They betrayed no desire whatever to be alone; on the contrary, Agnes particularly desired Violet to remain in the apartment with them. Their talk was of distant things, till it travelled round to the scene of Marese’s candidature, and finally fixed itself upon the great case. Marese was extremely sanguine in his language, and indeed he was so in reality. He had gained two important steps he said. In the first place he had partly paid off the claims of the companies for expenses incurred during their tenure of the leases, on the pretence of improving the estate. These expenses reached a preposterous figure; he had succeeded in getting them taxed and considerably reduced, and he had also succeeded in obtaining an order from the Court of Chancery that the payment of these claims should be made by instalments. He casually mentioned that the first instalment of £100,000 had been paid yesterday. The second step was his admittance to Parliament, which, properly worked, would enable him to obtain the support of the party now in power.
Still further, the great family council had blown over without result. The mountain had been in labour, and a mouse had sprung forth. That spectre which had hovered over the city of Stirmingham so long—the spectre of the American claims—had at last put in its appearance, and was found to be hollow and unsubstantial. He did not think there was anything more to be dreaded from that spectral host. The building societies even, despaired of being able to prolong the contest by supporting the American claims. They could no longer refuse to give up possession on the ground that they did not know who was the true heir. It could not be denied who was the heir.
Marese stayed but one afternoon. He was too wise to make himself common. Before he went he formally asked for a private interview. What passed Violet easily gathered from what Agnes said to her afterwards.
“Mr. Broughton will be here in a day or two,” she said; “tell Mr. Malet to come with him. The mortgages I have told you of are to be paid off; Broughton will manage it.”
From which it was evident that a definite understanding had been come to with Marese. Agnes was silent and thoughtful all the evening. Towards the hour when they usually retired, she called Violet to the window, and put her arm round her neck.
“Suppose,” she said, “all the meadows and hills you see out there were yours, and had been your ancestors for so many centuries—remember, too, that we may die however well we feel—should you like to think that the estate would then fall into the helpless hands of one of two lunatics?”
It was clear that the natural hope of children to inherit had influenced her. Violet had heard something of the lunacy inherent in certain branches of the Lechester family.
II
The manner in which Marese Baskette became acquainted with Lady Lechester affords another instance of those “circumstances over which we have no control,” which have already been so strongly illustrated in this history. In the course of his purchases of land and property, old Sternhold Baskette was so shrewd and farseeing, and so difficult to impose upon, that only once did he make any considerable mistake.
It happened that among other land which he bought at no great distance from Stirmingham, there was a small plot of not much more than two acres, which was included in a large area, and not specified particularly in the agreement. This plot had been in the hands of tenants who had lived so long upon it that they believed they had acquired a prescriptive right. They sold their right to a person whom we may call A, and A sold it in common with other property to Sternhold Baskette. The thing was done, no questions asked, and apparently no one thought anything more about it. But what piece of land is there so small that it can escape the eagle eye of an English lawyer? And especially when that lawyer is a new broom, and a rising man determined to make his mark.
So it happened that Mr. Broughton, Lady Lechester’s new solicitor (and successor to his uncle’s practice), in going over the map of the estate, and comparing it with older maps, found out that there was a certain two-acre piece missing; and being anxious to recommend himself to so good a client as Lady Agnes, lost no time in tracing out the clue to it.
He had not much difficulty in discovering the facts of the case, but it was very soon apparent to his legal knowledge that although the documentary claim of Lady Agnes, and her moral right, were indisputable, yet the whole value of the little property would probably be swallowed up in costs, if an attempt was made to recover it. He represented the fact to her, but Lady Agnes at once instructed him to proceed.
The same overmastering pride which was the one fault of her character, lent an almost sacred value to every piece of land, however small, which had once formed part of the estate of her ancestors. Not one rood of ground would she have parted with, not one perch should remain in the hands of strangers whilst she had the means of disputing possession. Yet this was the very woman who, with openhanded generosity, was ever ready to succour or assist the poor, and would not hesitate to spend large sums of money to give another person a pleasure.
Mr. Broughton went to law and quickly found it a tough job, for this was one of those
