by L. T. Meade
footman at Ravenshurst, and had left the place about a week beforewe did, to go abroad with a gentleman. He told us he came to seek workbecause he had known us formerly.
"To make a long story short, Mr Alwyn, worse luck, sent the only otherman about for the doctor, and he and I stayed with Lennox. Then, sayshe, he'd been a great sinner, and he'd like to own it before he died.And he told Mr Alwyn a number of dishonest actions, small and great,and at last he said he'd taken the Ravenshurst jewels. He'd come backon the sly to see his sweetheart after he left the place, and saw theyoung lady come down and slip the jewels under the ferns on the rockery,and he took them on the spur of the moment. Well, he was just off withhis new master on a trip to India; but he contrived to hear how I wassuspected before he started."
"And took the jewels with him?"
"Well--it's all in the confession Mr Alwyn wrote down. But one of thejewels he had still, and that he gave us, and Mr Alwyn has it row. Buthe said it had been on his conscience all the time he was knocking aboutthe world, and that when he heard our names he came and got work with uson purpose, though he put off owning his guilt from day to day. He'dnear put it off too late, for before he'd told us all we wanted to knowthe death struggle came on him and he could tell us no more. And 'twasthen, Aunt Eliza, by the words Mr Alwyn said, and the prayers he madethat I knew of the change that had come on him and first thought of mysin against God, as well as against the little one.
"Well, the doctor came as Lennox died, and Mr Alwyn made him stay withus and keep us in sight while, without a word to one another, we eachwrote down what the dying man had said to us; and the doctor witnessedthat we had written it without speech with one another since Lennox'sdeath. Then we took the papers before the nearest judge, and made ouraffidavits that they contained a true confession. But it's all on ourwords after all; howsoever, on that confession we came back."
"Well, Harry," said Mrs Stroud, "I'd take my dying oath you wasinnocent. But whatever made you decamp just at that moment?"
"My father knew where I was," said Harry. "He knew I joined Mr Alwyn.But he declared that after the jewels had been named in connection withus he'd never go home, if they were found twenty times over, without thesquire made him an apology."
Mrs Stroud sat and looked at her recovered nephew, at his good clothes,his watch chain, his air of undoubted respectability, and also at theunembarrassed and cheerful air with which he faced her.
"What are you going to do now?" she said.
"That must depend on Mr Alwyn. He thought Mr Edgar would perhaps havehelped him search, or told him how the land lay, anyhow; so he wrote hima note appointing a meeting, which I gave to little Wyn Warren in thewood. It seems he lost it; and, though the meeting came about, MrAlwyn was so distracted at the state in which he found his poor brotherthat he never laid any plans at all. When I joined him he couldn'thardly speak of him. 'Twas the heaviest punishment of all, he said."
"Ah, poor young gentleman," said Mrs Stroud; "it's a sad business, andI doubt he's not long for this world. But do I take you to say, Harry,that you're a family man?"
Harry nodded, and produced a photograph of his wife and baby, andanother of the substantial house in which he lived; and over the tea agreat many more questions and answers were interchanged. Harry heardall about his sisters, and where Florence was, and what his brotherGeorge was doing. He couldn't help enjoying the joke of appearing tohis aunt in so new a light--even while he asked with real affectionafter Mattie, and studied the photographs of his family in his aunt'sbook. He could not make himself known to his father, he said, until MrAlwyn had taken some action, and, of course, he could not but hope thatthe explanation of the lost jewels would be accepted at Ashcroft.
His coming to see his aunt had been, he said, a sudden thought, promptedby Mr Alwyn's shock and distress at his brother's illness.
"I didn't know then what I might find at the old place," he said. "Butif you could keep my coming quiet for a few days, aunt, it would be allfor the better."
