Edwin Barley

“ On the bed, laid out in his shroud, sleeping the peaceful sleep of death, was the emaciated form of George Heneage Chandos. Mr. Edwin Barley gazed at him, and the perspiration broke out on his forehead.
"By heaven! he has escaped me!"
"He has escaped all the foes of this world," answered Sir Harry, lowly and reverently. "You perceive now, Mr. Edwin Barley, that were you to bring the whole police force of the county here, they would only have the trouble of going back for their pains. He is at rest from persecution; and we are at rest from suspense and anxiety." ”

“ Edwin Barley.
The news had spread; the servants crowded in; some of the women began to shriek. It became one indescribable scene of confusion, exclamations, and alarm. Mr. Edwin Barley turned round, in anger.
"Clear out, all of you!" he said, roughly. "What do you mean by making this uproar? You men can stay in the barn, you may be wanted," he added, to the out-door labourers.
They crowded out at the hall-door; the servants disappeared through the opposite one. Mr. Edwin Barley was one who brooked no delay in being obeyed. Miss Delves remained, and she drew near. ”

“ Edwin Barley had received. He knew that the disappearance of the will had been set down by some people to his own hands. Why, had not Sir Harry Chandos hinted as much, but an hour ago? He had treated the past insinuations with contempt, always insisting that there had been no will to abstract—for he fully believed his wife had herself repented of the testament and destroyed it. He knew how capricious Selina was; never keeping in the same mind two days together. ”

“ Edwin Barley at all. One does not grow wise in an hour; no, nor even in a year: youth clings to its prejudices, and it takes experience and age, and sober judgment, to subdue them.
Mr. Edwin Barley went home after quitting Chandos. Seated there, her things off, and a luncheon tray before her, with no trace of her luggage to be seen, was Charlotte Delves—Mrs. Penn of late years. ”

“ Edwin Barley raised his voice, the lower the other seemed to speak.
"No, you are wrong; the greatest enemy to your plans would be Harry Chandos; the rest are women. That there's something to be discovered connected with him, and at this present time, I am absolutely certain of. Discovered it shall be," emphatically pronounced Mr. Edwin Barley. "About his wife?" he suddenly asked.
"All that's wanted is the clue," he recommenced, after listening to the answer. "It is to be had, I know. They'd not live in this dark, retired manner for nothing ”

“ Edwin Barley's object was me. That it was himself who had been in the pine-walk, and again now at the window, I felt a positive conviction. He must have recognised me; this stealthy intrusion at odd times, seasonable and unseasonable, must be to watch me, to take note of my movements, not of those of the owners of Chandos. But for his motive I searched in vain.
"I cannot see or hear any one about," said Mr. Chandos, when he returned; "all seems to be quite free and still. I fancy you must have been mistaken, Miss Hereford." ”

“ But ah! as he neared us, remembrance, with its cold chill of terror, struck upon my heart. I knew him instantly. It was Mr. Edwin Barley. Mr. Edwin Barley, and not in the least altered.
"Do you want anything, sir?" demanded Mr. Chandos. For the intruder was passing us without ceremony, and turning his head about from side to side as curiously and freely as he might have done on the public road.
"I don't want anything," was the independent answer, and Mr. Edwin Barley stood and faced Mr. Chandos as he spoke it, looking at him keenly. "The open air is free to walk in, I believe." ”

“ Keppe-Carew had again changed masters: a little lad of eight, whose dead father I had never seen, and who perhaps had never heard of me, was its owner now.
I had never heard a syllable of Mr. Edwin Barley since I left him, or of any of his household, or of the events that had taken place there. That George Heneage had never been traced, I knew; that Mr. Edwin Barley was still seeking after him, I was quite sure: the lapse of years could not abate the anger of a man like him. Mrs. Hemson was dead now, a twelvemonth past; so that I was entirely alone in the world. ”

“ Edwin Barley made no reply.
"Why—good heavens!—is that Mrs. Barley sitting there?" he inquired, in a low tone, as his eyes fell on the distant stairs.
"She won't move away. These things do terrify women. Don't notice her, Martin: she will be better left to herself."
"Upon my word, this is a startling and sudden blow," resumed the clergyman, again recurring to the death. "But you must surely be mistaken in calling it murder." ”

