A COUNTY fAMILY.

Bruce Herald, Volume XI, Issue 1017, 11 June 1878, Page 7

A C OUN TY fAMILY.

: " ' ■ ■ — — : — '—+ • " - : : (By the author of "Lost Sir Massingberd." CHAPTER VI V *"/ THE FAMILY PORTRAITS. . Mb Moffat joined the family circle at dinner on the night of their arrival »t the Manor. He had been the only link between Anthony and his old home— -the only man who had given himself the trouble to communicate with the exile during his long' banishment, and ho now reaped the fruits of this in the cordial ' friendship of the new squire. At the ti me ' ' oi the latter's disgrace, Mowbray Moffat had been articled clerk to his uucle Robert, who had himself, in the characi er of family lawyer, made some effort to mollify Russell Blackburn's wrath against his eldest born; but when he found interference'worse than useless, and also; at hia client's direction, had drawn np the deed which seemed to put Anthony's succession to the estate beyond human probability, the elder Moffat had taken no further interest in him, and even cautioned his nephew against the manifestation of such a feeling But Mowbray had written, though guardedly and cautiously enough, whenever any event of importance had taken place at the Manor ; and even these measured phrases of good-will had /been very grateful to their recipient. A little kind ness goes a great way when we are poDr ; ,nay, the very remembrance of us (whom so many have forgotten), appears a kindness. Whether ; it was genuine pity or only prudent forethought that impelled the man of parchments thus to act, is doubtful. He certainly ran some risk with at least two of his employers —tyrant Russell and spendthrift Ferdinand— who had strictly commanded all relatibua with tb.9 Disgrace to the Family, to cease ; riot, it must be confessed, by reason of Anthony's first offence alone, bat from his subsequent conduct. The letters he wrote to bis father were not of a conciliatory character : and that which, on the occasion of the old man's death, he addressed* to his usurping sue cessor, waR really quite a curiosity in the way of vituperation. But in course of years, passionate indignation had given place to patient watching for retribution | —hoarded hate. He ceased to rave of his own wrongs, or to make comments upon the proceedings of his detested kinsmen ; but on the demise of each brother be bad put in a written protest against the continuance of the injustice which their common father had perpetrated. To these letters, Mr Moffat had been instructed, on the part of his clients, to make~no reply j bat he had always written, on his. own account, to express a decentsorrow for Anthony's misfortune; thab is, for his banishment, not for the trials which poverty imposed upon him, for of thoae he knew nothing for certain, whatever he may have guessed. Anthony's pride prevented him from making that disclosure by letter, which his passion, excited by the sight of his old home, had just compelled him so openly to proclaim. The lawyer perhaps had his own reasons for not enquiring too nearly into, his correspondent's actual circumstances $ however j willing to offer sympathy, and even advice, I he might have shrunk from advancing money out of his own pocket to supply Anthony's necessities— the security being so exceedingly problematical Of course, he knew that his old friend— for they had j been playmates together, or rather ue had ] been the young squire's humble companion, while the next brother, Ferdinand, was still in the nursery — was very poor ; but the fact was not pressed upon his notice, and he was glad to ignore it. Perhaps, if he had known how poor the inmates of Moor Cottage had been— how small a sum would have seemed a fortune to them— he would have drawn his pursestrings readily enough. Of late, however, Mr Morffat might well have defended himself from the charge of want of eh arity, upon the ground of "feeling to wound Anthony's feelings — for it was upon the question of Bichard Blackburn's affording his uncle pecuniary assistance that the lawyer and his present client had well nigh quarrelled ; Mr Moffat had accompanied his employer's offer not only with an earnest entreaty that it should be accepted, but even with .an - encomium upon the young squire's liberality and k good feeling : and this the resolute ' old y quarryman had bitterly resented. Indeed, no communication had passed between them since that period, except the one letter that had appxised the old man of his nephew's death. Their meeting, therefore, at least upon one side, had had something of embarrassment ; but the few earnest words of gratitude that accompanied the squire's warm grip of salutation had at once put the lawyer at his ease. " I am a stranger in my own home," the former had gone on to say, " and it is to you, to whom I have so long" been indebted, that I must for the. future look for aid of all, kinds." If Mr Moffat had been aware of the company which his, host" had kept perforce for so many years, he. would certainly have marvelled to hear him use such well-chosen words; but he remembered Anthony as having had the pleasantest voice and the most winning address of all .