"Wear this—noble fellow—honour to name," said Sir Wycherly. "Must be descended—all Wychecombes descended—him—"
"I thank you, Sir Wycherly, for this present, which I prize as it ought to be prized," said Wycherly, every trace of any other feeling than that of gratitude having vanished from his countenance. "I may have no claims to your honours or money; but this ring I need not be ashamed to wear, since it was bestowed on one who was as much my ancestor, as he was the ancestor of any Wychecombe in England."
"Legitimate?" cried Tom, a fierce feeling of resentment upsetting his caution and cunning.
"Yes, sir, legitimate," answered Wycherly, turning to his interrogator, with the calmness of one conscious of his own truth, and with a glance of the eye that caused Tom to shrink back again into the circle. "I need no bar, to enable me to use this seal, which, you may perceive, Sir Gervaise Oakes, is a fac simile of the one I ordinarily wear, and which was transmitted to me from my direct ancestors."
The vice-admiral compared the seal on Wycherly's watch-chain with that on the ring, and, the bearings being principally griffins, he was enabled to see that one was the exact counterpart of the other. Sir Reginald advanced a step, and when the admiral had satisfied himself, he also took the two seals and compared them. As all the known branches of the Wychecombes of Wychecombe, bore the same arms, viz., griffins for Wychecombe, with three battering-rams quartered, for Wycherly,—he saw, at once, that the young man habitually carried about his person, this proof of a common origin. Sir Reginald knew very well that arms were often assumed, as well as names, and the greater the obscurity of the individual who took these liberties, the greater was his impunity; but the seal was a very ancient one, and innovations on personal rights were far less frequent a century since, than they are to-day. Then the character and appearance of Wycherly put fraud out of the question, so far as the young lieutenant himself was concerned. Although the elder branch of the family, legitimately speaking, was reduced to the helpless old man who was now stretched upon his death-bed, his own had been extensive; and it well might be that some cadet of the Wychecombes of Wychecombe-Regis, had strayed into the colonies and left descendants. Secretly resolving to look more closely into these facts, he gravely returned the seals, and intimated to Sir Gervaise that the more important business before them had better proceed. On this hint, Atwood resumed the pen, and the vice-admiral his duties.
"There want yet some 6 or £7000 to make up £20,000, Sir Wycherly, which I understand is the sum you have in the funds. Whose name or names will you have next inserted?"
"Rotherham—vicar—poor St. James—gone; yes—Mr.—Rotherham—vicar."
The clause was written, the sum of £1000 was inserted, and the whole was read and approved.
"This still leaves us some £5000 more to deal with, my dear sir?"
A long pause succeeded, during which time Sir Wycherly was deliberating what to do with the rest of his ready money. At length his wandering eye rested on the pale features of Mrs. Dutton; and, while he had a sort of liking, that proceeded from habit, for her husband, he remembered that she had many causes for sorrow. With a feeling that was creditable to his own heart, he uttered her name, and the sum of £2000. The clause was written, accordingly, read and approved.