The word “mother” was a new one to Peggy, but it seemed a very, very fond one.
Fitzroy was so pleased when asked to take up his residence at the Park till things were settled. He lost no time about this settlement, notwithstanding, but placed the matter at once in his lawyer’s hands.
There was like to be some little trouble at first. The evil brother had held the estates of Creve for eight long years now, and he felt it hard to give them up. But so terrible was the evidence of his guilt that even his own solicitor advised him not to fight the case.
On the very next day after this advice had been vouchsafed, the unhappy man was found dead in his bed. It matters but little now what the verdict of the coroner was. He is gone, and we must hope that he is forgiven.
* * * * *
The estates of Creve in Devonshire, under the guardianship of her mother, are worth many thousands annually, and Peggy Wycliffe is the beautiful little mistress thereof, but somehow neither she nor her mother care to reside there, and so they are let.
* * * * *
My story is told—my “ower true” tale. And so the curtain drops.
Yet it seems but right that we should raise it again for a few moments to have one last look at our heroes and heroines.
Little Peggy McQueen or Wycliffe is very happy in her new home, and her mother is really renewing her youth. Sad it is that she is almost blind. She and her daughter are never parted. They may often be seen walking together in the beautiful park when the weather is fine, and always followed by that noble blood-hound, Ralph.