* the Blackburns, who, to say the tr^jth, had been (with one other exception) a rough lot, both in speech and feeling. He marvelled, therefore, not at Anthony's comparative culture (though there was much else in him to wonder at) but at the lack of it in Mrs Blackburn, which, indeed throughout the repast was manifest enough. She partook of every disb, and evjery condiment which could be taken with them ; she mixed her liquors in a really, ''alarming manner ; and in the intervals of the meals, she betook herself to balancing the silver forks upon her finger, with the, relish of a person who

partake of an amusement for the first time. ..Moreover,- though Mr Moffat was well acquainted wifh the local dialect, her talk was sometimes utterly unintelligible to him j the fact being, that the family, in their early days of poverty, had been migratory, and the consequence, in Mrs Blackburn's case, had been a combination of patois. But the chief enigma of the little party to the astute man of business, very desirous of solving the three social "problems before him, was Miss Ellen. Her features were not only well formed, _ but, possessed thai softened beauty which belongs in general to those who have been brought up delicately ; who have experienced that hot-house training/ the result of which is mistaken for a privilege of aristocratic birtb. Her hands .were as white, if not quite so smooth, as /those of any young lady in the county ; and though her speech was, more elaborate and formal, the words were better selected. , The dinner conversation was not, however, general, but chiefly maintained- by Mr Moffat and his host;; the latter asking question after question respecting this man and that, whose face of fifty' years ago had been familiar /to him; and the latter, nine times out of ten, replying with a shake of his white head-— " He is dead and gone, Sir." And all this time the servants waited with wondering eyes, speculating upon' their master's past, and endeavouring to forecast from it their own .future.- It was already evident to them that they would not, as some had expected, have everything their own way with him ; yet he had only once spoken angrily, when he bade them let that day be the last on which he should see them in mourning apparel. Any reference, however undemonstrative, to his immediate predecessors at the Manoi'-house seemed intolerable to him. The dining-room was hung with' full-length portraits of his father and brothers, and it was observed that an angry flush came over his face whenever his eye wandered towards them duriag the' meal.; but when it was* over, and- the ; ladies had withdrawn, and the obsequious butler was placing a bottle of rare old port upon the table, with a few of respectful encomium , he was arrested by ; the , startling words from the sqfcire : " Get a ladder, man, at once, and take all those pictures down." . "While host and guest were sipping their wine in silence, this accordingly was done; and some balf-dozen huge frames, with their contents, was soon standing in a line against the wall like criminals awaiting execution. They had most of them fine handsome features, but of ao animal type. / ?■■':-' ..".That is my father, of course," observed Anthony, coldly, as he pointed to a burly figure with puffed cheeks and sensual chin, who occupied the middle place. There was a twinkle in the eye that hinted of humour, or perhaps only of the pleasures of the^nesh, but it was marred by an obliquity of vision which imparted malignancy; indeed it was easy to'imagine it becoming " a damned disinheriting countenance," .if irritated by opposition, and such it unquestionably appeared to the present beholder. /'This must have been taken after my time," continued he, rising and confronting the canvas, as though it were a thing of life ; "yet I should know it anywhere. He was a hard man except where his own vices were concerned and * then he was } weak enough. Was it not so, Mr Moffat?" : ~ - ■ ■'•■" Indeed, sir," stammered the lawyer, straightening his stiff white cravat, "I had no certain knowledge of the Jate !Mr ; Russell Blackburn. My uncle Robert, as you were aware, was the family lawyer .throughout almost all your father's life." ; ' "Ay, true," replied Anthony cynically, " and of course you never heard his character discussed. With the rest of this goodly company, however, you had a closer acquaintance than myself — Is that my brother Ferdinand ?" His finger- pointed to the portrait of a man of . five-and-t wenty, a t tired in a jockey's dress, and about to mount a sleek and well-bred horse. His hand was on the reins, but his face was turned round to the spectators, as though giving . some; final order before he set out. " Yes, Sir, that is Squire Ferdinand ; and very like. He ■is painted with his famous mare, that won so many steeplechases. . I recollect her well; . She, realised four thousand pounds in stakes in a single; year, though it is-true, she cost her owner thrice the money in lost bets. He would back her against anything, and so would all about here." -The lawyer, ready enough to exchange the dangerous topic of humanity for that of horse-flesh, or, perhaps, since he had some turn for : spoit, being really interested in it, waxed eloquent on . this gilossv theme. " She was a genuine beauty; and though, as you see) she'had one white stocking, which was thought a blemish, her owner would never allow she was not perfect. She had a stall and a paddock to hei'self ; two grooms tb wait upon her, and during one very severe season, the squire had the straw yard roofed in for her, so that she might take her exercise under cover. Let me see which winter was it?" " Perhaps it was that same winter," , broke in Anthony, hoarsely, " when we i nearly lost our Ellen!) because coal was too dear for us to buy. Xes, sir, we starved and shivered, while yonder scoun-drel-lavished gold — my gold — upon his pampered pet." . " She broke his neck for him, poor fellow, at last," pleaded the lawyer, softly, "as I wrote ,to let you know." "Was that the mare that did it?" ejaculated Anthony, excitedly. " Then I am sorry that I grudged her aught. ' I will have a statuette of silver cast of her,

and underneath it written ' the Queen of Horses' Or stay; I'll have this, rascal pointed ou*, and the mare left ; by Mfeavftu I will." Tbe vehemence of the old man's passion was even more terribly t<x witness than to Hsfen to ; it seemed to go well nigh to choke him before it found vent in words'; and full a minute passed before he got the tnastry juver himself and it ; then turning to the neiybbour-picture, he enquired contemptuously, "Whose brafc is tbafc ?" "That ia young Ferdinand, Sir, who died of fever." "Humph!— And this is Charles th j Sot, I suppose ?" "It is your brother Charles, Sir,', answered the lawyer qnietly. "If be, was fond of the bottle, at least he had no weakness for the fair sex. There was not a woman servant in the manor, nor one admitted within the lodge-gates for the five years he ruled the place. A most eccentric personage." l ' "An idiot, Sir," ejaculated Anthony;. li one wbo would have drivelled out his days in some aaylum. if delirium trenaens had not cut them short. — This is the fisherfellow, Eichard, I suppose ? — And that his son. who died hero this day fortnight, eh ? Now all 'these rogues e'hall burn together, at once." And tbe old squire reached uiifc a trembling hand and grasped the bell*opG *- . ,- " I pray you consider, Sir," interposed Mr Moffar, hastily. "If you are so ill resolved, at' least do nothing in such sudden heat. Although these folks were not your friends, still joo were kin, and blood is thicker than water; or is, at all events, so held to be in these pacts. You neigh- ' bours here would recent such conduct deeply ; they would indeed, Sir." " The neighbours ? — You mean tbe flatterers^ tbe lickspittles, all those who fawned on this precious brotherhood ! What care I whethor they are pleased or displeased ?" " For your owu part, nothing, Sir, doubtless. But for Mias Ellen's. sake,you: shonld wish to be on good terms with tho country-side. To burn these portraits < of the men they knew so well, * would bring you into much discredit. Your kin are dead and gone to their account, and hate should not be pushed beyond the grave. Besides; there are some among them who have done you no evil turn, nor thougfit to do it. The boy Ferdinand here, for instance, who perhaps never heard your name; and this young Eichard — if you would but have believed it, Sir — no bettermeaning and more generous lad ever drew breath. His people here adored him." " His people ! They were mine." ' " The people of the village, I-mean, Sir; they did not know, remember—although you knew so well — but that they were his his people; nor did he himself. He understood nothing of the rights of the matter, nor your wrongs. Do you think his father yonder told him, *' We usurp this place, which should be your uncle Anthony's ?'" <*Arid why did not you tell him ?