by G. A. Henty
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A SEARCH FOR A SECRET.
A Novel.
BY G. A. HENTY.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON: TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 1867.
LONDON: WYMAN AND SONS, PRINTERS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S-INN FIELDS, W.C.
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
CHAPTER I. GREAT CHANGES
CHAPTER II. A QUIET TIME
CHAPTER III. A STRANGE PROFESSION
CHAPTER IV. AN ODD WOOING
CHAPTER V. TERRIBLE TIDINGS
CHAPTER VI. THE SEARCH RENEWED
CHAPTER VII. A BROKEN LIFE
CHAPTER VIII. RISEN FROM THE DEAD
CHAPTER IX. PREPARED FOR THE ATTEMPT
CHAPTER X. THE SPY IN THE CAMP
CHAPTER XI. OFF GUARD
CHAPTER XII. FOUND!
CHAPTER XIII. A VAIN PURSUIT
CHAPTER XIV. ENJOYING THE SPOILS
CHAPTER I.
GREAT CHANGES.
Now that I have finished the account of the last of the series ofunsuccessful attempts which were made to find the will, I must hurryover the subsequent events of my life in a much briefer and more conciseway. It is now nearly six years since Robert Gregory died, and I mustcontent myself with a mere sketch of what has taken place in that time;for this my history has already spun out to a most unreasonable length,many times surpassing the limits I proposed to myself when I first satdown with the intention of writing it. But my pen has run on and on, asI recalled all the past events of my life; and I feel every day, when Isee the mass of manuscript which has accumulated in my drawer--for mydesk has long since been too small to contain its growing bulk--that thechances that any one will ever take the trouble to read it through, aregrowing fainter and fainter every day.
However, should it be so, my task has served its purpose. It has, bychaining my attention to the period of which I have been writing, savedme from many an hour of sorrowful thought, and has served as a break tothe monotony of many a weary day. It has, too, often served as an excusefor me to seclude myself in my own room, when my spirits have feltunequal to take part in the constant flow of tittle-tattle and harmlessgossip, which form the staple of the conversation of those with whom mylife is now cast, and is likely, I hope, to remain to the end.
After I came back from our three months' trip on the continent, with myhealth greatly restored, my spirits rose proportionately; and as I hadnothing to throw me back again into my old state, with the exception ofthe shock I received at the news of Angela Harmer's death, I reallybegan to look at things in a more hopeful way, and to think that theeight years--no, the seven years and a half--I was getting veryparticular as to dates--which were to elapse before Percy started on hisreturn from India, were not such a hopelessly long time to look forwardto after all.
By the way, I did not mention in its proper place that he started withhis regiment for India while we were on the continent. Poor Percy! hewas terribly disappointed and grieved that he could not see me before hesailed. But we were in Italy at the time he received his order, and ashe had very short notice, it was quite out of the question that he couldcome for the purpose.
I, too, was very sorry that it so happened, and had we been in England Icertainly should have made no objection to our meeting; and yet theinterview would have been so painful to us both, that although I wasvery sorry I did not see him, I was yet sure that it was for the bestthat we should not meet. My letters from him, except during the voyage,came regularly every three months, and it did not seem nearly so hardhearing at these long intervals--now that he was so very far off--as ithad done while he was within a day's journey of me. I knew how hardPercy must have felt it before by own feelings; for I, who had made therule, fretted and complained to myself against it. It seemed so cruel,when by merely sitting down and writing to him, I could have givenmyself so much pleasure as well as conferred it upon him--so hard, whenthe postman came of a day with letters for others, that none should comefrom him, who if I only gave him leave, would have written such longloving letters to me every day. I knew that I had determined for thebest, but still it had been a very great trial for me. But now it wasquite different; letters from India could only come once a month or so,and therefore, as I have said, three months did not seem so veryunnatural.
