CHAPTER XV.

THE TREE IS RE-GRAFTED.

EVELYN felt much comforted by the Rector’s visit and kindness, but she was not allowed to remain long alone, for the ringing of the door-bell speedily announced the arrival of Mr. Merivale, the family lawyer. This gentleman, also, expressed great indignation at the conduct of Mr. Tresham Potts, but he could see no remedy for it, for the property was undoubtedly entailed upon him on the failure of the male issue of the late owner.

After some conversation--“I don’t want to rip up old sores, my dear Miss Manwaring,” said the old man, in sympathising tones, “but I want to ask you a curious question, and that is, are you quite sure your brother Wilfred is no longer alive?”

“Yes,” answered Evelyn, after a pause, “I fear there is no doubt that such is the case. Remember how, after his innocence was proved, we advertised for him in every paper, and offered rewards for any information about him, but all in vain. And then think how circumstantial were the reports that he had embarked in that poor ship which went down in the Atlantic. Yes, I fear there cannot be a shadow of a doubt that such is the case. And yet,” added she, “my foolish heart sometimes tells me he is alive; but then, if so, why does he not write, for surely he must have seen some of the advertisements. And now, Mr. Merivale, don’t think me gone out of my wits when I tell you I dreamed the other night he was alive and well, and then I awoke, oh! so happy! Why should I have felt happy if he is dead?”

“I am afraid, my dear young lady,” responded Mr. Merivale, “that you must not build upon ‘the baseless fabric of a vision;’ and I really don’t know why I asked you the question. ‘There’s no fool like an old fool,’ you will say. And now I must tell you, as a lawyer, that I don’t see how you can refuse to give up possession of the place to this snobbish cousin of yours, and his vulgar wife and flashy daughters. That he has intruded upon you in the manner he has, is perfectly outrageous; and my only comfort is, his conduct will do him no good amongst the neighbours when he comes to reside.”

After a little more conversation, chiefly upon business matters, Mr. Merivale, rejecting all offers of hospitality, took his leave; and shortly afterwards, luncheon being announced, Tresham Potts joined his cousin in the dining-room.

“Glad to see this rum old place in better condition than I expected,” was his first observation, as he put an entire grouse upon his plate; “but I don’t like to see such a lot of wheezy old stagers messing about the grounds. I shall make a clean sweep on ’em, I can tell ’em, when I come here. A Scotch gardener, who knows a thing or two, will soon settle _their_ hash, you bet. But I say, cousin, who was that seedy old fellow I saw coming across the garden, and marching into the house by the glass door into the drawing-room?”

“That gentleman was my dear old friend, Mr. Elthorne, the Rector of Holmcastle,” answered Evelyn.

“Oh! a parson, was it; I thought so. Them locusts are everywhere; but I shall take care not to let him come prowling about the place when I’m here, I can tell him. Precious impudent it seems, his coming in as he did, considering the place belongs to me!”

“As long as I remain, I suppose he regards me as the mistress of the house,” replied poor Evelyn, with some spirit; “and indeed I consider myself in that light myself. And though, Cousin Tresham, I receive you as my guest, I cannot permit you to deny me the company of such old friends as may come to see me, and comfort me in my sorrow.”

“Oh, certainly,” retorted Tresham, somewhat abashed; “but it’s only for three weeks, you know. Take a bit of this bird? No? Well, then, I’ll take it myself, and not let it be wasted on cormorants like them servants;” and with this elegant sentiment, the lawyer helped himself to the second grouse, and swallowed his fourth glass of Madeira.

“The wines are all yours, that old fool Merivale writes me,” he continued, presently; “rather hard that, when a lot of rubbishy old books are left me as heirlooms! Better let me take it off your hands in a lot; for my part, I don’t know what women want with wine at all--not but what Mrs. Tresham drinks like a fish when she’s out o’ sorts or out o’ temper. I’ll send a fellow over from Clitheroe to value it, if you’re agreeable; but I shan’t give a fancy price--you may take your oath of that.”

Evelyn said that, not feeling equal to business matters at present, she had placed all her affairs in the hands of her old friend, Mr. Merivale.

“Oh! I know him,” cried Tresham, “and a cunning old fox he is too; but he won’t come over _me_, I can tell you.”

Another day, after dinner, Mr. Potts broke a long silence thus:--“Look y’here, cousin, I’ve been out marking timber all day, and a precious good fall I shall have, please the pigs; but I’ve never yet seen the _Tree_--the Family Tree--which the old Squire set such precious store by, and from which, I’ve heard, he lopped off the liveliest twig of all on ’em, and that’s me--ha, ha, ha! Let’s have a look at it, Miss Evelyn; it’s cur’ous to think he’s lopped off himself now, ain’t it?”

Poor Evelyn went out wearily, and presently returned with the great scroll, and put it into her cousin’s hand.

“Ha!” cried he, as he unrolled it; “this Tree’s been a long time a growing, hain’t it? Ha, ha, ha! this beats cock-fighting, don’t it? Now then, a pen, quick, and I’ll do a little bit o’ grafting. There, it looks pretty now, don’t it? See what I’ve written.”

| +---------------------+---------------------+ | | Tresham, _m._ Belinda: da: of Silas Assumed the name and Potts, Cheesemonger. arms of Potts.

As the writer said this, he pushed the parchment before his cousin’s eyes; she could scarcely see for her tears, as she called to mind the last time, and under what miserable circumstances, she had seen the document. And then a curious thing occurred. As Evelyn looked, she fancied she saw the name of her brother Wilfred written in clear, bold characters in the space it had formerly occupied before it was erased by her father’s hand. The characters faded as she gazed fixedly upon them, and at length totally disappeared; but the impression that she had really seen them remained firmly fixed upon her mind. Evelyn knew the whole affair must have been an illusion of the eyes or brain, but, nevertheless, the circumstance strangely comforted her; and she dried her tears, and apologised to her cousin for the weakness she had exhibited.

Tresham, who at first had noticed her fixed gaze, was astonished at her sudden change of demeanour, and asked the reason of it.

“It was only my fancy,” she made answer, “but I imagined I saw the name of my poor brother who was drowned at sea in the place which my father had scratched it out, when he was angry with him.”

“The deuce you did!” exclaimed Tresham, brutally; and then he carefully examined the pedigree in the place indicated, but he could see nothing. Nevertheless, he seemed strangely disturbed.

“It was only my fancy,” said Evelyn; “I suppose my nerves are not so good as they were before all these troubles came upon me.”

“Well,” retorted Tresham, “I wish you’d keep your nerves to yourself, that’s all; and what’s more, if you can’t manage that, you and I will fall out one of these days, my pretty cousin. I don’t keep a lodging-house for women with weak nerves, hang me if I do;” and with this civil speech, the speaker stumped out of the room.

Left alone, Evelyn took up the emblazoned scroll and narrowly examined it, but the place from whence her father had elided the much-loved name, and to which, they thought, he had wished on his deathbed to restore it, was white and blank. “It must have been a mistake, and yet----” Evelyn could not reason about the circumstance, but somehow she felt comforted, and she retired to rest with a less heavy heart than she had as yet borne with her to her weary couch.