Run to Earth by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (top books to read .TXT) 📕

the rest. Heaven only knows what shameful secrets may have been hidden in her past life!"

She had crossed the threshold of the door, when some sudden impulse moved him to follow her.

"Do not leave Raynham till you have heard further from me, Lady Eversleigh," he said. "It will be my task to make all arrangements for your future life."

His wife did not answer him. She walked towards the hall, her head bent, her eyes fixed on the ground.

"She will not leave the castle until she is obliged to do so," thought Sir Oswald, as he returned to the library. "Oh, what a tissue of falsehood she tried to palm upon me! And she would have blackened my nephew's name, in order to screen her own guilt!"

He rang a bell, and told the servant who answered it to fetch Mr. Eversleigh. His nephew appeared five minutes afterwards, still very pale and anxious-looking.

"I have sent for you, Reginald," said the baronet, "because I have a duty to perform--a very painful duty--but one which I do not care to delay. It is now nearly a year and a half since I made a will which disinherited you. I had good reason for that step, as you know; but I have heard no further talk of your vices or your follies; and, so far as I can judge, you have undergone a reformation. It is not for me, therefore, to hold sternly to a determination which I had made in a moment of extreme anger: and I should perhaps have restored you to your old position ere this, had not a new interest absorbed my heart and mind. I have had cruel reason to repent my folly. I might feel resentment against you, on account of your friend's infamy, but I am not weak enough for that. Victor Carrington and I have a terrible account to settle, and it shall be settled to the uttermost. I need hardly tell you that, if you hold any further communication with him, you will for ever forfeit my friendship."

"My dear sir, you surely cannot suppose--"

"Do not interrupt me. I wish to say what I have to say, and to have done with this subject for ever. You know I have already told you the contents of the will which I made after my marriage. That will left the bulk of my fortune to my wife. That will must now be destroyed; and in the document which I shall substitute for it, your name will occupy its old place. Heaven grant that I do wisely, Reginald, and that you will prove yourself worthy of my confidence."

"My dear uncle, your goodness overpowers me. I cannot find words to express my gratitude."

"No thanks, Reginald. Remember that the change which restores you to your old position is brought about by my misery. Say no more. Better that an Eversleigh should be master of Raynham when I am dead and gone. And now leave me."

The young man retired. His face betrayed conflicting emotions. Lost to all sense of honour though he was, the iniquity of the scheme by which he had succeeded weighed horribly upon his mind, and he was seized with a wild fear of the man through whose agency it had been brought about.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XI.


"THE WILL! THE TESTAMENT!"

The brief pang of fear and remorse passed quickly away, and Reginald went out upon the terrace to look upon those woods which were once more his promised heritage; on which he could gaze, as of old, with the proud sense of possession. While looking over that fair domain, he forgot the hateful means by which he had re-established himself as the heir of Raynham. He forgot Victor Carrington--everything except his own good fortune. His heart throbbed with a sense of triumph.

He left the terrace, crossed the Italian garden, and made his way to the light iron gate which opened upon the park. Leaning wearily upon this gate, he saw an old man in the costume of a pedlar. A broad, slouched hat almost concealed his face, and a long iron-grey beard drooped upon his chest. His garments were dusty, as if with many a weary mile's wandering on the parched high-roads, and he carried a large pack of goods upon his back.

The park was open to the public; and this man had, no doubt, come to the garden-gate in the hope of finding some servant who would be beguiled into letting him carry his wares to the castle, for the inspection of Sir Oswald's numerous household.

"Stand aside, my good fellow, and let me pass," said Reginald, as he approached the little gate.

The man did not stir. His arms were folded on the topmost bar of the gate, and he did not alter his attitude.

"Let me be the first to congratulate the heir of Raynham on his renewed hopes," he said, quietly.

"Carrington!" cried Reginald; and then, after a pause, he asked, "What, in heaven's name, is the meaning of this masquerade?"

The surgeon removed his broad-brimmed hat, and wiped his forehead with a hand that looked brown, wizen, and wrinkled as the hand of an old man. Nothing could have been more perfect than his disguise.

The accustomed pallor of his face was changed to the brown and sunburnt hue produced by constant exposure to all kinds of weather. A network of wrinkles surrounded the brilliant black eyes, which now shone under shaggy eyebrows of iron-grey.

"I should never have recognized you," said Reginald, staring for some moments at his friend's face, completely lost in surprise.

