"I think I know the Pendar'l liveries," answered Jeffrey.

"Home," said Mrs. Pendarrel to her servant. And the carriage rattled down the descent.

A young man was leaning on the gate of the base-court: as the chariot approached, he opened it, and stood cap in hand while the lady drove through. She pulled the check-string, and beckoned the stranger to the window.

"Do you belong to the castle?" she asked, when he drew near.

"No, in good truth, ma'am," the youth replied with a peculiar smile: "I am a tenant of Pendar'l."

"What is your name?"

"Sinson, ma'am; Michael Sinson at your service, ma'am; grandson of old Maud Ba.s.set."

"What!" exclaimed the lady hastily, "a relation----"

"The late Mrs. Trevethlan's nephew, ma'am," said Michael.

"Come to the hall to-morrow," Mrs. Pendarrel said; "I may be able to employ you."

Michael made a cringing bow, and the carriage drove on.

"So," mused its occupant, "it is war. The old spirit does animate the old ruin. A pleasant pastime, Henry Trevethlan, have you bequeathed to your children. Long shall your race rue the day, when you took a woman at her first word. Was not Esther Pendarrel worth asking twice?

Was it impossible to conciliate her pride, except by the sacrifice of your own? Was no allowance to be made for the petulance of a girl nursed by flattery? Was there no middle course? Might not Trevethlan have been preserved, yet Pendarrel not extinguished? I smiled when you left me: I smiled when I saw your rapid gallop down the avenue: I smiled still, when I heard you were departed to London. No falconer's voice, methought, will be required, 'to lure my ta.s.sel-gentle back again.' A week--and another, and another--and no news. A month, and news. His kinsman comes. To intercede for him? Ah, no. To tell me of his folly, and to plead for himself. 'There is no fury like a woman scorned.' I listened, but it was long before I consented. A bold wooer truly was my worthy lord! Did he not venture to urge, that his nephew's pa.s.sion was so ardent, it would prevent him from any other union? That therefore the castle would descend to him? That so the properties would be united in my name? That he loved me more--oh, cant and hypocrisy, how I loathed you at the time! Yet I listened, and listened, and in my wrath and for my sorrow, consented. Did I drive you to ruin, Henry Trevethlan? Did I embitter your days? Alas! mine have been equally dark. Proud man, I ask again, why did you trample on me? Why might we not minister to our mutual happiness, instead of running a race for revenge? I could not, you knew I could not, unasked, revoke my words. Might I not have had the opportunity? And should I submit to my doom in patience?

"And you have bequeathed your hatred to your children. To the children of Margaret Ba.s.set. And, verily, they seem worthy of the trust. But they shall find their match in Esther Pendarrel. And now the plan of the campaign. I must learn the nature of the ground. Then, sound trumpets, and no quarter."

The following morning young Sinson fulfilled Mrs. Pendarrel's behest, by calling at the hall, where he had an interview of some length with its mistress. One of the park lodges, Wilderness gate, happened to be vacant at the time, and was a.s.signed to Michael as a residence, in consideration of services, either past or to come, which were a mystery to the retainers of the family, among whom some jealousy was created by the preference.

Within a few days afterwards, Mrs. Pendarrel returned to London.

CHAPTER IV.

"But can the n.o.ble mind for ever brood, The willing victim of a weary mood, On heartless cares that squander life away, And cloud young genius brightening into day?

Shame to the coward thought that e'er betrayed The noon of manhood to a myrtle shade!"

CAMPBELL.

The Trevethlans, it has already been remarked, were a crotchetty race.

One of their peculiarities was displayed in the disposition of their property. No portion had been entailed within the memory of man, and the whole had very frequently descended simply by inheritance. Wills were of rare occurrence among the family muniments, and marked the existence of disagreement. And now that cause was active, and produced its effect. A few days after Mr. Trevethlan's funeral, his children were summoned by the chaplain to hear the last desires of their parent, Mr. Griffith being also present with his account books.

