Tales and Sketches.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1216, 28 October 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

Tales and Sketches.

THE COST OF A . , Jto* " IN TWO PARTS. JRjV Part II. : and Lady Mary Cranstoun • 'Bwk'e .'Ogether in the drawing-room of a ]nmtjfEaton Square which Lord RutherGeld had taken till after his daughter's marriage. . Raymond Lord Ersuldene is a tall mtth of five-and-thirty, with a deoidedly handsome face; tho straight Grecian features finely cut, and the hair, moustache, and beard of a beautiful golden color; yet, somehow there seems something wanting'; the face is so calm and passionless, so unwavering in its grave tranquillity, that even a child would feel instinctively that from that man might oome wise judgment and rigid justice; but little mercy, little allowance for errors; still less lovo or tenderness for the erring," It was a face that strikingly lacked feelingjust as the tall, graceful figure lacked broadth. The lover Was as great a contrast to his betrothed wife in body and .mind as could well be met with. Lord Ersuldene was clever and high-principled, a distinguished Member of the Government, already a Qabinet Minister, after having filled several important diplomatic posts; a prominent Member of the Upper House, listened to, not so much for brilliant speeches, though he always spoko well and to the purpose, as for the sense and moderation and practicability of his viows, and from the hard, working way ho performed his official duties.; He was a first-rate landlord,- devoting himself to managing his vast estates, to high-, class farming, and model cottage building, at an age when most young men seek amusement and pleasure; and, above all, Raymond Ersuldene was that oynosure of all chaperon's eyes, the "greatest match" in England for position, and wealth, and character; the object of every mother's plans, the prize of overy daughter's ambition'. Yet, with all his attractions, all his advantages, Lord Ersuldene was one generally fascinating, not lovable. Ido not think that any heart ever boat truly for him (for himself, not his possessions) until Lady Mary Cranstoun saw him and immediately foil " over head and ears in love with him, Love is a wonderful thing-there is no disguising it, How littlo > flirting Mary Cranstoun, with her neglected' education, and fast ways, and horsy propensities, ever came to fall in love with Lord Ersuldene is marvellous, still more marvellous how he first came to fall In love with her. For years—ever since he was five-and-twenty, when he took it into: his head that it behoved him to take a wifo -had Raymond boen looking for the faultless piece of perfection he expected the future Lady Ersuldene to be. One by one he had mentally reviewed tho most eligible young ladies, his fastidious taste finding them all wanting in : some essential point, His ideal was a wellborn, well-educated girl, calm arid eventempered, certain to conduct herself with perfect dignity on auy occasion, as became his wifo; never carried away by fancies or tempers, beautiful as a statue, and as cold, i Hero was Mary Cranstoun, wilful and uncertain, full of strong feelings, and fiery passions, variable as the wind; one moment softening into tears, the next flashing with rage-naturally quick.and clever, but badly educated, shockingly brought up, not handsome, and anything but stately; yet withal, confessedly the prettiest gjrl in London, the most fascinating littlo fairy in tho world—, the very opposite of his ideal -so, of course, 4 wo moment his eyes first lighted upon her, ' Raymond Lord Ersuldene fell in love with .jA her; loved her immediately, despite her disreputable connections, despite her fastness, despite her ignorance, despite the one , great fact that she was the last person in the world his judgment approved as a wife-and love, real love, when it takes possession of a grave, undemonstrative man, with all his feelings under control, is a very much stronger passion than many people suppose, or than the victim himself imagines. So it was with Raymond Ersuldene. I believe he persuaded himself his love was a quiet, reasonable affection, calm as all his other i passions, How far ho judged himself truly this story will show. At the moment he first comes before the reader he is standing on the hearth-rug, looking down from his six feet of height upon his betrothed wife's little figure as she sits on a low stool before the fire, with one hand buried in a huge deer-hound's shaggy coat. The slender hand moves restlessly, and in the deep blue eyes is a look of nervous' ■anxiety, and-ever and anon into their blue depths gleams a lightning flash like the first harbinger of the coming tempest, for the dreaded hour has come at last, and the talo of youthful folly, the story that will test and dene s love must be told this very afternoon, Poor Mary was no diplomatist, her intense' anxiety made' hor reckless, and suddenly , 'starting from her scat she stood close to Lord Ersuldene, exclaiming, ."Raymond, I know it will drive you out of your mind, but I must tell you," And without any further preamble she related the whole story, Ersuldene never once, exclaimed or questioned, He stood quite stillj and often Mary glanced at him to see what lie thought; there was nothing to be gathered from the grave, quiet eyes that never moved from her face. But when the story was told, tho last words were spoken, nothing could be more chilling than the cool, sarcastic tones that inquired , ", w hy she had done him the honor to accept 1 him, when it was so clear whom Bhe really a the horse-dealer." And all the pride of his race curled Raymonds lips as he emphasized his rival's station in life, . In vain were all Mary's protestations,, all her entreaties that he would not be so angry. In cool, courteous tones, almost apologizing for troubling her about such a trifle, he asked her to release lum from his engagement, leaving poor Mary no alternative savfc to do as he wished; but still clinging to her idea that he could not really mean it, she made one more effort, whispering hoarsely, "Oh, Raymond! how can you bear to give me up like this ? Don't you ever feel anything J" He quietly replied, "I should not think of troubling you with my feelingsand almost before she was'aware what he meant to do, he bowed graVely, and left the room. After Lord Ersuldene had gone, how miserable Mary was, how she cried! For more /. than an hour she sat, her fate buried in her hands, sobbing her heart out ; it was all over, the . happiness of hei* life was gone; I how wretched she was! Then her mood changed, a wild, reckless spirit took posses- '• her, a determination not to care, to Ersuldene see that as he had given so calmly she could do the same; he J see she did not carij, all the world ali>yia see it, She paced up and down the room, firmly determined to crush out her 1 lovo.' She stamped her fobt and. clenched . her hand as she resolved • immediately to marry some one else, she cbred not whom, so that it proved to Raymoild how little she thought of him. ! . . In this mood Mary met' Mrs, Morland, who, being engaged to chapferon her to a ball that same evening, came at five o'clock to arrange about the time they'should go, and was horrified when her cousin told,her she and Lord Ersuldene had had a fierce quarrel and he had given her up, adding, " I think it's a very good thing too, I don't care a.in't about him." Charlotte was 'much distressed,' -asking question after question, in the hope , of doing something to set things right; but she heard little from Mary-save the bare fact