"Very likely not," answered the surgeon, coolly; "I don't want people to recognize me. A disguise that can by any possibility be penetrated is the most fatal mistake. I can disguise my voice as well as my face, as you will, perhaps, hear by and by. When talking to a friend there is no occasion to take so much trouble."

"But why have you assumed this disguise?"

"Because I want to be on the spot; and you may imagine that, after having eloped with the lady of the house, I could not very safely show myself here in my own proper person."

"What need had you to return? Your scheme is accomplished, is it not?"

"Well, not quite."

"Is there anything more to be done?"

"Yes, there is something more."

"What is the nature of that something?" asked Reginald.

"Leave that to me," answered the surgeon; "and now you had better pass on, young heir of Raynham, and leave the poor old pedlar to smoke his pipe, and to watch for some passing maid-servant who will admit him to the castle."

Reginald lingered, fascinated in some manner by the presence of his friend and counsellor. He wanted to penetrate the mystery hidden in the breast of his ally.

"How did you know that your scheme had succeeded?" he asked, presently.

"I read my success in your face as you came towards this gate just now. It was the face of an acknowledged heir; and now, perhaps, you will be good enough to tell me your news."

Reginald related all that had happened; the use he had made of Lydia Graham's malice; the interview with his uncle after Lady Eversleigh's return.

"Good!" exclaimed Victor; "good from first to last! Did ever any scheme work so smoothly? That was a stroke of genius of yours, Reginald, the use you made of Miss Graham's evidence. And so she was watching us, was she? Charming creature! how little she knows to what an extent we are indebted to her. Well, Reginald, I congratulate you. It is a grand thing to be the acknowledged heir of such an estate as this."

He glanced across the broad gardens, blazing with rich masses of vivid colour, produced by the artistic arrangement of the flower-beds. He looked up to the long range of windows, the terrace, the massive towers, the grand old archway, and then he looked back at his friend, with a sinister light in his glittering black eyes.

"There is only one drawback," he said.

"And that is--"

"That you may have to wait a very long time for your inheritance. Let me see; your uncle is fifty years of age, I think?"

"Yes; he is about fifty." "And he has an iron constitution. He has led a temperate, hardy life. Such a man is as likely to live to be eighty as I am to see my fortieth birthday. And that would give you thirty years' waiting: a long delay--a terrible trial of patience."

"Why do you say these things?" cried Reginald, impatiently. "Do you want to make me miserable in the hour of our triumph? Do you mean that we have burdened our souls with all this crime and falsehood for nothing? You are mad, Victor!"

"No; I am only in a speculative mood. Thirty years!--thirty years would be a long time to wait."

"Who says that I shall have to wait thirty years? My uncle may die long before that time."

"Ah! to be sure! your uncle may die--suddenly, perhaps--very soon, it may be. The shock of his wife's falsehood may kill him--after he has made a new will in your favour!"

The two men stood face to face, looking at each other.

"What do you mean?" Reginald asked; "and why do you look at me like that?"

"I am only thinking what a lucky fellow you would be if this grief that has fallen upon your uncle were to be fatal to his life."

"Don't talk like that, Carrington. I won't think of such a thing. I am had enough, I know; but not quite so bad as to wish my uncle dead."

"You would be sorry if he were dead, I suppose? Sorry--with this domain your own! with all power and pleasure that wealth can purchase for a man! You would be sorry, would you? You wish well to the kind kinsman to whom you have been such a devoted nephew! You would prefer to wait thirty years for your heritage--if you should live so long!"

"Victor Carrington," cried Reginald, passionately, "you are the fiend himself, in disguise! Let me pass. I will not stop to listen to your hateful words."

"Wait to hear one question, at any rate. Why do you suppose I made you sign that promissory note at a twelvemonth's date?"

"I don't know; but you must know, as well as I do, that the note will be waste-paper so long as my uncle lives."

"I do know that, my dear Reginald; but I got you to date the document as you did, because I have a kind of presentiment that before that date you will be master of Raynham!"

"You mean that my uncle will die within the year?"

"I am subject to presentiments of that kind. I do not think Sir Oswald will see the end of the year!"

"Carrington!" exclaimed Reginald. "Your schemes are hateful. I will have no further dealings with you."

"Indeed! Then am I to go to Sir Oswald, and tell him the story of last night? Am I to tell him that his wife is innocent?"

"No, no; tell him nothing. Let things