When the letters did come, they were quite volumes; for I had put nolimit to length, and Percy used to write a little nearly every day, sothat in the three months it swelled to quite a bulky packet. They weredelightful letters; such long accounts of his Indian life, and ofeverything which could interest me in it. Such bright, happy pictures ofour future life out there, and such welcome reiterations of his love forme. How often I read them through and through, until I knew them byheart! They are all in my desk now, faded and torn from constantreading. I take them out sometimes and read little bits--I never can getvery far with them--and then have a long, sad cry over my dead hopes andfaded dreams; but I end at last by cheering up and thanking God, that atleast in my present tranquil life, if I have had great troubles, I havesome very happy moments to look back upon, which nothing can ever changeor alter, or efface from my memory.
All this time Ada corresponded with me regularly; not very frequently,indeed, but often enough to show me that she thought very often of me,and loved me as of old. She wrote more like a sister than before, andalways talked of my marriage with Percy as of a settled event which wascertain to occur on his return from India, to which she said that she,like I, was counting the months and years. I judged from the tone of herletters that she did not care so much for gaiety as she had done, andthat the constant whirl of dissipation in which she lived during theLondon season had greatly lost its charm for her. At last one of herletters came, which she said at the beginning, she was sure would giveme pleasure, and indeed it did; for it told me that Lord Holmeskirk, whohad proposed to me during the season I had spent in London, had for thelast two seasons transferred his attentions to her, and that he had nowproposed and she had accepted him, to the great satisfaction of hermother. I was indeed delighted at the news, for I liked the youngnobleman very much--he was so perfectly natural and unaffected.
It was, of course, a very good match for her; and what was, I thought,of far more importance, I could see by the way she wrote that she reallywas very fond of him for his own sake. In one of her after letters tome, she laughed and said that it was terribly galling to her pride tohave to take up with my rejected one; but that, as this was the onlypossible objection she could find to marrying him, she could not allowit to counterbalance all the advantages of her so doing.
When the time for her marriage drew near, she wrote to say how much sheregretted that she could not ask me to be her bridesmaid, and how muchpleasure it would have given her could she have done so; but that, ofcourse, in the present state of relationship between Lady Desborough andmyself, it was out of the question.
However, I saw the report of the wedding in the _Morning Post_, with afull account of how the bride looked, and of the bridesmaids' dresses;and Ada sent me a large piece of her wedding-cake, and wrote to me fromSwitzerland where she had gone with her husband, giving me a detailedaccount of the whole ceremony, and of how happy she was. She wound up bysaying that Lord Holmeskirk had requested her to send his compliments,but that she had pointed out to him that compliments to a future
sister-in-law were simply ridiculous, and so he had sent his love.
She corresponded with me much oftener after she was married than she haddone before; indeed, I noticed that she wrote regularly once a month,and as I answered as regularly, I have no doubt that my letters to herwere sent out to Percy, as being the next best thing to having lettersdirect from me; and very often she sent me his letters to herself, sothat I heard pretty regularly how Percy was, and what he was doing.
Ada seemed very happy in her new character as Viscountess Holmeskirk.The first winter after she was married, she sent me a very pressinginvitation to go up and spend a few weeks with her: but as I pointed outto her in my reply, it would be unpleasant to all parties, for LadyDesborough could not come to her house the whole time I was there; atany rate that if she did, I certainly could not meet her: so that it wasreally better I should not come, as I could not possibly feel at ease,and, in any case, I should not have cared for entering into the gaietiesof London life.
Ada wrote back to say that although she was very much disappointed thatshe should not see me, still, there was so much truth in what I said,that she could not urge me farther; she said, however, that the sameobjection did not apply to Polly, and that she should be very glad ifshe could come up, and be introduced into society under her care.
Polly at first made some objections, but I overruled them as I knew whata treat it would be for her, and she accordingly went up in February,and stayed for six weeks with Ada. She came back delighted with hervisit, and looking upon London as a species of fairy-land. LordHolmeskirk and Ada, she said, had been so extremely kind to her, andtreated her quite like a sister: she had been as gay as I had during mystay at Lady Desborough's, and had been out almost every evening of hervisit in London. She said that, no doubt owing to her stay there, LadyDesborough had been very seldom to Ada's, and then only during the day.On these occasions she had, under some pretence or other, generallyabsented herself from the room; still, she had occasionally remained, asshe did not wish to seem afraid of meeting her, for, as Polly said,certainly she had nothing to feel ashamed of, whatever her ladyshipmight have. Ada had, of course, introduced her, Lady Desborough hadbowed with extreme frigidity, and Polly flattered herself that she wasat least as distant and cool as her ladyship. This visit served Pollyand me as a topic of conversation for a long time, and, as she had metvery many of the people that I had done, it gave us a great subject incommon, whereas previously my London experience had been of littleinterest to her, owing to her knowing nothing either of the place orpeople.
