CHAPTER XIX.
THE ROUT.
While Pack's brigade secured the prisoners taken by the cavalry andsent them to the rear, the cavalry themselves continued their charge.In vain Ponsonby ordered the trumpeters to sound the halt. Carriedaway by the excitement of their success--an excitement in which thehorses shared--the three regiments galloped on. The Royals on theright fell upon two French regiments advancing in column, broke them,and cut them up terribly. The Inniskillens also fell on two Frenchline regiments, shattered them with their charge, and took greatnumbers of prisoners, whole companies running up the hill andsurrendering to the infantry in order to escape from the terriblehorsemen.
The cavalry were now terribly scattered; the three regiments ofPonsonby's brigade were far down in the valley, as were the SecondLife Guards and First Dragoon Guards. The First Life Guards and theBlues were still engaged with the cuirassiers opposed to them; forthese, although driven back, were fighting doggedly. The Greys, whoshould have been in reserve, galloped ahead and joined Ponsonby'ssquadrons, and the two brigades of heavy cavalry were far away fromall support. When they reached the bottom of the hill a tremendousfire was poured from a compact corps of infantry and some pieces ofcannon on the right into the Royals, Inniskillens, and Second LifeGuards, and a fresh column of cuirassiers advanced against them. Theywheeled about and fell back in great confusion and with heavy loss,their horses being completely blown with their long gallop across theheavy ground.
These regiments had fared, however, better than the Greys, Royals, andInniskillens on the left, for they, having encountered no infantryfire, had charged up the hill until level with the French guns, when,turning sharp to the left, they swept along the line cutting up theartillerymen, until suddenly they were charged by a brigade oflancers, while a large body of infantry threatened their line ofretreat. Fortunately at this moment the light cavalry came up to theirassistance.
Riding right through the infantry column the light cavalry fell uponthe French lancers and rolled them over with the fury of their charge,and then charged another regiment of lancers and checked theiradvance. Light and heavy horse were now mixed up together, and a freshbody of French cavalry coming up, drove them down the hill with greatloss--they being saved, indeed, from total destruction by the EleventhHussars, who, coming up last, had kept their formation. Covered bythese the remnants of the cavalry regained their own crest on thehill, and reformed under cover of the infantry. General Ponsonby waskilled, and his brother, the colonel of the Twelfth, severely woundedand left on the field.
While this desperate fight had been raging on the center and left,fresh columns had advanced from Jerome's and Foy's divisions againstHougoumont, and had again, after obstinate fighting, captured theorchard and surrounded the chateau, but were once more repulsed by afresh battalion of guards who moved down the slope to the assistanceof their hardly-pressed comrades. Then for a while the fightingslackened, but the artillery duel raged as fiercely as ever. Thegunners on both sides had now got the exact range, and the carnage wasterrible. The French shells again set Hougoumont on fire, and all thebadly wounded who had been carried inside perished in the flames.
At the end of an hour fresh columns of attack moved against thechateau, while at the same moment forty squadrons of cavalry advancedacross the valley toward the English position.
The English batteries played upon them with round shot, and, as theycame near, with grape and canister; but the horsemen rode on, and at asteady trot arrived within forty yards of the English squares, whenwith a shout they galloped forward, and in a moment the whole of theadvanced batteries of the allies were in their possession; forWellington's orders had been that the artillerymen should stand totheir guns till the last moment, and then run for shelter behind thesquares. The French cavalry paused for a moment in astonishment at thesight that met their eyes. They had believed that the British werebroken and disorganized, but no sooner had they passed over the slopethan they saw the British and German squares bristling with bayonetsand standing calm and immovable.
The artillery on both sides had ceased their fire, and a dead silencehad succeeded the terrible din that had raged but a moment before.Then with a shout the cavalry again charged, but in no case did theydash against the hedges of bayonets, from which a storm of fire wasnow pouring. Breaking into squadrons they rode through the intervalsbetween the squares and completely enveloped them; but Lord Uxbridgegathered the remains of the British cavalry together, charged them,and drove them back through the squares and down the hill. Receivingreinforcements the French again advanced, again enveloped the squares,and were again hurled back.
