REGINALD'S FORTUNE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8472, 24 January 1891, Page 3 (Supplement)

REGINALD'S FORTUNE.

BY MRS. HARRIET LEWIS, thor of " Lady Roslvn's Pensioner," " The House of Secrets," " The False Heir," " The

Heiress of Egremont," etc.

CHAPTER I. 0 « THE BRWK OF RUIN* : A DISCONTENTED WIFE : THE UNCLE'S TLOT. ••Oh. w 'i ll > what authority and show of truth ii'i cunning sin cover itself withal 1" 1 SIIAKESPERK. t t was a clear, cold morning. In tho busy London streets people shivered in great -yits anil furs, and hastened about their jffairs with brisk movements. Tho only arsons who loitered were the houseless,

jomelcss poor. In a comfortable-looking dwelling at the {Vest End was presented a scene strongly in contrast to the chilling outer world. The handsomely furnished breakfast- room was brightened by a large sea-coal lire, which flowed and flamed behind its bars of polished steel, giving a home look to the elegant apartment. In the centre of the room was an oval breakfast table, laid with a luxurious repast. The fragrant coffeesteamed in its massive silver urn, the mutton chops reposed upon a chafing and the various etcetera were in their respectiv

places. The room was occupied solely by the owner of the dwelling, Mr. Reid \VcstcourC, who was pacing back and forth, a frown uoon his brow, and impatience in his movements. Occasionally ho paused to look at his watch and compare the time it indicated with that of the handsome clock on the marble mantelpiece, and each time he did so his discontented expression deepened.

At length he deviated from his direct course across the apartment in order to touch a bell-pull. The tinkle it caused could be distinctly heard in the breakfastroom, and it had hardly died away ere a servant answered the summons.

••Say to your mistress that breakfast waits," said Mr. Wostcouit, in a tone of ill:oncealed annoyance.

The servant bowed and withdrew.

He had hardly vanished when the door jo-ain opened, and the mistress of the dwelling made her appearance. •' Here I've been waiting this half-hour, Jsabella!" exclaimed Mr. Westcourt, fretinllv. '" It's ten o'clock, and I've had no breakfast vet ! You know that 1 never eat alone, and" I should have been at the office by this time —" "It's always the office," returned the tadv, with an impatience answering to his own. "I am sick and tired of trade. You told me, Reid, when we were married, that yeu would soon give up this horrid business. I am sure I would never have married a tradesman if 1 had supposed he would never pet beyond it !'' .Mr. Westcourt made no reply, but took his seat at the breakfast table, and his wife •allowed his example. Neither rang for attendance, and for some time the meat progressed in silence. Mr. Westcourt was a tall, thin individual, with a high, retreating forehead which terminated in a large bald spot on his head, thus giving his forehead the effect of massiveness and grandeur. His small grey eves had a shrewd, yet furtive look, and a skilled physiognomist would have noticed certain lines about his mouth that betokened a, treacherous and cruel disposition. His iress was scrupulously neat, and, to an ordinary observer, his entire appearance was that of a thorough gentleman.

Mrs. Westcourfc was some years younger than her husband, and remarkably goodlooking. Her lace was fresh in colour, p'.urap~in outline, and good in its features, fler hair was dark, her eyes of a hazel hue, and her mouth was well shaped. She was tall, and her movements were nob without dignity, despite the fact that sue was decidedly inclined to embonpoint. As ha.< been gathered from the complaints of his wife, Mr. Westcourt was a tradesman, the sole proprietor of the great silk-house of Westcourt, in the city. The father of Mr. Keid Westcourt had been the younger son of a gentleman. He jatl greatly exasperated his relatives upon whom he had been dependent by marrying or love the daughter and only child of a •ich silk merchant in the city, but the oirth of a son had finally restored to him their favour.

This son was named Reginald, and was sasiv provided for by handsome bequests of freehold estates and bank accounts from several bachelor and widowed relatives. Two years after the birth of the more fortunate Reginald, !:eid Westcourfc, the reader's present acquaintance, was ushered into the world. The name of his grandfather was bestowed upon him, in the hope of attracting with it the old silk merchant's fortune, but the tradesman declared that that should only go to his successor in business, and Reid must enter his employ, work his way upward, and finally enter into partnership with him. This arrangement was revolting to the pride of the Westcourts, but was finally entered upon, and a, few years after the formation of the partnership, the grandfather died, and the name of Westcourt stood alone over the door.

