Ernestine found a letter on her plate a few mornings afterwards which rather puzzled her.It was from a firm of solicitors in Lincoln's Inn -the Eastchester family solicitors -requesting her to call that morning to see them on important business.There was not a hint as to the nature of it,merely a formal line or two and a signature.Ernestine,who had written insulting letters to all her relatives during the last few days,smiled as she laid it down.
Perhaps the family had called upon Mr.Cuthbert to undertake their defence and bring her round to a reasonable view of things.The idea was amusing enough,but her first impulse was not to go.
Nothing but the combination of an idle morning and a certain measure of curiosity induced her to keep the appointment.
She was evidently expected,for she was shown at once into the private office of the senior partner.The clerk who ushered her in pronounced her name indistinctly,and the elderly man who rose from his chair at her entrance looked at her inquiringly.
"I am Miss Wendermott,"she said,coming forward."I had a letter from you this morning;you wished to see me,I believe."Mr.Cuthbert dropped at once his eyeglass and his inquiring gaze,and held out his hand.
"My dear Miss Wendermott,"he said,"you must pardon the failing eyesight of an old man.To be sure you are,to be sure.Sit down,Miss Wendermott,if you please.Dear me,what a likeness!""You mean to my father?"she asked quietly.
"To your father,certainly,poor,dear old boy!You must excuse me,Miss Wendermott.Your father and I were at Eton together,and Ithink I may say that we were always something more than lawyer and client -a good deal more,a good deal more!He was a fine fellow at heart -a fine,dear fellow.Bless me,to think that you are his daughter!""It's very nice to hear you speak of him so,Mr.Cuthbert,"she said."My father may have been very foolish -I suppose he was really worse than foolish -but I think that he was most abominably and shamefully treated,and so long as I live I shall never forgive those who were responsible for it.I don't mean you,Mr.Cuthbert,of course.I mean my grand-father and my uncle."Mr.Cuthbert shook his head slowly.
"The Earl,"he said,"was a very proud man -a very proud man.""You may call it pride,"she exclaimed."I call it rank and brutal selfishness!They had no right to force such a sacrifice upon him.
He would have been content,I am sure,to have lived quietly in England -to have kept out of their way,to have conformed to their wishes in any reasonable manner.But to rob him of home and friends and family and name -well,may God call them to account for it,and judge them as they judged him!"I was against it,"he said sadly,"always.""So Mr.Davenant told me,"she said."I can't quite forgive you,Mr.Cuthbert,for letting me grow up and be so shamefully imposed upon,but of course I don't blame you as I do the others.I am only thankful that I have made myself independent of my relations.Ithink,after the letters which I wrote to them last night,they will be quite content to let me remain where they put my father -outside their lives."I had heard,"Mr.Cuthbert said hesitatingly,"that you were following some occupation.Something literary,is it not?""I am a journalist,"Ernestine answered promptly,"and I'm proud to say that I am earning my own living."He looked at her with a fine and wonderful curiosity.In his way he was quite as much one of the old school as the Earl of Eastchester,and the idea of a lady -a Wendermott,too -calling herself a journalist and proud of ****** a few hundreds a year was amazing enough to him.He scarcely knew how to answer her.
"Yes,yes,"he said,"you have some of your father's spirit,some of his pluck too.And that reminds me -we wrote to you to call.""Yes.""Mr.Davenant has told you that your father was engaged in some enterprise with this wonderful Mr.Scarlett Trent,when he died.""Yes!He told me that!""Well,I have had a visit just recently from that gentleman.It seems that your father when he was dying spoke of his daughter in England,and Mr.Trent is very anxious now to find you out,and speaks of a large sum of money which he wishes to invest in your name.""He has been a long time thinking about it,"Ernestine remarked.
"He explained that,"Mr.Cuthbert continued,"in this way.Your father gave him our address when he was dying,but the envelope on which it was written got mislaid,and he only came across it a day or two ago.He came to see me at once,and he seems prepared to act very handsomely.He pressed very hard indeed for your name and address,but I did not feel at liberty to disclose them before seeing you.""You were quite right,Mr.Cuthbert,"she answered."I suppose this is the reason why Mr.Davenant has just told me the whole miserable story.""It is one reason,"he admitted,"but in any case I think that Mr.
