Chapter VIII

MR. FISHER was an object of great interest during the interval between the magistrates' sittings. His landlady declared that no pleasanter gentleman had ever stopped at The Arms. His residence there brought almost too many customers, for people were constantly dropping in to catechize the servants, to the hindrance of work, but little to their own satisfaction.

On Wednesday, Frith was seen to carry a huge packet of letters across to The Arms, and on the contents of one, the biggest of all, it was supposed the squire's fate would depend.

Mr. Fisher's landlady was so eager to gather information, that she waited on her guest herself, but could only report that he had put the letters aside and gone on with his dinner, as though they were of no consequence.

The Overford butcher, who was especially eager for news, remarked, "The gentleman had such a steak for his dinner to-day as few people get in a country place. And the mistress here knows how a steak should be sent up. The gentleman showed his sense by not letting it get cold. Letters will keep. I thought that when I cut that steak, 'He shall have a good one. A man is always kinder-disposed when his meat has been tender and he has made a good dinner.'"

The butcher spoke like a village philosopher; but there may have been an underlying reason for his anxiety for a happy result to Norman. It might be that an opposite one would affect the free-handed distribution of joints of beef for Christmas dinners which he was accustomed to supply.

"I say that if the Post Office gentleman had been a king, he could not have been better cared for or waited upon by a handsomer landlady."

This compliment came from the schoolmaster, who was suspected of writing poetry and of admiring the comely widow who ruled The Arms.

"I suppose you never ventured to say a word for the squire?" inquired a farmer.

"Oh dear, no. How could anything I might say help Mr. Savell?" replied the landlady.

"Why not? One of my lads read out of a storybook how a mouse helped a lion out of a net; and surely the missis here is better than a mouse."

"You allude to a common fable, my friend," said the schoolmaster, loftily.

"Fable or not, it teaches a good lesson," retorted the farmer; "and it is the good things that get to be common, because folks read them."

"You all know," interposed the landlady, "how gladly I should speak, if I could help the squire. But if I dropped a word about Mr. Norman being such a kind gentleman and landlord, Mr. Fisher would give a little nod and turn to something else. So I judged that he did not choose to be talked to about that matter, and that I might do more harm than good if I went on. Sometimes one may do more by holding one's tongue than by speaking."

"You have learned a difficult lesson. It is a grand thing to be a fair woman with discretion," replied the schoolmaster; and the landlady, who was not wholly superior to compliments, felt secretly gratified at receiving such from the best scholar in Overford, setting aside the Court and the vicarage.

Thursday came at last, and brought a happy ending to all the suspense and anxiety of the preceding days.

The solicitor who represented the Post Office authorities stated that, being convinced that Mr. Savell had no felonious intentions when he broke open the mail-bag, and seeing that he had already publicly expressed his regret, they had given him instructions, with the permission of the magistrates, to withdraw the charge. Only Mr. Savell must pay all the expenses.

The room was thronged as before, and the moment it was understood that the squire would not be sent to prison, there was a rush from within to let outsiders know the result. Then came a burst of cheering for the magistrates, the squire, and the inspector, led on by the butcher, who anticipated a more liberal Christmas distribution than ever. He was not disappointed.

Who can paint either the effects of joy or sorrow? Only can we judge what others feel by looking into our own hearts, and by the experience of our own past lives.

Before we left the court, Mr. Fisher came up to Stephen and said, "Surely we have met before. Are you not a younger brother of my old schoolfellow, Sir Vernon Hastings?"

Stephen clasped the offered hand, and told Mr. Fisher that he recognised him at first sight, but would not claim acquaintance with him, lest by doing so he should furnish food for gossip.

"If what I hear is correct, the Overford folk will now have a pleasanter topic to occupy them."

"Yes," replied Stephen, "we may now look forward to a double wedding. We all owe you a debt of gratitude for the manner in which you have used your influence on behalf of Norman."

"I am glad I could recommend the course that has been adopted, because no one here could doubt Mr. Savell's innocence of any evil design in what he did."

Stephen would fain have persuaded Mr. Fisher to come to King's Court for Christmas, but this could not be. Duty called him in another direction. He did come, though, for the 14th of January, and met his friend Sir Vernon, and several other members of the Hastings family, for "they were many."

It was a very happy gathering, with only one subject of regret in connection with it. I, Bertha Savell, just transformed into Mrs. Stephen Hastings, would have to say a long farewell to my only brother and my old home. This thought would come, and it made the only cloud amid so much brightness.