“ If ever a man spoke the genuine sentiments of his heart, Mr. Edwin Barley appeared to do so then, and a little bit of my dislike of him subsided—just a shade of it.
"I am sorry you should have come into the house at this time, my poor child; some spell seems to have been upon it ever since. Go now to Charlotte Delves; tell her I say she is to take good care of you."
He shut himself in again as I went away. Oh, the restless day! the miserable day! That, and the one of mamma's death, remain still upon my memory as the two sad epochs of my life, standing out conspicuously in their bitterness. ”

“ Charlotte Delves says the dinner is spoiling."
"They cannot be far behind," was Mr. Edwin Barley's answer. "I'll go and dress."
As he went out of the room we heard sounds of voices and laughter. Selina opened the window, and I stood by her. The night had grown clearer, the moon was bright. Three gentlemen, dressed something like Mr. Edwin Barley, were approaching the house with game, guns, and dogs.
"Can you see them by this light, Anne?"
"I can see that two are young, and one looks old. He has grey hair."
"Not very old, not more than fifty—but he is so stout. It is the parson, Mr. Martin." ”

“ Chandos, with a gesture of astonishment, looked in my face for confirmation or refutation. He got neither. I only clung to him for protection, the tears running down my cheeks.
"She has no protecting relative save myself; she has no other relative, so far as I know, or she knows, in the world, save a lad younger than she is," pursued Mr. Edwin Barley, no anger in his tone, only the firmness of conscious power. "My niece, I tell you, sir." ”

“ Lizzy Dene.
"It must have been a very serious attack, for a physician to be telegraphed for in that haste," resumed Mr. Edwin Barley. "And to be well again now to go out for a whole day by rail!"
A pause. It was occupied by the answer, but of that I could not hear so much as a tone. Mr. Edwin Barley resumed.
"There's a mystery about it all that I can't dive into. There's a mystery altogether about Harry Chandos. That attack upon him in the avenue was a curious thing. And his mother? Is she visible yet?"
Another inaudible answer.
"Well, you must work better, if you work at all. ”

“ Edwin Barley's rejoinder. "He is certainly dead, as I believe; but we must try restoratives, for all that. Make haste; bring it in a wine-glass."
She ran into the dining-room, and in the same moment Mrs. Edwin Barley came lightly down the stairs. She had on her dinner-dress, black silk trimmed with crape, no ornaments yet, and her lovely light hair was hanging down on her bare neck. The noise, as it appeared, had disturbed her in the midst of dressing.
"What is all this disturbance?" she began, as she tripped across the hall, and it was the first intimation Mr. ”

“ Certainly Harry Chandos had never until that moment realized the misery it had brought to Edwin Barley.
"I see; we have all alike suffered. But he who caused the suffering is beyond reproach now."
"As things have turned out the game is yours, Sir Harry," said Mr. Edwin Barley, who was too much a man of the world to persist in denying him the title, now that he found it was beyond dispute his. "For my actions I am accountable to none ”

“ The narrow crape tucks on her gown were exchanged for wide ones, and some black love-ribbon mingled with her hair. I sobbed till they came back, sitting by myself in the dining-room.
It was the very room they filed into, those who entered. A formidable array, in their sweeping scarves and hatbands; too formidable for me to pass, and I shrunk into the far corner, between the sideboard and the dumb-waiter. But they began to leave again, only just saying good day in a low tone to Mr. Edwin Barley, and got into the coaches that waited. Mr. Gregg the lawyer remained, and Mr. Barley. ”

“ Edwin Barley, in answer to a word dropped by Sir Harry. "The police will soon be in charge of one, guilty of something worse than treachery. A criminal lying under the ban of the law is not far off."
"You allude to my brother, Mr. Edwin Barley. True. He is lying not far-off—very near."
The quiet words—for Sir Harry's voice had dropped to a strange calmness—took Edwin Barley by surprise. In this ready avowal, could it be that he foresaw fear to doubt that George Heneage had already again made his escape? Drawing aside the white blind, he saw one of the police officers under the trees opposite ”

