Maud Florence Nellie; or, Don't care!
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muchcause for anger you had. Father, I care so very much that you shouldreally take him back and forgive him!"
"You distress yourself needlessly," said Mr Cunningham, stiffly still,but not unkindly. "I was justified, I think, in taking time toconsider. I greatly regret Alwyn's American connections. But you arequite right in feeling that I should not now be justified in divertingthe property from the direct line. That will I spoke of has beendestroyed for some weeks."
"I did not mean to distrust you, father," said Edgar. "I knew that youwould see it so, but you will let people know that it is so."
"Did your brother know that you meant to speak to me?"
"No, oh no! We have never touched on the subject."
"Don't distress yourself," said Mr Cunningham; "I will takeopportunities. Here is Alwyn coming."
Perhaps Alwyn thought the echo of the voices through the window a littletoo eager, for he came out with an anxious look at Edgar, making anexcuse of pushing the couch more into the shade.
"Alwyn," said Mr Cunningham, "my agent has been making a proposal topull down the cottages and farm-buildings on Ashurst Farm, and throw itinto one concern with Croppings. What do you think?"
"I--really, sir--I cannot judge," said Alwyn, turning round andconsiderably startled at this appeal.
"I shouldn't wish to do it if you disliked the notion. Perhaps, ifEdgar does not want you, you would walk down with me and look at theplace."
"Go--go," whispered Edgar. "Go with him at once."
Alwyn and his father were a long while away. Edgar had been takenindoors while they were out, and, weak as he was, had grown weary ofwaiting before Alwyn came in, much too late to send his half-writtenletter by that day's post.
"Edgar," he said in a low voice, "it is all right. My father shall not,if I can help, repent it."
"Tell me," said Edgar eagerly.
"We didn't get on much with settling about the farms," said Alwyn, halflaughing. "As we walked down he said that he begged me to spare himconversation on the subject. I was to understand that my place wasready for me. And then, when brooks came up about the farms, hereferred him to me in a sort of matter-of-course way that I could havelaughed at. A fine notion Brooks must have formed of my knowledge ofthe subject! We met Sir Philip Carleton, and when he said that thesearch in the wood seemed hopeless, my father answered that, for LadyCarleton's sake, he was sorry. It did not, of course, particularlyconcern himself. Then he walked round by the stables and made me saywhich of his young horses should be sold. I could only say I would cometo-morrow and look more particularly. I couldn't have told a racer froma cab-horse then. But, Edgar, the best of it was that I--I knew that heliked it, that he felt it good to have me to ask and to care. And atlast he said something about `my friends in America.' I don't think heliked the notion much, but he ended by saying that he would write to MrDallas, and that he should be glad to make the young lady's acquaintanceat no distant date."
"Yes," said Edgar. "Alwyn, you ought to go and fetch her--you will oneday--and bring her to see Ashcroft. But--"
"Some day, perhaps," said Alwyn. "Just now I'm going to take care ofyou, and do what I can to please my father. He was very good."
"I couldn't let you go," said Edgar. "It used to come across me what itwould be like to die alone. I was afraid of getting worse always,though I wouldn't own it to myself. Afraid of having to lie here shutup from the air and the light, and just the things that made lifebearable--with never any change. But now that I have you--"
"I have had much that I don't deserve," said Alwyn very low; "but of allthese mercies, the one I am most glad, most thankful for, is that I canhelp you, my dear, dear boy! Thank God for that!"
"I am glad," said Edgar; "oh, how glad! But I am afraid I don't knowmuch about being thankful, Val; you must teach me."
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
IN A "RIFT IMPRISONED."
Wyn gave up his basket of wild flowers to Mr Elton, who had charge ofthe arrangements for the flower show, and then went on to Ravenshurstwith those he had collected for Lily. He had been sent over there onceor twice with parcels or messages for Florence, and the nurse, thinkinghim a well-behaved little boy, allowed him to stop and give his opinion,whether the white flowers gathered in the hedges were all, as Florencesaid, "hemlock," or would rank as different specimens. Wyn sorted outyarrow and wild parsley, cow parsley, and several others, and then said:
"Miss Lily hasn't got any honeysuckle. That's not rare, but it is verysweet, and suitable for a young lady's basket. You should put theclimbing things round the edge for her, Florrie; different sorts ofbrambles, and dog-rose berries, and traveller's joy."
