LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2118, 7 December 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTEET OF LORD BRACKENBTJRY; A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B. EDWABDS, Author of "Barbara’s History,” •*Debenham's Vow,” &c. ( Continued. Chapter XV. LANCELOT YIELDS TO THE FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. Mr Marrablas was a bright, chatty little old man, with a cheerful voice, a pleasant smile, and scant crisp white hair brushed up in a curly ridge along the top Jof his head, like a cock’s comb. Sitting at the foot of the dinner table that evening, so plnmp. so rosy, so trim, in tightly buttoned frock coat, high velvet collar, and ample shirt frill, he looked like a dapper old cherub. Mr Marrables however was not a cherub. He was tho Brackenbury’s family lawyer, and the last surviving partner of that old firm which had carried their cause through the family lawsuit. ‘ Dulness,’ he was saying, is a relative term. Fcr myself, being neither painter nor sportsman, I should probably die of ‘ennui.’ But then you see I am a lawyer ; and the lawyers are nothing if not gregarious, We should break oar hearts in Utopia. You know why Lord Chief Justice Parnell said the lawyers might as well be rogues In this world ? Because they wonld’nt care to go to a heaven where there was neither marryingnor dying, and consequently neither disputed wills nor breaches of promise. Profane, eh ? But Parnell’s jokes were as profane as a parson’s. He had a Socratio way of questioning witnesses on points of law when he was at the Bar—what he called extracting pure equity from their inner consciousness. He got queer answers sometimes. ‘Why la bigamy unlawful ?” he once asked a rustic at Singleton Assizes. “Wnll, master," replied Chawbacon, ** because, aooordin’ to the Scriptures, a man cannot serve two masters t But you were talking about the delights and dullnesses of a country life. You see what these moors are—positively alive with game at this season. The hunting, however, is not convenient. The hounds never meet nearer than Danebridge or Newton Bottom, both twelve or fourteen miles distant ; and you can’t send yonr horses in advance, because there is nowhere to put them up. No—l don’t hunt now. One is too old for that eort of thing at seventy-five. Not look it, eh? Well, perhaps not. Lucky for ns that we don’t score a forrow for every year, like some of the cactuses at Kew ? By the way, Mr Cochrane, if yon are anything of a botanist or archaeologist, yon will find plenty to interest yon here besides partridges and pheasants. These moors abound in rare varieties of ferns and mosses; and as for pre-historio antiquities, dolmens and so on, they are as plentiful as blackberries. You have not yet seen the Bride Stones or the Witches’ Bound ? Why, they are the lions of Brackenbnry! The Witches’ Bound is a fine circle of fifteen monoliths, eleven of which are still upright—supposed to be fifteen young witches whom Joseph of Arimathea caught dancing by moonlight; and he very unkindly turned them into stones There is one night in the year —St. John’s Eve, I think—when at the stroke of midnight, they become witches again and dance for an hoar, Faat, I assure yon. All our country folk swear to it; and what every one says must bo true. What is this —port ? Not tho yellow seal, Uhnrch ?” •The yellow seal, Mr Marrables,’replied Mr Brackenbnry‘s butler; a stately personage who bad been in the family for nearly half a eentnry. * We never gives yon any other, sir.’ * ’Pon my life, I am ashamed—positively ashamed ! ’Gad! this is something like port I There’s not such another glass of wine in the country. Yonr grandfather bought it, with old Slocombe’a whole cellar at my suggestion, Mr Brackenbnry—six dozen dozen in all, and every bottle of the choicest 1 He rued to tell me I never did him a better turn. Regular old-fashioned three-bottle man, that Slocombe ! kept this particular port for his own drinking. Never gave it to his guests, if he could help it. I used to ask for it, out of malice—pure malice. He couldn’t refuse, you know ; but grudged every drop. Drank himself across tho Styx, poor devil! Crosby warned him of it—tried to cat him down to one bottle a day ; bat t’was of no use. ‘ 1 don’t ask you to drop it altogether, Mr Slocombe, ’ says Crosby ; ‘ but yon mast leave off drinking it in a great measure.’ Slocombe promised. Crosby, however, timed bis next visit after dinner, and found the patient well into his third bottle. ‘ I’ve not broken my word, doctor,’ says Slocombe ; ‘ I promised I would leave off drinking it in a great measure;’ —and, by Jove t sir. he was tippling it in liqueur glasses I—What 1 both yon young men sticking to the claret jug ? Fie ! “ Claret for boys,’ you know, “ port for men ; brandy for heroes.” ’Pon my life, now, it spoils my pleasure not to pass the bottle.’ * I fear yon must vanquish it alone this time, Mr Marrables,’ said Lancelot Braokenbnry. * The gods forbid! No, my dear friend I must keep my head cool—for, to tell yon the truth, I am not here to-night for the sole pleasure of dining with yon ** All improviata.’ 1 am going to beg for ten minutes’ chat by and by on some little matters of business.’ Old Court was but a bachelor’s den after all, and boasted of no third room ; so, when they had taken their coffee, hosts and guests adjourned to the studio. * I -will leave you now to your business talk,’ said Cochrane, when he had chatted for a minute or two, and twisted up his cigarette. ‘ Yon will find me In the dining room when yon want me.’ Bat this was what Lancelot Brackenbnry would by no means allow. ‘ My business transactions are simple enough,’ he said. ‘ Wo have no secrets to discuss. I am but a steward, yon know—isn’t it so, Marrables ?’ The little lawyer coughed doubtfully. ‘ I have nothing to say that Mr Cochrane is not welcome to hear,’ he replied. ‘ But I am de trap,’ urged he of the Wax and Wafer Department. ‘Not a bit of it, sir—not a bit of it Mr Brackenbnry says truly; wo have no secrets.’ So Mr Coohrane stayed, retreating to a far corner with a book and a reading lamp; while the man of law brought out his papers, dropped his cheery, chirruping manner, and settled down to business. ‘ First of all, there is that question of the right of way through Crawford Spinney. My partner and I have gone into it from every point of view, with no better result In the absence ef any assertion of manorial right on your part, wa are powerless to stop the traffic.' * It’s a horrible nuisance,’said Mr Brackenbnry. ‘ It’s not only a nuisance, but an aggravated form of trespass. It opens a short out to your preserves on that side, and offers a direct temptation to tramps. Then the worst of it is, the longer it goes on, the more it assumes the appearance of »n established right—the more difficult, therefore, will it be to put a stop to it by and by,’ ‘ But can you do nothing to prevent it ? ’ ‘Nothing whatever. And now—let me see—ah! yea—now about those leases—Lawrence’s and Bell’s. Lawrences, as yon know, expired about nine months ago, and Bell’s has run out close upon two years. Bell came to me again yesterday, and was very urgent about it. ’ ‘You have explained the difficulty to them, of course?’ * Yes ; that Is to say I have told them what you feel and think npon the subject ; but they do not appreciate your scruples.’ ‘ They are a pair of ignorant asses,’ said Mr Braokenhury emphatically. * No, no, my dear friend; they are both very worthy, respectable men—men whoso forbears have leased their holdings from yonr predecessors for generations, and who object—reasonably enough—to being placed in tho position of yearly tenants. Look at Bell, for instance—a really snperior class of farmer ; willing to pat money into the land, but held back by tho uncertainty of his present position. Told me that he purposed going largely into guano and patent manures, S only hlb lease were renewed In proper

form. Meanwhile the land suffers as well as the farmer,’

* Heavens and earth! does the man take ns for thieves T * exclaimed Mr Braokenbury. ‘He ought to know that he is as safe as if he had his lease signed, sealed, and in his own strong box.’ The little lawyer smiled grimly. * Yon are dreadfully unpractical,’ he replied. * You forget that a lease is property, and that Bell has a family to provide for. He is as good a tenant as ever tilled the soil, and he deserves good treatment,’ 'Good treatment! Who dreams of treating him ill ? Does ho think he is to be trapped into sinking his money, only to find his rent raised immediately after ? It’s a downright insult,’ ‘ Nothing of the kind. 801 l Is right, and Mr Braokenbury is wrong. Suppose now yon were to die suddenly. This property would go to the Scotoh branch ; and your successor, if I am not mistaken, is just the man to grasp at any opportunity ot raising his rents.’ * Thank you, Marrahles,'said Mrßraokenbury. ‘lt is a pleasing suggestion; but I’m not going to die just yet.’ ‘ God forbid 1 I only put the case to show you that these men are not—excuse me ! are not being fairly dealt by.’ ‘ Confound it all! How can I help it I What can I do 1’ ‘ Nothing—except one thing, ’ ‘Which I will “not" do—as you well know ’ Mr Marrables shrugged bis shoulders, ‘ 1 thought it was understood that I entirely rejected that ultimatum,’ continued Mr Braokenbury with some heat of manner, 'I did not suppose you would return to it.’ ‘ I am compelled to return to it,’ said the lawyer. ‘.As for Bell, and Lawrence, and the rest of them, they must wait—as I am waiting. And if they won’t wait, they may go to the devil, leases and all Mr Marrables stroked bis chin contemplatively. ‘—And the property,’ he added. * Don’t forg-t that. The property goes to tho devil likewise, you know. ’ (To be continued.)