"Is the post in?"
"I don't know," she apathetically replied. "I have received nothing."
She had scarcely spoke when the butler entered with his salver full of letters, most of them bearing condolence with Lady Isabel. She singled out one and hastened to open it, for it bore the Castle Marling post- mark. "It is Mrs. Vane's handwriting," she remarked to Mr. Carlyle.
CASTLE MARLING, Saturday.
"MY DEAR ISABEL--I am dreadfully grieved and shocked at the news conveyed in Mr. Carlyle's letter to my husband, for he has gone cruising in his yacht, and I opened it. Goodness knows where he may be, round the coast somewhere, but he said he should be home for Sunday, and as he is pretty punctual in keeping his word, I expect him. Be assured he will not lose a moment in hastening to East Lynne.
"I cannot express what I feel for you, and am too /bouleversee/ to write more. Try and keep up your spirits, and believe me, dear Isabel, with sincere sympathy and regret, faithfully yours,
"EMMA MOUNT SEVERN."
The color came into Isabel's pale cheek when she read the signature. She thought, had she been the writer, she should, in that first, early letter, have still signed herself Emma Vane. Isabel handed the note to Mr. Carlyle. "It is very unfortunate," she sighed.
Mr. Carlyle glanced over it as quickly as Mrs. Vane's illegible writing allowed him, and drew in his lips in a peculiar manner when he came to the signature. Perhaps at the same thought which had struck Isabel.
"Had Mrs. Vane been worth a rush, she would have come herself, knowing your lonely situation," he uttered, impulsively.
Isabel leaned her head upon her hand. All the difficulties and embarrassments of her position came crowding on her mind. No orders had been given in preparation for the funeral, and she felt that she had no right to give any. The earls of Mount Severn were buried at Mount Severn; but to take her father thither would involve great expense; would the present earl sanction that? Since the previous morning, she seemed to have grown old in the world's experience; her ideas were changed, the bent of her thoughts had been violently turned from its course. Instead of being a young lady of high position, of wealth and rank, she appeared to herself more in the light of an unfortunate pauper and interloper in the house she was inhabiting. It has been the custom in romance to present young ladies, especially if they be handsome and interesting, as being entirely oblivious of matter-of-fact cares and necessities, supremely indifferent to future prospects of poverty--poverty that brings hunger and thirst and cold and nakedness; but, be assured, this apathy never existed in real life. Isabel Vane's grief for her father--whom, whatever may have been the aspect he wore for others, /she/ had deeply loved and reverenced-- was sharply poignant; but in the midst of that grief, and of the singular troubles his death had brought forth, she could not shut her eyes to her own future. Its blank uncertainty, its shadowed-forth embarrassments did obtrude themselves and the words of that plain- speaking creditor kept ringing in her ears: "You won't have a roof to put your head under, or a guinea to call your own." Where was she to go? With whom to live? She was in Mr. Carlyle's house now. And how was she to pay the servants? Money was owing to them all.
"Mr. Carlyle, how long has this house been yours?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"It was in June that the purchase was completed. Did Lord Mount Severn never tell you he had sold it to me?"
"No, never. All these things are yours?" glancing round the room.
"The furniture was sold with the house. Not these sort of things," he added, his eye falling on the silver on the breakfast table; "not the plate and linen."
"Not the plate and linen! Then those poor men who were here yesterday have a right to them," she quickly cried.
"I scarcely know. I believe the plate goes with the entail--and the jewels go also. The linen cannot be of consequence either way."
"Are my clothes my own?"
He smiled as he looked at her; smiled at her simplicity, and assured her that they were nobody's else.
"I did not know," she sighed; "I did not understand. So many strange things have happened in the last day or two, that I seem to understand nothing."
Indeed, she could not understand. She had no definite ideas on the subject of this transfer of East Lynne to Mr. Carlyle; plenty of indefinite ones, and they were haunting her. Fears of debt to him, and of the house and its contents being handed over to him in liquidation, perhaps only partial, were working in her brain.
"Does my father owe you any money?" she breathed in a timid tone.
"Not any," he replied. "Lord Mount Severn was never indebted to me in his life."
"Yet you purchased East Lynne?"
