so quickly.Alberta would be very glad to make your acquaintances. Will you comeback with me and pay us a visit, Mattie?"
"No, Henery," said Mrs Stroud; "if Mattie knows which side her bread'sbuttered she'll stay on this side of the ocean. But if you want to do abrother's part by your own family, you'll take Florrie off their hands.For there's no room for that girl--not in the High Street of Rapley.Perhaps there might be in Ameriky."
"Aunt Eliza!" said Mattie indignantly, "Harry only meant so as to makeacquaintance."
"Well, well," said Harry, "we'll talk it all over. But Florence did herbest to get me out of a scrape--"
"Which I make no doubt she got you into," said Mrs Stroud.
Harry's eyes twinkled a little, but he did not betray Florence, and thesuggestion dropped into his mind. He would be glad to do something forone member of his family, and he rather inclined to the unpopularFlorence, though, of course, he remembered Mattie much better, and feltpleased when at last she shyly came up to him and said that she was gladhe had come home. But it was all uncomfortable and full of effort, andHarry felt glad when the time came to say "Good night," and he went offto catch the last train for London. But, as he walked along at fullspeed to the station, the feeling of his father's hand-shake lingered onhis palm, and he felt that he could think of his child with peace andsatisfaction.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
GLAD AND THANKFUL.
There now set in at Ashcroft a period trying to the feelings of allconcerned. No trace of the lost jewels was discovered. The number ofhollow trees in the forest was limited, and so were their hollows, whichwere searched as thoroughly as was possible, and in vain. One or twoold trees had been previously cut down and sawn up; the lost treasurecould not be in them. Alwyn began to wish that the jewels had all beendisposed of in America, and that this search, the folly of which seemedto throw a sort of doubt on the whole story, had never been undertaken.Lady Carleton was most anxious and eager over the matter, and as thesearch could hardly be kept quite secret, its cause came to the ears ofFlorence, who, when she was out with little Lily, spent her time inpoking her fingers into the smallest knot or rent in perfectly soundtrees, and started a theory that the jewels were probably in some of thejackdaws' nests about the chimneys of Ravenshurst, having been carriedthere after the manner of the various thimbles, rings, etc, which hadbeen so disposed of in the story books with which she was acquainted.Florence was behaving wonderfully well, and little Lily was very fond ofher; and she perhaps owed some popularity with the other servants to thefact that she was the sister of the Henry Whittaker whose name was inevery one's mouth. Harry was very anxious to get home again. He took aroom at Ashcroft, and visited his family sometimes; but he was often ata loss what to do with himself. The Warrens were very kind to him, andall the heads of departments at the great house took up the cue andshowed him civility; Alwyn always treated him with the same friendlyconsideration, and was often glad of a chat with him on matters familiarto them both.
Alwyn had, however, much else to take up his time and thoughts. Theneighbourhood accepted him and paid him attentions; which, as it soonbecame apparent, his father was anxious that he should accept. TheCarletons especially came forward in a marked manner, and all thisgradually changed and undermined Mr Cunningham's feelings about him.He saw that it was impossible to treat such a son as in disgrace, andperhaps his continued stiffness was more shyness than displeasure.James Cunningham behaved admirably, and invited Alwyn to visit him inLondon, and he went, though very unwillingly, for all this while poorEdgar was growing more and more dependent on him, and though he eagerlyurged the acceptance of his cousin's invitation, he could not concealhis delight when Alwyn came back again. Alwyn was touched beyondmeasure at the affection that Edgar showed him, and repaid it with thetenderest devotion.
Poor little Wyn was always hoping that his master would be well enoughto come into the wood; but the drives in the pony chaise had been veryshort of late, and often Edgar was only fit to lie quite still on theterrace, looking at the sky and the trees, still enjoying the sense of"out of doors," which was like life to him.