"There's some honeysuckle on the old oak tree," said Florrie, "but wecan't get it, it's too high up."
"I'll fetch it down for you," said Wyn, scrambling up the lower branchesof the tree. "Why," he said, putting his hand into a hole a few feetup, "how clean someone's scraped out this hole--taken all the old nestsout of it!"
"There ain't nothing in it, Wyn, is there?" said Florrie.
"No; I once tried to make that hole ever so nice and soft with moss andstuff, and put acorns and nuts in it to get the squirrels there. I evenwent and got a bit of putty and stopped up the hole in the bottom andput decayed wood over it; but, bless you, they never came."
"_What_ did you do, Wyn?" said Florence, coming close.
"Stopped a great hole. It's stopped still; I can put my hand down, andyou feel nothing but wood."
"Could you get the hole open, Wyn? Was it a hole that things could behidden in?"
"I suppose so. Whatever is the matter, Florrie? You look downrightscared!"
The hole was wide and shallow. Wyn took the knife with which he hadmeant to cut the honeysuckle, scraped and cut, and, the soft decayedwood giving way, the piece of putty yielded to his pull and came out.
"There's a hole, but I can't feel the bottom of it," he said.
"Put in my sunshade; feel with the hook."
"My stars, Florrie, there'll be nothing alive in _there_!" said Wyn;but, boy like, to fish in a hole with a hook was delightful to him."There's--there's something down at the bottom. I can just reach. It'shard--it's loose. Hi! I've got it; it's coming up. Oh, my eyes! Oh,my stars! It's--it's _diamonds_!"
"It's _them_!" cried Florence, clasping her hands as a long band offlashing stones came up into the sunlight on the hook of her parasol,and Wyn tumbled right out of the tree in his amazement, dropping histreasure-trove most appropriately at the feet of Lady Carleton, who,unseen by Wyn and Florence, had come up, and was watching them under thetree.
"Found!" she exclaimed; "found at last!"
"Is it the lost jewels?" said Wyn, bewildered. "Why, who ever wouldhave thought of looking in a tree for _them_?"
"As if they hadn't been looking in all the holes in the wood," saidFlorence, "and you could have told them of another. Didn't you know?"
"I hated coming here without Mr Edgar," said Wyn.
"Now, not another thing must be done till Sir Philip knows, and MrCunningham, and Harry Whittaker too. Stay there, Wyn Warren; don'ttouch the tree. Come, Florence, and tell Sir Philip we have got them,"said Lady Carleton.
Sir Philip declared that the rest of the jewels must be taken out in thepresence of those most nearly concerned, and hurried messengers weresent to summon them; while Sir Philip, the Ravenshurst keeper, and Wynpatrolled round the tree, as if they thought that the jays and thewood-pigeons would carry off the precious discovery.
The short September evening had closed in, and the wood was all duskyand dewy, when at last Mr Cunningham and Alwyn, Harry Whittaker, SirPhilip and Lady Carleton, Wyn and Florence by right of discovery, thetwo head-keepers, and the village constable, all gathered, by the lightof the rising moon and of some half-dozen lanterns, round the tree.
"Now, Warren," said Mr Cunningham, "cut away till you lay the bottom ofthe hole open." Wyn held the light, the keeper gave two or three cutswith a small axe, and a
great piece of the rotten bark gave way underthe stroke.
"You can look in now, sir," he said. "Give us the lantern, Wyn."
Sir Philip and Mr Cunningham peered into the hole, which seemed to befull of decayed wood, soft and crumbling.
"Will Lady Carleton see if she can find anything?" said Alwyn.
Lady Carleton came forward and put her hand into the hole.
"It's like a