that tie quarrel had beon about Mr, Barton, with repetitions over and ovcr again that she hated Raymond, did not care a bit about him, was very glad the engagement was broken off; while her flushed cheeks and excited manner told a very different story. When at last Mrs, Morland rose to go, she ventured a last remonstrance against Mary'going to a ball that night, but was answeredifaercely, "Do you think I am going to,be a 1 love-lorn girl, and wear the willow for any man ; to go about brokenhearted, and be pitied and talked about? I mean to go to-night and enjoy myself, you'll see if I don't," So her cousin was obliged to give In the same fierce mood Mary dressed and went with Mrs, Morland to the ball, and all the evening she seemed in wild, high spirits, How she danced and flirted and talked j how more fascinating her manner, and yet how miserable poor Mary felt all the time; how her eyes longed to see the tall figure ' thai was wont to stand by her side; how her heart ached and wearied for the grave face that was wont to watch her so proudly while she talked to others, so tenderly when she spoke to himself. Yet many that night remarked; " What a flirt that Lady Mary Cranstoun is." And when it began to be whispored, as despite Mrs. MorlandV care and silence it very soon was whispored (how do things get known, I wonder?) that the marriage between Lord.Ersuldene and Lady Mary was" broken off," what a " heartless little creature " people said she was. To tho last Mary kept'her spirits up; even when she went down to the carriage, she and her last partner lingered on the stairs talking, bo that Mrs, Morland had been for several minutes waiting in the carriage .before she saw Mary and Mr. Hylton coming through the doorway, As Mary, paused on the highest stop she was aware of a tall figure that stood far back among the crowd, the sight of which thrilled to her heart. What did that stately form and pale, proud face among the shabby crowd assembled around .the carriages ? Herwoman's instinct divined he had come there for one m'oro look at her. With tho sense of Raymond's presence came back all her former admiration,' all her love, and instantly, like a flash of light, she resolved to speak to him—to make one more effort to win him back, .One instant she paused, then, turning to her companion, she said—

