Lord, don't let 'em blind dis blessed ole' England nebber no more! Stop de wolf afore him get into Sheepfold! Oh, don't nebber let de grip ob Confession lay hold on dese Englis' homes. Better be black slave in de market, dan kneel white slave at de priest's foot! Amen."