"As any one else might have done," he answered, discerning the drift of her thoughts. "I was in search of an eligible estate to invest money in, and East Lynne suited me."
"I feel my position, Mr. Carlyle," she resumed, the rebellious fears forcing themselves to her eyes; "thus to be intruding upon you for a shelter. And I cannot help myself."
"You can help grieving me," he gently answered, "which you do much when you talk of obligation. The obligation is on my side, Lady Isabel; and when I express a hope that you will continue at East Lynne while it can be of service, however prolonged that period may be, I assure you, I say it in all sincerity."
"You are very kind," she faltered; "and for a few days; until I can think; until-- Oh, Mr. Carlyle, are papa's affairs really so bad as they said yesterday?" she broke off, her perplexities recurring to her with vehement force. "Is there nothing left?"
Now Mr. Carlyle might have given the evasive assurance that there would be plenty left, just to tranquilize her. But to have used deceit with her would have pricked against every feeling of his nature; and he saw how implicitly she relied upon his truth.
"I fear things are not very bright," he answered. "That is, so far as we can see at present. But there may have been some settlement effected for you that you do not know of. Warburton & Ware--"
"No," she interrupted: "I never heard of a settlement, and I am sure there is none. I see the worst plainly. I have no home, no home and no money. This house is yours; the town house and Mount Severn go to Mr. Vane; and I have nothing."
"But surely Mr. Vane will be delighted to welcome you to your old home. The houses pass to him--it almost seems as though you had the greater right in them, than he or Mrs. Vane."
"My home with them!" she retorted, as if the words had stung her. "What are you saying, Mr. Carlyle?"
"I beg your pardon, Lady Isabel. I should not have presumed to touch upon these points myself, but--"
"Nay, I think I ought to beg yours," she interrupted, more calmly. "I am only grateful for the interest you take in them--the kindness you have shown. But I could not make my home with Mrs. Vane."
Mr. Carlyle rose. He could do no good by remaining, and did not think it well to intrude longer. He suggested that it might be more pleasant if Isabel had a friend with her; Mrs. Ducie would no doubt be willing to come, and she was a kind, motherly woman.
Isabel shook her head with a passing shudder. "Have strangers, here, with--all--that--in papa's chamber!" she uttered. "Mrs. Ducie drove over yesterday, perhaps to remain--I don't know; but I was afraid of questions, and would not see her. When I think of--that--I feel thankful that I am alone."
The housekeeper stopped Mr. Carlyle as he was going out.
"Sir, what is the news from Castle Marling? Pound said there was a letter. Is Mr. Vane coming?"
"He was out yachting. Mrs. Vane expected him home yesterday, so it is to be hoped he will be here to-day."
"Whatever will be done if he does not come?" she breathed. "The leaden coffin ought to be soldered down, for you know, air, the state he was in when he died."
"It can be soldered down without Mr. Vane."
"Of course--without Mr. Vane. It's not that, sir. Will those men allow it to be done? The undertakers were here this morning at daybreak, and those men intimated that they were not going to /lose sight/ of the dead. The words sounded significant to us, but we asked them no questions. Have they a right to prevent it, sir?"
"Upon my word I cannot tell," replied Mr. Carlyle. "The proceeding is so rare a one, that I know little what right of law they have or have not. Do not mention this to Lady Isabel. And when Mr. Va--when Lord Mount Severn arrives, send down to apprise me of it."
CHAPTER XI.
THE NEW PEER--THE BANK-NOTE
A post-chaise was discerned thundering up the avenue that Sunday afternoon. It contained the new peer, Lord Mount Severn. The more direct line of rail from Castle Marling, brought him only to within five miles of West Lynne, and thence he had travelled in a hired chaise. Mr. Carlyle soon joined him, and almost at the same time Mr. Warburton arrived from London. Absence from town at the period of the earl's death had prevented Mr. Warburton's earlier attendance. Business was entered upon immediately.
The present earl knew that his predecessor had been an embarrassed man, but he had no conception of the extent of the evil; they had not been intimate, and rarely came in contact. As the various items of news were now detailed to him--the wasteful expenditure, the disastrous ruin, the total absence of provision for Isabel--he stood petrified and aghast. He was a tall stout man, of three-and-forty years, his nature honorable, his manner cold, and his countenance severe.