" I have left my fan in the oloak-room, will you get it for mo ? I will wait here, Go directly, please, or it may be lost." As Hylton disappeared through the doorway, Mary walked through the crowd to where Lord Ersuldene stood, Before he could move away a hand was on his arm—a voice whispered, " Raymond, I must speak to you; I must—l will, Walk home with mo I" Ere he could reply she moved swiftly to the carriage windows, addressing her cousin—

" Charlotte, drive home by yourself; don't ask questions, for Heaven's sake, but go— Lord Ersuldene will take me home," There was an imploring tone in the voice, and a look of piteous entreaty in the blue eyes, that made Mrs, Morland instinctively do as she directed—so, with her misgivings conquered by the thought, "anything to make the quarrel up "—she drove away, leaving Lord Ersuldene with no alternative but to offer his arm to Lady Mary. She took it, saying hurriedly, "Let us go through the crowd quickly, or Mr. Hylton will be coming back," and they walked on, What a strange, what a wild thing it was —that he, Lord Ersuldene, rigidly proper Lord Ersuldene, who hated doing out-of-the-way things, should be walking through London streets at three o'clock in the morning with Lady Mary Cranstoun, in her light. ball-dress, with only an opera cloak thrown over her shoulders. What had she done it for? She must be mad—and yet, over-ruling' all his horror at the fastness and thbrough impropriety of the whole affair, thore was a glow of delight at having her little hand resting on his arm. For some moments not a word was said : .until they had left the square and entered a quiet back street, then Mary's step grew slower; she looked up in his face and spoke: " I know you can't bear this, and you think it's horrible of mo, but I couldn't help' it, I did so want to speak to you again, Oh! Raymond, don't you care a bit about me ? Won't you make it up?" she paused, He did not speak at first—if she had only waited I believe he would have forgiven her then, but she went on, " Why were you so angry this afternoon? you must know I did not care about Mr. Barton."

_ He had nearly relented, when the mention of this , man, this horse-dealer, steeled him afresh—his voice was stern and hard, "I thought wo had quite done with the subject this afternoon. If you have nothing else to say, I don't see the use of this extraordinary proceeding. I don't appreciate midnight walks, whatever you may do." His cool tone cut like a knife through her excited nerves-she stopped suddenly, drew back hor hand, and faced him. "I don't care—l will speak—l'll make you listen," and she stamped her small foot on the pavement; then, changing her tono abruptly and clasping both hands round his arm: "Oh! Raymond, my darling, I didn't mean it, don't be angry. I think I'm going mad. I shall kill myself if you get to hate me. I believe you do, Do speak to me kindly, Ido love you so," A sob choked her voice. What evil spirit tempted him to answer as ho did ? What demon stirred up his obstinate temper—making him speak so harshly? In his heart he was longing to forgive, was loving her as'strongly as ever while she stood there, with the gas-light full upon her, look-' ing in her fear, and love, and misery a thousand times lovelier than eVer. Yet the more he relented inwardly, the harder and sterner grew his words, To her piteous appeal, "I do love you so," he'answered " No, you don't; you love Mr. Barton, the horse-dealer,- but you've no objection to marrying the best match in England." He had gone too far now, From the man she loved so deeply, Mary Cranstoun would bear almost anything—would trample upon ber pride—would stoop to beg him to forgive her, but Ersuldene's last words stung her to the quick—stung her as never before in her life had she been hurt. And such a change came over her as startled her lover. A moment she stood looking at him, intense surprise in her face; then there came into the large blue eyes a look he had never seen there before, a look of scorn and indescribable contempt,' She who had always seemed to think herself not half good enough for him, now drew away her dress as if from something she could not bear to touch, and tho girl, who had before spoken to himsolovingly, now said in the voice of a queen to the lowest of her subjects-

" May I ask you to walk as far •as Eaton Square? I should be afraid of going alone, so late j" then she walked on, leaving him to follow, or not, as he pleased. Ersuldene was highly astonished, and, it must be confessed,- ashamed too—he had never thought it would come to this—that Mary should despise and scorn him; from the moment she had put her hand on his arm that evening, he resolved to forgive her in the end, but to read-her a lecture first Raymond was much too fond of lecturing. And now the end had come so differently. From the early days of their engagement, Mary Cranstoun had so plainly, so truly showed how she cared for him, that Ersuldene had never thought it possible to lose her love. Now a horrible conviction sfole over him that he had lost it, While it was all his own he had undervalued it; now that it had almost, if not quite, slipped from his grasp, like many, others of his disposition, he felt what a trsasure it was; felt that he would do anything to win' it back,