The two scions of the house of West-court, therefore, had moved in totally different spheres. The elder, Reginald, being a gentleman of fortune, with a refined taste and a highly cultivated intellect, married a lady of considerable wealth, and moved in the society to which his birth and connections entitled him. The younger, Keid, with few ideas beyond business and pecuniary gains, married the daughter of a military officer, who brought him a moderate dowry, and he .clung to his mercantile pursuits.

In consequence of their different modes of life, few people suspected the relationship between the aristocratic Reginald Westcourt and the busy city merchant. The married life of Reginald had been supremely happy, unmarred by a single shadow, until the death of his wife a few years before the opening of our story. He had soon after departed for the Continent, hoping to forget his grief in the excitement of travel, and he placed his only child, a son, in the care of his brother until Ins return. A year previous to the events now to be chronicled, Reid Westcourt had received intelligence of the death of his brother in the East, and his brother's fortune had therefore devolved upon his son Reginald. ]\lr. Reid Westcourt ate Ins breakfast very leisurely considering the haste he had so lately evinced to depart for his place of business ; and his impatient look gradually gave way to one of thoughtfulness. Noticing this change of expression, his wife soon remarked :

" You know, Reid, that I never should have married you had it not been for your aristocratic connections. I never desired to become a tradesman's wife, and you always led me to think you would give up business at an early day. Why not give it up now ? Why not buy a house in Belgravia, and move in the society to which your family were accustomed ? You must bo very rich —richer even than your brother was." Mr. Westcourfc moved uneasily, and inswered : You don't understand business, Isabella. I am not rich — "

" Nob rich, when your grandfather made a fortune in trade, and left every penny to you ? Is ob rich— do you mean 2"

"I mean," replied the merchant, " that I have speculated largely, plunged myself into difficulties, lost large sums by the failures of debtors, and while the world esteems me so prosperous, I am on the brink of ruin." He -poke with a sort of desperation, and as though he experienced relief in being able to peak to someone about his financial embarrassments, and not with an expectation of receiving comfort and counsel. If he had expected them he would have been doomed to disappointment, for Mrs. Vt'estcourt gazed at him a moment as if incredulous, and then said, sharply : "How can you utter such a stupid jest, Reid ?"

" Jest! Would to heaven it were a jest!" Bxclaimed her husband. "It is only too true. lam near bankruptcy." But you have not seemed anxious or troubled— have eaten as much as usual, md slept—" " Would you have had me starve myself ?" interrupted Mr. Westcourb. The question proved puzzling to the lady, who began to believe her husband's assertions, and she exclaimed, with a burst of tears;

" Then we are actually poor ! You •will be put in the Gazette. Oh, why did I marry a tradesman ? A bankrupt's wife ! What will people say ? What will become of poor little Oriana?"

" Hush, Isabella I" said the merchant, in a low tone. " You don't want the sorvants to hear you." " It makes no difference," responded Mrs. Westcourt, lowering her voice. " Everybody knows it, I suppose." • "No one knows ib bub you," was the reply. "Even my clerks and manager suspect nothing. So much for being the head of my own establishment. I have told you of "my difficulties, Isabella, not because I intend to fail, but to show you that I cannot retire from trade just yet." " But how can you go on ? How can you pay your debts, or meet your bills? Will my little fortune save you?", " Your little fortune was long ago swallowed up," answered Air. Westcourt. "If eyou remember, Isabella, I bought this house with it."

" Ah, yes. At least this house will remain to us !" said the wife, with a sii;h of relief that a roof would remain to shelter her. " At the worst we can sell it, and go upon the Continent to live. But oh ! poor Oriana. Can't you borrow something somewhere, Reid? "Can't you get some money of my father?"

