The Mynns' Mystery

Hence it was that there was plenty of busy excitement and preparations at The Mynns one bright summer’s day about a year after the discovery. The shutters were open, windows clean, gravel paths freshened up with red sand, and all giving the place a cheery aspect, which had been long absent, when Mrs Hampton alighted with her husband from the station-fly, and the big bell clanged.

“Yes, Denton; I know they will not be here till seven, but I thought I’d come down and chat with you, and ask you if you had not forgotten any of my instructions.”

“You shall see, ma’am, if you’ll come in; and then, perhaps, you’ll like a bit of lunch; and why, if there isn’t Doctor Lawrence?”

“Ah. Denton; how do! Well, I call it pride – and after all these years.”

“Pride? What is?” said the old lawyer.

“You two trotting off in your station flies, and passing an old friend on the road without offering him a lift.”

“Why, how did you come down?”

“Same train, second-class. I’m not a first-class person. I only wanted to see that all was right for the young folks.”

Mrs Hampton bridled a little, and then smiled.

It was a pleasant social little lunch the old friends had together, the old lawyer praising the sherry highly.

“So much body in it,” he said, holding it up to the light.

“I hope not,” said the doctor drily, and Mrs Hampton looked horrified.

And so it was that there was plenty of familiar faces to welcome the happy pair, as they drove up to the gate at seven, Gertrude being kissed roundly by all, and George Harrington’s hand shaken, as pleasant allusions were made to the honeymoon.

Then there was an interruption in the shape of a peal of dog thunder, and Bruno, who had been let loose by Mrs Denton, dashed into the hall, upset the umbrella stand, knocked over a chair with one sweep of his tail, and then seemed to go mad with joy to see his young mistress and new master once more; his way of showing his affection for the former being by pawing at her and licking her gloves, and for the latter by butting at him ram-fashion, as if to show how sound the damaged head had grown.

He grew so boisterous at last that orders were given for his removal, but at the first intimation he uttered a doleful howl.

“Then lie down, Bruno! Watch!” cried George Harrington.

The result was that Bruno turned himself into a noble-looking ornament on the hall mat.

“Well, impostor,” said the old lawyer chuckling, “I suppose we must acknowledge you now?”

“Yes, and you, too, you wicked little impostress,” cried Doctor Lawrence. “Eh? What? Drink their healths? To be sure. Come, Mrs Hampton, let me fill your glass.”

“No, no – I couldn’t,” said the old lady. “Well, then, half full. God bless you both, my dears; and I wish the world was full of such impostors.”

“Amen,” said the two old men in a breath.

“Here’s old Denton,” cried Doctor Lawrence, seizing the decanter and a fresh glass. “Come, old lady: a glass of James Harrington’s port. Drink every drop to the health of the happy pair.”

The old lady slowly and tearfully drained, her glass, and then tried to kiss Gertrude’s hand, but it was hastily withdrawn, and the young wife’s lips were proffered in its place.

“Home, my darling,” said George, when at last they were alone. “There is no mystery about The Mynns now. Do you know, I was sorely pressed to sell it by a speculative builder, and I hesitated, feeling that it would be as well, for that you would have a repugnance to the place.”

“Oh, George!”

“Ah, I was right, then. My little wife has too much good sense to be set against it for that. The world is full of horrors.”

“Yes,” said Gertrude, laying her head upon his breast; “and yet it is full of joys.”

The End