One splendid afternoon, early in September, when the sky was oneglorious sheet of blue, and the red creepers and purple clematis werecovering the side of the old house with colour, Wyn came up the gardenwith a carefully constructed basket of lichens and wild flowers in hishand. He had brought it up to show it to Mr Edgar; and, by good luck,there lay Mr Edgar, alone on his couch, for once without Mr Alwyn byhis side, to take up his attention.
"Ha, Wyn!" he said; "what have you there? What splendid affair isthat?"
"Please, sir, Lady Carleton has offered a prize for the best wild-flowercollection at the flower show to-morrow, and this is mine. There aregrasses and lichens too, sir."
"Yes. Capital! How well you have arranged it! All the three sorts ofheath too!"
"Yes, sir. Please, sir, last year we went right through the wood to seethe heather in bloom."
"Ah, yes; but, you see, just lately the pony chair seems to shake me, soI have to lie still."
"When you're better, sir, there's a new bit of clearing that's verypretty. There'll be plenty of anemones there in the spring."
"Yes, in the spring! We've had some very good times out with Dobbles,Wyn, haven't we? You must bring him up for me to look at some day, if Ican't go out. Now tell me about all the creatures."
Wyn began a long list of the various birds and beasts under his charge,as had often been his custom; but there was something in the intent wayin which his young master looked at him that made it difficult for Wynto go on. Edgar lay so still, and made so little comment.
"Thank you," he said, when Wyn paused, which was not at all his usualway of receiving the reports, as he used to call them. "Alwyn, is thatyou at last?" he said, as a step sounded.
"Yes; did you wonder where I was?" said Alwyn, standing over him. Hiscolour was high and his look quite radiant. He held some letters in hishand. Edgar's attention was caught at once.
"Your basket is first-rate, Wyn," he said; "I wish I could have helpedyou to get the flowers. Are you going to take it in now?"
"Yes, sir, and to take some flowers to little Miss Lily, who wants tosend up a bunch, `not for competition,' she says, sir, because she can'tget them all herself."
"Well, you must come and tell me about the show.--What is it, Alwyn?" headded eagerly, as Wyn went his way.
"It is the best of good new's. Mr Dallas writes the kindest letter!My letter from here and one from Sir Philip Carleton have fullysatisfied him that all is clear as to the past. For the future, hesays, he can trust me _there_; and _here_ he cares nothing. When I goback I shall find a welcome home, and I may write to _her_."
"That's right," said Edgar.
He looked up bravely, but Alwyn felt the congratulating hand tightenclose upon his own. Edgar's nerves were too weak now for him to beallowed to dwell on any agitating topic, and Alwyn just added a word ortwo of detail, and then said: "Now I shall read to you; you'll hearenough about it all in time, no doubt."
"No," said Edgar, "go and write your letter. I see father coming; hewill tell me the news. Just lift me up a little bit and give me somedrink. Yes, so--I am quite comfortable."
Alwyn was naturally very eager to write his letter, and went into thehouse, grateful to Edgar for understanding his hurry.
But he did not know that Edgar had wound up all the remains of hisresolute spirit to an effort he was determined to make. Poor fellow!`Don't care' was no easy saying to him now. His heart beat fast, and hecould scarcely conquer the dread of making matters worse by speaking."Father," he began, after Mr Cunningham had said a few ordinary wordsabout the weather, "I can't say very much now; you'll forgive me forbeing short and sudden. You know, father--I shall _never_ be yourheir--never. You will not let any one think that you wait for thechance of finding those jewels before you set Alwyn in his right place.What can a man do but repent? I know it must come right finally; but,father, will
you give me the happiness of seeing it?"
"The jewels are neither here nor there," said Mr Cunningham.
"But, if they are found, it will look as if Alwyn needed that toreinstate him. Don't you see how scrupulous he is--that he will hardlypick a flower or ask a question? He puts off all his own happiness forme; he stays because I need him so much. But that won't be for so verylong. Oh, father, make it right for him to stay here; make it right foryourself. I know that you know how it _must_ be, as things have turnedout. But say so, father, say so. Things get clear when one is forcedto think. I know now that you really missed him; he feels how