While this was going on the battle was still raging round Hougoumontand La Haye Sainte, against which a portion of Reille's division hadadvanced; but the Germans resisted as obstinately as did the guards,and as the French cavalry retired for the second time the infantryfell back, and for a time the slope of the English position was againclear of the enemy.
For a time the battle languished, and then Napoleon brought upthirty-seven fresh squadrons of cavalry, and these, with the remainsof those who had before charged, rode up the slope. But although theyswept on and passed the British squares, they could not succeed inshaking them. A body of horse, however, sweeping down toward the Dutchand Belgians at the end of the line, these at once marched off thefield without firing a musket, and the brigade of cavalry with themgalloped away at full speed.
The position was a singular one; and had Napoleon ordered his infantryto advance in the rear of the cavalry, the issue of the day might havebeen changed. In appearance the French were masters of the position.Their masses of cavalry hid the British squares from sight. TheBritish cavalry were too weak to charge, and most of the guns were inthe possession of the French; but the latter's infantry were far away,and after sustaining the fire of the squares for a long time, thecavalry began to draw off. Lord Uxbridge now endeavored to persuadethe Cumberland Hanoverian Hussars, who had not so far been engaged, tocharge; but instead of obeying orders they turned and rode off, andnever drew bridle until they reached Brussels, where they reportedthat the British army had been destroyed.
Adams' brigade were now brought up from the reserve, and drove backthe French infantry and cavalry who had come up to the top of thecrest beyond Hougoumont. On the other side Ney sent a column againstLa Haye Sainte. The Germans made a gallant stand; but they were cutoff from all assistance, outnumbered, and were altogether withoutammunition; and although they defended themselves with their bayonetsto the end, they were slain almost to a man, and La Haye Sainte wascaptured at last. But beyond this the French could not advance; andthough column after column moved forward to the attack on the crest,they were each and all beaten back.
It was now nearly seven o'clock in the evening, and the Prussians wereengaged at St. Lambert, Napoleon having detached Lobau's corps toarrest their progress. Their march had been a terrible one. They hadto traverse country roads softened by the rain; the men were up totheir ankles in mud, guns and carriages stuck fast, and it was notuntil after tremendous efforts that the leading squadron of theircavalry passed through the wood of Wavre and came in view of thebattle that was raging. It was then past four o'clock, and anotherhour passed before any considerable number of infantry arrived. It wasat this time Napoleon sent Lobau against them. He was able for a timeto resist their advance; but as fresh troops came up from the rear thePrussians began to win their way forward, and Napoleon was obliged tosend two more divisions of the Young Guard to check them.
He now saw that all was lost unless he could, before the whole of thePrussian army arrived, break down the resistance of the British. Hetherefore prepared for a final effort. Ney was to collect all hisinfantry, and, advancing past La Haye Sainte, to fall upon the centerof the British line. The guard, who had hitherto been held in reserve,was to pass Hougoumont and attack the left center. The cavalry were tofollow in support.
A cannonade even more heavy and terrible than before, for the guns ofthe reserve had bee
n brought up, opened upon the British, and thesquares were now melting away fast. But no reinforcements could besent to them, for the whole of the British troops were now in action,and their allies had for the most part long before left the field.
Every gun was brought to the front, the remains of the cavalrygathered together as a reserve; and some of the Prussians nowapproaching the left, the cavalry there were brought to the center toaid in the defense of the threatened point. Just as these arrangementswere completed the enemy advanced in tremendous force from theinclosure of La Haye Sainte, and with their fire so completelymastered that of the remnants of the infantry, that their light gunswere brought up to within a hundred yards of the British line andopened with grape upon the squares. Two Hanoverian battalions werealmost annihilated, the brigade of the German legion almost ceased toexist.
A Brunswick cavalry regiment that had hitherto fought gallantly lostheart and would have fled had not the British cavalry behind themprevented them from doing so.
