by G. A. Henty
“I see a likeness in you to my brother who, when I last saw him, was about your age. I do not say that you are exactly like him, but your expression and voice both recall him to me. As a matter of form, of course, I should like to see these depositions. I am curious to know the details of your adventures.
“But that will keep. I will at once introduce you to my wife and daughter. Like your father, I was unfortunate in my children. I know that you had several brothers and sisters born before you, all of whom died in their infancy. I did not marry until some years later than he did. I had two boys, who were both drowned when out in a fishing boat at Yarmouth. My daughter was the youngest.”
He rose from his seat and led the way to the drawing room, where a lady some fifteen years younger than himself was seated at work, with a girl of nineteen or twenty.
“My dear,” he said, “I have a surprise for you. This gentleman, Major Lindsay, who has distinguished himself greatly in India, is our nephew. He claims, and I may say at once that I see no reasons whatever to doubt it, that he is the child of my brother Harry who, as you may remember, was, with his wife, killed in India a few months after we were married. My enquiries resulted in leaving, as it seemed, no room for doubt that the infant had perished with his parents, and that its body had been devoured by wild beasts.
“But it now appears that he was saved by his nurse, who happened to have a relation who was an officer in the party that attacked Harry’s camp. She took him to the house of a brother, and there he was brought up; and he afterwards went down to Bombay, where he satisfied the Governor as to his identity, and received a commission. I have not heard further particulars yet, but Major Lindsay—
“I suppose I shall come to call you Harry, in time, nephew—
“Will tell us all about it, himself. I am sure that you will join with me in welcoming Harry’s boy heartily, and in my satisfaction that he has proved himself well worthy of his race.”
Harry was a little surprised at detecting a tone of warning, in the manner in which the last words were spoken; and at the agitation with which Mrs. Lindsay had listened to her husband. This disappeared, however, as she held out her hand to him.
“I welcome you back to England, nephew. Yours is indeed a strange story. I know that my husband was greatly attached to your father.”
“Yes, I loved him dearly,” Mr. Lindsay said, “and can see a resemblance to him in his son. He is taller and more strongly built than Harry was. I do not say that the features are very like, but there is something in the expression of his face, and tone of his voice, that recalls him to me strongly.
“This is my daughter Mary. We called her so after your mother. It was a fancy of mine, for I knew her well before she married your father. The two families were on terms of great friendship, and for her sake, as well as for my brother’s, I gave her the name.”
“I am glad to meet you, cousin,” the girl said, holding out her hand frankly to him. “It is, of course, a great surprise to us, and I can hardly realize yet that you are really my cousin.”
“Now, Harry,” his uncle said briskly, “I will give orders to have your things taken out of the post chaise, and carried up to your room. We shall be having lunch directly and, after that, you shall tell us your story at full length.”
Ten minutes later they sat down to lunch. When Harry rejoined the others, he fancied he saw traces of tears in the eyes of Mrs. Lindsay and her daughter; and he thought that perhaps they had been thinking that, if their own boys had lived, they also would be young men now.
After the meal was over, the squire said:
“Now, wife, we will all adjourn to the library. It is the most comfortable room in the house, and the cosiest—just the place for listening to a long story. I have told William to get two more armchairs there, so that we can sit round the fire—which is quite the proper thing to do when a story has to be told.”
The light had faded out of the sky, and the curtains were drawn; but the squire would not have candles lighted, saying that the blaze of the fire was the proper thing to listen by. Harry related fully the manner in which he had been brought up and trained, by his nurse, for the time when he could present himself at Bombay; and also his adventures in the Deccan, which had paved the way for his obtaining a commission. He told the rest more briefly, though he was obliged, in answer to the questions of the others, to go somewhat further into his personal adventures.
“It is a wonderful story,” the squire said, when he at last finished. “There are many things that you have cut very short; and which you must, some other time, tell us fully. Your poor father would have reason to be proud of you, indeed, had he lived to see you now. He thought that he was wonderfully fortunate, in obtaining a majority at the age of thirty-five; but you have got it ten years younger.
“Well, we have not spared you, for we have kept you talking over four hours.”
Dinner passed off quickly, and when wine had been placed on the table, and the servants retired, Mr. Lindsay said:
“You will understand, Harry, that although absolutely certain that you are my nephew, I do not resign, and offer you my seat at the head of the table, until the documents that you have brought are formally examined.”
“What do you mean, uncle?” Harry asked, in surprise.
“I mean, of course, that as your father’s son, this estate is yours, and not mine.”
Harry rose to his feet.
“I don’t understand you, uncle. I never dreamt for a moment—” and he stopped.
“That your father was my eldest brother. Yes, he was a year older than myself; and at his father’s death would, of course, have succeeded to the estate. But he died before him; and you, as his son, will of course succeed.”
