Morley Ernstein; or, the Tenants of the Heart

by G. P. R. James

"John was my grandfather's name," said Helen--"that I know very well, because I have his miniature set in gold, with the name at the back, with the day of his birth, and his age when it was taken."

"To be sure--to be sure," said old Carr, "his name was John. It was your great grandfather's name that was William, and the drunken clerk made a mistake in copying the old deeds. He shall have it back, every inch of it, and Warmstone Castle and all; and you, my dear young lady--why you will be a fortune. There is an old settlement, I know, providing for younger children. There will be plenty of back rents to pay, enough to beggar him, the coxcomb! Ha, ha, ha!" and again the old lawyer laughed at some merry subject in his own breast.

Helen, too, looked joyfully up, for the words of Mr. Carr awakened in her bosom various memories of the past, and convinced her that, whether he was right or wrong in the expectation of recovering a fortune for her brother, there was not wanting a foundation for what he said. She remembered, in her father's room, at the Rectory, an old water-colour painting, dim with dust and age, but under which she had often spelt, in early years, the words "Warmstone Castle, the seat of John Henslow Barham, Esq;" and she remembered upon one occasion hearing her father and a neighbouring clergyman commenting upon the drawing, while she was standing near. Her father had then replied, in answer to some question put by his friend, "How did we lose the property? By the simplest process in the world. My father was a prodigal, his son an honest man. That is the way that half the properties in Europe are lost."

The words had made an impression at the time, and Helen recollected them now, so that she gained, in some degree, a clue to the old lawyer's thoughts; and her heart, it must be owned, rejoiced; not for her own sake, poor girl, but for the sake of her brother. Her fancy was a lively one, and in an instant it presented to her mind's eye that unhappy young man, freed from all the troubles and difficulties in which he had placed himself, and--like him wit was afterwards the victor of Azincourt--shaking from him the vices of his youth when placed in a loftier station.

I do not mean to say, that Helen thought not at all of herself; but she thought of herself only for a moment, and then shrunk away from the ideas that imagination conjured up. She could not but feel that it would be a joy and satisfaction--perhaps I might call it, more properly, a consolation, placed as they were at that moment--to meet Morley Ernstein, even for a brief space, as his equal in worldly gifts; and yet there was a voice whispered at the bottom of her heart, that there could never be anything like pride in her bosom towards him. Oh, could he but have loved her, how willingly would she have been the creature of his bounty--dependent upon him for everything on earth! From his hand she could have received all, and enjoyed all that she did receive, because it was he that gave it!

She would not pause upon such things--she dared not; and though she mused for several minutes over the various pictures called up, she soon returned to a consciousness of the questions which Mr. Carr was asking her, and to which for a time, she had returned but irrelevant answers. She promised immediately to write to her brother urging him to return; or, at least, to tell him the facts, and let him return if he thought fit; and the conversation soon led to her own recollections of former times, in regard to which Mr. Carr cross-examined her as if she had been a witness at the Old Bailey.

There was something, however, Mr. Carr suffered to appear, which surprised and puzzled Helen in some degree. His words led her to imagine that her father had known fully that a fortune of considerable amount was due to himself and his children, but that on some account he had refused, or neglected to claim it. Helen enquired why, and more than once during their walk pressed Mr. Carr upon the subject. That gentleman would give her no distinct information, however, sometimes saying that it was a whim, sometimes saying that it was laziness; but, in truth, Mr. Carr did not choose to tell Helen that it was a conscientious scruple which had prevented Mr. Barham from pursuing the course pointed out by his legal adviser. There was something in the truth and simplicity of that sweet girl's heart which was formidable to knavery; and Mr. Carr at once understood that there would be difficulties with her which might not exist in the case of her brother, and he therefore avoided the question altogether.

They strolled on slowly till it was nearly dusk and then returned towards the house, still conversing on the same subject, when, as they approached the front gate, walking over the crown of one of the little hilly fields in the neighbourhood, Mr. Carr's eyes were astonished and dazzled by the sight of a very handsome carriage standing opposite the iron railings, with two post-horses, hot and panting with a long stage.

"Who can that be?" said the old lawyer. "Thank God, I have not seen fools in gilded carriages for a long time! It must be either for you, Miss Barham, or there must be some mistake."

"Perhaps it is Morley Ernstein!" thought Helen Barham; but she did not speak it, for that was a name which deep feelings in her own bosom had prevented her from uttering once to the cold ear of Mr. Carr; and now, the very thought of Morley, probably, being there, made her heart flutter violently.