In the meantime the Imperial Guard in two heavy columns, led by Neyhimself, were advancing, the guards being followed by every availableman of the infantry and cavalry. One of these columns skirted theinclosure of the Hougoumont, the other moved against the center. Theypressed forward until they reached the top of the slope, and a hundredcannon were brought up and unlimbered, while the artillery on theopposite slope rained round shot and shell upon the British squaresand artillery. The English guns tried in vain to answer them: theywere wholly overmatched. Gun after gun was dismounted, horses and mendestroyed; but as soon as the leading column of the guards reached thepoint when their own guns had to cease fire, the English artilleryopened again, and terrible was the havoc they made in the densecolumns. Still the guard pressed on until they reached the top of thecrest; and then the British guards leaped to their feet and poured ina tremendous volley at close quarters, fell on the flank of thecolumn, broke it, and hurled it down the hill.
The guards were recalled and prepared to oppose the second column, buttheir aid was not needed; the Fifty-second threw themselves upon itsflank, the Seventy-first and Ninety-fifth swept its head with theirvolleys, and as the column broke and retired the Duke of Wellingtongave the orders the men had been longing for since the fight began.The squares broke into lines, and the British, cheering wildly,descended the crest. The French retreat became a rout, cavalry andinfantry fell upon them, the artillery plied them with their fire, thePrussians poured down upon their flank. By eight o'clock the splendidarmy of Napoleon was a mass of disorganized fugitives.
For ten hours the battle had raged. To the men in the squares itseemed a lifetime. "When shall we get at them? when shall we get atthem?" was their constant cry as the round shot swept their ranks,although from their position behind the crest they could see nothingof their enemies. Nothing is harder than to suffer in inactivity, andthe efforts of the officers were principally directed to appeasing theimpatience of their men, "Our turn will come presently, lads." "Yes,but who will be alive when it does come?" a query which was very hardto answer, as hour by hour the ranks melted away. Although they kept acheerful countenance and spoke hopefully to the men, it seemed to theofficers themselves that the prospect was well-nigh hopeless. Picton'sbrigade mustered scarce half their strength when the battle began.They were to have fought in the second line this day; but thedefection of their allies in front of them had placed them in thefront, and upon them and upon the defenders of Hougoumont the brunt ofthe battle had fallen, and as the squares grew smaller and smaller itseemed even to the officers that the end must come before long.
"This cannot last," Captain O'Connor said to Ralph when the day wasbut half over. "They will never beat us, but by the time they get herethere will be nobody left to beat. I don't think we are more than twohundred strong now, and every minute the force is diminishing. I don'twonder the men are impatient. We bargained for fighting, but I neverreckoned on standing for hours to be shot at without even a chance toreply."
It was just after this that the French cavalry burst upon the squares;but this cheered rather than depressed the spirits of the men. For atime they were free from the artillery fire, and now had a chance ofactive work. Thus as the fire flashed from the faces of the square themen laughed and joked, and it was with regret that they saw thecuirassiers fall back before the charge of Lord Uxbridge's cavalry,for they knew that the moment this screen was removed the Frenchartillery would open again.
Ralph's chief sensation was that of wonder that he was alive; sooverwhelming was the din, so incessant the rain of shot, it seemed tohim a marvel how any one could remain alive within its range.
Almost mechanically he repeated the orders, "Close up, close up!" asthe square dwindled and dwindled. He longed as impatiently as the menfor the advance, and would have gladly charged against impossible oddsrather than remain immovable under fire. When the order at length camehe did not hear it. Just after the storm of fire that heralded theadvance of the guards broke out, a round shot struck him high up onthe left arm. He was conscious only of a dull, numbing sensation, andafter that knew no more of what was taking place.
It was pitch dark before he became conscious. Fires were burning atvarious points along the ridge; for when the victory was complete theBritish retired to the position they had held so long, and thePrussian cavalry took up the pursuit. Fires had been lighted withbroken gun carriages and shattered artillery wagons, and parties withtorches were collecting the wounded. Ralph found that his head wasbeing supported, and that a hand was pouring spirits and water downhis throat. The hand was a shaky one, and its owner was crying loudly.As he opened his eyes the man broke into a torrent of thankfulexclamations.
