Part 27 (1/2)

He eyed it curiously round; and, lastly, with his most acute look he eyed herself, as if he wished to find out something from her manner, before going into further explanations.

But she stood before him a little uneasy, and yet not very much so.

The utmost she expected was some quarrel with her sister Selina; perhaps the breaking off of the match, which would not have broken Hilary's heart at all events.

”So you have really no idea what I'm come about!”

”Not the slightest.”

”Well!” said Peter Ascott. ”I hardly thought it; but when one has been taken in as I have been, and this isn't the first time by your family--”

”Mr. Ascott! will you explain yourself?”

”I will, ma'am. It's a very unpleasant business I come about; any other gentleman but me would have come with a police officer at his back. Look here, Miss Hilary Leaf--did you ever set eyes on this before?”

He took out his check book, turned deliberately over the small memorandum halves of the page, till he came to one in particular, then hunted in his pocket book for something.

”My banker sent in to-day my canceled checks, which I don't usually go over oftener than three months; he knew that, the scamp.”

Hilary looked up.

”Your nephew, to be sure. See!”

He spread before her a check, the very one she had watched him write seven days before, made payable to ”Ascott Leaf, or bearer,” and signed with the bold, peculiar signature. ”Peter Ascott.” Only instead of being a check for twenty pounds it was for seventy.

Instantly the whole truth flashed upon Hilary: Ascott's remark about how easily the T could be made into an S, and what a ”good joke” it would be; his long absence that night; his strange manner: his refusal to let her see the check again; all was clear as daylight.

Unfortunate boy! the temptation had been too strong for him. Under what sudden, insane impulse he had acted--under what delusion of being able to repay in time; or of Mr. Ascott's not detecting the fraud; or if discovered, of its being discovered after the marriage, when to prosecute his wife's nephew would be a disgrace to himself, could never be known. But there unmistakable was the altered check, which had been presented and paid, the banker of course not having the slightest suspicion of any thing amiss.

”Well, isn't this a nice return for all my kindness? So cleverly done, too. But for the merest chance I might not have found it out for three months. Oh, he's a precious young rascal, this nephew of yours. His father was only a fool, but he-- Do you know that this is a matter of forgery--forgery, ma'am,” added Mr. Ascott, waxing hot in his indignation.

Hilary uttered a bitter groan.

Yes, it was quite true. Their Ascott, their own boy, was no longer merely idle, extravagant, thoughtless--faults bad enough, but capable of being mended as he grew older: he had done that which to the end of his days he could never blot out. He was a swindler and a forger.

She clasped her hands tightly together, as one struggling with sharp physical pain, trying to read the expression of Mr. Ascott's face. At last she put her question into words.

”What do you mean to do? Shall you prosecute him?”

Mr. Ascott crossed his legs, and settled his neckcloth with a self-satisfied air. He evidently rather enjoyed the importance of his position. To be dictator, almost of life and death, to this unfortunate family was worth certainly fifty pounds.

”Well, I haven't exactly determined. The money, you see, is of no moment to me, and I couldn't get it back any how. He'll never be worth a half-penny, that rascal. I might prosecute, and n.o.body would blame me; indeed, if I were to decline marrying your sister, and cut the whole set of you, I don't see,” and he drew himself up, ”that any thing could be said against me. But--”

Perhaps, hard man as he was, he was touched by the agony of suspense in Hilary's face, for he added.

”Come, come, I won't disgrace your family; I won't do any thing to harm the fellow.”

”Thank you!” said Hilary, in a mechanical, unnatural voice.

”As for my money, he's welcome to it, and much good may it do him.

'Set a beggar on horseback, and he'll ride to the devil,' and in double quick time too. I won't hinder him. I wash my hands of the young scape-grace. But he'd better not come near me again.”