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phenomenal Will; but he has not had the

privilege of a lifelong friendship with the testator as I have had.

And as Rupert Sent Leger had to learn intimate details regarding his

uncle, I could best make my confidences alone. To-morrow we shall

have plenty of formality. I was delighted with Rupert. He is just

what I could have wished his mother’s boy to be—or a son of my own

to be, had I had the good-fortune to have been a father. But this is

not for me. I remember long, long ago reading a passage in Lamb’s

Essays which hangs in my mind: “The children of Alice call Bartrum

father.” Some of my old friends would laugh to see ME write this,

but these memoranda are for my eyes alone, and no one shall see them

till after my death, unless by my own permission. The boy takes some

qualities after his father; he has a daring that is disturbing to an

old dryasdust lawyer like me. But somehow I like him more than I

ever liked anyone—any man—in my life—more even than his uncle, my

old friend, Roger Melton; and Lord knows I had much cause to like

him. I have more than ever now. It was quite delightful to see the

way the young adventurer was touched by his uncle’s thought of him.

He is a truly gallant fellow, but venturesome exploits have not

affected the goodness of heart. It is a pleasure to me to think that

Roger and Colin came together apropos of the boy’s thoughtful

generosity towards Miss MacKelpie. The old soldier will be a good

friend to him, or I am much mistaken. With an old lawyer like me,

and an old soldier like him, and a real old gentlewoman like Miss

MacKelpie, who loves the very ground he walks on, to look after him,

together with all his own fine qualities and his marvellous

experience of the world, and the gigantic wealth that will surely be

his, that young man will go far.

 

Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Miss Janet MacKelpie, Croom.

January 5, 1907.

 

MY DEAREST AUNT JANET,

 

It is all over—the first stage of it; and that is as far as I can

get at present. I shall have to wait for a few days—or it may be

weeks—in London for the doing of certain things now necessitated by

my acceptance of Uncle Roger’s bequest. But as soon as I can, dear,

I shall come down to Croom and spend with you as many days as

possible. I shall then tell you all I am at liberty to tell, and I

shall thank you personally for your consent to come with me to

Vissarion. Oh, how I wish my dear mother had lived to be with us!

It would have made her happy, I know, to have come; and then we three

who shared together the old dear, hard days would have shared in the

same way the new splendour. I would try to show all my love and

gratitude to you both … You must take the whole burden of it now,

dear, for you and I are alone. No, not alone, as we used to be, for

I have now two old friends who are already dear to me. One is so to

you already. Sir Colin is simply splendid, and so, in his own way,

is Mr. Trent. I am lucky, Aunt Janet, to have two such men to think

of affairs for me. Am I not? I shall send you a wire as soon as

ever I can see my way to get through my work; and I want you to think

over all the things you ever wished for in your life, so that I may—

if there is any mortal way of doing so—get them for you. You will

not stand in the way of my having this great pleasure, will you,

dear? Good-bye.

 

Your loving

RUPERT.

 

E. B. Trent’s Memoranda.

January 6, 1907.

 

The formal meeting of Sir Colin and myself with Rupert Sent Leger

went off quite satisfactorily. From what he had said yesterday, and

again last night, I had almost come to expect an unreserved

acceptance of everything stated or implied in Roger Melton’s Will;

but when we had sat round the table—this appeared, by the way, to be

a formality for which we were all prepared, for we sat down as if by

instinct—the very first words he said were:

 

“As I suppose I must go through this formality, I may as well say at

once that I accept every possible condition which was in the mind of

Uncle Roger; and to this end I am prepared to sign, seal, and

deliver—or whatever is the ritual—whatever document you, sir”—

turning to me—“may think necessary or advisable, and of which you

both approve.” He stood up and walked about the room for a few

moments, Sir Colin and I sitting quite still, silent. He came back

to his seat, and after a few seconds of nervousness—a rare thing

with him, I fancy—said: “I hope you both understand—of course, I

know you do; I only speak because this is an occasion for formality—

that I am willing to accept, and at once! I do so, believe me, not

to get possession of this vast fortune, but because of him who has

given it. The man who was fond of me, and who trusted me, and yet

had strength to keep his own feelings in check—who followed me in

spirit to far lands and desperate adventures, and who, though he

might be across the world from me, was ready to put out a hand to

save or help me, was no common man; and his care of my mother’s son

meant no common love for my dear mother. And so she and I together

accept his trust, come of it what may. I have been thinking it over

all night, and all the time I could not get out of the idea that

mother was somewhere near me. The only thought that could debar me

from doing as I wished to do—and intend to do—would be that she

would not approve. Now that I am satisfied she would approve, I

accept. Whatever may result or happen, I shall go on following the

course that he has set for me. So help me, God!” Sir Colin stood

up, and I must say a more martial figure I never saw. He was in full

uniform, for he was going on to the King’s levee after our business.

