II. A CONSULTATION

|About a week after the funeral, Sir Bridgnorth Charlton rode over to Brackley Hall, in fulfilment of his promise to call on Mildred

Lady Barfleur was not well enough to appear; but Emmeline and Mildred, who had been impatiently expecting his visit, received him in the drawing-room.

They were attired in deep mourning; and, though there was no personal resemblance between them, they looked like sisters.

After some inquiries respecting Lady Barfleur, and messages of condolence to her, Sir Bridgnorth looked at Mildred, who interpreted his glance correctly, and said:

“You may speak freely of Chetwynd before Miss Barfleur, Sir Bridgnorth. She takes great interest in him.”

“A very great interest,” added Emmeline. “I hope you bring us some news of him?”

“Very little,” replied Sir Bridgnorth. “And what I do bring is not satisfactory. You desire me to speak plainly about your brother, Miss Calverley?”

“Most certainly!” she replied.

“Well, then, you may remember, when I accidentally met him at Ouselcroft, I gave him a pocket-book, containing a certain sum of money?”

“I am not likely to forget your kindness,” replied Mildred.

“It appears there was rather more in the pocket-book than I thought,” pursued Sir Bridgnorth – “bank notes to the amount of three hundred pounds. I mention this, because your brother has most scrupulously repaid me the exact sum, of which he kept a memorandum.”

“He behaved like a man of honour!” cried Emmeline.

“Undoubtedly. But I did not want the money back. I want to assist him. I want him to come to me – to talk to me.”

“Will he not do so?” said Mildred.

“I fear not. I suspect he is still in difficulties.”

“If so, he must be got out of them, and you must manage it, Sir Bridgnorth,” said Mildred.

“But I can’t manage it, my dear young lady. I don’t know where to find him.”

“But he must be found!” cried Emmeline.

“Easily said; but not so easily accomplished,” rejoined Sir Bridgnorth, smiling at her vivacity. “I have used every endeavour, but can obtain no clue to him.”

“Is he in London?” asked Mildred.

“I believe so,” he replied.

“Surely then he can be discovered?” she remarked.

“I have not succeeded in discovering him, that is all I can say,” rejoined Sir Bridgnorth. “And I have really taken a great deal of trouble in the business. He has been remarkably successful in hiding himself.”

“Do not keep anything back from me, I pray you, dear Sir Bridgnorth!” said Mildred. “Is he without resources?”

“I cannot imagine so,” he replied. “He must have had some funds to enable him to repay me, unless – ” and he paused.

“Unless what?” said Mildred.

“You enjoin me to speak the truth,” replied Sir Bridgnorth; “and I will do so at the hazard of giving you and Miss Barfleur pain. My idea is that he has lost money at play. Mind, I have no proof of what I assert. It is simply conjecture.”

“I fear you are right, Sir Bridgnorth,” said Mildred, heaving a deep sigh.

“In your opinion, Sir Bridgnorth,” said Emmeline, who had listened anxiously to the discourse – “in your opinion, I say, has Chetwynd lost a considerable sum of money at play?”

“I fear so.”

“Has he paid it?”

“I fear not.”

There was a pause, during which the two young ladies regarded each other wistfully.

At length, Mildred spoke.

“Sir Bridgnorth,” she said, “Chetwynd’s debts of ‘honour’” – and she emphasised the word – “must be paid, and shall be paid, at any sacrifice, by me! You will do me the greatest kindness by finding out exactly how he is circumstanced, what he owes, and, especially, what are his debts of honour.”

Emmeline looked earnestly at Sir Bridgnorth, as if she felt equally interested in the inquiry.

Sir Bridgnorth was evidently troubled, and for some moments made no answer.

“Excuse me, my dear Miss Calverley,” he said; “if your brother is in a scrape, I think he should be allowed to get out of it – as he best can.”

“No!” exclaimed Mildred, decidedly. “It is not like me, Sir Bridgnorth, to give such advice.”

“No!” added Emmeline, equally decidedly. “He must be freed!”

“Upon my word,” said Sir Bridgnorth, surprised, “whatever may have happened to him, this young man cannot be called unfortunate.”

“Then act as a true friend to him, dear Sir Bridgnorth!” said Mildred. “Make immediate arrangements to get him out of all difficulties. You will incur no personal responsibility.”

“None whatever,” said Emmeline.

Sir Bridgnorth was much touched.

“I think you had better leave him to himself,” he said. “But, since you won’t, I must needs help you I’ll do all I can. But I cannot proceed as expeditiously as I could desire. I have reason to believe Chetwynd is living in London under a feigned name. Since all private inquiries have proved unsuccessful, I will cause some carefully-worded advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers, that may catch his eye and bring him forward. Could he be made aware that a beautiful young lady takes an interest in him, I am sure he would speedily reappear. But fear no indiscretion on my part. Nothing shall be disclosed till the proper moment arrives.” Then, addressing Mildred, he added: “As soon as I can ascertain the amount of his debts, I will let you know.”

