a moment later with a slightly built, rather careworn woman dressed in deep mourning—the woman in black whom they had seen crossing the park—who looked nervously round her as she entered.
"What is it you have for me, Mrs. Gaukrodger?" asked Nesta. "Papers belonging to the late Mr. John Mallathorpe? How—where did you get them?"
Mrs. Gaukrodger drew a large envelope from under her cloak. "This, miss," she answered. "One paper—I only found it this morning. In this way," she went on, addressing herself to Nesta. "When my husband was killed, along with Mr. John Mallathorpe, they, of course, brought home the clothes he was wearing. There were a lot of papers in the pockets of the coat—two pockets full of them. And I hadn't heart or courage to look at them at that time, miss!—I couldn't, and I locked them up in a box. I never looked at them until this very day—but this morning I happened to open that box, and I saw them, and I thought I'd see what they were. And this was one—you see, it's in a plain envelope—it was sealed, but there's no writing on it. I cut the envelope open, and drew the paper out, and I saw at once it was Mr. John Mallathorpe's will—so I came straight to you with it."
She handed the envelope over to Nesta, who at once gave it to Eldrick. The solicitor hastily drew out the enclosure, glanced it over, and turned sharply to Collingwood with a muttered exclamation.
"Good gracious!" he said. "That man Cobcroft was right! There was a duplicate! And here it is!"
Mrs. Mallathorpe had come nearer. The sight of the half sheet of foolscap in Eldrick's hands seemed to fascinate her. And the expression of her face as she came close to his side was so curious that the solicitor involuntarily folded up the will and hastily put it behind his back—he had not only seen that expression but had caught sight of Mrs. Mallathorpe's twitching fingers.
"Is—that—that—another will?" she whispered. "John Mallathorpe's?"
"Precisely the same—another copy—duly signed and witnessed!" answered Eldrick firmly. "What you foolishly did was done for nothing. And—it's the most fortunate thing in the world, Mrs. Mallathorpe, that this has turned up!—most fortunate for you!"
Mrs. Mallathorpe steadied herself on the edge of the table and looked at him fixedly. "Everything'll have to be given up?" she asked.
"The terms of this will will be carried out," answered Eldrick.
"Will—will they make me give up—what we've—saved?" she whispered.
"Mother!" said Nesta appealingly. "Don't! Come away somewhere and let me talk to you—come!"
But Mrs. Mallathorpe shook off her daughter's hand and turned again to Eldrick.
"Will they?" she demanded. "Answer!"
"I don't think you'll find the trustees at all hard when it comes to a question of account," answered Eldrick. "They'll probably take matters over from now and ignore anything that's happened during the past two years."
Again Nesta tried to lead her mother away, and again Mrs. Mallathorpe pushed the appealing hand from her. All her attention was fixed on Eldrick. "And—and will the police give me—now—what they found on that woman?" she whispered.
"I have no doubt they will," replied Eldrick. "It's—yours."
Mrs. Mallathorpe drew a sigh of relief. She looked at the solicitor steadily for a moment—then without another word she turned and went away—to find Prydale.
Eldrick turned to Nesta.
"Don't forget," he said in a low voice, "it's a terrible blow to her, and she's been thinking of your interests! Leave her alone for a while—she'll get used to the altered circumstances. I'm sorry for her—and for you!"
But Nesta made a sign of dissent.
"There's no need to be sorry for me, Mr. Eldrick," she answered. "It's a greater relief than you can realize." She turned from him and went over to Mrs. Gaukrodger who had watched this scene without fully comprehending it. "Come with me," she said. "You look very tired and you must have some tea and rest awhile—come now."
Eldrick and Collingwood, left alone, looked at each, other in silence for a moment. Then the solicitor shook his head expressively.
"Well, that's over!" he exclaimed. "I must go back and hand this will over to the two trustees. But you, Collingwood—stay here a bit—if ever that girl needs company and help, it's now!"
"I'm stopping," said Collingwood.
He remained for a time where Eldrick left him; at last he went down to the hall and out into the gardens. And presently Nesta came to him there, and as if with a mutual understanding they walked away into the nearer stretches of the park. Normandale had never looked more beautiful than it did that afternoon, and in the midst of a silence which up to then neither of them had cared to break, Collingwood suddenly turned to the girl who had just lost it.
"Are you sure that you won't miss all this—greatly?" he asked. "Just think!"
"I'd rather lose more than this, however fond I'd got of it, than go through what I've gone through lately," she answered frankly. "Do you know what I want to do?"
"No—I think not," he said. "What?"
"If it's possible—to forget all about this," she replied. "And—if that's also possible—to help my mother to forget, too. Don't think too hardly of her—I don't suppose any of us know how much all this place—and the money—meant to her."
"I've got no hard thoughts about her," said Collingwood. "I'm sorry for her. But—is it too soon to talk about the future?"
Nesta looked at him in a way which showed him that she only half comprehended the question. But there was sufficient comprehension in her eyes to warrant him in taking her hands in his.
"You know why I didn't go to India?" he said, bending his face to hers.
"I—guessed!" she answered shyly.
Then Collingwood, at this suddenly arrived supreme moment, became curiously bereft of speech. And after a period of silence, during which, being in the shadow of a grove of beech-trees which kindly concealed them from the rest of the world, they held each other's hands, all that he could find to say was one word.
"Well?"
Nesta laughed.
"Well—what?" she whispered.
Collingwood suddenly laughed too and put his arm round her.
"It's no good!" he said. "I've often thought of what I'd to say to you—and now I've forgotten all. Shall I say it all at once!"
"Wouldn't it be best?" she murmured with another laugh.
"Then—you're going to marry me?" he asked.
"Am I to answer—all at once?" she said.
"One word will do!" he exclaimed, drawing her to him.
"Ah!" she whispered as she lifted her face to his. "I couldn't say it all in one word. But—we've lots of time before us!"
THE END