“But I could not dream of such a thing, uncle. Do you think that I have come down here with the idea of turning you and my aunt and cousin out, and taking your place? If I had known it, I should not have come down at all. It would be monstrous if, after you have been master here for twenty-five years, I should come down to claim the estate from you.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Harry,” his uncle said, gravely. “Naturally, it did not occur to us that you were ignorant that your father was the eldest son. We thought, from your manner, that you would be willing to arrange everything on amicable terms; for of course, legally, you are entitled to all the back rents, which I honestly say I could not pay. Your aunt’s little fortune, and my portion as younger brother, will be amply sufficient to keep us three comfortably; but as to paying the arrears, it would be impossible.”
“My dear uncle, the whole thing is impossible. I have returned home with an ample amount of money to live in luxury. I did not think it necessary to mention, in my story, that Nana Furnuwees presented me with a considerable sum of money; and Bajee Rao did the same. This I invested in land close to Bombay, which is now covered with houses, and fetched five times the price I gave for it. In addition to this, I have been in civil employment for the past six years and, as I have always been on the move, I have never had the expense of an establishment, and have thus saved some five thousand pounds.
“Therefore I am master of something over ninety thousand pounds; and can, if I do not return to India—which I have, I may say, already made up my mind not to do, buy an estate. I have had very much more than my share of adventures, and have marvellously escaped. If I return, my luck might change.
“At any rate, I have had enough of it. I have made a very handsome fortune and, even putting everything else aside, would rather know that I owed all I possessed to my own good luck and exertions, than to an accident of birth.”
“But that cannot be, lad.”
“Well, uncle,” Harry said obstinately, “if you choose to see things in that light, all I can say is, that I shall at once throw up my leave and return to India; and if you choose to leave this house and estate, it may go to wreck and ruin for anything I care.”
“Well, well, my boy, we won’t say anything more ab
out it, now, but will leave it to the lawyers to settle.”
“I shall certainly employ no lawyers in the matter, uncle. By all means, obtain your solicitor’s opinion as to whether the proofs I have put in your hands are sufficient to establish, beyond all fear of doubt, the fact that I am the son of Major Harry Lindsay. It matters not whether my father was your elder brother or not, to anyone except ourselves. I am perfectly satisfied with having proved, to the satisfaction of all in India, that I am the son of a brave officer. My object in coming to England was not to see whether I was entitled to money, but simply to find friends among the families of my father and mother; and if it were to end in my turning you, my aunt, and cousin out of the place you have believed to be your own, for so many years, my visit here would be a dismal failure, and I should bitterly regret having set foot in England.
“Please do not let us say anything more about it. The matter, so far as I am concerned, is concluded; and nothing that can possibly be said will shake my determination, in any way.”
In order to break the silence, for Mrs. Lindsay and Mary were both wiping their eyes, Harry went on:
“Now that we have finished this question, uncle, I will tell you how I got the ratification of the treaty, that will some day be made for our occupation of Singapore, from the Rajah of Johore. As far as the excitement went, it certainly was the most stirring business that I was ever employed in;” and he at once launched into the narrative of his capture, the escape, the adventure with the tiger, and the defence of Johore.
“It seems to me, Harry,” his uncle said, when he had finished, “that you not only have as many lives as a cat, but as a whole posse of cats. I cannot but think that it was a wild business, altogether; and that, having got the assent of the gentleman with the very hard name, there was no occasion to bother about the rajah, who seemed to have no authority whatever.”
“But he might have got it, you see, uncle. It may be ten years or more before a governor general will be able to attend to the business, and it was as well to get it settled, once for all.”
“What did the rajah present you with for saving his capital?”
“He offered me a number of weapons and things but, as I had no place to put them in, I could not be bothered with them. I do not think that cash was at all a strong point with him, and I don’t suppose he had a thousand dollars in his treasury. I was a little surprised that he did not offer me half a dozen young ladies as wives; but had he done so, I should have resisted the temptation, as they would have been even more trouble than the weapons.”
“You never fell in love with any of the Indian beauties, cousin Harry?”
“I have never seen any to fall in love with. The ladies of the upper class in India, whether Hindus or Mussulmans, always go closely veiled; and as to the English ladies, in the first place they were nearly all married, and in the second place I went as little into society as I could help, being on the Governor General’s staff, and nearly always away on duty. Certainly I never saw anyone who caused my pulse to beat faster; which I believe, from what I have read, is one of the many symptoms of being in love.”
Harry then enquired about his mother’s relations.
“I, unfortunately, can tell you nothing about them. She was an only daughter when she married your father. Both her parents died, years ago. They only had a lease of the place they lived in, and I really cannot tell you anything whatever about them. There was a son, who would, I suppose, succeed to any property his father left; but he was a ne’er-do-well, and was seldom at home, and I have never seen or heard of him, since.”
“Well, I am quite content with the relations that I have found, and shall not trouble myself to seek further.”
Four days passed. At the end of that time, Mr. Lindsay received a letter from his lawyer and, after breakfast, asked Harry to go into the library with him.