“Pay them, dear Sir Bridgnorth – pay them!” she rejoined.

“But they may be very large?”

“Never mind; pay them!” cried Emmeline. “Mr. Carteret shall repay you.”

“No man ever had such a chance,” exclaimed Sir Bridgnorth. “If he does not reform now, he is incorrigible.”

“I have no misgivings as to the future,” said Mildred.

“Well, I sincerely trust all will come right,” observed Sir Bridgnorth. “There seems every probability of it, I must own.”

Just then Mrs. Calverley was announced.

“I must take my leave,” said Sir Bridgnorth, rising hastily. “You shall hear from me soon, or see me.”

“Let us see you, please!” said both young ladies.

Before he could depart, Mrs. Calverley entered, and stopped him.

“Ah, Sir Bridgnorth!” she exclaimed; “I’m delighted to meet you! I want to have a word with you.”

Sir Bridgnorth evidently wished to get away. But she begged him to remain for a few minutes; and he could not very well refuse.

Mrs. Calverley then went on to the young ladies. After the usual greetings had passed, she said to Mildred, “I have a letter for you; or, rather, a packet. It arrived this morning.”

Having given her the letter, she moved to a little distance.

Glancing at the superscription, Mildred turned pale.

“What is it that disturbs you?” inquired Emmeline.

“A letter from Chetwynd,” replied Mildred, in a low voice. “Come to my room, that we may read it together.”

Emmeline signified her assent by a look.

Mrs. Calverley took no notice of what was passing, though she must have perceived it.

Before leaving the room, Mildred went up to Sir Bridgnorth, and, addressing him in a low voice, said:

“You must not go, Sir Bridgnorth. I may have something important to tell you about Chetwynd.”

“In that case, I will stay as long as you please,” he rejoined.

Meanwhile Emmeline prepared to follow her friend.

“Will you mind my leaving you for a few minutes, dear Mrs. Calverley?” she said.

“Don’t stand on the slightest ceremony with me, my love,” replied the other. “Besides, I want to have a little talk with Sir Bridgnorth.”

The two young ladies then went out.

“I am now quite at your service, madam,” said Sir Bridgnorth, as soon as he and Mrs. Calverley were alone.

“Then sit down, that we may have a confidential chat,” replied the lady.

III. CHETWYND’S LETTER

In such haste were the two girls to open the packet that they almost ran up the spiral-staircase to Mildred’s bedroom, in which was a deep bay window.

In this recess they sat down.

Mildred’s hand trembled as she tore open the packet.

It contained a long, closely-written letter, inside which was a folded sheet of paper that looked like a document of some kind.

This document dropped on the table, and was not examined at the moment.

The letter was dated on the previous day, but bore no address.

Ere she had read many lines, a mist seemed to gather over Mildred’s vision. Unable to proceed, she laid the letter down.

“You terrify me,” cried Emmeline. “What has happened?”

“He meditates self-destruction,” replied Mildred. “But read the letter, dearest – I cannot.”

Mustering up all her courage, Emmeline read aloud as follows:

“This is the last letter you will ever receive from me, dearest sister, and, in bidding you an eternal farewell, I implore you to think kindly of me.

“With one exception you are the only person in the world whom I love, and my latest thoughts will be of her and you.

“You know her, and will easily guess her name, but I shall not confide it to this sheet of paper. In all respects she is superior to the artful and treacherous woman by whom I allowed myself to be deceived – superior in beauty and accomplishments, and amiable as beautiful. Had I been fortunate enough to wed her, I should have been a different man. Now it is too late, I see my folly, and comprehend my loss.”

“You see that he dearly loved you, Emmeline, for it is to you that he refers,” observed Mildred. “But proceed, I entreat you!”

“I have met with the basest ingratitude. Men who have received from me favours innumerable – hangers-on who have sponged upon me, and professed the greatest regard for me, have shrunk from me, and avoided me in my misfortunes – men who have fleeced me, who have ruined me, and driven me to desperation! My funds are almost exhausted, but they will last me out. I owe nothing, for I have paid that kind-hearted Sir Bridgnorth Charlton the exact sum he lent me. Had I not obtained it from him, I should have been called a defaulter. Fortune favoured me for the moment, for I won sufficient to discharge my debt to him. He would lend me more, I doubt not, but I will never borrow again. As to the woman who has robbed me of my inheritance, I have sworn I will accept nothing from her, and I will keep my oath. She will be responsible for her conduct before Heaven.”