When London Burned : a Story of Restoration Times and the Great Fire

by G. A. Henty

"By no means," Cyril said. "I do not know him, and he can assuredly have no private business with me that you may not hear."

Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter, however, left the room. The lawyer, a grave-looking gentleman of some fifty years of age, glanced at Cyril and the Captain as he entered the room, and then advanced towards the former.

"My name is unknown to you, Sir Cyril," he said, "but it has been said that a bearer of good news needs no introduction, and I come in that capacity. I bring you, sir, a Christmas-box," and he took from a bag he carried a bundle of some size, and a letter. "Before you open it, sir, I will explain the character of its contents, which would take you some time to decipher and understand, while I can explain them in a very few words. I may tell you that I am the legal adviser of Mr. Ebenezer Harvey, of Upmead Court, Norfolk. You are, I presume, familiar with the name?"

Cyril started. Upmead Court was the name of his father's place, but with the name of its present owner he was not familiar. Doubtless, he might sometimes have heard it from his father, but the latter, when he spoke of the present possessor of the Court, generally did so as "that Roundhead dog," or "that canting Puritan."

"The Court I know, sir," he said gravely, "as having once been my father's, but I do not recall the name of its present owner, though it may be that in my childhood my father mentioned it in my hearing."

"Nevertheless, sir, you know the gentleman himself, having met him, as he tells me, frequently at the house of Mr. Wallace, who was minister of the chapel at which he worshipped, and who came up to London to minister to those sorely afflicted and needing comfort. Not only did you meet with Mr. Harvey and his wife, but you rendered to them very material service."

"I was certainly unaware," Cyril said, "that Mr. Harvey was the possessor of what had been my father's estate, but, had I known it, it would have made no difference in my feeling towards him. I found him a kind and godly gentleman whom, more than others there, was good enough to converse frequently with me, and to whom I was pleased to be of service."

"The service was of a most important nature," the lawyer said, "being nothing less than the saving of his life, and probably that of his wife. He sent for me the next morning, and then drew out his will. By that will he left to you the estates which he had purchased from your father."

Cyril gave a start of surprise, and would have spoken, but Master Goldsworthy held up his hand, and said,—

"Please let me continue my story to the end. This act was not the consequence of the service that you had rendered him. He had previously consulted me on the subject, and stated his intentions to me. He had met you at Mr. Wallace's, and at once recognised your name, and learnt from Mr. Wallace that you were the son of Sir Aubrey Shenstone. He studied your character, had an interview with Dr. Hodges, and learnt how fearlessly you were devoting yourself to the work of aiding those stricken with the Plague. With his own son he had reason for being profoundly dissatisfied. The young man had thrown off his authority, had become a notorious reprobate, and had, he believed, sunk down to become a companion of thieves and highwaymen. He had come up to London solely to make a last effort to save him from his evil courses and to give him a chance of reformation by sending him out to New England.