Novelist. MY HOUSE IN OXFORD TERRACE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXX, Issue 2444, 10 March 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist. MY HOUSE IN OXFORD TERRACE.

CHAPTER VI. THE SEALED PACKET.

The first document which M. Dubois held out to me without speaking seemed to wake me suddenly from a dream. It boro this inscription in a large legal hand : Will of James Edward Walton, Baron Clavcrhrg. M. Dubois opened it and we read it together. It was short, and I found it rather confusing, .[gathered that property was left to his wife for her life and to his son afterwards, but what the amount of the property was, and whether he actually possessed it or only claimed it, I could not understand. It spoke of diamonds, and heirlooms. At. Dubois seemed to comprehend better, and said, cheerfully, that it was of no importance.

Beneath the will was a packet of copies of that pamphlet which M. Dubois had already read in the British Museum. lie laid tlie.se aside, and we saiv four morocco cases, two of them of considerable size. "Ah," said M. Dubois, eagerly seizing the first.

He opened it and disclosed an oval miniature of a lady with powdered hair and bare shoulders. It was set round with diamonds and fastened to a gold chain. M. Dubois turned it over. The back was engraved with the hand and axe. lie examined it narrowly, and taking it in both hands, caused the back to spring open. I now beheld

a sort of locket. On the one side, against the ivory of the miniature, lay a curl of hair ; on the other, the golden side, was this inscription: Lizr.w, Baroness Clawing. John Harness, pinxf., 1730. Beneath were the interlaced letters E. and W., the initials Edward Walton. We elosed it, and laid it back in its case. M. Dubois took up the second. This contained a somewhat larger and plainer miniature of a thin and longfacert man, in a curled wig, with the blue ribbon of the Garter across his btvasfc. A strip of writing lay inside the case. The paper

was yellowish, and the ink faded. The words were these -.Jacobus 111. Dei gratia A nglinH ct Hibernian Hex. We laid it down in silence. The image of this King without a kingdom, for whom Edward Walton had risked his life and his hopes, and whose porfcrfi.it he cherished beside his mother's had something at once cruel and pathetic. The Stuarfc heritage of a picterescjuc position clung even to the pale effigy. We passed to the next case, which was the largest of tho four. As M. Dubois opened it, a low cry of surprise escaped from each of us. J. closcd my eyes, dazzled, and at first knew only that the case was of diamonds, Looking again, I saw that they formed a necklace, earrings, and pendant. M. Dubois turned over the pendant. There was 110 device upon the back ; but

the crest was stamped on the inside of the case. My own first feeling was, [ am afraid, a prosaic, housekeeper's horror at the thought that

ics(i precious things had been left

unlocked in that oak chest, open to the attacks of any depredator. M. Dubois, whoso knowledge of unlikely subjects seemed to include an acquaintance with the value of

.amomls, made a hasty and mut-

tered calculation, and delivered a tot»l in francs, of which the thousands appeared, to an English ear, overwhelming. As for me, I only knew that the present Lady Clavering had no jewels to compare with those,

M. Dubois closed them up again, and we went on to the next and

last case, which contained a large and extremely ancient-looking sig-

net-ring, with tho arms of the family. There was a place for another ring, but none was there.

" The other ring will bo that which Mr Walton wears," said I.

" Without doubt," assented M. Dubois.

The four cases having now been inspected we passed on to the writings, looking through them first to see what they were. They consisted partly of separate documents, partly of letters tied up in bundles, and finally of a closely-written statement made out by Mr Walton's father in the last year of his life, and addressed by name, to his son.

"I don't think we ought to read this," I said to M. Dubois; the documents are different, but I could not read this when he has never road it. It would be like reading a letter."

"Ah, bah! my dear Miss; you make too many fashions," said MDubois. " But in all cases we will read it the last."

