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away with the reflection that they had acted for the best.

When Rachel returned to Prior's Bank the first thing Bittersweet said was, "See here, Rachel," and offered her the supplement of The Times, pointing to the notice in the obituary of Annis's death, followed immediately by that of Sir Laurence, which in reluctant deference to Katherine's wishes, Oliver had hitherto refrained from publishing. "Cheerful, is it not?" added the old lady dryly. "The Times flies all the world over; and he may see it, alive and well in the body! What a shock for him about his little wildling! Of this, Rachel, I am persuaded— had there not come to England this story of her father's death, Annis would be above ground this day."

And Rachel in her secret heart thought so too; but it was an awful assertion to make, and it would have been a still more awful assertion to prove.

People now began to ask who was to hinder Oliver Warleigh from entering on the enjoyment of his brother's wealth and title? Annis was out of the way-out of the way! An expressive phrase-How often had he wished her out of the way before Heaven took her? asked many a cynical tongue. Rumours and fears of change began to harass tenants

and servants. Sir Laurence had been a generous landlord and an easy master, while everybody's experience of Oliver predicted the reverse. The Dobies looked for notice to quit the Hurtlemere House, and Mary Wray and her husband expected that they would either have to leave the Force Farm or to pay their rent dues like other tenants; for Sir Laurence had given them no bond to secure them in its free occupancy, and word of mouth testimony was not likely to go far with such a stickler for his rights as Oliver.

His rights! Every soul in Whinstandale devoutly prayed that he might never establish any rights over them, and waited as anxiously for young Mr. Bond's report of Sir Laurence as did any amongst his kinsfolk, at the rectory or elsewhere.

VOL. II.

21

CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

UNDER COVER OF NIGHT.

I would not have such a heart in my bosom
For the dignity of the whole body.

SHAKSPEARE.

I.

We must now return to the day when Mr. Carew's letter with the tidings of Sir Laurence's death reached Oliver Warleigh at Hastings. That night he shut himself in his study alone-no, in company with his evil thoughts, which kept muttering over and over in his heart with a deafening persistence, "Laurence is dead-Laurence is dead; and there is only that little brown brat of his Catholic wife's between me and Whinstandale. I wish she were in heaven!" A devouter

fathomed hell.

prayer than that never

By-and-by he brought out an old plan of the Penslaven and Whinstane estates, which he had

drawn when he was living at the Tower in Sir William's lifetime; he gloated over it, reckoned up the rentals and devised how he would raise them when they became his.

To him in this mood came Lady Georgiana; saw what he was doing, saw into his mind, and said, cold and scornful, "What is the profit of it, Oliver? Yours is the barren title, all else is the child's."

Then his secret thought took words and clothed itself. "Who knows?" said he. "I wish she were in heaven!" Lady Georgiana glanced round alarmed and bade him hush! And for the next five minutes they stood facing each other, but silent; and fearful as two conspirators in whose mind a bad plot is germinating.

The next morning Salter gave Lady Georgiana a pretext for discharging her; she took her wages, packed up her belongings, and departed the same evening. She was no sooner out of the house than Mrs. Lupton entered it; a fair, sleek, well-favoured woman about forty years of age-precisely the sort of woman to look at, whom mothers would feel confidence in placing about their children. She had Lady Georgiana's entire confidence. On the second day from the arrival of the letter Oliver Warleigh made a journey to Hurtledale, and returned in a week to

find everything precisely as he left it. He was not satisfied; he was very much excited-he did not like Mrs. Lupton, and wished she were out of the house. Nevertheless Mrs. Lupton stayed.

"It is not safe to make opportunities, Oliver, we must wait for them," whispered Lady Georgiana.

Oliver Warleigh betook himself to Eastbourne for quiet, but was recalled the following day by the news that the little nurse and Mortimer were ill. He loved his children and hastened home-perhaps a judgment was at hand and not a fortune! The next night as he sat brooding in his study over that plan of the estate his wife came to him again. Lupton thinks Annis also is sickening for the fever," said she peevishly.

66

"Let her sicken-I wish she were in heaven!" hissed Oliver, a grin of white-hot eagerness convulsing his face.

Lady Georgiana seated herself in front of her husband, and when he repeated his aspirations she said, "Amen,” sarcastically, but warned him to be cautious and speak low.

"Are you in jest or in earnest ?-it is almost too good news to be true," said he, trembling all

over.

"In earnest her symptoms are precisely the same

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