" How can I ? He is simply a captain on half-pay, with barely enough money for his own support. You have no rich relatives, my dear." " But you, Reid—couldn't you apply to some of your own connections ?" " I have none to apply to. If Reginald were alive he would willingly assist me, but my father and mother are dead, and the few relatives who remain to me turn the cold shoulder upon me because I'am a tradesman. No, Isabella, in regard to relatives, I am as poor as yourself." "Bub, Reid," persisted Mrs. 'Wcstcourt, " I have heard of money-lenders, and such people might help you. If not, why not borrow of some of your business friends ?" "In the first place, I have patronised money-lenders as much as I can without plunging myself into immediate ruin. In the second place, to endeavour to borrow money of my ' business friends' would be to simply advertise the fact of my pecuniary embarrassments, and pull my house down over my head with my own hands. My ' business friends' would instantly take the alarm ami send in their bills for payment." " I don't understand why you should fail," said his wife, with renewed tears. " Why should you speculate in such a way as to threaten us with poverty ? Oh ! I wish I'd never married. 1 can never endure the disgrace that will come. And to have our furniture and things sold for a bare pittance to live on ! I shall die—l know I shall '."

Mr. Westcourt listened to his wife's complaints in silence, and finally said : "I don't intend to fail, Isabella."

" But how can you go on ?" The merchant arose from his seat, approached his wife, who hud also arisen, and said, in a confidential tono : "My nephew, Reginald, will have, on coming; of age, seventy thousand pounds in available funds and freehold estates."'

The lady assented. "My brother left that sum of seventy thousand pounds to his son, counting the settlements of the lad's mother. In his will he declared that if the boy died before attaining his majority, I should inherit the whole. In fact, lamto be the boy's heir."

" But, Reid, surely you do nob contemplate—" " I contemplate nothing. I wish merely to discuss with you the situation of affairs. You know that I am his guardian, and hold all his property in trust for him. Now, I can use enough of his fortune to disembarrass myself, and can repay it at my leisure. That will be but borrowing, you know." "True, and ot your own nephew, too. Shall you speak to the boy about it ?" " Certainly not. By the way, Isabella, he looks sickly, I think. What did the doctor say about him lately ?" " He said he must have great care or he might die, he is so frail. He says "his tutor must be dismissed, that his books must be laid aside, and that he must have a little gentle exercise every day. He wants him to have a pony, and says we mustn't think of sending him to school. It's a disappointment to me that he is so delicate. The doctor says that he has grown too fast and studied too hard. I had hoped he would have grown up to be as handsome as his father was, and then marry our Oriana. It would keep his fortune in the family." " I have had such plans myself," responded the merchant. " But it's by no means certain that he would choose to marry Oriana. At present he seems to dislike her. If Reginald's fortune were mine, I would soon give up trade, and, with half his fortune as a dowry, our daughter might make a brilliant marriage." "True," remarked .Mrs. Westcourt, her maternal vanity flattered. "But these sickly people, you know, Reid, often outlive healthy ones ; and very likely as the boy grows older, he may have us strong a constitution as his father's."

" But he doesn't look to rac as if lie would ever grow up," said the husband, in a peculiarly significant tone. "As the doctor says, he studies too much, and doesn't take enough exercise. Have you ever told anyone of the amount of his fortune?" "No. You know you told me nob to mention it."

"Very good. ]\o\v, in order to give the lad exercise, I am going to put him into my house of business. He'll have enough exercise there."

"But, Reid, you know the doctor says the boy must have the tenderest care. It will kill the child."

" A fig for the doctor's opinion." " But—but what will people say " What can they say of his own uncle? No one knows the extent of his fortune or if he has anything, thanks to his father's carelessness about mentioning such tilings, as well as to our own reticence. The boy's mother was an orphan, so there are no relatives to interfere. Should anyone speak to either of us upon the subject, it will be easy for us to say that a part of his fortune was invested in foreign stocks, which were worth nothing, and that the rest was invested in Howell's Hank, which failed a few months ago. Howell absconded, you know, so no one can contradict us. And who would venture to doubt the word of the rich silk merchant?"

