Roger Kyffin's Ward

At that moment the visitors entered the room.

“Your servant, gentlemen,” said the master of Stanmore, performing one of his newly-learned bows. “To what cause am I indebted for the honour of this visit? Doctor, you are always welcome, whether you come as a visitor or professionally,” he added, holding out his hand, at the same time turning a dark frown towards his brother lawyer, who took his seat in silence.

“As you ask me, Mr Sleech,” said Dr Jessop, “I come now as a friend – as a friend of your family and that of the Everards. I wish that you could have heard the expressions uttered but lately by your excellent sister-in-law, Madam Everard. You must be aware that it was very painful to her to leave Stanmore. The law allowed you to take possession, it being supposed that no marriage had taken place between Captain Everard’s father and mother, notwithstanding the assertion of the former that he had married in France. Of course Captain Everard has taken every means to prove his legitimacy, and I must ask you now to be prepared to receive the information, that not only is he in possession of the certificate of the marriage, properly attested by the French authorities, but that actually two French persons of respectability who were present are at this moment in England, indeed at Lynderton.”

Mr Sleech gasped for breath as the doctor proceeded, turning his rolling eyeballs first at him and then at the lawyer.

“Is it true what he says? Is it true, Wallace? Tell me,” he exclaimed.

“Perfectly true, Mr Sleech,” answered the lawyer. “You have no more right to be in this house than I have; at the same time, the owners desire that you should be treated with every kindness and consideration.”

Mr Sleech rose from his seat, and appeared as if he were about to rush on his brother lawyer.

“It is false! It is a vile conspiracy! They are impostors!” he exclaimed. “I will not yield: I will die first!”

“My good sir,” exclaimed the doctor, placing himself between Mr Sleech, whose doubled fist was raised to strike Mr Wallace, “let me entreat you to becalm. This violence will do you no good, and is discreditable to you.”

The unfortunate man stopped and gasped, and had not the doctor held him up, he would have sunk to the ground. He was placed in a chair. Restoratives were administered, and at length he recovered.

“I yield,” at last he said; “I played for a high stake, and I have lost. They will have pity on me. That wretched boy of mine, his fate has well-nigh broken my heart.”

In a few days Mr Sleech and his family returned to the old red brick building with the high roof in the High Street of Lynderton, which he had inhabited since he entered business.

The bells rang merrily out when Captain Everard and his daughter, accompanied by Madam Everard and several friends, drove up the avenue once more to Stanmore. Harry Tryon, however, never became its master. The charms of Miss Coppinger had for some time before captured the heart of the gallant captain, and in a short time after this she became his bride, and, ultimately, the mother of a considerable number of fine sons and girls, of whom, notwithstanding, Mabel was not in the slightest degree jealous, as she by that time could boast of an equal number of her own. The fortune her godfather had given her, and a very handsome settlement made by Mr Kyffin, enabled her to accept Harry Tryon’s hand. At the same time, the Baron de Ruvigny consoled himself for his past disappointments by marrying Sybella Coppinger, and both he and Harry joined Mr Coppinger’s firm, and by the time a permanent peace was once more restored to Europe, had become among the first merchants of London. With regard to Captain Falwasser, or Rochard, as he also called himself, he was a true patriot, though a royalist, and had for some political cause been compelled to leave France before the outbreak of the revolution. He had been introduced to Mr Pitt, and had been employed by him in gaining information of proceedings in France. For this purpose he had engaged the famous smuggling lugger, from which he could land without observation on either coast. Disguised in a variety of ways, he had been able to traverse France. Had he been captured, he knew well that his life would have been sacrificed. For many years he persevered, and at length, escaping all dangers, settled down at Lynderton, where he was ever an honoured guest at Stanmore. Paul Gauntlett once more took up his former office at the park, which he held to a green old age; and Jacob Tuttle came home with the loss of an arm, and married his faithful Mary.