“About that business that we were talking about, I have today received an answer to my letter. My lawyer is of opinion, from what I told him of these papers, that your case is a strong one; and that though, if I chose, I might give you a great deal of trouble, he thinks that in the long run you would succeed. As I don’t want to give you trouble; and as I am, myself, as completely convinced that you are my brother Harry’s son as that I am his brother, the matter may now be considered as finally settled.”
“Quite so, uncle. I don’t want to hear anything more about it. If you choose to be obstinate, and turn out, I can only say that I shall be sorry that the old house, where my father and you were both born, should go to wreck and ruin. At any rate, let the matter rest, for the present. Possibly it may yet be arranged to the satisfaction of all parties.”
“It will certainly not be arranged to my satisfaction,” the squire grumbled, “unless you become master here.”
“We will talk it over, in six months’ time.”
He related the conversation to his wife who, to his surprise, looked pleased.
“Nothing could be better,” she said; “it would be an excellent plan.”
“What on earth do you mean, Louisa?”
“You are as blind as an owl, Peter. There can be only one meaning in what he has said, only one arrangement that could be satisfactory to all parties.”
“And what is that, my dear?” the squire said, a little testily.
“I mean, of course, that he should marry Mary.”
The squire sat down suddenly, in his surprise.
“Such an idea never entered my head,” he said. “But why should you think of it? Why, the young fellow has only been here four or five days!”
“That is quite long enough for him to see that Mary is a charming girl,” Mrs. Lindsay said. “He has seen very little of ladies; and he is, no doubt, struck with the idea that she is an extremely nice girl. I don’t say that he is in love with her, yet; but quite enough, perhaps, to foresee that, ere long, he will feel more ardent than he does at present; and that it is the only arrangement possible, since we are determined to turn out for him.
“Now mind, Peter, you do not throw out the slightest hint, either to him or to her, that such a solution has ever occurred to us. It might spoil everything. It would make Mary shy with him, and might cause him to be awkward. You give your consent to remain here, for six months. By that time the question will have solved itself. If I am wrong, no harm will have been done. If I am right, the arrangement will be, as he says, a satisfactory one to us all.”
“I was always against cousins marrying,” Mr. Lindsay said, doubtfully.
“Don’t be absurd, Peter. I don’t say that, in some cases, there is not a good deal to be said against it; but where both the man and the woman are healthy, and come of healthy families, no union can be more likely to be happy.”
“But I think I have heard you speak—”
“Never mind what you have heard me speak, sir; circumstances alter cases, and this case is altogether an exceptional one.
“We certainly could not wish for a finer young fellow as Mary’s husband. He is a desirable partner, in every respect. He is himself well off and, although I quite agree with you that, whatever it costs, we must give the dear old place up, I grant that it would be very pleasant to avoid so terrible a wrench.
“The one thing I don’t like is that man of his. He moves about so noiselessly that it is like having a ghost in the room.”
“It is you who are absurd, now, Louisa,” the squire said. “The man has, over and over again, proved himself to be a most faithful friend to him. I own that it is a little trying to see him standing behind Harry’s chair, without moving, except when his master wants something; but after all, that is less fidgety than having footmen dodging about you.
“Well, Louisa, I will take particular heed of what you have said, and will be mum as a mouse, until we see how the cat jumps.”
Mrs. Lindsay’s prevision turned out correct. Harry remained a week longer at Parley House. Then he heard that an estate was for sale, two miles away, and drove over quietly to
inspect it. Ten days later he wrote from London, and said that he had bought the place.
“He is the most obstinate fellow that I ever knew!” Mr. Lindsay exclaimed, as he read the letter.
“What is it, dear?”
“He has bought Hungerford’s place, and never gave me the slightest hint of his intentions.”
“Well, I think it will be very nice to have him so near us,” Mrs. Lindsay said, decidedly.
“Oh, of course, and it will be so handy for—”
“Peter, will you take another cup of tea?” his wife said, sharply; and Mr. Lindsay knew that he had nearly put his foot in it.
A week later Harry came down again—to see, as he said, what required to be done to the house; and he needed no persuasion to stay at Parley Hall. To decide upon matters, he needed a great deal of advice, both from Mrs. Lindsay and Mary; and then, having put the house into the hands of the builders and decorators, he went up to town again. However, he frequently ran down to see how things were getting on and, before the alterations were all finished, Mary had consented to become its mistress.
Abdool preferred to remain as his master’s body servant, as before. He had even, before leaving India, picked up a certain amount of English; and had improved considerably his knowledge of the language during the long voyage. Mary, fortunately, had not shared in her mother’s feelings about him but, on learning that he had, several times, saved Harry’s life, had taken to him greatly. He never returned to his native land.
And although Harry and his wife talked, sometimes, of making the voyage to India, they were never enabled to accomplish it for, as children grew up around them, Mary was no longer free to travel. Abdool’s devotion was now divided between his master and mistress and the little ones, who were never tired of listening to his stories of their father’s adventures.
