Edward Barnett; a Neglected Child of South Carolina, Who Rose to Be a Peer of Great Britain,—and t


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Page 1



THE EARL'S VICTIMS.




CHAPTER I.

THE STEWARD.


Earl de Montford sat in a plainly furnished room in his stately mansion.
Gorgeously decorated as were the other apartments of his princely
residence, this apartment, with its plain business-look--its hard
benches for such of the tenantry as came to him or his agent on
business--its walls garnished with abstracts of the Game and Poor Law
Enactments--its worn old chairs and heavy oak presses, the open doors of
some of which disclosed bundles of old papers, parchments, etc.--this
little room, the only one almost ever seen by any save the aristocracy
and their followers--exercised and contained frequently more of human
hope and fear than any other or the whole of the others of this
sumptuous edifice. Here the toil-worn farmer came to pay his dues to the
Lord of the Manor--here often too with beating heart and quivering lip,
the old servant of the soil came to beg for time--time to enable him by
hard pinching to make up his proportion of the sum spent in luxury by
his landlord. Ah! reader! could those old walls reveal the sounds, the
tales of human suffering, of heartless avarice, and callous
indifference--of sneering assumption and hopeless woe, thy brain would
be as fire, thy heart would sicken, and thy blood would boil, till
rushing over every prudent thought, through grinding teeth and
passion-paling lips would start, the one wild word, Revenge!

I have said the room was plainly furnished, but there was one
exception--the chair in which the Earl sat. This was an old one,
formerly the chair of state in which the old Barons his ancestors had
presided at many a scene of wassail, with their retainers. It had been
stuffed and new-covered to suit modern luxury, but the armorial bearings
remained still carved in the wood of the high back, with the proud
motto, "Nulli Secundi," second to none.

The Earl was not alone. His agent, a hard-featured man of business, sat
at a desk, busy with papers, and a venerable old man, who had been his
father's steward, stood a little behind his chair. There was a frown on
the brow of the nobleman, as after a stern glance at the old man, he
asked,

'Has that scoundrel been apprehended yet?'

'He has not, your lordship,' said the agent, slowly folding up a
document; 'nor does it seem likely he will be. I have had the old haunts
searched--I have, as you directed, promised large rewards for his
apprehension, and threatened the tenants if they harbor him, but no clue
to his hiding-place has yet been discovered. I am afraid he has left.'

'He has not,' interrupted the Earl. 'He is here, in this neighbourhood.
I feel his hated presence. He must have harborers, Johnson. The parvenu
millionaire--the cotton lord--harbors these ruffians by refusing to
prosecute poachers. He preaches equal rights, forsooth! Break down his
fences--send my deer to stray into his park--get some one to fire his
barns--I will pay them. He has thwarted me, and he shall feel the agony
of a long and fluctuating law-suit. Oh! for one day of my Norman
ancestors! I would sweep such vermin from the earth. Waters!' said he,
turning to the steward, 'beware! I have, from respect to my father's
memory, somewhat restrained myself towards you. You have pleaded this
man's cause. Say no more. He has threatened me--dared to use reproaches
and threats to a peer of the realm--he shall be crushed as a noxious
reptile!'

'My lord,' said the old man firmly, 'I was your father's steward--I was
your grandfather's foster-brother and playmate--man and boy, I have been
in the service of your family for over seventy years, and for the love
of your house have I withstood you in wrong-doing--I beseech you again,
let this man go. You well know he is an injured man. Add not more to
that final account which you as well as I must one day render before
God.'

'Palter such trash to coward fools!--I want none of your priestcraft,'
returned the nobleman. 'Do I not know the reason of all this affected
love for justice and mercy. Your grand-daughter was to have married this
midnight robber--they were betrothed, or some such trash. Find
him--doubtless _she_ knows how--let them marry--such a son-in-law will
be an honor to your family, and a comfort to your declining years.'

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 29th Mar 2024, 11:57