"If the time were to come over again, Harry," began Captain Monk as they were walking homeward, he leaning upon his nephew"s arm, "I wouldn"t have them put up. They don"t seem to have brought luck somehow, as the parish has been free to say. Not but that it must be utter nonsense."
"Well, no, they don"t, uncle," a.s.sented Harry.
"As one grows in years, one gets to look at things differently, lad.
Actions that seemed laudable enough when one"s blood was young and hot, crop up again then, wearing another aspect. But for those chimes, poor West would not have died as he did. I have had him upon my mind a good bit lately."
Surely Captain Monk was wonderfully changing! And he was leaning heavily upon Harry"s arm.
"Are you tired, uncle? Would you like to sit down on this bench and rest?"
"No, I"m not tired. It"s West I"m thinking about. He lies on my mind sadly. And I never did anything for the wife or child to atone to them!
It"s too late now--and has been this many a year."
Harry Carradyne"s heart began to beat a little. Should he say what he had been hoping to say sometime? He might never have a better opportunity than this.
"Uncle G.o.dfrey," he spoke in low tones, "would you--would you like to see Mr. West"s daughter? His wife has been dead a long while; but--would you like to see her--Alice?"
"Ay," fervently spoke the old man. "If she be in the land of the living, bring her to me. I"ll tell her how sorry I am, and how I would undo the past if I could. And I"ll ask her if she"ll be to me as a daughter."
So then Harry Carradyne told him all. It was Alice West who was already under his roof, and who, fate and fortune permitting, _Heaven_ permitting, would sometime be Alice Carradyne.
Down sat Captain Monk on a bench of his own accord. Tears rose to his eyes. The sudden revulsion of feeling was great: and truly he was a changed man.
"You spoke of Heaven, Harry. I shall begin to think it has forgiven me.
Let us be thankful."
But Captain Monk found he had more to thank Heaven for ere many minutes had elapsed. As Harry Carradyne sat by him in silence, marvelling at the change, yet knowing that the grievous blow which was making havoc of Eliza had effected the completeness of the subduing, he caught sight of an approaching fly. Another fly from the railway station at Evesham.
"How dare you come here, you villain!" shouted Captain Monk, rising in threatening anger, as the fly"s inmate called to the driver to stop and began to get out of it. "Are you not ashamed to show your face to me, after the evil you have inflicted upon my daughter?"
Philip Hamlyn, smiling kindly and calmly, caught Captain Monk"s lifted hands. "No evil, sir," he said, soothingly. "It was all a mistake. Eliza is my true and lawful wife."
"Eh? What"s that?" said the Captain quite in a whisper, his lips trembling.
Quietly Philip Hamlyn explained. He had taken the previous day to investigate the matter, and had followed his wife down by a night train.
His first wife _was_ dead. She had been drowned in the _Clipper of the Seas_, as was supposed. The child was saved, with his nurse: the only two pa.s.sengers who were saved. The nurse made her way to a place in the south of France, where, as she knew, her late mistress"s sister lived, Mrs. O"Connett, formerly Miss Sophia Pratt. Mrs. O"Connett, a young widow, had just lost her only child, a boy about the age of the little one rescued from the cruel seas. She seized on him with feverish avidity, adopted him as her own, quitted the place for another Anglo-French town where she was not previously known, taught the child to call her "Mamma," and had never let it transpire that the boy was not hers. But now, after the lapse of a few years, Mrs. O"Connett was on the eve of marriage with an Irish Major. To him she told the truth; and, as he did not want to marry the child as well as herself, he persuaded her to return him to his father. Mrs. O"Connett brought the child to London, ascertained Mr. Hamlyn"s address, and all about him, and watched about to speak to him, alone if possible, unknown to his wife. Remembering what had been the behaviour of the child"s mother, she was by no means sure of a good reception from Philip himself, or what adverse influence might be brought to bear by the new ties he had formed. Mrs. O"Connett had the same remarkable and lovely hair that her sister had had, whom she very much resembled; she had also a talent for underhand ways.
That was the truth--and I have had to tell it in a nutsh.e.l.l, s.p.a.ce growing limited. Philip Hamlyn had ascertained it all beyond possibility of dispute, had seen Mrs. O"Connett, and had brought down the good tidings.
Of all the curious sights this record has afforded, perhaps the most surprising was to see Captain Monk pa.s.s his arm lovingly within that of Philip Hamlyn and march off with him to Leet Hall as if he were a prize to be coveted. "Here he is, Eliza," said he; "he has come to cheer both you and me."
For once in her life Eliza Hamlyn was subdued to meekness. She kissed her husband and shed happy tears. She was his lawful wife, and the little one was his lawful child. True, there was an elder son; but, compared with what had been feared, that was a slight evil.
"We must make them true brothers, Eliza," whispered Philip Hamlyn. "They shall share alike all I have and all I leave behind me. And our own little one must be called James in future."
"And you and I will be good friends from henceforth," cried Captain Monk warmly, clasping Philip Hamlyn"s ready hand. "I have been to blame in more ways than one, giving the reins unduly to my arbitrary temper.
It seems to me, however, that life holds enough of real angles for us without creating any for ourselves."
And surely it did seem, as Mrs. Carradyne would have liked to point out aloud, that those chimes had been fraught with messages of evil. For had not all these blessings set in with their removal?--even in the very hour that their fate was sealed!
Harry Carradyne had drawn his uncle from the room; he now came in again, bringing Alice West. Her face was a picture of agitation, for she had been made known to Captain Monk. Harry led her up to Mrs. Hamlyn, with a beaming smile and a whisper.
"Eliza, as we seem to be going in generally for amenities, won"t you give just a little corner of your heart to _her_? We owe her some reparation for the past. It is her father who lies in that grave at the north end of the churchyard."
Eliza started. "Her father! Poor George West her father?"
"Even so."
Just a moment"s struggle with her rebellious spirit and Mrs. Hamlyn stooped to kiss the trembling girl. "Yes, Alice, we do owe you reparation amongst us, and we must try to make it," she said heartily.
"I see how it is: you will reign here with Harry; and I think he will be able, after all, to let us keep Peac.o.c.k"s Range."
There came a grand wedding, Captain Monk himself giving Alice away. But Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn did not retain Peac.o.c.k"s Range; they and their boys, the two Walters, had to look out for another local residence; for Mrs.
Carradyne retired to Peac.o.c.k"s Range herself. Now that Leet Hall had a young mistress, she deemed it policy to quit it; though it should have as much of her as it pleased as a visitor. And Captain G.o.dfrey Monk made himself happier in these peaceful days than he had ever been in his stormy ones.
And that"s the history. If I had to begin it again, I don"t think I should write it; for I have had to take its details from other people--chiefly from the Squire and old Mr. Sterling, of the Court.
There"s nothing of mine in it, so to say, and it has been only a bother.
And those unfortunate chimes have nearly pa.s.sed out of memory with the lapse of years. The "Silent Chimes" they are always called when, by chance, allusion is made to them, and will be so called for ever.
THE END