And so my life passed away very quietly. I had become quite strong againnow; and month passed after month, and year after year since Percy hadgone--so that two and a half out of the eight years were gone--and therewere only five and a half more to be looked forward to. Percy's letterswere unaltered in tone, and loving and fond as ever, and so I began tobe quite cheerful and happy again, and to believe that there was greathappiness in store for me yet.
My only little fear was that when Percy came back he would find melooking dreadfully old. I was more than eighteen when the eight years'agreement was made, and I should be nearly twenty-seven when hereturned, and twenty-seven then seemed to me to be quite old; and I usedvery often to wonder whether I should be much changed, and frequentlylooked at my face in a glass very carefully, to see if I could detectany sign of alteration in it; but the glass at present told me nodisagreeable tidings, for my cheeks had filled out again and the colourhad come back into them, and I looked once more bright and hopeful.
Polly and I were able to take long walks together, and were a happy,laughing couple of girls again. And so another year went by, quiet anduneventful, varied only by our Christmas gaieties and the festivities ofthe cricket week. Polly enjoyed these immensely; I, too, liked them; butcertainly principally for her sake--at any rate they were a change.
All this time Harry had continued at his employment as an engineer, withbut indifferent success. I do not mean that he was not keeping himself;but it was not much more. The market, he said, was overstocked. All thegreat jobs were taken up by great men, who found the money, and got theplans through Parliament. These men, of course, employed their own staffand pupils, and an outsider had a very poor chance of getting a footing.If the great engineer to whom Harry had been articled had lived a fewyears longer, so that he could have put him into some post where hewould have had an opportunity of making himself a name, it would havebeen quite different. As it was, he had to be content with thesupervision of comparatively small works, and when these were completed,had to look out for something else.
Another thing which prevented him getting on, was that, in somerespects, Harry was a very diffident man. He had no idea of pushinghimself, or of blowing his own trumpet; but was content to work hard,and let other people take the credit. However, he did not fret about it;he had enough to live upon, and as he did not stand out for highsalaries he was never long out of work.
He had twice spent a month or two with us down at Canterbury, in hisintervals between leaving one place and going to another. These weredelightful times, and we made the happiest quartet possible. I used toask Harry sometimes, on these occasions, whether there was any chance ofhis bringing home a new sister some day; but he would only laugh in hisloud way, and say,--
"Never, Agnes, never!" It was, he said, much too expensive a luxury forhim to think of; indeed, he should have no time to enjoy one if he hadher; he was out all day at his work, and had plans and drawings to makeof an evening. Besides, he smoked all day, and nearly all night, andwhat would a wife say to that? His work, too, lay chiefly inout-of-the-way places, where his only companions were rough, unpolishedmen, who did very well for him, but who would by no means accord with awife's idea of good society.
And after all these and various other objections, he would wind upwith,--
"No, no, Agnes; I am very well as I am, and I by no means think a wifewould better my condition."
Evidently, Harry was at present quite heart whole. About this time hegot an engagement upon a series of extensive works in the neighbourhoodof London, where he was likely to be engaged for a very long time.Indeed, the engineer who was carrying them out, and who had known Harrywhen he was serving his time in town, told him that he could promise himregular work for some years.
And now there came a time when our happy life at Canterbury was to cometo an end, and the dear old house which we loved so much, and where wehad lived so many years, was to pass into other hands. Our father, ourdear, kind father, was found one morning dead in his bed. He died ofdisease of the heart, of the presence of which, it appeared afterwards,he had been conscious for many years.
I pass over that terrible time without a word.
