“Constancegreen.”

“Duly signed, sealed, and delivered! d——­nation!” was Julian’s brief epilogue—­“General, let’s burn it.”

“You can if you please, Mr. Julian,” interposed the nurse, who had secretly enjoyed all this, “and if you like to take the consequences; but, as each of the three witnesses has the will sealed up in copy, and the poor deceased there took pains to sign them all, perhaps—­”

This settled the affair:  and the discomfited expectants made a precipitate retreat.  As the general, however, got vastly more than he expected, for his individual merits; and seeing that he loved Emily as much as he hated both Julian and his wife, he really felt well-pleased upon the whole, and took on him the duties of executor with cheerfulness.  So they buried Aunt Green as soon as might be.

CHAPTER XI.

Preparations and departure.

Charles’s pocket-book was full of clean bank notes, fifteen hundred pounds’ worth:  it contained also a diamond ring, and a lock of silvery hair; the latter a proof of affectionate sentiment in the kind old soul, that touched him at the heart.

“And now, my Emmy, the way is clear to us; Providence has sent me this, that I may right you, dearest:  and it will be wise in us to say nothing of our plans.  Avoid inquiries—­for I did not say conceal or falsify facts:  but, while none but you, love, heed of my departure, and while I go for our sakes alone, we need not invite disappointment by open-mouthed publicity.  To those who love me, Emmy, I am frank and free; but with those who love us not, there is a wisdom and a justice in concealment.  They do not deserve confidence, who will not extend to us their sympathy.  None but yourself must know whither I am bound; and, after some little search for curiosity’s sake, when a week is past and gone, no soul will care for me of those at home.  With you, I will manage to communicate by post, directing my letters to Mrs. Sainsbury, at Oxton:  I will prepare her for it.  She knows my love for you, and how they try to thwart us; but even she, however trustworthy, need not be told my destination yet awhile, until ‘India’ appears upon the post-mark.  How glad will you be, dearest one, how happy in our secret—­to read my heart’s own thoughts, when I am far away—­far away, clearing up mine Emmy’s cares, and telling her how blessed I feel in ministering to her happiness!”

Such was the substance of their talk, while counting out the pocket-book.

Charles’s remaining preparations were simple enough, now his purse was flush of money:  he resolved upon taking from his home no luggage whatever:  preferring to order down, from an outfitting house in London, a regular kit of cadet’s necessaries, to wait for him at the Europe Hotel, Plymouth, on a certain day in the ensuing week.  So that, burdened only with his Emmy’s miniature, and his pocket-book of bank notes, he might depart quietly some evening, get to Plymouth in a preconcerted way, by chaise or coach, before the morrow morning; thence, a boat to meet the ship off-shore, and then—­hey, for the Indies!