CHAPTER XXV.
Where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise. Quite ignorant and unconscious of all that was going on in London, Stephen remained down at the Hurst.
What he had written to his mother was quite true; as a matter of fact Stephen was far too clever to write direct falsehoods—he was kept at Hurst Leigh very much against his will.
Squire Ralph had left him everything—money, house, lands, everything excepting the few legacies to servants, and Stephen had been hard at work, and was still hard at work ascertaining how much that everything was.
And, as day followed day, and disclosure succeeded disclosure, he became fascinated and possessed by the immense wealth which had fallen into his hands, or, say rather, which he had seized upon.
For many years the old squire had lived upon less than half his income; the remainder he had invested and speculated with, and as often happens to the miser, the luck of Midas had fallen upon him.
Everything he touched had turned to gold. The most unlikely speculations had proved successful; properties which he had bought for a mere song, and which had been regarded by the most wary as dangerous and profitless, had become profitable and valuable.
Some of these risky speculations he had, not unnaturally, kept concealed from the prudent Hudsley, who only now, by the discovery of scrip and bonds in out-of-the-way desks and bureaus, learned what kind of man his old friend had really been.
Not a day passed but it brought to light some addition to the old man’s gains, and served to swell the immense total.
Even the lands round Hurst had been manipulated by the old man, so that leases ran out almost at his death, and rents were raised.