6 her off on a visit to her aunt at Dieppe. If said, 'Don't touch that! You shall not she-but not he could have been drop- touch that! Nobody shall look at that ped in the Channel by the way, it would while I am alive!' I wondered if she were have saved some trouble to the whole fami- a female Bluebeard, and if the desk held ly, for she is a most tiresome and perverse the mouldering bones of her six victims. girl. And though I have pretty well Then it seems that the property is, after all, allowed her her own way (as the simplest not Mr. Campion's, but his brother's; and safest course), she is rather worse than though the brother appears really to have better for the advantages she has had. But parted with his claims beyond the power of I cannot thank her sufficiently for provoking reasonably re-asserting them. I have seen her papa to put her out of the way for him once. He is a very silent, unhappya time. It has given me opportunities looking man, and fully bears out, in himself, which I have improved and last Thursday the air of mystery which apparently en-only last Thursday, I got as decided an wraps the Campion family. To crown all, offer as a man with a wife yet living could he is married, and his wife is nobody possibly make me. I was suggesting that, seems to know where. He is Mr. Herbert my pupil being away from home, it might Campion. My patron,' as you know, is be no longer suitable for me to remain at Mr. Gerald Campion. Mrs. Gerald is the Hall. Then Mr. Campion fidgetted in thought to be failing fast. Moreover, any his usual way, and asked me if I objected to great shock might make an end of her remain. I told him that, with Deverington at once. It is quite pitiable to hear of her and its people my happiest recollections changes backward and forward, from his would ever be commingled. (And it was lips: My poor wife appears to feel the heat no great falsehood, for my life has been but a great deal.' This fine summer weather a sorry affair.) Then my patron' went appears to benefit my poor wife.' It would on If, indeed, it be so, Miss Varnish, be stupid to blame him because he has why cut yourself off from such associations thought of a successor to her already. so soon? The highest acknowledgment What with her illness and her whims (if, which a gentleman can make to a lady shall indeed, they are not something worse) she be laid at your feet, if you will a little long- has left him virtually a widower for three or er brighten my gloomy house!' I believe four years at least. She is just a corpse, you are aware what that means. I have only not so still. told you more than once of Mrs. Campion's failing health, and queer ways;-how she runs away, at the sight of company, like a mouse before a cat; and the knowledge of this discourages company from coming at all. (It will be different by and by.) But this woman does perplex me not a little. She is not insane, and, as I am told, it is not so many years since she was as lively and as full of conversation as any lady in all the county. If she is not insane, what is she? My dear Murphy, you would oblige me, and (very likely) benefit yourself, if (as you know so many persons everywhere) you could tell me if anything queer is known or rumoured as to the Campion family. Looking forward as I do to entering that family myself, it greatly concerns me to know. And I will tell you my reasons for thinking that, somewhere or other, there is a very awkward family secret. One day, not very long ago, I was upstairs in Mrs. Campion's room (by the way, she hates me, and sees no more of me than she can avoid), and I was looking for a sheet of note-paper to write at her request. I happened to put my hand on a drawer in a standing desk. She almost screamed out to me to let it alone. She "Remember what I ask you, dear Murphy, and at the same time, do not keep this letter. How glad I shall be to find myself in so comfortable a refuge at last! Our mutual friend, Miss Kelfinch, told me (you know when), that, though she could not retain me in her school, she would recommend me to somebody else. She did not know then of what a brilliant success she was laying the foundation-stone. I fear she would not have done as much if she had but known all. Yet all this family mystery fills me with a strange uneasiness. However, you will tell me anything you may hear. Write to me soon again. "Yours always, "EMMA VARNISH." M'Quantigan complied with the request embodied in this letter, and destroyed it when he had twice or thrice read it. Then he remembered that he had got a letter to write himself. It took him but a very few moments to scribble it off. It was written, as you will be prepared to hear, to Miss Roberts, Llynbwllyn Rectory, and it contained only these words: "The Victoria Hotel, Leamington, 10th, Sept., 1856. "Your doting father, In spite of his inability to obtain any money from his lady-friend at Deverington, the Irishman was pretty well off just now. Even suppose his daughter Eva sent him nothing, there was Mrs. Ferrier, now surely available for any requirements. So, at the Leamington Hotel, and living on its best, he continued, and meant to continue. Friday, or Saturday, would probably bring from Eva the loving and dutiful epistle which, at Mrs. Ferrier's desire, he had written to demand from her. And, with such a reply in his hand, he could boldly re-enter the widow lady's presence, and, by thankfully accepting her proffered hand, secure himself an easy and merry life as long as his days should be upon earth. CHAPTER XIV. Eva was the child of Mrs. Campion, and the "Yes, indeed. The more we learn about it, the less we seem to know. But, Mr. Dykhart, you (I understand you to say) had some acquaintance with the Campion family in years gone by. Now, I was not without hope that you might know something in their history, something in their circumstances, which would give us a clue to their strange proceedings. But you appear as little able to account for their proceedings as I am. I do not regard it as so strange a thing, - Mrs. Campion's attempt (which she seems to have made) to impose a foundling on the world, for her own child. Such things have been done, and sufficient motives for such an act may readily offer themselves. But that their true and genuine offspring should be cast out into the world that is the mystery. Could it be all the work of some one else, --taking advantage of the serious breach between the child's parents, and desirous, from purposes of his own, to get her out of the way? And this brings me round to the question, Are you acquainted with any family matters of the Campions which would make such a matter at all a likely thing?" "I certainly cannot pretend to any such knowledge. Not that my ignorance argues the absence of all such circumstances; for my acquaintance was almost entirely with Mrs. Campion's family, with the Somer OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES. MR. DYKHART and Mr. Ballow were in consultation together, in a private room at the "Golden Cross." It was, we may re-bys." peat, the 29th of August: and the subject of the Welsh estates had been for a time laid aside, in favour of a matter at once more interesting, and more perplexing, and that matter was- the true and rightful parentage of Eva. The narrative confided by Mrs. Ferrier into Mr. Ballow's hands, had been thoroughly and carefully perused by Mr. Dykhart; and he and our Minchley friend were met together, to bring the whole stock of their joint knowledge to bear on the family mystery. Mr. Ballow asked the vicar, if the written narrative, just read by him, confirmed him in his previous opinion. "Most assuredly," Mr. Dykhart answered; "my opinion was that our young friend "You knew Mrs. Campion in her early life? and you formed a high opinion of her?" "A most high opinion. It was a greater sorrow to me than I can well describe, when my friend Leyburn, only the other day, told me that scandal had fed itself upon her name. I could not believe it then, and I am even less inclined to credit it now. But I never knew Mr. Campion. I used, at one time, to hear a good deal of the late Mr. Campion, his father." "Indeed? Perhaps it might be worth while to recall what you heard of him. You know, that he was alive several years after the marriage of his son to Miss Somerby." "Of course he was. I used to hear about man, -- him through Lord Horticult's family. They "Mr. Ballow, I own how reasonable your had a place in Somersetshire - Mould questions are. I am going to make a sorry House, it was called-and Somersetshire, return on my side, for I am going to repeat you know, is Mr. Campion's county. What my convictions, while offering no proof of I heard of old Mr. Campion was nothing what I say. I am about to give nothing very good, and nothing definitely bad. He but my word for what it would be much was talked of as being far from an amiable more just to give actual evidence. I have very wayward in his likes and dis-seen Mrs. Campion within the last few days. likes, and ready to do very absurd things To tell you where I found her would be to rather than refrain from gratifying them. break my solemn promise to herself; thereHe had something of that character which, fore, I can but assure you that I am still in more lawless times, might have made him more certain than ever, were that even posone of those eccentric tyrants whose evil sible, that the reproach which has attached memory survives them in strange and dark to her name, however plausible, is altogether legends. But living, as he did, in our own undeserved. Some cause of complaint, she day, I never heard of his going beyond freely acknowledges, her husband had those petty worries which a capricious man against her, but none so disgraceful as may inflict on those about him. I see no that." way of coupling him with the affair. Not but what a better knowledge of the family might have caused me to think very differently." "I should say it is as well to note down all the information we can heap together. Some future discovery may give it an unknown value. But you were just now speaking of scandal as having attached itself to Mrs. Campion, whom you once knew and esteemed as Miss Somerby. I know how greatly you desire, as I do, that we should come to a right understanding of all these strange things; or I should never say what I am now going to say. But do you think it quite impossible that such unhappy rumours may have had some foundation in fact?" "I do feel entirely sure that they are utterly unfounded." "Perhaps I am wrong to press the question any further; but, nevertheless, Mr. Dykhart, it may have occurred to you how much, in case they were true reports, is fully accounted for. Mr. Campion's repudiation of Eva, his wife's child; his separation from Mrs. Campion; the seclusion in which he has lived ever since." "Yes, I acknowledge all that, Mr. Ballow, and I should not blame any one who, judging from these circumstances only, took the most unfavourable view of Mrs. Campion's character. I speak from some personal knowledge of her, and circumstantial evidence does not weigh with me so much as that." "Pardon me just once again, but your knowledge of the lady was when she was very young, you say. Do you feel so sure that she might not be greatly and fearfully changed in after years? Is it