"The Lord be praised, Mr. Conway. Sure, I thought you were dead andkilt entirely."
"Is that you, Denis?"
"Sure and it's no one else, your honor."
"Is the battle over?"
"It is that. The French are miles away, and the Proosians at theirheels."
"What has happened to me, Denis?"
"Well, your honor's hurt a bit in the arm, but it will all come rightpresently."
It was well for Ralph that he had been struck before the order camefor the advance, for as he fell the one surviving surgeon of theregiment had at once attended to him, had fixed a tourniquet on thestump of his arm, tied the arteries, and roughly bandaged it. Had henot been instantly seen to he would have bled to death in a fewminutes.
Denis now called to one of the parties who were moving about withstretchers. Ralph was lifted on to it and carried to the village ofWaterloo where he was placed in an ambulance wagon which, as soon asit was full, started for Brussels.
The fighting was now over, and Denis asked leave to accompany hismaster. The rout of the enemy had been so thorough and complete thatit was not thought probable any serious resistance could be offered tothe advance of the allied armies to Paris, and he therefore obtainedleave without difficulty to remain with his master. Ralph sufferedfrom exhaustion rather than pain on the journey to Brussels, andseveral times became almost unconscious. At four o'clock in themorning the ambulance stopped at a handsome house that its owner hadplaced at the disposal of the authorities for the use of woundedofficers. He was carried upstairs and placed in bed in a room on thesecond story. Denis at once proceeded to install himself there. Hebrought down a mattress from a room above, laid it in the corner,throwing his greatcoat over it, then as soon as he thought the shopswere open he hurried out and bought a kettle and saucepan, two cupsand tumblers, a small basin, and several other articles.
"There, your honor," he said as he returned. "Now we have gotiverything we need, and I can make soups and drinks for your honor,and boil myself a tater widout having to go hunting all over the housefor the things to do it with."
A few minutes later two surgeons entered the room and examined Ralph'sarm. They agreed at once that it was necessary to amputate it threeinches higher up, Ralph winced when he heard the news.
"It won't hurt you very much," one of
the surgeons said. "The nervesare all numbed with the shock they have had, but it is absolutelynecessary in order that a neat stump may be made of it. The bone isall projecting now; and even if the wound healed over, which I don'tthink it would, you would have trouble with it all your life."
"Of course if it must be done, it must," Ralph said. "There isn't muchleft of it now."
"There is not enough to be of much use," the surgeon agreed; "but evena shorter stump that you can fit appliances on to will be a great dealmore handy than one with which nothing can be done."
The operation was performed at once, and although Ralph had to presshis lips hard together to prevent himself from crying out, he did findit less painful than he had expected.
"There, you will do now," the surgeon said. "Here, my man, take thatbasin and a tumbler and run downstairs to the kitchen. They will giveyou some broth there and some weak spirits and water. Bring them up atonce."
Ralph took a spoonful or two of the broth, and a sip of the spirits,and then lay back and presently dozed off to sleep. Denis had followedthe surgeons out of the room.
"What instructions is there, your honor?"
"Your master is just to be kept quiet. If he is thirsty give him somelemonade. You can obtain that or anything else you require below."
"And about myself, sir. I wouldn't speak about it but I have hadnothing to eat since yesterday morning, and I don't like leaving Mr.Conway alone even to buy myself a mouthful."
"You will not have regular rations, but all officers' servants andorderlies will obtain food below. Meals will be served out at eight inthe morning, one, and six. You take down your pannikin, and can eithereat your food there or bring it up here as you choose. Breakfast willnot be ready for two hours yet; but there are several others in thesame plight as yourself, and you will find plenty to eat below."
Denis took his place by his master's bedside until he saw that he wassound asleep, then taking the pannikin from the top of the knapsack hestole noiselessly out, and in two or three minutes later he returnedwith the pannikin full of soup, a small loaf, and a ration of wine.
