CHAPTER XXVIII.

COMING OF AGE.

SPITE of what he had previously expressed to the contrary, Mr. Merivale thought it well to serve a formal notice to quit Holmcastle upon Mr. Tresham Potts, and he accompanied it with an offer to produce any evidence which might seem necessary as to the identity of Wilfred as the son of the late Squire. Potts was far too shrewd a lawyer to think even of disputing the matter, and prepared accordingly, with the idea of avoiding further expense, to evacuate the property from which he had obtained but little enjoyment; although, by Wilfred’s especial desire, he was entreated not to inconvenience himself by hurrying his departure, but to remain, should he so desire it, for three months upon the estate. Truth to tell, he was not surprised in his inmost soul at the turn matters had taken. Deep down in his coarse, sensual, and overbearing nature there was a vein of superstition, and though over and over again he had chased the idea from his mind as ridiculous and impossible, he had never forgotten the conviction of Evelyn, that she had seen her brother’s name in that place in the Family Tree of the Manwarings from which it had been erased by her father. When, shortly after his arrival at Holmcastle, his wife had been brought to bed of a son--when any new instance occurred of the contempt or dislike in which he was held by even his poorer neighbours--in fits of depression, after a bout of unusually hard drinking, the lawyer had been wont to unlock, examine, and re-examine the pedigree, and each time it was a positive relief to him to find the space which erewhile had contained the poor boy’s name white and blank. He knew it could not be there, and yet he was relieved to find that it was not. His pride had been deeply mortified by the studied neglect of the surrounding gentry, who were justly incensed at his treatment of Evelyn, to call upon himself and his wife, and by their avoidance of him upon all public occasions; and he was enraged at the independence of manner and plain speaking of the tenantry and labourers, whom he in vain strove to intimidate by bluster and assumption. And now, when the day came for his departure from the Manor, a new mortification awaited him. Passing with his wife and daughters in two open carriages through the village street on the way to the station, he saw a large bonfire in an open space near the stocks, and, stopping to ascertain the cause, he beheld unmistakable effigies of himself and wife (with large red noses), and of his two eldest daughters (with red wigs), being committed to the flames amidst the uproarious applause of a large portion of the inhabitants. Under such untoward circumstances, a wise man would have gone on his way without appearing to take any notice; but lawyer Potts was not a wise man, although he was an angry one withal. Seeing, then, the village constable surveying the conflagration with a broad grin upon his somewhat stolid countenance, he stood up in the carriage, and, with a magisterial air, imperiously commanded that functionary to take two young men into custody who were assisting at the vicarious _auto-da-fè_, and whom he indicated by name.

“I don’t see as they’ve done nothing to be took up for,” said the constable, without moving; “they’s on’y amusing of themselves; and, to tell ’ee the truth, Master Potts, I don’t see as you’ve no cause to interfere yoursen, seeing as _you don’t belong to the Parish_;” and then a loud and angry shout arose from the crowd, amidst which Mr. Potts, with a curse, ordered the coachman to drive on.

On leaving the Manor, Mr. Potts returned to the house which he had formerly occupied in Clitheroe, which had remained vacant from the time of his accession to the property of Holmcastle; but the haughtiness and bullying attitude which he had displayed on his elevation to his former friends and clients at Clitheroe was remembered against him on his return, and, finding that he was no longer consulted on legal business, he retired to Manchester, where he took to hard drinking, and soon after died in a fit of _delirium tremens_.

After Mr. Elthorne and Mr. Merivale had returned to Lancashire, Mary Elthorne remained at Hampton Court as the guest of Evelyn; and the Duke, obtaining leave of absence, came to stay with his mother, in order to be near his friend; so the four young people were much together. It only wanted about three months to the day when Wilfred would come of age, and when the same important epoch in the Duke’s life would take place only a few days later. It was therefore agreed that the Duchess and her son should accompany Evelyn and her brother to Holmcastle, for the coming of age of the latter, and that the whole party should then proceed together to Ribblesdale Castle, where great festivities were projected, to celebrate the Duke’s taking possession of his estates.

Wilfred soon began to find that his new position as a landowner was not without its troubles. One morning he received the following letter, which was but a specimen of many which he received within a short time of his being gazetted:--

Holmcastle Rectory, _Saturday Night_.

MY DEAR WILFRED,

I am almost in despair, and I look to you alone to help me. I have a scare that there will be a severe outbreak of scarlet fever in Holmcastle, and I am afraid that you are the innocent cause thereof. As you read this, you will think, I know, that I want you to embark in some great drainage scheme, and perhaps to poison all Arrow Dale by the establishment of a Sewage Farm, as a work whereby to signalise your accession to power. In this, however, you are mistaken. The fact is, that all the best young men and lads in the village, with Luke Hebblethwaite at their head, are mad to enlist in the army, in order that they may serve under “the young Squire,” for so they all call you already. Only the louts and the ne’er-do-wells will remain behind, and agriculture and trade will be at a standstill. The fact is, my dear boy, you _ought_ to leave the army, in which you have already gained the highest possible distinction and honour, for you are _wanted_ at home, to fulfil the important duties which now devolve upon you as a landlord and country gentleman. Do pray, then, resign your commission, and come home for good. If your martial ardour should continue to burn hotly, you might join the N. L. Militia; and, between ourselves, I happen to know that the Lord-Lieutenant is bent upon offering you the command of the North Lancashire Volunteers. Think over this, and make up your mind to come home and be of _use_. My wife joins me in kind love to yourself and Evelyn, and to our truant Mary, who seems never to intend to come home. I am, as always, your affectionate friend,

CHARLES ELTHORNE.

