"Mr. Lynn, no man could better deserve to be lord of de Wick than you. And seeing that the de Wicks had to leave their ancient home, I am glad it has fallen to you—and I am sure my father is glad, also."
Then the old man burst into that thin, cold passion of weeping so significant of age, and so pitiful in its helplessness. "It is your father's doing, Lady Matilda," he sobbed. "It is my dear lord's wisdom. Pardon me now. This evening I will tell you all." He went away with these words, and the two women looked at each other in amazement.
In the evening he came to them. They were sitting by the fire in the now magnificently furnished great salon, and he asked permission to place his chair between them. Matilda made room for him, and when he had sat down and placed his terribly thin hand on its arm, she laid her lovely young hand upon his; and he looked into her face with that adoring affection which is often seen in the eyes of a favourite mastiff.
"When these dreadful wars first began," he said, "Earl de Wick foresaw their ending; and after Marston Moor he said to me, 'I know this man, Oliver Cromwell, and there is none that will stand against him. It is my duty to save de Wick; will you help me?' And I said to him, 'My dear lord, I owe you all I am, and all I have.' Then we had many long talks, and it was agreed that I should join the Puritan party, that I should pretend a disapproval of the Earl and his ways—but a disapproval tempered with regret—so that men might not suspect my opposition. The King was even then sending to de Wick for money, and I was supposed to supply it on the de Wick silver and valuables. In reality, the Earl sent these things to my care, and he himself gave the gold. For in those years he had much specie, the result of his trading partnership with Sir Thomas Jevery. The silver, the old pictures, the fine tapestries, and Eastern pottery all came to my home in St. Ives. People said unkind things of me, but my dear lord loved me. Then there came a time when de Wick was bare, and the King still wanted money. And the Earl promised to borrow from me one thousand pounds, in consideration of letters royal making the Lady Matilda Countess de Wick in her own right, if her brother Stephen had no heirs of his body. His Majesty being in great straits, readily granted the request, and the proper papers were made. And I looked well to it that no necessary formality was lacking, and the thousand pounds were paid, not by me, but by Earl de Wick. His store was then gone, but he had secured the succession of de Wick in his own blood and name; for you will see, my dear lady, if ever you have to assume this title, when you marry, your husband must take the name of de Wick."
"But if I never marry any one?"
"Oh, that is an impossible contingency! You would owe that debt to all the de Wicks that ever lived and died; and you would pay it, whether you liked to, or not."
"Yes, I should," she answered promptly.
"Here are the papers relating to your succession," he continued; "and here are those relating to my trust in the matter of the de Wick silver and valuables. They are all now in their proper places, and when I go to my old friend, I can tell him so. When he was dying, he said to me, 'Anthony, the next move will be the sale of de Wick house and lands. Stephen is already outcast, but I have given you the money to buy it. Let no one outbid you. Keep it in your own care until my King comes back to his throne, and my children to their home.' I bought de Wick for seven hundred pounds less than the money entrusted to me for its purchase. The balance is here at your hand. The only contingency not provided for, was my death, and as I know that is speedily certain, I wish your promise that these papers be placed in Sir Thomas Jevery's charge. I know it is what my lord would advise."
Matilda took the papers silently. Her father's loving thoughtfulness and Anthony's loving fidelity, affected her deeply. Lady Jevery was weeping, and the old man himself raised a face wet with tears to Matilda. She stooped and kissed him. She promised all he asked. "But," she added, "you have made no mention of the refurnishing of the house, nor yet of the money that must have been spent on the garden and chase."
"That outlay was my own little pleasure," he answered. "It has made the long, lonely months here full of hope. I always thought I knew how to make a great house look like a great house should look;" and with pardonable pride he added, "I think you both liked it."