"By jabers," he said to himself as he sat down to eat them, "these aregood quarters entirely. I should wish for nothing better if it wasn'tfor the master lying there. Lashings to eat and drink, and a room fitfor a king. Nothing to do but to wait upon his honor. I suppose afterto-day I shall be able to stale out for a few minutes sometimes for adraw of me pipe. It would never do to be smoking here. The masterwouldn't mind it; but I expect them doctors would be for sending meback to my regiment if they were to come in and smell it."
After he had finished his meal, Denis took his seat by Ralph'sbedside; but he was thoroughly exhausted. He had not slept a winksince the night before the battle, and after the fatigue of the dayhad been tramping all night by the side of the ambulance, which wasconstantly stopped by the numerous vehicles that had broken down orbeen overturned by the way. After waking up suddenly with a jerk onceor twice, he muttered to himself, "I will just take five minutes onthe bed, then I shall be all right again," and threw himself down onhis mattress with his greatcoat for a pillow, and slept for severalhours. So heavy was his slumber that he was not even roused when thesurgeons came round at ten o'clock to see how Ralph was. He had justwoke.
"How do you feel, Mr. Conway?"
"I feel quite comfortable," Ralph said, "but shall be glad of a drink.Where is my man?"
"He is asleep there in the corner," the surgeon said. "I will give youa drink of lemonade. The poor fellow is worn out, no doubt."
"Oh, yes; please don't wake him," Ralph said. "I am glad he is asleep;for he had all that terrible day yesterday, and was on his feet allnight. I shan't want anything but this lemonade; and I have no doubt Ishall go straight off to sleep again as soon as you have gone."
It was not until just one o'clock that Denis woke. He at once got upand went to Ralph's side. The latter opened his eyes.
"How do you feel now, your honor?"
"Oh, I am getting on very well, Denis. My arm hardly hurts me at allat present. I expect it will ache worse presently."
"I have been having a few minutes' sleep your honor. And now, if youdon't want me for a minute, I will run down and see about breakfast. Ishould think it must be nearly ready."
"See about dinner, you mean, Denis. Why, it's just one o'clock."
"One o'clock! Your honor must be dreaming."
"I don't think so, Denis. There is my watch on the table."
"Why, your honor does not mean to say," Denis said in greatastonishment, "that I have been sleeping for five hours? The watchmust have gone wrong."
"The watch is right enough, Denis. I heard it strike twelve by thechurch clocks before I dozed off last time. Why, the surgeons came inat ten o'clock and gave me some lemonade."
"And me to know nothing about it! Denis Mulligan, you ought to beashamed of yourself--slaping like a pig in a stye, with your masterlaying wounded there beside you, and no one to look after him. I justlaid down for five minutes' nap, your honor, seeing that you had goneoff into a beautiful sleep, and never dreamed of more than that."
"It was the best thing you could do, Denis. You had been twenty-fourhours on your feet, and you would have been fit for nothing if youhadn't had a good rest. Now go downstairs and get your dinner, andwhen you come back again you can bring me up a basin of broth and apiece of bread. I begin to feel hungry; and that's a capital sign, Ibelieve."
When Ralph had finished his broth he said to Denis, "I shan't wantanything now for some time, Denis. You can put a glass of lemonadewithin reach of my hand, and then I shall do very well for an hour ortwo. I am quite sure you must be dying for a pipe; so go out and takea turn. It will freshen you up; and you can bring me back what newsyou can gather as to the losses yesterday, and whether the armystarted in pursuit of the French."
It was some time before Denis would consent to leave the room; but atlast, seeing that Ralph really wished it, he went out for an hour, andreturned full of the rumors he had picked up of the terrible losses ofthe British, and the utter rout of the French army. The next morningRalph had a great surprise; for just as he had finished his breakfastthere was a tap at the door, and a lady entered. Ralph could hardlybelieve his eyes as his mother ran forward to the bed. But thepressure of her arms and her kisses soon showed him that it was areality.