The determination, the strong obstinacy of his character that had made him so harsh, now impelled Ersuldene to make every effort to gain his lost love; striding quickly after her, he stood close to Mary's side, his words eager and imploring, "My darling Mary." Chill on his ear fell the cold,' courteous tones:— • <•'

"Ibeg your pardon, Lord Ersuldene, I did not quite hear." ' / ' ' Raymond felt desperate, " Mary, forgive me, dearest, lam wrong. I did , not mean it; forgive me." She did not answer,' only walked quickly on.

" Mary," he repeated, "stop one moment —do you understand—l promise never to mention that man's name again, if you will forget what I said. Do you hear? Speak to me." And he laid a detaining hand on her white cloak.

_ Lady Mary Cranstoun turned round, facing him haughtily, her tiny figure drawn up to its full height, her eyes flashing, and the musical voice sounded strangely cold and hard, as she answered: " You'have no right to speak to me like this. Anything I choose to do is no concern of yours. Lord Ersuldene,"

Raymond was fairly beaten now; all his prido, all his sense of propriety, all his extremo oyer-rcgard for les convenances vanished in baffled love and vain regret; and calm, stately, rigidly proper Lord Ersuldene, standing in the full glare of a gas-lamp in an open street in London, did actually then and there clasp his arms round Mary Cranstoun, and straining her passionately'to his breast, exclaimed :

"I don't care what you say, I know you love me—you did'not a quarter of an hour ago, and you shall now—you shan't stir a step till you say so, and that you'll be my wife just tho same as ever," Mary only answered by laying hor head on her lover's shoulder with a sigh of happy relief, but she spoke never a word of denial, when Raymond whispered "There, it is all over,; we have had our first and last quarrel —is it not so, my darling?" And in many a year of her happy married life,, Mary Lady Ersuldene would laugh and tell her husband that he must never blame people for doing strange, out-of-the-way things—when he remembered that midnight walk. Yot despite her merry jokes, and the way .'she used to tease her grave, clever husband, Lady Ersuldene was a very different person to wild Mary Cranstoun, and thoroughly belied tho doleful prophecy of old Lady Laneton—the latter a venerable dowager, the possessor of a wonderful diamond necklace, and two plain daughters, either of whom would have been only too willing to become Lord Ersuldeno's model wife; while their mother in her disappointment was wont to declare: "No child of Lord Rutherfield could turn out anything but bad." I will not affirm that Lady Ersuldene did turn out anything wonderful j but a true, loving wife she undoubtedly was, and never to her dying day did she forget how nearly she had once lost her husband, and what a fearful price she had almost paid as "The Cost of a Kiss,"

A CABINET SECRET. A great deal of sympathy was felt for Reginald Courtney when his old reprobate of a father disinherited him. Notwithstand-, ing his sacred calling, the "goings on" of tho Rev. Samuel had been a scandal and a byword in his parish and diocese'for years past, and when matters came to such a climax that his son felt in duty bound to offer a respectful remonstrance, every one considered that Reginald's interference was more than justifiable. Unfortunately, the reverend gentleman took a different view, and though he followed his son's advice and resigned his benefice, he neither discon. tinned his attentions to the lady nor showed himself amenable to reason. On tho contrary, he took the young woman with him to the.Continent, after first making afresh will, leaving every farthing of his large fortune to his elder brother, the'baronet, Reginald Courtney was very much distressed at having incurred his father's displeasure, Their intercourse had always been extremely friendly, though of late years, owing, probably, to a guilty conscience, the Rector had rather shunned his son's society. Biit the old gentleman, .though ho did not often invite Reginald to his house, made up for his neglect in other ways, and especially by granting him a liberal allowance, which enabled the young man to lead a life of pleasant idleness under the pretence of studying for the bar. This allowance was at once discontinued when the estrangement took place, aud Reginald's income was suddenly reduced to tho pittance which ho had inherited from his mother, It was, however, less on this account than from honest affection and filial regard that he made overtures to his father to bring about a reconciliation, but his letters were sternly disregarded by the outraged parent; and before time could work its soothing and beneficent effect upon him, the Rector and his fellow-passenger perished in a dreadful conflagration which destroyed ■ a crowded opera-house, and made Europe ring with a taleof horror.

