Of High Descent Part 52

"Absurd, Luke!" said his brother, taking up a liberal meal for a sea-anemone on the end of a thin gla.s.s rod. "He said that under the circ.u.mstances he felt that he should be an enc.u.mbrance to us, and therefore he had gone by the earliest train."

"Like the sneak he is, eh, Harry?"

The young man met his uncle's eyes for the moment, and then dropped his own.

"You'll kill those things with kindness, George. Any one would think you were fattening them for market. So Master Pradelle has gone, eh?

Don't cry, Louie; perhaps we can coax him back."

He chuckled, and patted her cheek.

"Uncle, dear, don't talk like that. We are in such trouble."

"About Van Heldre, that boy's master. Yes, of course. Very sad for Mrs Van and little Madelaine. Leslie was down there as soon as one of the miners brought up the news, trying to comfort them."

Harry's teeth gritted slightly, but he relapsed into his former semi-cataleptic state, as if forced to listen, and unable to move.

"I like Leslie," said Vine sadly.

"So do I. At least, I don't dislike him so much as I do some folks.

Now if he had been there, he'd have behaved better than you did, Master Harry."

"Uncle, dear, don't be so hard on poor Harry."

"Poor Harry! Good job he is poor. What's the good of being rich for thieves to break through and steal?"

"Ah! what indeed!" said his brother sadly.

"Look at Van Heldre, knocked on the head and going to die."

"Uncle!"

"Well, I dare say he will, and be at rest. Knocked on the head, and robbed of five hundred pounds. My money, every penny."

"Yours, Luke?" said his brother, pointing at him with the gla.s.s rod.

"Thanks, no, George; give it to the sea-anemone. I don't like raw winkle."

"But you said that money was yours?"

"_Yes_; a deposit; all in new crisp Bank of England notes, Harry.

Taking care of it for me till I got a fresh investment."

"You surprise me, Luke."

"Always did. Surprised you more if Margaret had had five hundred pounds to invest, eh?"

"Then the loss will fall upon you, uncle," said Louise sympathetically, as she took the old man's hand.

"Yes, my dear. But better have the loss fall upon me than Crampton's heavy ebony ruler, eh, Harry?"

The young man looked once more in the searching malicious eyes, and nodded.

"Bad job though, Louie. I'd left poor Harry that money in my will."

"Oh, uncle!" cried Louise, holding his hand to her cheek.

"Yes; but not a penny for you, p.u.s.s.y. There, it don't matter. I shan't miss the money. If I run short, George, you'll give me a crust, same as you do Margaret?"

"My dear Luke, I've told you a hundred times, I should be glad if you would give up that--that--"

"Dog kennel?" sneered the old cynic. "That hut on the cliff, and come and share my home."

"Yes, two hundred times, I'll swear," said Uncle Luke. "You always were weak, George. One idiot's enough for you to keep, and very little does for me. There's my larder," he continued, pointing toward the sea; "and as to Harry here, he won't miss the money. He's going to be the Count des Vignes, and take Aunt Marguerite over to Auvergne, to live in his grand chateau. Five hundred pound's nothing to him."

The perspiration stood on Harry's brow, cold and damp, and he sat enduring all this torture. One moment he felt that his uncle suspected him, the next that it was impossible. At times a fierce sensation of rage bubbled up in his breast, and he felt as if he would have liked to strangle the keen-eyed old man; but directly after he felt that this was his punishment called down by his weakness and folly, and that he must bear it.

"Going, Harry?" said his father, as the young man rose.

"Yes; it is time I went on to the office."

"Good boy. Punctuality's the soul of business," said Uncle Luke. "Pity we have no corporation here. You might rise to be mayor. Here, I don't think I shall go fis.h.i.+ng to-day. I'll stop, and go with you two, to see old Van. Louie, dear, go and tell your aunt I'm here. She might like to come down and have a snarl."

"Uncle, dear," said Louise, rising and kissing him, "you can't deceive me."

She went out after Harry.

"Not a pair, George," said Uncle Luke, grimly. "Louie's worth five hundred of the boy."

"He'd drive me mad, Lou, he'd drive me mad," cried Harry, tearing his hand from his sister's grasp, and hurrying away; but only to run back repentant and kiss her fondly before going.

Volume 2, Chapter V.

THE TRIFLE THAT TELLS TALES.

As Harry Vine left his father's house, and hurried down the slope, he gazed wildly out to sea. There were no thoughts of old Huguenot estates, or ancient t.i.tles, but France lay yonder over that glistening sea, and as he watched a cinnamon-sailed lugger gliding rapidly south and east, he longed to be aboard.

Why should he not do as Pradelle had done--escape from the dangers which surrounded and hemmed him in? It was the easiest way out of his difficulties.

There were several reasons.

To go would stamp him with the crime, and so invite pursuit. To do this was to disgrace father and sister, and perhaps be taken and dragged back.

When he reached the harbour, instead of turning down to the left, by the estuary, he made his way at once on to the sh.o.r.e, and after a little hesitation, picked out the spot where on the previous night he had thrown himself down, half mad with the course he had been called upon to take.

The engraved gold locket, with which his nervous fingers had often played, would be lying somewhere among the stones; perhaps caught and wedged in a crevice. It was so easy when lying p.r.o.ne to catch such an ornament and snap it off without knowing. He looked carefully over the heap of stones, and then around in every direction; but the locket was not there.

"It must be somewhere about," he said angrily, as if he willed that it should; but there was no sign of the glittering piece of well-polished gold, and a suspicion that had for a long time been growing, increased rapidly in force, till he could bear it no longer, and once more something seemed to urge him to fly.