quite safe to argue that she would always continue as pure-minded as you once knew her?" "But is it not a pity that she would not say what it really was? For I conclude she did not tell you." No, she did not; and at that time, not anticipating how soon I should meet her daughter (whom she supposes to be with Mr. Campion), I did not trouble myself so much about the question. I am not without hope that she will, in time, confide in me more fully. But I should destroy all chance of that if I were too urgent with such inquiries. You will gather from this that I have the means of seeing her frequently. That is the case. But our meeting was, so to speak, quite accidental at first. I have had only two interviews with her as yet. At the latter of them I persuaded her to something which may prove of some assistance to us. I think you understand that, as she believes, the child remained with her father, or, in one way or another, under the father's care. So she told me. And, at that time, I had no proof that, in this belief, she was at all mistaken; although the Leyburns understood that she had taken the child. But now, having seen Miss March, as she is called, and having become convinced that she is the child, although brought up by neither her father nor her mother, one thing which Mrs. Campion told me occurred to my recollection very forcibly. She said that not long after the dreadful separation from her husband and her daughter she wrote to beg that, if deemed unworthy to educate the child, she might be permitted occasionally to see her. Her husband wrote a refusal of her request in terms which (she declared) were somewhat perplexing to her. All that his reply made clear was, that her petition was to remain ungranted. Now, she has permitted me to take a copy of that letter. And before I offer any comment upon it, you shall read it, and consider for yourself what interpretation should be placed upon it. Here it is." And Mr. Dykhart drew forth the copy which, not many days before he had taken of Mr. Campion's seemingly cruel letter. Mr. Ballow read accordingly : -- "14th June, 1842. "ADELA, I do not find fault with your desire of seeing that unfortunate child, whom your deceitful dealing has placed in so cruel a position. I think it rather commendable in you that your feelings towards her are not entirely selfish. And the thought that the excellence which I once believed your's was not counterfeit altogether will be of some comfort to me, in the future of sorrow and mourning which now too surely lies before me. Nevertheless, I would ask you to consider for your self, whether it would not be a foolish and selfish thing to persevere in the wish you have expressed. Is it not for the happiness of that poor child, that she should forget, speedily and utterly, the parent whom she must know no more? Let me, however, assure you, that she will not want parental care. Forsaken, and worse than forsaken, as she has been, the Lord has taken her up. She has gained a father, while (so to speak) she has twice lost a mother. Rest in my assurance that I would in no wise inflict on the innocent the suffering only due to the guilty. The child is committed to safe keeping. 66 And, now, Adela, let me say that I think it better for us to keep entirely asunder. We could not be happy together. I know that the honour of my name is safe in your hands. Yet I would that we both could hide ourselves (and the unhappy cause of our parting) from the knowledge and comment of the world. I was mistaken in you, and feel as though I could never trust again. We must meet no more in this life. But it may not be forbidden us to meet again in the life hereafter. "Your unhappy, but always loving husband, "HERBERT CAMPION." 66 Thus ran the letter which Mr. Ballow now read, as hastily copied by Mr. Dykhart. "I may just observe," said the latter gentleman, that though I wrote this off rather quickly, yet I made no mistake in the transcribing. I was careful as to each word. And now let me ask what you think of it?" "Why, coupling it with what we know from other sources, I cannot doubt what it was which the writer intended to express. He- that is, Mr. Campion-writes under the idea that the plan of imposing upon him the child of Mrs. Roberts as his own had been actually carried out. His allusion to the friend unexpectedly raised up for the child is meant for Mr. Ferrier. I cannot doubt if I ever doubted very much. that the gentleman, of name unknown, who called to inquire as to the child, was Mr. Campion himself." - "Certainly! it must have been he. But then, how came he to be so fearfully mistaken? If Mrs. Campion was really privy to that abortive attempt in Scarlington House-and it is with the greatest difficulty I can bring myself to believe her guilty of so much as that it must be that her husband thought-thinks still, most likelythat the child was really palmed off upon himself and the world as his own. Hence his unforgiving anger; hence all the misery to which he has doomed both his wife and himself. And hence it is that our youthful friend, as far as her rightful position is concerned, has been made a disowned outcast." "So I should say. Yet how came it to pass that Mr. Campion was so readily and so thoroughly convinced of his wife's treachery? If she had in some degree acted wrongly, she had all the greater motive for not allowing him to think her more blameable than she was in truth. How can we account for such monstrous apathy?" In no way, from what we now know; except, indeed, that - as she tells me herself- Mrs. Campion lost her reason for a time, after the discovery and rupture with her husband. But that very fact only shows that