" No one." " Very good. The lad shall go into the counting-house to-day. He shall sleep there at night as a sort of a guard or watchman, and can get his meals at an eating-house near. In fact, Isabella, he leaves our house to-day for ever. You will not see him again." Mrs. Westcourt ventured to make a few feeble remonstrances to her husband's plan, but her objections were soon over-ruled, Her husband pictured to her the advantages to be derived from it in such a way as to show that his, own mind was quite made up on the subject. " He will soon die then," the lady whispered, after a brief silence. "Very likely," returned her husband, with some agitation ; " and," clutching her wrist, " if he does die before coming ol age, I shall be able to gratify your desires for a fine house and grand society." "And shall we tell people that he has gone into your business house?" "Certainly. They would applaud my conduct in taking a supposed penniless boy into my establishment and giving him a chance to rise. They would say that I was doing by him what my grandfather Reid did by me. - Yes, we will state frankly, Isabella, that I have taken the boy into my business. Let people think that I am doing a father's part by the lad." He stroked his chin complacently. " After all, such a course would only accelerate his death," said Mrs. Westcourt, musingly. "I am sure people do much worse things every day. If we could only look behind the scenes, I dare say our friends are not half so good as we are. Yes, Reid, we will carry out our plan. It is impossible for us to become poor, and, as you suggested, the boy does not like Oriana, and might never want to marry her if he grew up. The childish likes and dislikes are sure to grow stronger in manhood and womanhood. For our own sakes, for Oriana's sake, we will do this thing. But, Reid, I apprehend that you will experience great trouble in forcing Reginald into the business. He has uncommon strength of will and character, although he is as innocent of the world as a baby, and he may objct to your plans." " Let him object, then." " You know, Reid," resumed Mrs. Westcourt, " that although we have been careful to keep Reginald in ignorance of the fact of his wealth, we have petted and indulged him even more than our own child. Oriana has always been taught to give way to him, and to endeavour to win his love. I was ! always planning their eventual marriage,

you know. Our treatment never spoiled the lad, but I fear that ha will not do as you wish now." "He will not dare dispute my will," declared the merchant. " I will send for him."

Ho touched the bell, and ordered " Master Reginald" to be sent to the breakfast-room. Heathen replenished the fire and resumed his seat. A few minutes passed, and a boy entered the room. He was Reginald Westcourfc, the nephew of the silk merchant. He was about fourteen years of age, slight in frame, yet tall for his years, and a very noble-looking fellow. His forehead was broad and high, and shaded by tawny hair flung carelessly back ; his eyes were large and fearless, and his countenance was at once bold and winning. " You sent for me, uncle," ho said, respectfully, after greeting his relatives with a bow.

" I did. What is that you have in your hand ?"

"A book, sir," was the reply. "I was reading when I received your message." " A hook, eh ? What book ?" " ' The Arabian Nights,' sir." *' Lay it down. Reading isn't good for you, my lad. You need exercise, and plenty of it. Your mode of life must be changed." "Oh, uncle, are you going to get me a pony ?" cried the boy. " The doctor said I should have one."

" I am to be your doctor now ?" replied Mr. Westcourfc, grimly, as lie arose and confronted the boy. " You have no need of a pony. Why, at your age 1 could keep my grandfather's books. It's quite time you were doing something for yourself, Reginald. You know, of course, that you are poor ?" " Oh, no, I am not," responded the boy, fearlessly. "My father had a fortune, and left it to me —his only son. : ' " Who's been tolling you such stuff as this ?"

" Why, I know it!" was tho reply. "My father told me so once, when I was a very little fellow, that I would inherit all ho owned !'

" But he lost all his fortune, my lad," said the merchant in affected pity. " You have not a penny of your own." The boy turned pale, looked from one to the other of his relatives, and then said :

" Are you sure?" "Of course. You are dependent upon my bounty, Reginald !" The boy drew himself up proudly, and said, with a quiver of his lips : " Then I will be so no longer !"'

The merchant smiled, us he asked

'■ What can you do by yourself ? Nothing. Bub 1 do not forget, ray lad, that 1 am your uncle, and I shall do by you us my grandfather did by me—take you into my business house. You will have to work there, very hard, it is true, but you will receive good pay considering your years and services." "I don't like trade," said Reginald, a shadow resting on his face. "My father wanted me to study and read, and learn how to use his wealth to the best advantage for myself and others." li But you have no fortune," declared the merchant.

