Vellenaux A Novel by Edmund William Forrest (best e book reader TXT) 📕

Neighboring Families,  There Was But Little Monotony To Complain Of.

She Had A Double Object In Becoming An Inmate Of Vellenaux. First,  That

Of Securing A Comfortable Home For Several Years. But Her Grand Scheme

Was That Of Making Herself So Necessary To The Baronet,  That She Could,

In Time,  Undermine The Defences,  Carry The Citadel By Stratagem,  And

Finally Become The Envied Mistress Of Vellenaux. But A Few Months

Residence Under The Same Roof Served To Convince Her Of The Fallacy Of

The Project; For There Were Two Grand Difficulties That She Could Not

Overcome; His Strong Objection To Matrimony,  And His Affection For His

Niece. Therefore,  The Shrewd And Cautious Widow Had To Relinquish Her

Attack In That Direction; And As Edith Advanced Towards Womanhood,  Her

Position Became More Precarious. There Were Two Events To Be Dreaded,

And In Either Case She Believed Her Occupation Gone,  And These Were The

Death Of Sir Jasper Or Edith's Marriage. Her Income During The Years Of

Her Residence With Sir Jasper Had Been A Handsome One,  And Being At

Little Or No Expense,  She Managed To Accumulate A Goodly Sum At Her

Bankers; But The Idea Of Losing Her Present Abode Was To Her

Disagreeable In The Extreme,  And Her Busy Mind Was Continually At Work

To Devise How This Could Be Averted,  And This Was The Way Matters Stood

With Her On The Morning Alluded To.

"He Is Coming Home From College Next Month Not Again To Return,  And She

Loves Him,  Though She May Not At Present Realize The Fact,  But That

Knowledge Will Come,  And I Fear Much Too Soon. Sir Jasper Will Not

Object,  And The Youth Will Hardly Refuse To Accept Vellenaux And Twenty

Thousand A Year,  Although There Be An Incumbrance In The Shape Of A Wife

Attached To The Bargain. Yes,  I See It All,  They Will Marry And I Shall

Be Thrown Out In The Cold Unless I Have Wit Enough To Prevent It Without

Appearing To Interest Myself In Any Way With What Ought Not To Concern

Me. But Arthur Carlton Must Not Remain Here. He Must Be Sent Abroad,  To

America,  India,  Anywhere,  It Matters Not Where,  So That They Be

Separated,  And That Ere Long." These Were The Thoughts That Chased Each

Other Through The Active Brain Of Mrs. Fraudhurst,  As She Sat Alone In

The Library. Half An Hour Had Elapsed Ere She Had Quite Made Up Her Mind

As To What Course She Should Pursue To Avoid The Impending Evil. Then,

At Length,  Seeming To Grasp The Difficulty,  She Took Up Her Pen And

Wrote What She Thought Was Likely To Transpire At Vellenaux Should There

Be No One Sufficiently Interested In The Matter To Prevent The Estate

(Which Had Been In The Coleman Family For Several Generations) From

Passing Into Other Hands. This She Sent To One Whom She Had Every Reason

To Believe (For She Had Observed Him Well) Would Not Scruple To Use Any

Means To Gain Possession Of The Broad Lands Of Vellenaux. This Letter

The Cautious Widow Posted With Her Own Hands,  To Prevent The Possibility

Of The Address Being Noticed By Either Sir Jasper Or Edith. The Matter

Being Thus Satisfactorily Arranged,  She Patiently Awaited The

Developments Of The First Fruits Of The Plot Against Young Carlton.