"Why, mother darling!" he exclaimed, "how on earth did you get here?"
"I came across in a smack to Ostend, Ralph, and then came on by carriage.I got here last night, and learned at the quartermaster-general'soffice that you were wounded and were somewhere in Brussels, at leastthey believed you were here somewhere, but they could not say where.They let me have a copy of the list of the houses that had beenallotted for the use of wounded officers. It was too late to begin thesearch last night, but I have been three hours going round thismorning. I saw the surgeon downstairs and he told me--" and her lipsquivered and her eyes filled with tears.
"That I had lost my left arm, mother. Well, that is nothing to fretabout when thousands have been killed. One can do very well without aleft arm; and I think, on the whole, that I have been wonderfullylucky. Denis!" But Denis was not in the room, having, as soon as hehad discovered who Ralph's visitor was, gone out to leave them alone."And have you made this journey all by yourself, mother?"
"No, my dear. Mr. Tallboys was good enough to come over to take careof me by the way."
"Mr. Tallboys, mother! How did he know that you were coming?"
"Well, I told him, Ralph. But that is a long story, and you shall hearit another day. The doctor said you had better not do much talkingnow. Mr. Tallboys will stay here a day or two and then go home. Iintend to take a room somewhere close by and install myself here asyour head nurse."
"I shan't want much nursing, mother; but I shall be delighted to haveyou with me. I have a capital servant. The man I told you about in myletters. He is a most amusing fellow and very much attached to me. Doyou know, he got leave directly the battle was ov
er, and was all nightwalking by the side of the ambulance wagon. He is a capital fellow. Bythe way, mother, I suppose the will has not turned up yet? You said inyour last letter you had great hopes of its being found."
"It has been found, Ralph; and it is all just as we supposed. But howit was found, or anything about it, you mustn't ask at present. It isa long story, and I must insist now that you lie quiet and go tosleep."
"Well, I will try, mother. Will you just look outside the door and seeif Denis is there? Denis, this is my mother," he said as the soldiercame in. "She has come over to help nurse me; and as she will beprincipally with me in the daytime, you will be at liberty to be outwhenever you like."
"Sure, and I am glad the lady has come, Mr. Conway; though I wouldhave done the best I could for you. Still, a man is but a poor craterin a sick-room. Can I get you anything ma'am?"
"Well, I have had nothing this morning, Denis; and if you could get mea cup of tea and some bread and butter, if it is not against therules, I should be very glad."
"Sure, I will do that, ma'am, with the greatest pleasure in life,"Denis said; and presently returned bringing up a tray with tea, breadand butter, and a plate of cold meat.
"Is there anything else, ma'am?"
"Well, Denis, I should be very much obliged if you will take a notefrom me to a gentleman named Tallboys, whom you will find at the Hotelde L'Europe. Give it to him yourself if you can. He will be glad tohear from you about my son, how he is going on and so on."
For the next few days Ralph's arm was exceedingly painful, attended bya certain amount of fever. At the end of that time he began toimprove, and his wound made steady progress toward recovery. Afterstaying for four days at Brussels, Mr. Tallboys had returned home.Mrs. Conway and Denis divided the nursing between them, sitting up onalternate nights.
A fortnight after Mrs. Conway's arrival Ralph said, "Now, mother, Ishall be up to-morrow and can therefore be considered as fairlyconvalescent, so there can be no reason now why you should not tellthe story about the finding of the will. You told me in one of yourletters before Christmas that Mr. Tallboys had failed altogether. Sohow did it come to be found?"
Mrs. Conway thereupon told the story. When she came to the point whereshe had gone as a servant to the Hall, Ralph interrupted her with aloud protest. "I don't like that, mother; I don't like the idea ofyour having gone as a servant, whatever the stake was. If I had beenat home and had known it, I certainly would not have let you go, notif there had been ten fortunes to be gained by it. The idea of yourhaving to go and live as a servant, and work for people like that ishorrid!"
