Ella carried her trouble to Mr. Kettle, her uncle's friend of many years. She sat with him in his study, Maria being present. She revealed to him her doubts; she hinted at Hubert's strange assertion on the wreck; she repeated what Priscilla Peyton had said, and then she appealed to him to advise her what she ought to do next.
The Vicar was not remarkable for penetration or sagacity, but he was a kindly, well-disposed man where his own ease and comfort were not in question; and if his words were sometimes weak and ineffective, he could, when required, put on a very wise and solemn air, which in itself was a comfort to those who sought his advice. But he really did not see what advice he could give now.
"I was, myself," he said, "more surprised and hurt than I can tell you that for some months before my old friend's death I was denied all access to him--I, who had been in the habit of calling at the Hall at least once a fortnight, ay, and oftener, for the last twenty years. When I found myself rebuffed one time after another, I could hardly believe that it was the Squire's own personal wish that I should not see him, although they assured me it was so. Old Aaron would usher me into a room with as much politeness as he was in the habit of showing to anybody, and would take in my message. Back he would come; or else Dr. Jago, or that sly-looking, smooth-tongued nurse, or perhaps Hubert Stone. But, no matter who came, each had the same tale to tell. The Squire had had a worse night than usual, or he was asleep, or he was too weak to-day to see anyone; whatever the excuse might be, I was never allowed to see him. It was the source of very considerable pain to me at the time, and I expressed myself rather strongly about it in my letters to Maria."
"There must have been something in all this--don't you think so, sir?" returned Ella. "Something to conceal."
"It seems like it, my dear; it used to seem like it to me. But I do not see what it could be; and I am sure I cannot imagine anything that could tend to peril your inheritance."
"Nor I," said Ella, "I wish I could. I mean I wish I could see any solution by which these doubts could be set at rest. The will was quite in order; Mr. Daventry tells me so----"
"Having been drawn up by Mr. Daventry, you may be sure of that, my dear," interrupted the Vicar.
"The only one thing, he says, that could possibly render it invalid, is my uncle having died before his birthday," continued Ella.
"And we know he did not die before it. He lived nearly a month after it."
"I--suppose--he--did live?" spoke Ella, with much hesitation.