“ A rich man, indeed, Edwin Barley must be. I think the servants in waiting must have seen that something was amiss; though, perhaps, the silence did not strike upon them so ominously as it did on my own self-consciousness.
You cannot have failed to note—and I think I have said it—that there was little ceremony observed in the everyday life at Chandos. Ten minutes after dinner, tea was rung for. Lady Chandos sat while it was brought in, and the dessert taken away.
"Will you oblige me by presiding at tea this evening, Miss Hereford?" ”

“ There's no getting anything out of anybody: they 'can't tell me how my lady is, save from hearsay;' they 'never see her,' they 'see nearly as little of Mr. Chandos.' You and I can be more confidential."
"No, we cannot, sir. I never see Lady Chandos, any more than others do."
"Which you cannot say of Mr. Harry; you see rather much of him," retorted Mr. Edwin Barley, with a parting of the lips that showed the subject vexed him. "You and he are together always—as the news is brought to me."
"Did Mrs. Penn tell you that?" I asked, my colour and my anger rising together. ”

“ Penn—being here to find out what she could—should not have hit upon the truth before."
"Would Mr. Edwin Barley cause him to be apprehended, do you think?"
"He will apprehend him the very moment that the news shall reach his ears," spoke Mr. Chandos, lifting his hands in agitation. "Living or—dead, I had all but said—at any rate, living or dying, Edwin Barley will seize upon George Heneage. I do not say but he would be justified."
"Oh, Mr. Chandos! Can you not take him somewhere for escape?"
He sadly shook his head. "No. George is past being taken. He has grown worse with rapid quickness. ”

“ Edwin Barley was at home!"
"Ma'am, I told you the young man said he was at home. I can't stay here a minute longer: if Hill finds me gossiping here, she'll be fit to pull my ears for me."
A slight rustling in the portico. I looked from the window and saw Mrs. Penn go flying away as speedily as a middle-aged, portly women can fly. Mr. Chandos came into the room at the same time.
"How is your brother, Mr. Chandos?"
"Better, I trust, than he has been for many years in this life. It is over, Anne. He died at twelve last night." ”

“ Edwin Barley strode on with the last words. The man, somewhat mystified, stared after him, and then crossed the lawn to give notice to his fellow that their mission to Chandos seemed to be over.
"Le diable n'est pas si noir que l'on dit," runs the idiomatic saying in France. We have it also in English, as the world of course knows; but it sounds better, that is, less wrong, to give it in the former language. We girls at school there said it often; had one of us ventured on the English sentence at Miss Fenton's, that lady's eyes would have grown round with horror. ”

“ Of bended barley in the quiet breeze;
As faithful as the never-failing Earth
That gives us bread of rest and bread of mirth;
As patient as the rocks that have been still
Since put into their places on the hill;
In league with Earth and all her quiet things,
Whose lives are wrapped in shade and whisperings;
In league with Earth and all the things that live
To give their toil for others and forgive.
Pausing to let the hush of evening pass
Across the soul, as shadow over grass,
They cease their day-long sacrament of toil,
That living prayer, the tilling of the soil! ”

“ I kiss my hands to the world with laughter—
⁠Is it Aidenn or mystical Ind?
Oh, the whirl of the fields in the windy weather!
How the barley breaks and blows together!
Oh, glad is the free bird afloat on the heather—
⁠Oh, the whole world is glad of the wind! ”

“ But Burley had only women and children and old men on whom to practice his earnest and voluble French, for everybody else was at the front.
Children adored him—adored his big, silver spurs, his cartridge belt and pistol, the metal mule decorating his tunic collar, his six feet two of height, his quick smile, the even white teeth and grayish eyes of this American muleteer, who always had a stick of barley sugar to give them or an amazing trick to perform for them with a handkerchief or coin that vanished under their very noses at the magic snap of his finger.
Old men gossiped willingly with him ”

“ Certainly, this was glory enough for any Western genealogist,—yet Fortune had a higher gratification to bestow. For, in His Worship, the Most Primordial, the High Senior Governour and Primitive Patriarch of all Sextons, Colonel Prowley soon discovered a relative of his own. Sir Joseph Barley, a rubicund old knight, and the Most Primordial in question, after an elaborate investigation and counter-investigation, a jockeying of the wits of very old women, and a raid into divers registers, scrolls, schedules, archives, and the like,—Sir Joseph Barley, I say, turned out to be a long-lost cousin. ”