Harry came down at once and managed everything. Polly was heart-broken;and this time it was I who was the stronger, and who was able, in myturn, to console and support her.
At last, when all was over, when a week had passed, we drew our chairsround the fire after dinner, as was our old custom, to discuss thefuture; and yet how different from the old times, with that dreadful gapamong us,--that empty chair which was never to be filled again. It wassome time before any of us could speak; but at last Harry began talkingon indifferent subjects, and we all gradually joined in. Still, we onlydid so at intervals; for we felt that we must presently come to thatpoint from which we all shrank--the future. We had not come to anyunderstanding with each other that we were to discuss our futurearrangements at this particular time; but I think we all feltinstinctively, as we drew our chairs round the fire, that the questioncould not be put off any longer, and that this was the time at which itmust be faced. At last, Harry, who was, as usual, puffing away at hispipe, began it by saying as cheerfully as he could,--
"And now, girls, we must talk business. In the first place, I have had along chat this morning with Mr. Fairlow, our lawyer. He tells me that,as I had expected, there is not very much besides the life-insurance.The practice has hardly done more than paid for the carriage an
d horsesfor the last three years. Mr. Petersfield and I are executors. The willwas made nearly four years ago, just after you girls missed finding thewill in the secret room at Harmer Place. Papa asked me at the time if Iagreed to its provisions, and I said that of course I did, for it wasjust as I should have wished it to be. The amount of insurance, L4,000,is divided among you girls; I am left everything else."
"But what is there else?" I asked dubiously, after a short silence.
"Oh, lots of things," Harry said, cheerfully. "The furniture and thehorses and carriage to begin with, the book debts, and all sorts ofother things. Besides, had there been nothing at all, it would not havemade the least difference to me, for as I can earn enough to live upon,what do I want with more?"
We afterwards learnt that at the time the will was made, there was ahouse worth upwards of a thousand pounds, which had also been left toHarry; but that this had, at Harry's own suggestion, been sold a shorttime afterwards, as at that time papa did not expect to live manymonths. He had told Harry this, and was naturally desirous of going onliving in the same style he had been accustomed to; and as theprofessional income had, as I have said, been very small, this thousandpounds had been very nearly expended in the three years for thehousekeeping expenses, and for the payments of the premiums upon theinsurance.
"And now, girls, that you know exactly what you have, what do you thinkof doing?"
"How much a year will L4,000 bring in, Harry?"
"Well, it depends upon what you put it into. I daresay Mr. Petersfieldcould put it out for you on mortgage, on good security, at four and ahalf or five per cent."
"And how much would that be a year?"
"L180 to L200."
"And how could we best live upon that, Harry?"
"Well, you might take a nice little place for L30 or L35 a year, putfurniture into it, keep one servant, and manage very comfortably uponit; or, should you prefer it--which I should think you would not--youcould live in a boarding-house very well, the two of you, for--say L140a year, which would leave you about L50 a year for clothes and otherexpenses."
"No, no, Harry," we both said, "we would much rather live alone; nothere, for the present, at any rate, although we might some day comeback, but somewhere near London."
"Then," Harry said, "there is one more proposition, and that is--I amlikely to remain in London for some time; my income is L200 a year. Nowif you like, we will take a little cottage, and live together. You shallkeep house for me, and I will take care of you, and if I move, you caneither move with me, or set up for yourselves, just as you like."
"Oh, yes, yes, Harry," we both exclaimed, delightedly. "That will benice, that will be charming," and we kissed the dear old fellow againand again, in greater glee than I should have thought it possible thatanything could have made us feel; and so pleased were we at the thoughtof it, that it was some time before we could settle down to discuss thequestion quietly.
"And now, girls, that we may consider that settled, what part of Londondo you think you should like to live in?"
"You don't mean in London itself, Harry, do you?" I asked, ratherfrightened at the thought of all the smoke and noise.
"No, no," Harry said; "we should find some difficulty in getting thesort of house we want there. We must get out of the smoke, on one sideor other of it. The question is, where?"