she had cause for all the horror with which it appears to have afflicted her. I think, with you, that some evil agency was at work elsewhere. If we could get hold of Mr. Campion, or if Mrs. Campion could nerve herself to give us full particulars of the affair, as known to her, our doubts might all be cleared away." "Is there no hope of these things?" "I have great hope very great hope that Mrs. Campion will confide in me more fully by-and-bye. To press her too hastily would very greatly retard our chances of success; and as to Mr. Campion, I understand that he purposes returning to England in the beginning or middle of October. He is said to be travelling in North America now. I am informed that he will almost certainly stop a few days in London, and I know at which hotel he is accustomed to stay. Now, if it be within the powers of contrivance, I should say that we must see him when he comes. We must both wait great deal pleasanter if Eva could live away from Minchley. But I do not see how it is very well to be done. Now that we feel so certain that she is a real lady by birth and parentage, it would scarcely answer for her to be living with good Mrs. Check. " upon him, and, if we can, before any one | been a good deal of gossip about Eva, and else obtains speech of him. We do not all this series of discovery and counterknow who may be watching to thwart us discovery; and, for a time, it would be a even now. Will you endeavour to contrive this meeting with him? We must come with all our documents ready to lay before him; and we must not allow him, angry and impatient as he will very likely be, to turn us out until he has heard every word we think proper to say to him. Are you of the same opinion with myself?" "Entirely so; and I will do my utmost to carry out the plan you I think, most wisely-propose. But, as it must be sev eral weeks before we can see Mr. Campion, is there nothing to be done in the meantime? Is there no possible way of ascertaining whose contrivance has wrought all this error and mischief?" "I do not see my way to that just now. The person most interested in making Mr. Campion appear childless is his brother Gerald. But he bears a name which should exempt him from suspicion, and we are not driven as of course to believe him guilty. We do not know into whose hands his brother may have fallen, or whose interest it may have been to detach him from his lawful family ties. You have looked into the Register, at Fulham, for the name of Mrs. Campion's child?" 66 Yes; and I find that on the 14th of April, 1839, Teresa, the daughter of Her bert and Adela Campion, was baptised in due form. I also find her name in the Registry of Births as of one born in Fulham, on the 14th of March in that same year. "Then our young friend is only in her eighteenth year?" So it would seem. She looks so much older that if the evidence of her identity were less strong, I confess I should entertain some doubt. But I do not see that the thing is incredible, as it is." "Nor. indeed, do I. And now I recollect that her aunt Julia, to whom she bears so marvellous a resemblance, was thought very forward in appearance for her age. By the way, does Miss March had better continue to call her so, for the present- does she go back with you to Minchley?" 66 we Why, yes; I do not see what other plan we can pursue. But, for one or two reasons. I really wish we could hit on some other." "Indeed! Will it be rude in me if I ask why?" "I am only too glad to have such questions to answer. Why as it will scarcely surprise you to hear, of course there has FOURTH SERIES. LIVING AGE. VOL. V. 66 No, to be sure not. My wife and I would gladly entertain her for any length of time; but Mrs. Dykhart's health hardly admits of our having visitors, and the Leyburns, I know, are going from home for several weeks. I was going to propose a plan of my own. I have an old aunt, of the name of Torring, living at Chelford, only a few miles from Deverington Hall, the seat of the Campions, you know. When I went to see her, about a month ago or more, she was wishing she could find some nice young lady to live with her as a companion. Now my aunt is a rather eccentric old lady; but I can answer for it that she would treat any young person living with her in such a capacity as her equal altogether. Now, if Miss March herself approved of this plan, should you object to her taking up her abode with my aunt for a time? It might procure her an entrance into the very society in which, if her rightful claims are ultimately made clear, it will be her place to move. Moreover, we do not know how much it might not assist in smoothing the way towards the discovery we both so much desire." "True, I see much to commend the plan. If Eva likes the idea herself, I have no objection to offer on my side. I am not so sure that we shall get the acquiescence of Mrs. Ballow. She will think of all those terrible uncles in the story-books, who murder their nephews and nieces, as well as rob them. However, as my wife has determined that this affair must and shall arrive at a triumphant denouement, why, it would not be very consistent in her to feel seriously frightened." 66 Then, if you will consult Mrs. Ballow and Miss March, I, meantime, will write to my aunt Torring; I know that if she has suited herself it must have been very recently. Eva, uncomfortable at the idea of going back at once to curious, gossiping Minchley, caught rather eagerly at the proposal which Mr. Dykhart had made. Mrs. Ballow, when she heard of it, did certainly think it a venturesome one. However, all romances, with few exceptions, end well, and Eva's romance appeared to be going 107. |