It was a rude shock ,to Reginald to find himself disinherited, His father had not revoked or altered his unjust will, which was proved, in due course, by Sir Craven Courtney, the fortunate legatee, who took possession, of his brother's estate with sublime indifference to his nephew's feelings, Reginald had quarrelled with the baronet and his-family long ago, in standing up for his father, and dutifully repelling their illnatured attacks upon him, He therefore felt his present .position the more acutely because he could except neither assistance nor sympathy from his nearest relations. Thrown upon his own resources, and being totally ignorant, with all his natural cleverness and his social accomplishments, how to set about earning his own living, he thankfully accepted a modest post as supernumerary clerk or writer in one of the Government offices, His fortunes being now at their lowest ebb, he proceeded to exemplify the proverbial recklessness of youth by getting • married. Then he gradually lost sight of his old friends and associates, dropped out of society, and soon developed into an anxious, careworn, poverty-stricken father of a family, whose existence was a perpetual struggle to make both ends meet, Under this condition of things itseemed like a glimpse of heaven when an unknown correspondent offered to put him in possession of twenty thousand pounds on certain conditions.

Young Courtney naturally lost no time in calling upon his benefactor to inquire into the matter, Mr. Richard de Courcey Myrtle Jones was the euphonious appellation of this benevolent individual, who described himself .on his letter-paper by the vague term of "la)v agent," and gave an address in a fashionable West-end street. To Courtney's disappointment he turned out to be a vulgar, shabby little man, carrying on business in a dingy office on a third floor, who certainly did ,not look as though he had the disposal of superfluous thousands, Nevertheless, he solemnly averred to his astonished visitor that lie was in a position to reveal most important information, and would do so if Reginald would be satisfied with the sum named, and would promise to pay him over any balance that might bedueitohiin over and,above that amount,

Reginald Courtney's first impulse was to agree tc the condition at once. He had thought the matter over, and knew of no source from whence so large a sum could possibly be forthcoming; besides which,.the

prospect of receiving: twenty : thousand Sounds in his straitened circumstances was azzling enough to make him indifferent to. the possible'balance,' He was on the point of affixing his signature to a formal agreement, which Mr, Myrtle Jones produced ready drawn, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was acting rashly., He therefore decided to take a few days for reflection, and sought out his old friend 1 Bob Tyler, to ask his advice. j Bob was regarded as a shining light at the Blenheim Club among his own set, on account of. his natural shrewdness) his worldly wisdom, and his native talent for diplomacy. He was a little vain of his reputation, and, being an easy going, good' natured fellow, was always ready to take an interest in his friend's affairs, He greeted Reginald warmly, after his long absence from his old haunts, and listened to his story with careful attention. At his' suggestion Reginald made particular iuquiriea about his father's will, and especially as to whether ho had executed a fresh one while abroad; but he found no reason to suspect that the will which had been proved did not convey his parent's last wishes, . Tyler, on his'part, directed his energies to gather information concerning Mr, Myrtle Jones and his method of doing business, He found Mr, Jones was neither more nor loss respectable than tho rest of his class, who earn somewhat a precarious livelihood by searobing the records of the Chancery and Bankruptcy Courts, qud hunting | up persons entitled to long-neglected funds, As in nine cases out of ten the information thus acquired turns out, from various causes, to be valueless, the business would not be profitable were it not for tho preliminary foes which it is customary to exact from victims whose cupidity has been aroused, The fact that Mr, Myrtle Jones had: dispensed with this preliminary fee in Reginald's case seemed to suggest that the soaidisant "law agent" felt more than usually confident of the value of this secret,