The will which Polydore produced was very short and simple. The testator merely appointed the Rev. Polydore Riches and Mr. Edward Griffith, to be the guardians of his children, in case he died before they were of age, leaving his property to descend by inheritance. A short silence ensued when the chaplain finished reading the doc.u.ment: it was first broken by the steward.

"It is but a small patrimony," he said, "Mr. Trevethlan, that you inherit. A very small patrimony for the owner of this castle. And a sad trust is this for me, who can remember, when from the top of the watch-tower, we saw little that was not ours."

"Mr. Griffith," Randolph said, "we must think of the present and the future, not of the past. But if the trust is unwelcome, do not undertake it."

"The trust is not unwelcome, Randolph," observed the chaplain, with a slight accent of reproof. "The sadness of which our friend speaks is caused by the lightness, not the oppressiveness, of our duty. We promised to undertake it, and we shall feel pleasure in fulfilling it, so as most effectually to promote your welfare in every respect."

"I know it," said the heir. "I am sure of it; I did not mean to doubt Mr. Griffith's good will."

"Here," the steward said, opening one of his books, "here are the accounts of the last few years: and here is an abstract or estimate, which I have prepared from them, showing the probable receipts and the necessary expenses for the future."

Randolph took the paper from Mr. Griffith's hands, and perused it attentively, his sister also looking over him.

"From this," he said at length, "I perceive that our total income is something under seven hundred pounds a year, and the needful outgoings something more than two; leaving us a clear revenue of four hundred.

Why, Helen, we are rich!"

"They are young," the steward observed aside to Polydore.

The brother and sister conferred together for a few minutes in an under tone. Then Randolph spoke aloud:--

"Mr. Riches, the expenditure of the castle household, as here set down, is very small. Surely it does not include--" He stopped.

"I know what you would say, Randolph," the chaplain remarked. "The services of Mr. Griffith and myself have already been remunerated far in advance. There is nothing due on our account, nor will there be for a long time."

Metaphorically, this might be true. Randolph looked incredulous.

"Mr. Trevethlan," said the steward, "I hope you will not press us into a difficulty. That statement is made up strictly from my books; and unless you desire to alter the establishment----"

"Oh, no, certainly not," Randolph exclaimed. "I wish everything to go on as. .h.i.therto."

"And have you formed any plan for the future?" the chaplain asked. "Do you propose to live here in retirement, or to go into the world?"

This question was not answered immediately. Randolph's heart was full.

He rose from his seat and walked to a window of the apartment, where he leant his forehead against the gla.s.s, and gazed upon the sea. A mist clouded his eyes. Helen came softly to his side, and laid her hand on his shoulder, but he turned not towards her, for it was of her loneliness that he was thinking.

"'Tis a hard question for him, Mr. Riches," said Griffith.

"He will answer it as he ought," observed the chaplain.

"Randolph," Helen whispered in the mean time, "is this our firmness?

Who said, 'we will not fail?' See, it is my turn now."

He turned and looked at her, meeting a smile so full of hope, that his momentary irresolution vanished at once. The castle rose again in the air, firm and substantial. He led his sister back to her seat, and resuming his own, said:--

"You, Mr. Riches, and you, my good sir, will not smile at a scheme which has been often discussed by my sister and myself, and to which our poor father a.s.sented almost with his parting words. If we are visionaries, you will be gentle in removing the illusion. This then is our plan."

And at some length, Randolph unfolded the design with which the reader is already acquainted. Both the chaplain and the steward listened with great interest, although the latter could not avoid smiling to himself, as he perceived the little artifices by which the speaker blinded his eyes to the difficulties of his proposition. Polydore was willing to be also blind to them.

"And now, my friends," Randolph concluded, having talked himself into cheerfulness, "we will leave you to deliberate on our romance. Helen and I will go to the flower-garden, and await the reply of the oracle.

Let it be at least decisive."

So saying, he took Helen's arm upon his, and led her from the room.

Griffith looked at the chaplain, and repeated his previous observation, "they are young."