Wilfred showed this and other letters of like tenour to his sister, and she, secretly egged on by her friend Mary, took the same side with his correspondents. Wilfred had certainly no wish to leave the army, but little by little he began to waver, and at last resolved to take counsel on the subject with the young Duke of Ribblesdale. To his surprise, he found that the Duke was all in favour of his resignation. And then he heard that great pressure was being brought to bear upon the Duke also, to induce him to take a similar step. In this way, then, it came about, that after much discussion, _pro_ and _con_, the two friends agreed that it was their duty to turn their swords into ploughshares, to live among their own people, and to endeavour to do their duty as country gentlemen and county magnates. In a short time the same gazette announced that Her Majesty had been pleased to accept the resignation of their commissions by Captain His Grace the Duke of Ribblesdale, and Lieutenant Wilfred Manwaring, V.C.

On the evening before his departure from Hampton Court, with the consent and approval of Captain Hawkins (who was himself present, and sang a remarkably good and much-applauded song), Wilfred gave a grand dinner to all the men of his troop in an ancient brew-house amongst the offices of the Palace, which was lent by the authorities, and gorgeously decorated for the occasion. This banquet went off merrily enough, but the Lieutenant was affected almost to tears when the troopers, at its close, presented him with a beautiful gun, purchased by much self-denial on their part, as a parting gift to the comrade they had loved, and the officer whom they had honoured.

The following morning the party left for the North. When they reached the station of Oswaldshaugh, which was the nearest to Holmcastle, they found themselves in the midst of the greatest excitement. The station yard was crammed with carriages full of ladies--and those who know North Lancashire the best, will best imagine how lovely many of those ladies were--all anxious to see the Victoria Cross man and hero of Candahar. With them were a goodly number of country gentlemen, mostly on horseback, and at their head the old white-haired Lord Lieutenant, the Earl of Grangemouth, and there was not a yeoman or farmer in all Arrow Dale who was not there, each bestriding his stout nag. The Clitheroe Volunteers, too, were present in force, and were supposed to be drawn up in line; but when Wilfred, who, sorely against his will, and only in accordance with the commands of the Duchess and the entreaties of his sister, wore his uniform and Victoria Cross, appeared with his sister outside the station, they broke their ranks, and hustled and bustled, and roared and shouted, and committed every possible breach of military decorum and decency. And then it turned out that the Railway Company, knowing the taste of North-countrymen for an _aout_, had run an excursion train from Preston up to Oswaldshaugh, full of fine working-men, who wished to see the arrival of “the Lancashire Hero,” and among them was a young fellow, in bandsman’s military uniform, who was shouting at the top of his voice, with an old, white-haired, widowed mother clinging to him, who cried for joy as if her old heart would break entirely. And in this brave lad Wilfred recognised the young trumpeter in whose behalf he had erewhile, amidst the Himalayan mountains, thrashed the bully, Corporal Tozer. The lad was indeed a native of Preston, and, being home on furlough, had come up with his old mother to see and welcome his protector. In short, _The Preston Guardian_ declared Wilfred’s reception to be “a magnificent Ovation;” but the worthy reporter might have used a stronger and (in the absence of a shower of rotten eggs) more correct expression, for in truth it was a perfect triumph.

It was long before the carriage which contained the Duchess of Ribblesdale and Evelyn, and the young Duke and Wilfred, was allowed to depart; and the Lord Lieutenant--who, as a near neighbour and old friend of the family, insisted on riding beside it, and who was a peer of over seventy, and a widower--lost his heart completely to the fair young girl.

When the cavalcade reached the bridge of Holmcastle, there were seen two triumphal arches. One of these was surmounted by an object remotely resembling a Catharine wheel, beneath which, without strict regard to grammatical propriety, was inscribed, “Welcome to our Lancashire Hero and Victoria Cross,” and the other bore the legend, “Long live the Lovely Lily of our Dale.” And there the villagers were assembled, young and old, some cheering, others--for they remembered the sweet disposition and true brotherhood of the young Squire--crying for very joy. And when at length they reached the Manor, they were met by a host of old friends. The good Rector himself was the first to open the carriage door, and the first person to greet Wilfred was Mary Elthorne, who had been at home for about a fortnight, looking brighter and fresher than ever, and wearing the most ravishing of summer hats. You may be sure Mr. Merivale was not absent, and it was old Pinfold who, trembling with emotion, conducted the lord of the Manor and his guests into his own house and home. The Rector and Mr. Merivale, who had managed everything, had found out and disinterred the faithful old man from a back street in Manchester, where he had betaken himself upon the arrival of Mr. Tresham Potts at the Manor.