"He did not mean any prosecution?"
"O no, that was all quashed, even if it was begun. He must have been under an hallucination that he was a stern parent, cutting me off with a shilling."
The words had also struck the Colonel, who sought the first opportunity of asking his sister-in-law whether she knew the names of any of her mother's relations.
"Only that her name was Otway," said Caroline. "You know I lived with my father's aunt, who knew nothing about her, and I have never been able to find anything out. Do you know of any connection? Not this old man? Then you would have known."
"That does not follow, for I was scarcely in Jamaica at all. I had a long illness immediately after going there, was sent home on leave, and then to the depot, and only joined again after the regiment had gone to Canada, when the marriage had taken place. I may have heard the name of Mrs. Allen's uncle, but I never bore it in my mind."
"Is there any way of finding out?"
"I will write to Norton. If he does not remember all about it, his wife will."
"He is the present lieutenant-colonel, I think."
"Yes, and he was your father's chief friend. Now that they are at home again, we must have him here one of these days."
"It would be a wonderful thing if this freak were an introduction to a relation," said Caroline.
"There was no doubt of his being struck by the combination of Allen and Otway. He chose to understand which were my sons and which my nephews, and when I said that Allen bore your maiden name he assented as if he knew it before, and spoke of your boy having cause to remember this; I am afraid it will not be pleasantly."
"No," said Caroline, "it sounded much like a threat. But one would like to know, only I thought Farmer Gould's little granddaughter was his niece."
"That might be without preventing your relationship; I will do my best to ascertain it."
Colonel Norton's letter gave decisive information that Barnes was the name of the uncle with whom Caroline Otway had been living at the time of her marriage. She had been treated as a poor relation, and seemed to be half-slave, half-governess to the children of the favoured sister, little semi-Spanish tyrants. This had roused Captain Allen's chivalry, and his friend remembered his saying that, though he had little or nothing of his own, he could at least make her happier than she was in such a family. The uncle was reported to have grown rich in the mahogany trade, and likewise by steamboat speculations, coupled with judicious stock-jobbing among the distressed West Indians, after the emancipation.
"He was a sinister-looking old fellow," ended Colonel Norton, "and I should think not very particular; but I should be glad to hear that he had done justice to poor Allen's daughter. He was written to when she was left an orphan, but vouchsafed no answer."
"Still he may have kept an eye upon you," added Uncle Robert. "I do not think it was new to him that you had married into our family."
"If only those unfortunate boys have not ruined everything," sighed Ellen.
"Little Elvira's father must have been one of those cousins," said Caroline. "I wonder what became of the others? She must be-let me see-my second cousin."
"Not very near," said Ellen.
"I never had a blood relation before since my old aunt died. I am so glad that brilliant child belongs to me!"
"I daresay old Gould could tell you more," said the Colonel.
"Is it wise to revive the connection?" asked his wife.
"The Goulds are not likely to presume," said the Colonel; "and I think that if Caroline takes up the one connection, she is bound to take up the other."
"How am I to make up to this cross old man?" said Carey. "I can't go and fawn on him."
"Certainly not," said her brother-in-law; "but I think you ought to make some advance, merely as a relation."
On the family vote, Caroline rather unwillingly wrote a note, explaining that she had only just discovered her kinship with Mr. Barnes, and offering to come and see him; but not the smallest notice was taken of her letter, rather to her relief, though she did not like to hear Ellen augur ill for the future.
Another letter, to old Mr. Gould, begging him to call upon her next market day, met with a far more ready response. When at his entrance she greeted him with outstretched hands, and-"I never thought you were a connection;" the fine old weather-beaten face was strangely moved, as the rugged hand took hers, and the voice was husky that said-
"I thought there was a likeness in the voice, but I never imagined you were grandchild to poor Carey Barnes; I beg your pardon, to Mrs. Otway."
"You knew her? You must let me see something of my little cousin! I know nothing of my relations and my brother-in-law said he thought you could tell me."
"I ought to be able, for the family lived at Woodbridge all my young days," said the farmer.
The history was then given. The present lord of the manor had been the son of a land surveyor. He was a stunted, sickly, slightly deformed lad, noted chiefly for skill in cyphering, and therefore had been placed in a clerkship. Here a successful lottery ticket had been the foundation of his fortunes; he had invested it in the mahogany trade, and had been one of those men with whom everything turned up a prize. When a little over thirty, he had returned to his own neighbourhood, looking any imaginable age. He had then purchased Belforest, furnished it sumptuously, and laid out magnificent gardens in preparation for his bride, a charming young lady of quality. But she had had a young Lochinvar, and even in her wedding dress, favoured by sympathising servants, had escaped down the back stairs of a London hotel, and been married at the nearest Church, leaving poor Mr. Barnes in the case of the poor craven bridegroom, into whose feelings no one ever inquired.
Mr. Barnes had gone back to the West Indies at once, and never appeared in England again till he came home, a broken and soured old man, to die. There had been two sisters, and Caroline fancied that the old farmer had had some tenderness for the elder one, but she had married, before her brother's prosperity, a poor struggling builder, and both had died young, leaving their child dependent on her uncle. His younger sister had been the favourite; he had taken her back with him to America, and, married her to a man of Spanish blood, connected with him in business. The only one of her children who survived childhood was educated in England, treated as his uncle's heir, and came to Belforest for shooting. Thus it was that he had fallen in love with Farmer Gould's pretty daughter, and as it seemed, by her mother's contrivance, though without her father's consent, had made her his wife.