He drew his sword from the scabbard and laid it naked on the table

before Rupert, and said:

 

“You are going, sir, into a strange and danger country—I have been

reading about it since we met—and you will be largely alone amongst

fierce mountaineers who resent the very presence of a stranger, and

to whom you are, and must be, one. If you should ever be in any

trouble and want a man to stand back to back with you, I hope you

will give me the honour!” As he said this pointed to his sword.

Rupert and I were also standing now—one cannot sit down in the

presence of such an act as that. “You are, I am proud to say, allied

with my family: and I only wish to God it was closer to myself.”

Rupert took him by the hand and bent his head before him as answered:

 

“The honour is mine, Sir Colin; and no greater can come to any man

than that which you have just done me. The best way I can show how I

value it will be to call on you if I am ever in such a tight place.

By Jove, sir, this is history repeating itself. Aunt Janet used to

tell me when I was a youngster how MacKelpie of Croom laid his sword

before Prince Charlie. I hope I may tell her of this; it would make

her so proud and happy. Don’t imagine, sir, that I am thinking

myself a Charles Edward. It is only that Aunt Janet is so good to me

that I might well think I was.”

 

Sir Colin bowed grandly:

 

“Rupert Sent Leger, my dear niece is a woman of great discretion and

discernment. And, moreover, I am thinking she has in her some of the

gift of Second Sight that has been a heritage of our blood. And I am

one with my niece—in everything!” The whole thing was quite regal

in manner; it seemed to take me back to the days of the Pretender.

 

It was not, however, a time for sentiment, but for action—we had met

regarding the future, not the past; so I produced the short document

I had already prepared. On the strength of his steadfast declaration

that he would accept the terms of the Will and the secret letters, I

had got ready a formal acceptance. When I had once again formally

asked Mr. Sent Leger’s wishes, and he had declared his wish to

accept, I got in a couple of my clerks as witnesses.

 

Then, having again asked him in their presence if it was his wish to

declare acceptance of the conditions, the document was signed and

witnessed, Sir Colin and I both appending our signatures to the

Attestation.

 

And so the first stage of Rupert Sent Leger’s inheritance is

completed. The next step will not have to be undertaken on my part

until the expiration of six months from his entry on his estate at

Vissarion. As he announces his intention of going within a

fortnight, this will mean practically a little over six months from

now.

BOOK II: VISSARION

Letter from Rupert Sent Leger, Castle of Vissarion, the Spear of

Ivan, Land of the Blue Mountains, to Miss Janet MacKelpie, Croom

Castle, Ross-shire, N.B.

January 23, 1907.

 

MY DEAREST AUNT JANET,

 

As you see, I am here at last. Having got my formal duty done, as

you made me promise—my letters reporting arrival to Sir Colin and

Mr. Trent are lying sealed in front of me ready to post (for nothing

shall go before yours)—I am free to speak to you.

 

This is a most lovely place, and I hope you will like it. I am quite

sure you will. We passed it in the steamer coming from Trieste to

Durazzo. I knew the locality from the chart, and it was pointed out

to me by one of the officers with whom I had become quite friendly,

and who kindly showed me interesting places whenever we got within

sight of shore. The Spear of Ivan, on which the Castle stands, is a

headland running well out into the sea. It is quite a peculiar

place—a sort of headland on a headland, jutting out into a deep,

wide bay, so that, though it is a promontory, it is as far away from

the traffic of coast life as anything you can conceive. The main

promontory is the end of a range of mountains, and looms up vast,

towering over everything, a mass of sapphire blue. I can well

understand how the country came to be called the “Land of the Blue

Mountains,” for it is all mountains, and they are all blue! The

coast-line is magnificent—what is called “iron-bound”—being all

rocky; sometimes great frowning precipices; sometimes jutting spurs

of rock; again little rocky islets, now and again clad with trees and

verdure, at other places stark and bare. Elsewhere are little rocky

bays and indentations—always rock, and often with long, interesting

caves. Some of the shores of the bays are sandy, or else ridges of

beautiful pebbles, where the waves make endless murmur.

 

But of all the places I have seen—in this land or any other—the

most absolutely beautiful is

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