"There was nothing very unpleasant about it, Ralph. I had plenty to doand to think about, and the time passed a great deal more rapidly thanit would have done if I had been staying at home all by myself. Itwould have been very lonely and dull then; and I can assure you that Iconsidered it no hardship at all being at the Hall. But you must notinterrupt me in my story. If you do I shall tell you nothing moreabout it until you get home to England."
This threat effectually sealed Ralph's lips, and beyond occasionalexclamations he said nothing until the story was ended.
"Well, it's all very wonderful, mother," he said; "and I should neverhave thought for a moment that you were so brave, and could have putthings together like that, and could have carried out such a scheme.But I am awfully glad you have succeeded; because you had set yourmind on it, and the money will I hope make you quite comfortable. Howmuch was it after all mother? You never told me that."
"It is half of Mr. Penfold's estates, and of the money he hadinvested, which is a very large sum, Ralph; although I do not know howmuch."
"Half the estate! Why, it will make me quite a rich man. I neverdreamed it was anything like that. I thought most likely it was enoughto continue the allowance that he said he should make me. Why, mother,it is tremendous! And what becomes of the other half?"
"That is left to Mabel Withers, Ralph. You two divide everything thathe left."
"Well, that certainly is rather hard upon his sisters," Ralph said;"and I don't blame them for being against it. Though, of course, itwas not right to keep the will hidden."
"Mr. Penfold did not leave anything to them, because they are bothvery well provided for. Their father left them a handsome sum at hisdeath; and as they have been living at the Hall ever since, and canhave spent nothing, they must be very amply provided for. Theirbrother, therefore, naturally considered he was perfectly at libertyto leave his property as he chose. I do not think the Miss Penfoldshave the slightest reason to grumble, after living as they have donefor the last twenty years at their brother's expense."
"Of course that makes a difference," Ralph agreed; "it certainlydidn't seem nice that Mabel and I, who are no relation by blood to Mr.Penfold, should come into the property that his sisters expected wouldbe theirs. But, of course, now you explain it, it is different."
"I do not think in any case, Ralph, Mr. Penfold would have left hisfortune to his sisters. He was a man very averse to exerting his ownwill, and I am sure that he submitted to, rather than liked, hissisters' residence at the Hall. I know that he considered, and justly,that they had once committed a cruel wrong upon him, and had in a wayspoiled his life. I question whether he really ever forgave them."
"I see, mother," Ralph said. "Well, now, about myself; I should thinkthere can be no occasion for me to continue in the army unless Ilike?"
"I hope you won't like, Ralph. In the first place I want to have youwith me; and in the second, you will be a large landowner, andproperty has its duties."
"Well, there is no necessity to decide about that at present. Thedoctor said yesterday I should certainly get three months' sick leavebefore I rejoined. By all we hear the fighting is at an end, and thereis no fear whatever that Napoleon will have it in his power to causetrouble in the future. They will take care of that, whatever they dowith him. If there is going to be peace everywhere, I do not know thatI should care very much about staying in the army; but, as I said, weneed not decide at present."
Ten days later, Ralph was so far recovered that he was able to returnhome with his mother. As soon as she informed him of her arrival atDover, Mr. Tallboys wrote to tell her that he had had an interview inLondon with the Miss Penfolds' lawyer, who informed him that he hadinstructions from his clients to examine the will, and if satisfied ofits genuineness, to offer no opposition whatever to its being proved.Mr. Tallboys had thereupon shown him the will, and had no difficultyin convincing him that it was the document he himself had drawn up,and Mr. Penfold had signed in his presence.
"The lawyer has placed all the deeds and documents relating to Mr.Penfold's property in my hands, and, as I was of course before wellaware, my late client died worth a very considerable property inaddition to his large estates in this country. For the last twentyyears his income has exceeded his expenditure by an average of threethousand a year, and as the surpluses have been judiciously invested,and as the prices of all funds and stocks now stand vastly higher thanthey did during the course of the long war, their total value nowamounts to something over a hundred and thirty thousand pounds.