" I hope, Reginald, you don't affect to despise your uncle'-* business," remarked Mr?. Westcourt. " You ought to be thankful for ins generosity to you !"' The lad was thoughtful a moment, and it was evident that the idea of entering his uncle's business house was plainly repugnant to him: He made a vigorous effort to conquer the feeling, however, and said quietly : "If I am poor, uncle, I will accept your offer. I shall at least be independent." The merchant thought it best not to notice his nephew's doubts in regard to his statement about his penniless condition, and replied : " I am glad to see that you desire to be independent, my lad. You will sleep over the counting-house, and live in the city entirely. You will get your meals at a restaurant, and will lead, altogether, a thorough business life." "And the pay?" asked the boy, whose keen gaze had been attentively lixed upon his uncle's countenance.

" Oh, the pay ? Well, Reginald, according to ordinary usages, you would have to pay me a handsome premium, but, being my nephew, I waive that and shall pay you a salary. You will receive Imlf-a-crown a day, and out of that you must purchase your own food. I will continue to supply you with clothing suitable for my nephew." "Will half-a-crown a day buy the port wine and nourishing meats the doctor ordered me to have?'' asked Reginald.

" I will buy you all you need,"' was the sharp reply. " Half a crown a clay is handsome pay for a boy of your age and inexperience. Vour dinner will be eighteenpence, and then you will have a shilling to divide between breakfast and supper. Perhaps you can lay up something out of it, and so learn business habits."

The boy's proud lips curled but he made no response.

You must begin your now career today," continued -Sir. Wcstcourt. You will not have time to visit hereafter, and must bid your aunt and cousin adieu for good. It may be a long time before you see them again. Now go up and pack your box, so that it can be sent to the office this evening. Then bid the family goodbye, wrap up '.veil, and take the omnibus for the city. You will find me there when you arrive. You may go."

Reginald bowed rind turned and left the room.

" Tlio boy has too much spirit, Isabella," observed the merchant, when they fount! themselves alone. "It must be broken! Did you notice with what a haughty air he departed ? I fancy he does not half believe what I Paid about his poverty. Well, his doubts will soon be set at rest, as well us his spirit, in a quietness that cannot be broken. See that he comes to the city within an hour, Isabella, and take hope for the future."

The merchant arose, and after a few additional remarks, left the dwelling, proceeding to his place of business.

CHAPTER 11.

Reginald's suspicions : the lost purse :

A FACE AT THE WINDOW.

"Oil, be of comfort! Make patience .1 noble fortitude, Anil think not how unkindly v.e are used !" Webster. On leaving the breakfast-room, Reginald hastened upstairs to a pretty room on the second floor and flung himself upon a couch, giving way to a wild burst of weeping. He had been taunted with his dependence upon his uncle's bounty, and his proud, boyish heart was wounded to the core. The sudden change, too, in the manner of his relatives cub him deeply. Ever since he had been placed in their charge by his father he had been treated by them with the utmost consideration and kindness.

Nothing had been deemed good enough for him, and his every desire had been gratified, almost before expression. This course had been adopted by his uncle and aunt in order to strengthen their influence over him, and with a view to his ultimate marriage with their daughter. Of course, the cause of their kindness had never been made known to the boy, but he keenly felt its withdrawal. ». t The room he had entered was evidently his own, and it showed plainly the position he had occupied in the family. It was a large, square chamber, with an alcove for a bed, and was furnished with a velvet carpet, rosewood and damask furniture, a lounge or two, and a bookcase., filled with books of adventure, boys' stories, fairy tales, with volumes of history, biography, and poetry. The books all showed service. The walls were hung with pictures, bits of landscapes, heads of animals, children at play, a child blowing soap bubbles, etc. To give an air of substantial comfort to the apartment, a bright fire flamed in the grate, tempering the air to summor heat.

It was from such a home as this that the delicate lad was to be removed to a house of business.

lb is scarcely to be wondered at that his relatives expected the change would prove fatal to him.

While the boy's grief was at its height, the door softly opened, and a little curly head was thrust into the room.

"Are you here, Regie?" asked a sweet voice.

