“How goes it, Frank? Down first, as usual.”
“The early bird gets the worm, Major.”
“Deuced ungallant speech, considering that the
lovely Octavia is the worm,” and with a significant
laugh the major assumed an Englishman’s favorite
attitude before the fire.
His companion shot a quick glance at him, and an expression
of anxiety passed over his face as he replied, with
a well-feigned air of indifference, “You are
altogether too sharp, Major. I must be on my
guard while you are in the house. Any new arrivals?
I thought I heard a carriage drive up not long ago.”
“It was General Snowdon and his charming wife.
Maurice Treherne came while we were out, and I’ve
not seen him yet, poor fellow!”
“Aye, you may well say that; his is a hard case,
if what I heard is true. I’m not booked
up in the matter, and I should be, lest I make some
blunder here, so tell me how things stand, Major.
We’ve a good half hour before dinner. Sir
Jasper is never punctual.”
“Yes, you’ve a right to know, if you are
going to try your fortune with Octavia.”
The major marched through the three drawing rooms
to see that no inquisitive servant was eavesdropping,
and, finding all deserted, he resumed his place, while
young Annon lounged on a couch as he listened with
intense interest to the major’s story.
“You know it was supposed that old Sir Jasper,
being a bachelor, would leave his fortune to his two
nephews. But he was an oddity, and as the title
must go to young Jasper by right, the old man
said Maurice should have the money. He was poor,
young Jasper rich, and it seemed but just, though
Madame Mere was very angry when she learned how the
will was made.”
“But Maurice didn’t get the fortune.
How was that?”
“There was some mystery there which I shall
discover in time. All went smoothly till that
unlucky yachting trip, when the cousins were wrecked.
Maurice saved Jasper’s life, and almost lost
his own in so doing. I fancy he wishes he had,
rather than remain the poor cripple he is. Exposure,
exertion, and neglect afterward brought on paralysis
of the lower limbs, and there he is—a fine,
talented, spirited fellow tied to that cursed chair
like a decrepit old man.”
“How does he bear it?” asked Annon, as
the major shook his gray head, with a traitorous huskiness
in his last words.
“Like a philosopher or a hero. He is too
proud to show his despair at such a sudden end to
all his hopes, too generous to complain, for Jasper
is desperately cut up about it, and too brave to be
daunted by a misfortune which would drive many a man
mad.”
“Is it true that Sir Jasper, knowing all this,
made a new will and left every cent to his namesake?”
“Yes, and there lies the mystery. Not only
did he leave it away from poor Maurice, but so tied
it up that Jasper cannot transfer it, and at his death
it goes to Octavia.”