So he laid it )>y, and we went through the !o iso documents. These included certificates of births' marriages, and deaths, ranged in order of elate from the marriage and death certificates of Richard Walton, *thc Jacobite, down to the birth and I baptismal certificates of his great grandson, James, born in 1859. The first paper of all was a signed and witnessed statement made bv Richard Walton just before his death,, and dated August, 17.50. In this statement he declared himself to be the eldest son of of the late Lord Clavering, nu-rated briefly the

the cause, time, and manner of his flight, and declared that he had been deterred by the threats of his brother from claiming his rights. A

paper was folded inside, upon which a couple of notes had been written : —1. .Richard Wai con was born at Forest Lodge on the 21st of January, 1G96. By his first wife, Lady Griselda Beaton, who died in 1735, ho had no children. In 1748 he married Judith O'Shea, of Ballynaiuoie, and had two sons, the eldest of whom was Richard James Walton, born in 1749, and apprenticed in 17G4 to his maternal uncle, Martin O'Shea, carpenter, of BaUynamorc. 2. The Statute of Limitations, which would prevent the reclamation of rights after a long period of years, especially excepts cases of fraud. The fraud of John Walton, called Lord Clavering, is proved by the existence of

letters from him to his brother

written at a time when he had declared upon oath that his brother was dead.

" Ah, voila.' These letters, are they here?' said M. Dubois, turning eagerly to tho iu;xt paper.

This, however, was a formal grant

from James 111, to Richard Walton and his heirs of the earldom air.l

lands of Evendale, in Scotland. With it lay a little autograph note scrawled in ill spelt French, and signed Charles Edward P. There remained now three parcels of letters. M. Dubois examined them rapidly. " Voila ' They are here !" he exclaimed, holding out to me a thin packet, neatly labelled : " Letters

;o Richard Walton at Ballynamore

from his mother and brother. " Those will establish him. But if he possessed already these letters, for what was he waiting , ? It must have been clear like tho day."

We read these letters which were few, but important, and indeed it seemed to me conclusive. The first letter, from the mother, dated 1746, made mention of his wife's diamonds, which she sent him. Those from his brother were extremely short; they contained warnings of danger, promised money if he would stay away, and threatened him with denunciations as a rebel if he reappeared.

AT. Dubois shook his head, puzzled. " But why then did he not make his process'?"

Tho other bundles were labelled, "one, Letters to 111 c, J. R Walton, from his wife ; the other, Letters to me, J. I*. Walton, from various persons on matters relating to my claim." "The first packet wo should not open, I thinlc," said 1, and we laid it with the narrative to which I had already demurred.

': ho third bundle contain' , d a large number of letters from persons of of the most widely different kinds. Some were from cousius, descendants of the second son of Richard Walton, who seemed to have had the papers of the family in possession ; some were from lawyers, one or two apparently from detectives. One was from the last Lord Glavering, the uncle of my aunt's husband. It intimated that Lord Clavering would be pleased to meet Mr Walton the next day at Mr Jackson's office, at the hour named, and hoped some amicable arrangement might be arrived at. Upon this was noted : " Agrees to yield without proeeedings upon production of letters from John, Lord Clavering, which my cousin, Bridget, still holds back for money.

" Ah, it is there, the explication !" cried M. Dubois.

" Hero is something in another hand," said I, pointing to a few pencilled lines beneath.

"Bridget Walton sent these letters to your father just before his death. I have not opened them. I leavo you to judge for yourself, 0.A."

" Pauvre malhcureu.vi" sighed M. Dubois. "To receive them on his death bed. Well, at the least, ho received them. .Dcvait ellc etre bete, celle cousinc."

Wo glanced through another letter or two, of no importance, and tied them up once more. Then wo put everything in order again, except the statement written by his father for Mr Walton. That I put into an envelope apart, saying that I thought he ought to keep it himself. "Besides," said I, "if the other papers should by any chance be destroyed—there are fires sometimes, oven at a lawyer's office— hero will be a record."

" That is true," said M. Dubois. "But no fire can destroy these diamonds. At least they will remain."

;< They will not, however, remain hero," I replied with great determination.

■ M. Dubois smiled at my firm tone, and said lie would go and call Mr Walton.