It May Be Remarked,  And With A Great Deal Of Truth,  That The Chapters Of

A Novel Bear A Certain Resemblance To Those Pleasing Illusions Known As

Dissolving Views,  Where One Scene Glides Almost Imperceptibly Into

Another. The Reader Has Been Gazing Mentally On Woods,  Landscapes And

Water In The South Of England,  When Lo! In The Twinkling Of An Eye,  The

Busy Haunts Of Men In The World's Great Capitol,  London,  Stands Unveiled

Before Him. It Must,  However,  Be Admitted That,  So Far As Scenic Effect

Is Concerned,  The Change Is At Times Less Pleasing Than The One Just

Fading From View. Yet If We Wish To Realize The Plot Of The Story,  The

Dark And Uncertain Shades Of The Picture Should Be Looked On,  From Time

To Time,  As They Present Themselves.

On A Door,  Which Stood Partially Open,  In The Last Of A Row Of Gloomy

Looking Houses Situated In One Of Those Dark And Narrow Paved Courts

Leading From Chancery Lane To Lincoln Inn Field's,  Was Painted In Black

Letters On A White Ground--"Ralph Coleman,  Attorney-At-Law."

In The Ill Lit Passage To The Right Was A Door That Opened Into The

Front Office,  Where,  Seated At An Old-Fashioned Desk,  Was A Youth,  Tall,

Thin And Pale,  Busily Engaged Engrossing Some Legal Documents. A Short,

Quick Step Was Heard Coming Up The Court,  The Handle Turned,  The Door

Opened,  And A Man About The Middle Height With A Slight Tendency To Be

Corpulent,  And About Thirty-Five Years Of Age,  Entered. "Are Those

Papers Ready," Enquired Mr. Coleman Of The Young Clerk,  Who Had Ceased

Writing On The Entrance Of His Employer.

"I Am Finishing The Last One Now," Was The Ready Reply.

"Good; And My Letters?"

"They Are In The Usual Place,  On Your Desk," Answered The Youth,

Re-Commencing His Work. The Attorney Moved Away And Entered His Private

Office,  And Seating Himself In His Old Leathern Chair,  Commenced In A

Methodical Way To Open And Peruse His Letters.

Ralph Coleman Commenced Life With Very Fair Prospects. He Came Of A Good

Old Family And Had Received A University Education,  And Studied For The

Bar Very Assiduously For Three Or Four Years,  But On The Death Of His

Father He Came In For Five Thousand Pounds. He Then Neglected His

Profession,  And,  For A Time,  Led A Very Fast Life In London. When He Had

Run Through About Half Of His Money He Went Abroad,  And While There

Married A Lady Who Had A Tolerable Fortune. They Travelled Together Over

The European Continent,  And For Several Years Enjoyed What Is Termed

Life.

An Accident Happened To Mrs. Coleman In Switzerland Which Resulted In

Her Death. Ralph Being Again Alone In The World,  As It Were,  Entered

Into All The Wild Dissipations Of Vienna And Paris,  Which Ended In His

Ruin; And He Returned To England With Only A Five Pound Note Between Him

And Beggary. As The Cousin And Only Male Relative Of Sir Jasper Coleman,

He Was Heir To The Baronetcy But Not To The Property. This Was

Unentailed,  And At The Will Of The Baronet; But Should He Die Intestate

The Whole Would Fall To Ralph.

But The Hope Of Succeeding To The Estate Banished,  Or Was At Least,  To

A Considerable Extent,  Quashed,  When He Learned That Miss Effingham Had

Been Adopted By Her Uncle,  And That Likewise He Had Made A Protégé Of

The Son Of His Old Friend Eustace Carlton,  And Would No Doubt Eventually

Make A Will In Their Favor; But So Far As He Could Learn,  Up To The

Present Time No Will Had Been Made. There Was A Degree Of Consolation In

This; But In The Meantime He Must Live; He Therefore Resumed His

Profession,  And By Energy,  And The Aid Of His Aristocratic Friends,

Succeeded In Obtaining A Tolerable Practice.