•" enquired the squire, facing round upon_ his guest. " You knew." "I did say much that moved him greatly, Sir. You know yourself how instantly he acted upon it ; and- although you Bpurned his offer, I still" think— — •" "Ab, I see," interrupted Anthony: " you feared to tell the truth, else justice, reparation even, bo far as be could make it, might have been done at last. You, then, are to blame, not he.- -Among that nest of rogues, this Richard, ifc seems, was honest at the core. He has a comely face, enough, now that I look into it, and a pleasant smile." " He has indeed, Sir ; and. if I were one given to compliment, I could tell you how old folk about here used to say they found young. Squire Anthony reproduced in this same boyj. Indeed I have often seemed to sit beside you when I have, sat with bim at this very table. He had like you, his mother's geDtle nature, rather than his father's. He fell in love too, just aa you did, when be was quite a boy." Squire Anthooy n*ad sat down in front of this likeness of his foiraer self, and was regarding it attentively. He did nob hear one half of what the lawyer said. The fifty years that lay between bim and boyhood seemed all swept away, and he was once race a lad. Wbat airy dreams he had then indulged in ! what rose-tinted visions of life had his fancy painted ! How passion had swayed him ! It was in that vevy ronm, wbithor, on the occasion of hep taking her new place, his Mary had come to have a few words of ad fice from her mistrese, that he had first seen his charmer ia that hou^e (be bad only known her by sight as tbe acknowledged beauty of the bamler, and hie mother's favourite pupil in the viliage school, *> before). He even remembered / whore she aetood, close by the window yonder, with her bunds - modestly folded; and /the pattern of tho simple gown she wore, and the colour of the ribbons in her bonnet. It was. a foolish enough thing to do, but ne 1 had fallen in Iqvo with the new waitingmaid as honestly as ever duke did with duchess. He had never, meant, otherwise thnn honourably, towards her. And while it lasted, what a transport it had been ! He had' 'not inherited the gross animal nature of his father; but his affections were very strong, his heart was tender, his voice and air were winning. All the beauty and physical grace that had departed from him so long were Been once more in the portrait on which his eyes bad been fixed. Their were now cast down upon the shining table, on which quite another picture jvas mirrored — an ,aged, furrowed face ; white hair, white beard, and eyes that gazed dimly forth from beneath white busby brows. "You are right, Moffatt," said he, thoughtfully, ifincL after .a . long pause ; "tbe pictures must not be burned, though" I will not have them here. Let them be put away out of my sight till I am'dead and gone like the rest— all bat

young Richard'a there ; he shall have the place of honour above the mantelpiece , If Lhe lad had lived, and taken a liking 1 to* his ' cousin Ellen But there — he had a sweetheart of his own, you told me:" " Yes, Sir ; Miss Lucy "Waller j a sweet girl, whose father until lately sat in the House fur Mosedale." " What a handsome pair they would have made !" mused the old squire, quite unconscious of the lawyer's reply. " Both Blackburns, too; I could have made a point of that." Then suddenly, " How do .you t.bink hsr looking, Moffat?" "Miaß Ellen, Sir?" " Of course, who else ?" '"Indeed, Sir, she 'is very beautitul, though I should fear, ' somewhat delicate. She will cause many a heartache in the county with those large soft eyes of hers, doubtless ; since I suppose, if it is not an impertinence to ask it, she is fancy free as' yet?" " Yes, yes," said Anthony hastily. " She has formed no engagement ; you have my leave to gay that much. To ccc her married well, and happily, would .make amends to mo for much that I have suffered.— You hear her singing, itf the drawing-room even now. Yes, that is my Nelly's voice; and, as you cay, as clear as any bird's. If you have done your wine, Sir, let us join the ladies." - v (To he Continued.)