A Minion of the Moon: A Romance of the King's Highway

by T. W. Speight

In the course of the same forenoon Andry Luce sought Miss Baynard with the view of making a certain private communication to her. Talking on Andry's part was, of course, done by means of his fingers, but long practice had made Nell an adept at reading the language of the dumb.

Andry, who retained no recollection of his parents, in his brooding, self-contained fashion had never really cared but for two people, to-wit, his young master, Dick Cortelyon, and Miss Baynard. One of them was dead, and to the other was now given a double measure of that love and devotion which had sprung full-grown from his heart the moment he first set eyes on her, and had burnt there with a steady, unflickering flame ever since. She was the secret goddess at whose shrine he worshipped daily. His love was unmixed with any taint of ordinary passion, and was as absolutely pure as that of a father for his child. It was the one well-spring of living water his maimed life knew. There was nothing in the wide world he would not have done, or have attempted, at Miss Baynard's bidding.

His object in seeing her this morning was to enlighten her with regard to the provisions of the Squire's new will, which Mr. Piljoy was to bring a couple of days hence for the purpose of having it signed and witnessed. He did not tell her through what channel he had obtained his information, and, naturally enough, Nell imagined that it was he and not Mr. Piljoy who had drawn up the instructions, or, at any rate, that he had been present at their specification by her uncle. But before Andry's fingers, working although they were at their quickest, had got more than half through their tale, Nell's thoughts were otherwise engaged.

She was rendered terribly indignant, as Andry knew full well she would be, by the thought of the gross and cruel injustice of which Mr. Cortelyon meditated making his innocent grandson the victim. She was made both to love strongly and to hate strongly, and there was nothing she hated more than aught that savored of cruelty or injustice. She had loved poor dead and gone Dick as a younger sister loves a handsome, generous, kind-hearted elder brother, and it made her blood boil to think that his child should be treated as an outcast from the hearth to which he ought to have been welcomed as the pride and the heir.

But what could be done? How could the purpose of this most iniquitous will be defeated? She could discern no way--none. She was as helpless in the matter as a new-born babe. Tears hot and passionate were shed by her in the privacy of her own room. But of what avail are a girl's tears? They fall, only to be dried up as quickly as a summer shower.

Now, it so happened that about this time a certain peripatetic dealer in rare books, coins, and curios of different kinds, of whom Mr. Cortelyon had made sundry purchases at various times, called at Stanbrook on purpose to submit to the Squire a choice illuminated MS. of the fifteenth century, for which he was desirous of finding a customer. The price asked was a high one, but after a little haggling--he was too weak to hold out long--the Squire agreed to pay it rather than let the treasure go.

It was not so much that he had fallen in love with it on his own account, as he believed that in it he had secured a rarity, to possess which his friend Mr. Delafosse, who was also a bibliophile and a numismatist, but more of the former than the latter, would be willing to give in exchange a certain unique stater of Epaticcus which he, Ambrose Cortelyon, had long coveted. Although he believed himself to be so near his end, it seemed to him that he should die happier with the precious stater shut up in his palm, and the knowledge that at last it was his own.

Yes, Nell should go to Dene House, taking the MS. with her and negotiate the exchange. She was already known to Mr. Delafosse, who was no stranger at Stanbrook, and, in point of fact, was a special favorite of the old collector. Dene House was some twenty-five miles away across country. She could go on horseback, accompanied by John Dyce by way of escort.

So great became his impatience that he would have her set out that very afternoon. The days were already long, and she could reach Dene House soon after sunset, stay there overnight--Mrs. Delafosse would give her a hearty welcome--and be back home before noon on the morrow.

So Nell was sent for, and the manuscript given into her charge. By this time her uncle's weakness had become so extreme that his wishes and instructions had perforce to be limited to a few whispered sentences. But Nell gave him to understand that she knew exactly what he wanted done, and he was satisfied. She would set out in the course of the afternoon, and be back by midday on the morrow.