"It is the most iniquitous piece of business I ever heard of!" he exclaimed to the two lawyers. "Of all the reckless fools, Mount Severn must have been the worst!"
"Unpardonably improvident as regards his daughter," was the assenting remark.
"Improvident! It must have been rank madness!" retorted the earl. "No man in his senses could leave a child to the mercy of the world, as he has left her. She has not a shilling--literally, not a shilling in her possession. I put the question to her, what money there was in the house when the earl died. Twenty or twenty-five pounds, she answered, which she had given to Mason, who required it for housekeeping purposes. If the girl wants a yard of ribbon for herself, she has not the pence to pay for it! Can you realize such a case to the mind?" continued the excited peer. "I will stake my veracity that such a one never occurred yet."
"No money for her own personal wants!" exclaimed Mr. Carlyle.
"Not a halfpenny in the world. And there are no funds, and will be none, that I can see, for her to draw upon."
"Quite correct, my lord," nodded Mr. Warburton. "The entailed estates go to you, and what trifling matter of personal property may be left the creditors will take care of."
"I understand East Lynne is yours," cried the earl, turning sharply upon Mr. Carlyle; "Isabel has just said so."
"It is," was the reply. "It became mine last June. I believe his lordship kept the fact a close secret."
"He was obliged to keep it a secret," interposed Mr. Warburton, addressing Lord Mount Severn, "for not a stiver of the purchase money could he have fingered had it got wind. Except ourselves and Mr. Carlyle's agents, the fact was made known to none."
"It is strange, sir, that you could not urge the claims of his child upon the earl," rejoined the new peer to Mr. Warburton, his tone one of harsh reproof. "You were in his confidence; you knew the state of his affairs; it was in your line of duty to do it."
"Knowing the state of his affairs, my lord, we knew how useless the urging it would be," returned Mr. Warburton. "Your lordship has but a faint idea of the burdens Lord Mount Severn had upon him. The interest alone upon his debts was frightful--and the deuce's own work it was to get it. Not to speak of the kites he let loose; he would fly them, and nothing could stop him; and they had to be provided for."
"Oh, I know," replied the earl, with a gesture of contempt. "Drawing one bill to cover another; that was his system."
"Draw!" echoed Mr. Warburton. "He would have drawn a bill on Aldgate pump. It was a downright mania with him."
"Urged to it by his necessities, I conclude," put in Mr. Carlyle.
"He had no business to have such necessities, sir," cried the earl, wrathfully. "But let us proceed to business. What money is there lying at his banker's, Mr. Warburton? Do you know?"
"None," was the blank reply. "We overdrew the account ourselves, a fortnight ago, to meet one of his pressing liabilities. We hold a little; and, had he lived a week or two longer, the autumn rents would have been paid in--though they must have been as quickly paid out again."
"I'm glad there's something. What is the amount?"
"My lord," answered Mr. Warburton, shaking his head in a self- condoling manner, "I am sorry to tell you that what we hold will not half satisfy our own claims; money actually paid out of our pockets."
"Then where on earth is the money to come from, sir? For the funeral-- for the servants' wages--for everything, in fact?"
"There is none to come from anywhere," was the reply of Mr. Warburton.
Lord Mount Severn strode the carpet more fiercely. "Wicked improvidence! Shameful profligacy; callous-hearted man! To live a rogue and die a beggar--leaving his daughter to the charity of strangers!"
"Her case presents the worst feature of the whole," remarked Mr. Carlyle. "What will she do for a home?"
"She must, of course, find it with me," replied his lordship; "and, I should hope, a better one than this. With all these debts and duns at his elbow, Mount Severn's house could not have been a bower of roses."
"I fancy she knew nothing of the state of affairs; had seen little, if anything, of the embarrassments," returned Mr. Carlyle.
"Nonsense!" said the peer.
"Mr. Carlyle is right, my lord," observed Mr. Warburton, looking over his spectacles. "Lady Isabel was in safety at Mount Severn till the spring, and the purchase money from East Lynne--what the earl could touch of it--was a stop-gap for many things, and made matters easy for the moment. However, his imprudences are at an end now."