"The property in this country was valued, at the time Mr. Penfold drewup his will, at eighty thousand pounds; these estates he left to yourson, and the sum of eighty-thousand pounds, in various investments, toMiss Withers, and directed that the residue, whatever it might be athis death, should be equally divided between them. Your son's share,therefore, will amount to about twenty-five thousand pounds. I may saythat the outlying farms, which were settled by deed as a security forthe four hundred pounds annually paid to you, are not included in theabove valuation, but are ordered to revert to the main estate uponyour decease.
"The formalities will all be completed in the course of a short time.I may say that from the totals to be divided must be deducted thelegacy duties, which, as your son and Miss Withers are strangers byblood to the testator, will be heavy." Mr. Tallboys added that heheard the younger Miss Penfold was now recovering f
rom her seriousillness, but it was not probable she would ever be again herself. Hehad received, he said, a letter that morning from their solicitor,saying that as soon as Miss Eleanor Penfold could be moved, which itwas hoped would be in the course of another week, the ladies wouldvacate possession of the Hall.
A fortnight later Mrs. Conway and Ralph left Dover for London, leavingorders with an agent to sell the furniture of their house. All Ralph'sold friends on the shore had been made happy with handsome presents.After a short stay in London they went down, and Ralph took possessionof the Hall. He soon found there was abundance of occupation for histime on the estate, and that this would be increased when, as woulddoubtless be the case, he was placed on the Commission of Peace forthe county, as Herbert Penfold had been before him.
As soon as Ralph had completely recovered his health and strength hetold his mother that she must spare him for a week, as he had promisedthat he would on the first opportunity go over to Dunkirk to see hisfriend Jacques.
He crossed by the packet from Dover to Calais, and thence by coach toDunkirk. Here he inquired among the fishermen for Jacques, and foundthat he had returned before Napoleon broke out from Elba, and that hewas owner of a fishing smack which was now at sea. The next dayJacques returned, and his delight at meeting Ralph was unbounded. Hetook him home to his neat cottage where his pretty young wife wasalready installed. Ralph remained two days with him, and obtained apromise from him that he would once a year sail over to Weymouth andpay him a visit.
"I am a rich man, Jacques, now. At present I see you want nothing, butshould any accident befall your fishing boat, or you have need formoney for any other cause, write to me, and the money for a new boator for any other purpose shall be yours at once. I could afford togive you a hundred boats without hurting myself, so do not hesitatefor a moment in letting me know if I can help you. It will be a realpleasure to me to do so."
Jacques kept his promise, and never missed coming over once year topay Ralph a visit, and as his five sons one after another grew up tobe able to manage boats for themselves, they were each presented oneby Ralph. Jacques himself prospered as a fisherman, and never requiredthe assistance Ralph would have been glad to give him.
Neither Ralph nor Mabel Withers was informed of the expression of Mr.Penfold's hopes in his will that they would some day be married, thetwo mothers agreeing cordially that nothing was so likely to defeatthe carrying out of Mr. Penfold's wishes as for the young people tohave any suspicions of them. They were still but boy and girl, andwere now perfectly happy in their unrestrained intercourse, for not aday passed that the two families did not see something of each other;but had they had a suspicion of the truth it would have rendered themshy and awkward with each other, and have thrown them much more widelyapart.
"We both hope that it will come about, Mrs. Conway," Mrs. Withers saidone day; "and I certainly think there is every prospect of it. Let usleave well alone, and allow it to come about naturally and withoutinterference."
As soon as Ralph left the army he purchased Denis Mulligan'sdischarge, and the Irishman was installed as butler and Ralph'sspecial servant at the Hall, and remained in his service to the end ofhis life. In due time the natural change in the relations between thetwo young people came about, and their youthful friendship ripenedinto love. When Ralph was twenty-three, and Mabel had just come ofage, she changed her name and took up her place at the Hall, Mrs.Conway gladly handing over the reins of government to her. She herselflived with her children, for she was almost as fond of Mabel as ofRalph, to the end of a long life; and deep was the regret among herchildren and grandchildren when she was at last laid in BilstonChurch, close to the resting-place of Herbert Penfold.
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