The Wizard's Son

t them than at those which fill the mind of the principal actor. In the present case it is better to say of the principal subject of the

was a delightful advancement which would bring her no advantage, and yet almost pleased her more than so much added on to her income; for Miss Merivale was not of any distinction in her parentage, and suddenly to find herself cousin to a lord went to her heart: it was a great benefit to the solitary lady fond of society, and very eager for a helping hand to aid her up the ascent. And it was she who kept the conversation going. She even flirted a little, quite becomingly, with the old lawyer, who felt her, it was evident, a relief from the high tension of the others, and was amused by the vivacious middle-aged lady, who for the moment had everything her own way. After dinner there was a great deal of explanation given, and a great many facts made clear, but it is to be doubted whether Walter knew very well what was being said. He listened with an air of attention, but it was as if he were listening to some fairy tale. Something out of the Arabian Nights was being repeated before him. He was informed how the different branches of his family had died out one after another. “Captain Methven was aware that he was in the succession,” the lawyer said; and Mrs. Methven cast a thought back, half-reproachful, half-approving upon her husband, who had been dead so long that his words and ways were like shadows to her, which she could but faintly recall. Would it have bee

and wealth of every sort, who last night had been pleased to win two sixpences! After the buoyancy and sensation of rising beyond the world altogether, which was a kind of physical consciousness of something great that had happened before he was awake, came this sense of the ludicrous, this incredulity and confused amusement. He dressed himself in this mood, laughing low from time to time, to himself, as if it were some game which was being played upon him, but of which he was in the secret, and not to be deceived, however artfully it might be managed. But when he was dressed and ready to go down-stairs—by which time daylight had fully struggled forth upon a wet and clammy world—he stopped himself short with a sudden reminder that to-day this curious practical joke was to extend its career and become known to the world. He laughed again, but then he grew grave, standing staring at the closed door of his bedroom, out of which he was about to issue—no longer a nobody—in a new character, to meet the remarks, the congratulations of his friends. He knew that the news would fly through the little town like lightning; that people would stop each other in the streets and ask, “Have you heard it?—is it true?” and that throughout the whole place there would be a sort of revolution, a general change of positions, which would confuse the very world. He knew vaguely that whatever else might ha

e contrary, she took away the pail, and begged his pardon with awe—being of course entirely blameless. He paused for a moment on the steps as he faced the raw morning air going out, and lo! the early baker, who was having a word with

rest even to the policeman going off duty, who being an old soldier, saluted with a certain grandeur as he tramped by. The young man took an aimless stroll through the half-awakened district. The roads were wet, the air raw: it was not a cheerful morning; damp and discouragement breathed in the air; the little streets looked squalid and featureless in shabby British poverty; lines of low, two-storied brick, all commonplace and monotonous. It was the sort of morning to make you think of the tediousness to which most people get up every day, supposing it to be life, and accepting it as such with the dull content which knows no better; a life made up of scrubbing out of kitchens and sweeping out of par

nd old-fashioned in his habits and ways. It was his intention to leave Sloebury by the eleven o’clock train, and he had arranged that Walter should meet him in Edinburgh within a week, to be made acquainted with several family matters, in which, as the head of the house, it was necessary that he should be fully instructed. Neither Walter nor his mother paid very much attention to these arrangements, nor even remarked

some ordeal to go through,” s

her notice of her archness. It was settled accordingly, that after a few days for preparation and leave-taking, young Lord Erradeen should leave Sloebury. “And if I might advise, alone,” Mr. Milnathort sai

her feelings and faith; but still she had not forgotten what had gone before, nor the contro

ively, but old Milnathort stoppe

y things to arrange. When Lord Erradeen has visited the property

r of this strange new life suddenly gleamed upon them with double force. It is true that the whole condition of their minds was affected by this revelation, that there was nothing about them that was not full of it, and that th

ou must wait a little until I realise wh

She already wished to believe, or at least to persuade Mr. Milnath

amused at present with having got a new

always to be taken seriously: and of all property the Erradeen lands. There are many things c

finally he looked about the table with an evident sense of something wanting, and though he declared that it was of no consequence, avowed at last, with some shyness, that it was the marmalade for which he was looking: and there was none in the house! Mr. Milnathort was fu

s into light. He justified this opinion still more fully before he went away, putting into Walter’s hand a cheque-book from a London bank, into which a sum of money which seemed to the inexperienced young man inexhaustible, h

eversal of our po

ning when the cab drove up for Mr. Milnathort’s bag. It was not a very large one, and Walter was quite equal to the condescension of carr

arting train. The messenger was gone; the thing which he had brought with him, did that remain? Was it conceivable that it was now fixed and certain not to be affected by anything that could be done or said? Walter walked steadily enough along the pavement, but he did not think he was doing so. The world around him swam in his eyes once more. He could not make sure that he was walking on solid ground, or mounting up into the air. How different it was from the way in which he had come forth yesterday, idle, half-guilty, angry with himself and everybo

ord Erradeen,” he said. “Now you will know wh

ou mean me to believe that you had any hand in it?” Walt

he way. I could scarcely have had that; but if you mean did I know about it

ething of the sublime assumption of youth: “Waiting for a man to die would ne

r Debrett as I do, you would have seen the thing plain enough. However, we needn’t quarrel about it. I have always s

stable remind a young man of what in his boyish days they have done for him—an appeal which has its natural issue in a sovereign. But he could not give Underwood a sovereign, and it was perhaps just a little ungenerous

will. I knew old Erradeen; I’ve known all about the family for generations. There are a great many curious things about it, but I think I can help you through them,” said th

that develop itself in a natural way. I am going to Scot

a reputation. I know two or three of your places. Mulmorrel, and the shooting-box on Loch Etive, and that mysterious old place at Kinloch-houran. I have been a

e shrinking of pride from hearing that which was his discussed by strangers. He scarcely knew the names of them,

er. I am not one to thrust my company upon any man if he doesn’t like it. I have stood your frie

never to speak to you again. But it is only, I suppose, one of the figures of speech that people use when they are angry. I

matters, was to order the dinner, and two or three of “the old set,” were to be invited. It would be a farewell to his former comrades, as Walter intended; and

ve stopped him to wish him joy, he suddenly encountered July Herbert. She was going home from the vicarage, out of which his mother had politely driven her; and it seemed the most wonderful luck to

ry tale,” she said,

lter. “Yes, I am afraid it is true. I

an that. At all events, you are no longer just t

hom Walter knew but slightly, but

as going to say, when

rry I inter

of the world, I was always the old Walter, &c. A m

hing that cannot be taken from us. We are supposed,

as not unaccustomed to this sort of f

of, and I should not have any chance if there were, alas! Good-bye, Lord Erradeen. It is a lovely name! And may I always speak to you when I meet you,

. Herbert what she thinks

ith triumph as she laughed and

seyed; then laughed again as she went on,

, though he could not help saying to himself, with a slight beat of his heart, how near

uld have devoured him. To think of all that boy had it in his power

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