For some time neither of us offered any suggestion, for we knew verylittle indeed about the suburbs of London. At last I said, "I thinkHarry I should like to be somewhere near the river, if that would suityou as well as any other side of London. When we were at Grendon House,we used to go up the river to Kew in a steamer, once or twice everysummer, on the Miss Pilgrims' birthdays, and grand occasions of thatsort, and I remember I used to think to myself, that if I were to livein London, I should like it to be near the river."
"Just the very thing I should have proposed, if you had no decidedpreference for any other part," Harry said. "I have lately joined the'Metropolitan Rowing Club,' which was started about a year since. It isheld at Putney, and Putney would suit me very well for business, for Ican get up by train in twenty minutes, as early of a morning as I like.Yes, that will do capitally for us all."
So to Putney it was unanimously settled we should go.
"And now, girls, when will you leave here?"
"The sooner the better, Harry," Polly said, eagerly; and I agreed withher, for I really dreaded being by our two selves in that rambling oldhouse, where every room, every piece of furniture, every act of ourdaily life would bring back some association of him who was gone.
"How long can you stay, Harry?"
"Not beyond Saturday, Agnes--five more days. Pellat has written to mesaying that, although of course under the circumstances he does not wishto hurry me, still that I am greatly wanted; and I answered him to-daysaying that I could not possibly get away before, but that I would be atwork on Monday morning."
"Do you mean to sell the furniture, or move it, Harry?"
"Sell it, my dear; it will be of no use to us: it is all very old, andwould hardly pay for the carriage. Of course those things which have anyparticular association we will take with us."
"Do you think there would be any possibility of our going up with you onSaturday, Harry?" Polly asked, anxiously. "I should not mind how hard Iworked, if we could but do it; don't you think we could?"
"Well, Polly, I don't know that there is any absolute reason against it,if you work very hard, and get everything packed up; of course I willhelp you. To-morrow morning I am going to speak to Dr. Hooper. He haswritten to me saying that he should be glad to take the lease of thehouse of me. There are only three more years to run. I answered him thatI would let him know to-morrow; but of course I could give no decidedanswer till I knew what your plans would be."
"I suppose if we can get ready to go up with you, Harry, we could gointo lodgings at Putney, till we find a house to suit us?"
"Certainly, Polly, that will be what we must do."
"I can tell you of some lodgings," I said. "I have the addressupstairs."
I accordingly went up at once to the drawer where I kept all my oldpocket-books. I found the one for the year when we had been at Ramsgate,and there in pencil, as I had written it down when the old bathing-womantold me of it, was her daughter's address at Putney. I went down with ittriumphantly, and found them wondering where I could have got theaddress of lodgings at Putney. However, I explained the matter to them,and although, as Harry said, she might have moved long since, we agreedat any rate to try there first, as it was much pleasanter to have somefixed place to go to, than to drive about vaguely looking for lodgings.
The next morning we girls set to work at our packing, and at luncheonHarry came in with the welcome news, that he had arranged everythingmost satisfactorily with Dr. Hooper.
Dr. Hooper was at present living in a furnished house, and he had gladlyagreed to take all our furniture at a valuation, and also the carriageand horses, and to continue old Andrew as coachman--at any rate, for thepresent; and Harry, on his part, agreed to ask very little for the leaseof the house, which we held on favourable terms for three years longer.This was a very good arrangement, as it saved us all further trouble;and it was more pleasant to think of the old house remaining as it hadbeen during our time, which we could not have done had the furniturebeen put up and sold by auction. I have no doubt that it suited Dr.Hooper equally well, as it was a very large, roomy house, at a moderaterent, and the good-will, although not worth much, was still an advantageto any medical man taking the house.
That afternoon we went through the house, and decided on the fewarticles we should like to keep. The next day a valuer came in, and onFriday morning Dr. Hooper gave Harry a cheque for L500, which was, withthe exception of L70 or L80, which some of the richer of papa's patientsowed him, all that Harry ever received as his share of the property.
That four days we were dreadfully busy--what with packing, and seeingall our friends who came in to say good-bye; but on Saturday we
hadfinished, bade farewell to Canterbury, and started by the one o'clocktrain for London.