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Updated: May 1, 2025
Rosalind tossed her head when she heard of it, and hoped he might enjoy himself. Tom failed to see why, when there was football in the air at Maxfield, any one could be bothered to travel up to London for pleasure, unless indeed he intended to take a season ticket for Christy's Minstrels. Altogether Roger did not feel elated at the prospect of this visit.
It was after this final interview that Mr Armstrong looked in on his friend the doctor. "I'm off to Oxford for a day or two," said he. "No attractions here?" asked the doctor. "Yes you among others." "And who's to wash and dress the babies at Maxfield? And who is to keep the wolf from the fold at the Vicarage? and who is to keep an eye on the man of the law across the way?"
"Peter Ingleton of Maxfield Manor, his son, obiit March 6, 1794. "Paul Ingleton, only son of above Peter; born January 1, 1790, died September 20, 1844. "Ruth, beloved wife of Roger Ingleton, Esquire, of Maxfield Manor, who died on February 14, 1865, aged 37." Now a new inscription would be added. "Roger Ingleton, son of the above-named Paul Ingleton, who died January 10, 1885."
It was in the second week after the funeral, when Maxfield once more began to assume its normal aspect, and Captain Oliphant was allowing himself to hope that, notwithstanding the removal of his latest "dear departed," things were likely to shape themselves a trifle more comfortably for his own designs in her absence it was in the middle of November that a letter was handed to Roger as he dressed one morning in his room.
"Ah!" said the lawyer, making as near an approach to a blush as he could muster, "the fact is, Hodder's lease falls in next week. He has had it at a ridiculously low figure, and is not a profitable tenant." "That is the old dotard who is always croaking about Maxfield in the days before the Flood?" "Well, almost as remote a period. He was here in the time of the late squire's father.
Roger himself, with that waywardness of the attention which afflicts us even in the gravest acts of our life, found himself listening to the words in a sort of dream, while his mind was occupied in reading over to himself the names of his ancestors inscribed on the panels of the vault. "John Ingleton of Maxfield Manor, who died ye ninth day of June, 1760, aetat 74.
"I believe his fancy is utterly groundless; besides which, if the person he believes to be the missing brother is really Roger Ingleton, to discover him would mean disgrace to Maxfield, and an injury to the name of Ingleton." "What! Mr Armstrong, do you mean to say " "I mean to say that Mr Robert Ratman claims to be the lost elder brother, and that Roger credits the story.
"I thought he came all the way from India on purpose to visit you?" The captain laughed uncomfortably at this very correct representation of the facts. "That is the version he likes to give. The fact is that business brought him home, and as he knew I was at Maxfield, he wrote and proposed the visit. He is no great favourite of yours, I suspect, Roger?"
I merely mention this to show you how hopeless it is of me to attempt to prove what I say. You may make your mind quite easy on that score. I shall probably return to India as soon as I am in funds. Except for the one reason I have named, I don't want to see Maxfield again I've had enough of it. Nor do I see any advantage in meeting you, so I give no address.
Finally, when the early March dawn filtered through the blinds, he quitted the house, and surprised Mr Pottinger by an unexpected visit at breakfast-time. Thence he proceeded to the bank; and after transacting his business there, returned easier in mind, but exhausted in body, to the seclusion of his room at Maxfield. The tutor meanwhile was abroad on horseback with Tom and Jill.
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