'"Upon the whole," said Bob,'a few days afterwards, " I'm inclined to think there is something in it, but I'll be hanged if I can guess which way the wind blows.. I don't like the idea of your resigning yourself blindfolded into Mr. Jones's hands, Suppose we call upon him together and talk it over." But Bob Tyler found his powers of persuasion and diplomacy at fault in dealing with Mr, Myrtle Jones, Secure of his secret, Mr, Jones held his ground and his tongue at the same time. He shrewdly pointed out that the,very fact of his visitors having failed to discover the secret after being put on their guard proved that he was justified in naming his own terms, Bob saw the force of the argument, and exchanged a glance of despair with Reginald, which Mr. Jones intercepted. "It seems a pity to waste time, gentleman," he said briskly, in a manner-of-fact tone. "Here is the agreement, why shouldn't Mr. Courtney sign it at once?" "I suppose I had better," said Reginald, seizing a pen with an air of desperation. "I shouldn't, Reggy, not to-day," interposed Bob coolly. "It is Friday, you know, and I'm superstitious." Mr, Myrtle Jones took this for chaff, and laughed pleasantly. Reginald, who knew his friend's manner, perceived he was serious, and rose from his desk, "Very well, then, let us say ten o'clock to-morrow, Mr, Jones," ho said, "As you please, sir," said Mr. Jones, a little sharply, "1 don't want to hurry you, of course, only if you delay much longer I may feel tempted to raise my terms.'' ; "I don't think you will," said Bob, with a grin, " I believe I've got a olue, Reggy," he remarked as they reached the street, " What became of that little old fashioned oak escritoire that used to stand between the window of your sitting room in Dover street?"

" Why do you ask ?" inquired Reginald, "Because I recognised it in Mr. Jones's office. Where were your eyes,'man?", said Bob, . " I did not notice it; but it's quite possible, for when I left Dover street I owed some rent, and being at the time in a considerable hole, I prevailed on my landlady to accept my furniture in discharge of arrears," explained Reginald. V "That's it, then I The things.were, no doubt, sold, and our friend Jones picked up the escritoire cheaply somewhere," said; Bob, exultantly. "I feel confident it is tho identical article." ;

"What a memory you have, Bobl, All the same, I don't see that your clue can possibly lead to anything," said Reginald. " I never kept anything in it of value, and I carefully cleared everything out of it before I came away." " Let us stroll to Dover street and have a chat with your old landlady, at all events," suggested Bob, ' Reginald acquiesced, and at Dover street Bob had tho satisfaction of learning that bis friend's furniture had been sold to a dealer, as he anticipated, The landlady seemed rather reticent about the transaction, ■ probably from the recollection of having made three times the value of her rent out of it, But Bob suspected there was something more behind, and at length elicited the fact that a few bills and circulars, which had come addressed to Reginald after,he left, and been placed in tho escritoire for safety, had been overlooked when the furniture was disposed of, and had probably-fallen into the hands of the d ealer,

" Were there any letters ? How do you know they were all bills?" inquired Reginald, suddenly interested. " I know the look of a bill, sir. Trust me for that. I've took in gentlemen lodgers too long to make any mistake," said the landlady confidently. ''Still, Mrs. Andrews, I believe there was one letter at all events," hazarded Bob, speaking with an air of certainty. " Dear me, sir! Well, now you mention it, there was one from abroad," said the old lady, taken aback. ' 1 But there was nothin' except —" "Except what?" demanded Bob, excitedly, as the landlady suddenly recollected her indiscretion, and checked herself in great confusion. '' Come, Mrs. Andrews, you opened that letter and saw what was inside. What was it ?"

" I assure you, gentlemen, that the envelope almost came open in niy hands," "Never mind that 1" cried Bob; "all is forgotten and forgiven, as the newspapers say. What did the envelope contain, Mrs, Andrews?" '

"Nothing at all, sir," said the landlady in a great fluster, " except a copy of the marriage lines of Mr, Courtney's father, by which, it'seems, he married at Geneva a lady young enough to be his daughter," "I can't understand it, Bob," said Reginald, a few minutes later, when they were alone, "Fancy-his having married that girl. What on earth did he mean by pending me a certificate of his marriage without a word?" " Looks as if he wanted to rile you," said Bob shortly, . "On the contrary," returned.Reginald; " I take it as a sign that he was inclined to be reconciled to me, Would to God I knew of this earlier,"

" No use crying over spilt milk,"said Bob, savagely. " Cheer up, old chap. For the sake of your wife and oliildren you should be light-hearted now." _ "Why? What do you mean?" inquired Reginald, in surprise. . "Don't you see, old boy?" exclaimed Bob; "your father's subsequent marriage revoked his will, and consequently you are' entitled, legally and morally, to the whole of his property, as heir-at-law and next of kin {"—Truth,