When Lester regained the little parlour in his home he found his nephew sitting, silent and discontented, by the window.  Madeline had taken up a book, and Ellinor, in an opposite corner, was plying her needle with an earnestness that contrasted with her customary cheerful vivacity.

The squire thought he had cause to complain of his nephew’s conduct to their guest.  “You eyed the poor student,” he said, “as if you wished him amongst the books of Alexandria.”

“I would he were burnt with them!” exclaimed Walter sharply.  “He seems to have bewitched my fair cousins here into a forgetfulness of all but himself.”

“Not me!” said Ellinor eagerly.

“No, not you; you are too just.  It is a pity Madeline is not more like you.”

Thus was disturbance first introduced into a peaceful family.  Walter was jealous; he could not control his feelings.  An open breach followed, not only between him and Aram, but a quarrel between him and Madeline.  The position came as a revelation to his uncle, who, seeing no other way out of the difficulty, yielded to Walter’s request that he should be allowed to travel.

Meanwhile, Aram, drawn out of his habitual solitude by the sweet influence of Madeline, became a frequent visitor to the manor house and the acknowledged suitor for Madeline’s hand.  As for Walter, when he set out for London, with Corporal Bunting as his servant, he had found consolation in the discovery that Ellinor’s regard for him had gone beyond mere cousinly affection.  His uncle gave him several letters of introduction to old friends; among them one to Sir Peter Hales, and another to a Mr. Courtland.

An incident that befell him on the London road revived to an extraordinary degree Walter’s desire to ascertain the whereabouts of his long-lost father.  At the request of Sir Peter Hales he had alighted at a saddler’s for the purpose of leaving a parcel committed to him, when his attention was attracted by an old-fashioned riding-whip.  Taking it up, he found it bore his own crest, and his father’s initials, “G.L.”  Much agitated, he made quick inquiries, and learned that the whip had been left for repair about twelve years previously by a gentleman who was visiting Mr. Courtland, and had not been heard of since.

Eagerly he sought out Mr. Courtland, and gleaned news which induced him, much to Corporal Bunting’s disgust, to set his back on London, and make his way with all speed in the direction of Knaresborough.  It appeared that at the time the whip was left at the saddler’s, Geoffrey Lester had just returned from India, and when he called on his old acquaintance, Mr. Courtland, he was travelling to the historic town in the West Riding to claim a legacy his old colonel—­he had been in the army—­had left him for saving his life.  The name Geoffrey Lester had assumed on entering the army was Clarke.

IV.—­Hush-Money