Reginald's sobs prevented him from hearing the question. After a moment's waiting for a reply, the owner of the voice and curly head entered the chamber, and paused a moment, gazing in surprise at the occupant of the couch. The newcomer was a girl of about nine —one of those lovely children, rarely seen out of pictures. Her complexion was delicately fair and quite transparent. Her eyes looked like wells of light shining

through darkness. Her lips were of a cherry hue, and her teeth were white, tiny, and regular. Her hair covered her head with tiny curia, which gave her an infantile appearance. She was short in stature and exquisitely slender, and her movements were full of girlish grace. Her name was Willa Heath. Her mother had been the favourite schoolfriend of Mrs. Reid Weatcourb, had married, lost her husband and wealth together, and dying soon afterward, had bequeathed her daughter as a sacred legacy to the merchant's wife. The penniless little Willa had been received into the merchant's family as a companion to his daughter, and for some time she had served as a sort of slave to the caprices of Miss Ot-iana. She - had found, however, an earnest friend and champion in Reginald, whose chivalrous instincts were aroused in her behalf, and the boy and girl were never so happy as when reading together, or planning their future when both should be grown up. They were in the habit of sitting hours together bofore the bright fire in Reginald's room, much to the envy and jealousy of the boy's cousin, who was generally excluded. Willa had, of course, noticed the deference with which the lad had always been treated by his relatives, and she had grown to regard him as a superior being, quite above the annoyances and griefs that beset her childish lot. Her astonishment was therefore groat on witnessing his emotion.

She hesitated, with natural delicacy, whether to retreat from the room, or make her presence known. Her love for the lad, which was the great sentiment of her existence, prompted her to the latter course, and she advanced to his side, flung her arms around his neck, and laying her little cheek to his own flushed, tear-wet faco, exclaimed : " Oh, what is the matter, Regie ? Are you sick ?" The boy started as he felt her embrace, and sobbed out:

"Oh, Willa ! I am so miserable !" " Why, what is fche matter, Regie Can't you have a pony 1" The lad almost smiled at the simplicity of the question. A pony seemed of very small consequence at that moment. " Oh, it isn't that, Willa," he exclaimed, with renewed grief. " But I must leave you. I shall not see you again for a long while—uncle said so. You will forgot me—"

"Why, where are you going?" asked Willa, opening her eyes to their widest extent. " What makes you go, Kegie? Is your uncle going to send you to school ?" " No, he is going to put me into his house of business. I'm to be a tradesman, when he knows I hate buying and selling, and all that."

"I wouldn't go, Regie, if I were you. Why don't you tell him that you dou't like it, and you must stay at home ?" "It would do no good. He is hard and stein this morning. I never saw him so before. Now, I must go, Willa, and I shall not often see you." " Oh, yes, you will. You'll come home every night with your uncle —" "No, Willa," interrupted the boy. "I am to eat and sleep in the city. I am to leave this house for ever."

"Then I'll come arid see you, "was the reply. " You'll always love me as you do now, won't you, Regie ?" The boy replied by clasping her in his arms, and covering her face with kisses. " I shall always love you more than anyone else in the world," he said. " But you are so small—you will forget me." " If I am small, my memory is big," replied Willa, earnestly. "I shall never, never forget you, Regie. I have nobody in the world but you. Your uncle never notices me, or speaks to me; your aunt doesn't love me or say much to me, only to bid me do as Oriana says. And Oriana isn't kind to me. You are my only friend, dear, dear Regie. Oh, I can't have you go." The tears she had striven bravely to repress burst forth, and Reginald endeavoured to sootho her.

" We shall nob part for ever, Willa," he declared. " I shall come back some day, and take you away from this house. Will you go and live with me when you are older ?"

The girl assented. " And will you be ray little wife, Willa ? And I will give you a nice house and take care of you, and we'll never be separated." Willa expressed her joy at this arrangement. " My uncle says that I am poor," continued the hid ; " but I know better. I have money, and he wants to keep it. If I were poor, why didn't he give mo a cold back room at the top of the house like yours ?" He spoke with kindling eyes, and a stern, resolute manner that seemed far beyond his years. (To be continued.]