I found myelf a little chilled and blank, now that the excitement of the family history no longer held me. The shadow of a great difference of social position begau to come over me. I realised that Mr Walton would be no longer Mr Walton. The name of Lord Olavering, which had always rung unpleasantly in my ears, now sounded a knell to all my half acknowledged dreams. I felt that sineo I knew his true position, Avhile he was still unacquainted with it, it was for me to preserve a certain distance. I would nover suffer it to bo whispored, oven by my own heart, that I; had profited by his ignorance. And so, half deliberately, half instinctively, I assumed an unwonted coldness and gravity when I saw Mr Walton uomo in.

"You have read the papers," said he, and now what do you advise me to do ? " He spoke to mo rather than to M. Dubois, but I left M. Dubois to answer. He, however, remained silent. " Aro they of sufficient importance to be put into a lawyer's hands, or is it uunecessai-y ? " "They are very important indeed," I replied. " There are not only papers but heirlooms of great value." Mr Walton looked at mo wideeyed, evidentl}' much astonished. " This," proceeded I, giving him the euvolope, "is a statement, written by your father, which we have not read. It, no doubt, contains an account of all that is in the packet, so that if the packet should be lost or destroyed you will still havo a record." He thanked ino, took it, and put it in his pocket. " And now to whom am I to give the others ? " lie asked. " To any solicitor in whom you have confidence, I should think," said I. " But I don't know one," ho answered, smiling. "I never had money enough to want any law dealings. But you, who are a person of propert3', have not you a lawyer? "

I named Mr Burns ; and, my desire to serve his interests overpowering for the moment my meditated

■eserve, offered to take the packet

to him myself. " For," I said, "if you are watched—as I am afraid is

likely—-your errand might be guessed, and efforts might be made

to come at the papers at Mr Burns. But there could be nothing to excite suspicion in my going to him, even

if my movements were watched— which I think very unlikely.

"That is well thought," said M Dubois.

" It is very kind of you," said Mr Walton, a little shyly. "Of course I can't judge of the importance of the matter. I put myself entirely in your hands."

" I will write to Mr Burns, then, saying that I will call to-morrow at 11, and wish particularly to see him."

I went to my writing table, and

before sitting clown took out a stick of sealing-wax and gave it to Mr Walton that he might seal his packet. M. Dubois, who all this time had been unwontedly silent, lighted a candle. But at this minute sounds of arrival were heard below. 11 Ah, il est cinq heures et demie. Void mon eleva qui arrive!" exclaimed M, Dubois, and hurried out of the room.

I wrote on at the writing-table. Mr Walton sealed his packet, extinguished the candle, and remained standing silent at the table behind me. My note came to an end. I folded, enclosed, and addressed it. The silent presence of Mr Walton weighed upon me. It required a little effort to rise and face him. I found him looking extremely, unnecessarily grave. I suppose I was grave too, and I could not find a

word to say. We looked at each other for an instant, neither speaking. I felt as if we were parting. Mr Walton had grown quite pale. Suddenly, stretching out his hand to the packet, he asked . "Is there anything here that makes you think the worse of me or of my people V

" Oh, no, no!" I answered quickly.

" Then why do you behave differently to me 1 Is it because—l never meant to betray how much I cared. But you need not draw back from me. I can understand without that. I shall not persecute you. Only let us be as we were. Don't take away your friendship from me. I shall not misunderstand."

I did not know how to reply. I felt a sudden poignancy of emotion, too strong and overpowering to be either pain or pleasure. I forced my face to be steady, but the tears came iuto my eyes. I held out my hand, and we stood so for a moment; holding each other's hands in a firm grasp.

Then I said, resisting the almost uncontrollable temptation to take the treasure that was thus put into my very hands. " You are mistaken. Nothing that you have said or done has made any difference. But it must be friendship and nothing else between us all the same. You must never think that I look for anything else, or that I give you anything else."

I said ifc honestly, with the profoundest desire to be perfectly sincere and true ; yet while I spoke I felt that my heart told another story. My face, perhaps, told it too, for a change came into his : he dropped my hand, and turned from me, as if he were not sure of being able to command himself. Without another word he went away, leaving me with the sealed packet and the letter for Mr Burns lying as mute witnesses on the table before me.

( To be continued),