But when Lord Neville died, it was necessary that
the old man should think of his new heir. Alas;
in that family, though there was much that was good
and noble, there had ever been intestine feuds,—causes
of quarrel in which each party would be sure that
he was right. They were a people who thought
much of the church, who were good to the poor, who
strove to be noble;—but they could not forgive
injuries. They could not forgive even when there
were no injuries. The present Earl had quarrelled
with his brother in early life;—and had
therefore quarrelled with all that had belonged to
the brother. The brother was now gone, leaving
two sons behind him,—two young Nevilles,
Fred and Jack, of whom Fred, the eldest, was now the
heir. It was at last settled that Fred should
be sent for to Scroope Manor. Fred came, being
at that time a lieutenant in a cavalry regiment,—a
fine handsome youth of five and twenty, with the Neville
eyes and Neville finely cut features. Kindly
letters passed between the widowed mother and the present
Lady Scroope; and it was decided at last, at his own
request, that he should remain one year longer in
the army, and then be installed as the eldest son at
Scroope Manor. Again the lawyer was told to do
what was proper in regard to money.
A few words more must be said of Lady Scroope, and
then the preface to our story will be over. She
too was an Earl’s daughter, and had been much
loved by our Earl’s first wife. Lady Scroope
had been the elder by ten years; but yet they had
been dear friends, and Lady Mary Wycombe had passed
many months of her early life amidst the gloom of the
great rooms at Scroope Manor. She had thus known
the Earl well before she consented to marry him.
She had never possessed beauty,—and hardly
grace. She was strong featured, tall, with pride
clearly written in her face. A reader of faces
would have declared at once that she was proud of the
blood which ran in her veins. She was very proud
of her blood, and did in truth believe that noble
birth was a greater gift than any wealth. She
was thoroughly able to look down upon a parvenu millionaire,—to
look down upon such a one and not to pretend to despise
him. When the Earl’s letter came to her
asking her to share his gloom, she was as poor as
Charity,—dependent on a poor brother who
hated the burden of such claim. But she would
have wedded no commoner, let his wealth and age have
been as they might. She knew Lord Scroope’s
age, and she knew the gloom of Scroope Manor;—and
she became his wife. To her of course was told
the story of the heir’s marriage, and she knew
that she could expect no light, no joy in the old
house from the scions of the rising family. But
now all this was changed, and it might be that she
could take the new heir to her heart.