He Was On Pretty Good Terms With His Cousin,  And Usually Went Down To

Devonshire For A Few Days During The Shooting Season,  And On More Than

One Occasion Had Sir Jasper Spoken To Him Of The Future Career Of Young

Arthur; But The Lawyer Generally Managed To Evade The Subject By Saying

There Was Plenty Of Time To Think About That When The Youngster Should

Leave College,  And Appeared To Interest Himself Very Little In The

Matter,  Because He Did Not See In What Way The Youth's Future Career

Could Affect Him; That Sir Jasper Might Assist Arthur With His Interest,

At The Outset,  And Perhaps Give Him A Couple Of Hundred Pounds To Help

Him On In His Profession Or Calling,  He Did Not At All Doubt; But Beyond

This Ralph Did Not Believe The Baronet Would Assist Him.

"Ah!" Said The Attorney,  As He Took Up The Fourth Letter And Glanced At

The Postmark,  "From Devonshire,  And The Handwriting Is That Of Mrs.

Fraudhurst; What Can That Maneuvering Woman Have To Communicate? But We

Shall See,  We Shall See," And At Once Opened The Letter. The Contents

Were Evidently Not Of An Agreeable Character,  For His Brow Darken And

His Lips Were Firmly Compressed As He Read The Long And Closely Written

Epistle. At Its Conclusion He Moved For A Few Seconds Uneasily In His

Chair,  Then Re-Folded The Letter And Placed It Carefully In His

Pocketbook. With His Head Resting On His Hand He Remained Sometime In

Deep Thought; Presently His Brow Became Clear And,  Turning To His Desk,

Wrote Rapidly For The Space Of An Hour.

"Scrubbins," Said He,  Addressing His Confidential (And Only) Clerk,  "I

Am Going To Devonshire,  But Will Return The Day After To-Morrow; You

Will Find Your Instructions On My Desk,  And Now Give Me The Deeds; And

Remember,  Should Any One Enquire For Me Tell Them I Am Gone To The

Country On Business,  And Shall Be Back The Day After To-Morrow," And

Without Farther Comment,  Ralph Coleman Passed Out Of The Office.

It Was A Still,  Calm Night In Early Autumn,  The Silvery Moon Looked Down

From Her Deep Violet Throne Amidst The Starry Heavens; The Dull,  Heavy

Sound Made By The Mighty Ocean,  As Its Huge Waves Were Dashed Upon The

Sea-Beat Shore,  Fell Audibly On The Ear In The Silent Night. A Light Sea

Breeze Swept Through The Furze Bushes That Were Scattered Over The

Downs,  Across Which Lay The High Road Leading Past The Park.

Bridoon,  The Old Gate Keeper,  Was Seated On His Wooden Settle Within The

Porch Of The Lodge,  Smoking A Long Clay Pipe,  And Occasionally Quaffing

Long Draughts Of Rare Old Cider. He Was Just Thinking Of Turning In For

The Night,  When A Vehicle Stopped,  And A Voice Demanded Admittance. As

The Gates Swung Open A Gig And Its Occupant Passed Through And Proceeded

At A Smart Pace Along The Broad Avenue Towards The Mansion.

The Clock Of The Village Church Was Striking Ten As Ralph Coleman

Pulled Up At The Principal Entrance Of Vellenaux,  And Was Met In The

Hall By Reynolds The Old Butler,  And Conducted To The Room He Usually

Occupied When Visiting There During The Shooting Season.

"Sir Jasper," Said The Old Servant,  "Has Retired For The Night,  And Miss

Effingham Is On A Visit To The Willows,  But Mrs. Fraudhurst Is,  I

Believe,  Still In The Drawing Room; Will You Please To Step In There

Until Supper Is Prepared For You." This Suited The Lawyer Exactly,  As He

Wished To Have A Few Minutes Conversation With That Lady Previous To

Meeting The Baronet,  For The Letter He Had Received From Mrs. Fraudhurst

Was So Cautiously Worded,  That Although Sufficiently Explicit On Most

Points,  There Were Some Portions Of It Which He Could Not Exactly