"Well, Henry," said Mrs Stroud, "there's nothing declares to me thatyou're a reformed character so much as your coming and consulting _me_,as was your true friend in the past always. It's a lucky thing thatStroud has gone down the line to-day to his cousin's funeral. I'll keepyour secret, Harry, though the thought of _you_, sitting there sobroad-shouldered, and so well-to-do looking, is so amazing that I feelas if it would ooze out of me at the seams of my gown!"
"Well, aunt," said Harry, "you're very good, and I hope in a couple ofdays the concealment will be over."
"It's well," said Mrs Stroud, "that that unlucky Florrie knows nothingof it, or she'd have controverted your intentions to a dead certainty."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
MOST HASTE, WORST SPEED!
Unfortunately for his scheme of meeting with his brother again, poorEdgar awoke the next morning to one of the blinding and overpoweringheadaches to which over-fatigue and excitement always rendered himliable. There was no chance of getting that day to the trysting-place,no possibility of anything but lying still. He could not write a noteto be given to Alwyn, he could hardly even think of a safe message forhim.
"Tell Wyn--I cannot go out--tell him to--get what I told him--in thewood--he will understand," he said, with a great effort at somethingthat would be comprehensible.
"Yes, sir; don't trouble yourself, sir," said Robertson; "it shall beattended to."
"And tell him to come for orders to-morrow; I shall be able to goto-morrow."
"Very well, sir," said Robertson, privately thinking that his masterwould be quite unequal to such fatigue to-morrow, or probably for two orthree days to come.
Edgar chafed and fretted at his incapacity in a way that of courseaggravated the headache. It was such a disappointment, besides theanxiety and suspense, not to see Alwyn again. He had not known how muchhe should care about it. Robertson thought that he had never known hismaster so restless and impatient.
The message to Wyn did not strike anyone as of paramount importance, andwas sent down by the footman.
"Tell little Warren the pony won't be wanted. Mr Edgar is ill. Warrenis to get something, I believe, in the wood--flowers, I suppose--butthey won't be wanted to-day."
This information was finally shouted out to Wyn by the stable-boy as hefed the peacocks before coming up for orders:
"Mr Edgar's ill and can't go out, but he says you're to pick him someflowers instead."
"Is that all?" said Wyn, horrified.
"That's all, as I knows on."
"But I say, what's the matter with Mr Edgar?"
"Didn't hear--that was my message."
Wyn was a very sharp boy. He had been told by Edgar as little aspossible, except as to the identity of the two strangers whom he hadseen in the wood, as to which he was sworn to secrecy; but afterpuzzling a little over the message about the flowers he came to theconclusion that the best thing he could do was to keep Mr Edgar'sappointment for him. He was detained all the morning by Mrs Elton,under whose superintendence he attended to the fancy poultry, to givethem an extra cleaning, as Mr Edgar did not want him; and when he wenthome to dinner he found his own family in a state of excitement andhurry.
Lady Carleton, at Ravenshurst, wanted a girl to help her nurse for a fewweeks, and by favour of the wife of the Ravenshurst keeper had sent tosee if Mrs Warren's niece could come over.
Mrs Warren thought it a wonderful chance for Florence to try her handat service in a good family, without being bound to a regular place, andFlorence was just tired enough of the keeper's lodge to think that sheshould like the change.
"I must take you over myself," Mrs Warren said, "and explain to herladyship that you haven't things suitable at present for her household,but they shall be soon provided. She'll excuse it, as they want you tocome this afternoon. You can put on your grey dress, and turn your hairup and brush back your fringe."
"My fringe! Why, even the _generals_ at Rapley are allowed theirfringes!" said Florence indignant
ly.
"Very likely. But it's not the custom in good families," said MrsWarren dryly. "I look to you, Florence, to do me credit where you go."
Florence pouted a little, but just then Warren, who had come in to hisdinner, said rather meaningly to his wife:
"Mother, have you forgotten as Lady Carleton is Miss Lilian Fletcherthat used to be? Maybe that will make an objection; it'd be best toname Florence, and make sure as she understands about her."
Florence caught the words, and the confidence she had received about herbrother from Wyn came, into her mind. So this was