Sir Vernon alluded to it regretfully.

"Though Stephen has done so well, and gained a really wonderful position to start with, I wish we could keep him and his wife in England. I am new to the estates, and have but little loose capital."

"Because you have spent what you had in helping on a troop of younger brothers," said Stephen.

"Hush! Dear boy. Am I not in the father's place? I would not have you without work to do, but if it could have been here instead of in India!"

"Do not suppose that Bertha will be quite a dowerless bride," said Norman. "Uncle Bernard might declare that he would give her no share in his wealth, but he knew in whose hands he left her. Berty has always refused to talk of money, and Aunt Bella has made no sign, but immediately after my uncle's death, I set aside ten thousand pounds, and caused the money to be invested in my sister's name. That is hers absolutely."

I tried to interrupt Norman, but he insisted that this act of his was the barest justice, and that he hoped Stephen would see his way to give up the Indian appointment after all, for, with our united means, we could make a fair start in England.

But Stephen had his share of pride, and insisted that he would not permit my little dowry to be the staff on which he would lean.

We had visited the quaint iron safe in the early morning, and I had duly taken therefrom the jewels which made up Uncle Bernard's wedding gift.

The memory of his goodness to Norman and me, and the sight of his empty chair, caused the only tears I shed on that happy day. I was admired in my finery, and Lucy was more admired with no adornment save her own grace and beauty.

Tenants were feasted, costly gifts examined, kindly wishes spoken, and prayers offered for a bright future, both for the pair who were to remain at the Court and those whose home was to be far-away from it.

There was one more ceremony to begone through.

Amidst all the stir we had nearly forgotten the sealed packet, which was found to be addressed in Uncle Bernard's handwriting, "To the husband of my niece, Bertha Savell, of King's Court."

Stephen somewhat nervously broke the seals and displayed the contents. They were a closely-written legal document, and a letter addressed to Stephen Hastings, which explained the whole, and ran as follows—

"MY DEAR STEPHEN,—Most likely, when you read this, the hand that penned it will have lost its cunning; but surely a man's last days will be rendered the happier for having done something to promote the prosperity of the young who are to follow him."

"It has needed little penetration on my part to discover your love for my niece, and your worthiness of the regard which she gives you in return. Therefore, I only need to glance a little further into the future, and picture you united to her, for better, for worse."

"I should like to help you; but I want you first to help yourself, and should prefer your marrying with the prospect of having your way to make, except as regards the share of my means which I am sure Norman will give to his sister."

"I know you are hoping to obtain a better position to start with, by going to India, than you could look for here, and I trust you will succeed, because the effort and the success, if attained, will be good for you. But stay in England, that the two last of the Savells may not be parted."

"I know, too, that you will have the choice; because, though I have left King's Court, clear of all incumbrance, to Norman, I have bought a little estate for you, dear Stephen—not for Berty. There is a pretty house upon it, and it is within a convenient distance of London,—where, I presume, you will choose to practise."

"Secure of a modest income, you will be able to turn your talents to
account in the best manner."

"Messrs. Partington and Howe, my solicitors, will furnish all particulars, in addition to what this letter and accompanying document give you."

"And now, with a prayer for your lasting happiness, I remain,"

"Sincerely and affectionately yours,"
"BERNARD SAVELL."

So Stephen and I stayed in England, and blessed the memory of him who had been my more than father during his life, and whose kindness had reached us even from beyond the grave. We two are very happy still, and so are Norman and Lucy. I think I may say with confidence that, though we wives are now "into the forties," and much less slender than we were on January 14, 1865, we and our husbands are, in each case, more truly one than we were on the day we became so.

Our double wedding led to two more; for Mr. Fisher met his fate in the person of Stephen's sister, Lilian, and the poetical schoolmaster long since gave up his post to become landlord of the Savell Arms, by marrying the landlady. And as Christmas comes round, the old story of Norman's raid on Her Majesty's mail-bag, and the trouble it caused, is still told, with the trite remark, as a closing sentence, "All's well that ends well."

As a very last word, I should like to add that, though names, place and circumstances are necessarily altered, the main facts of this little chronicle are absolutely true, and that some one, whose real name I could easily give, was placed in precisely the position above narrated through rashly meddling with the mails.

ONLY A SERVANT.