[Illustration] OVINGTON’S BANK BY THE SAME AUTHOR THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF THE NEW RECTOR THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE THE MAN IN BLACK UNDER THE RED ROBE MY LADY ROTHA MEMOIRS OF A MINISTER OF FRANCE THE RED COCKADE SHREWSBURY THE CASTLE INN SOPHIA COUNT HANNIBAL IN KINGS’ BYWAYS THE LONG NIGHT THE ABBESS OF VLAYE STARVECROW FARM CHIPPINGE LAID UP IN LAVENDER THE WILD GEESE THE GREAT HOUSE OVINGTON’S BANK BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN Author of “A Gentleman of France,” “Count Hannibal,” “The Castle Inn,” “The Great House,” etc., etc. NEW YORK LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 55 FIFTH AVENUE 1922 Copyright, 1922 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN MADE IN THE UNITED STATES Contents CHAPTER I. CHAPTER II. CHAPTER III. CHAPTER IV. CHAPTER V. CHAPTER VI. CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VIII. CHAPTER IX. CHAPTER X. CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV. CHAPTER XV. CHAPTER XVI. CHAPTER XVII. CHAPTER XVIII. CHAPTER XIX. CHAPTER XX. CHAPTER XXI. CHAPTER XXII. CHAPTER XXIII. CHAPTER XXIV. CHAPTER XXV. CHAPTER XXVI. CHAPTER XXVII. CHAPTER XXVIII. CHAPTER XXIX. CHAPTER XXX. CHAPTER XXXI. CHAPTER XXXII. CHAPTER XXXIII. CHAPTER XXXIV. CHAPTER XXXV. CHAPTER XXXVI. CHAPTER XXXVII. CHAPTER XXXVIII. CHAPTER XXXIX. CHAPTER XL. CHAPTER XLI. CHAPTER XLII. OVINGTON’S BANK CHAPTER I It was market day at Aldersbury, the old county town of Aldshire, and the busiest hour of the day. The clock of St. Juliana’s was on the point of striking three, and the streets below it were thronged. The gentry, indeed, were beginning to take themselves homeward; a carriage and four, with postillions in yellow jackets, awaited its letters before the Post Office, and near at hand a red-wheeled tandem-cart, the horses tossing their small, keen heads, hung on the movements of its master, who was gossipping on the steps of Ovington’s Bank, on Bride Hill. But only the vans bound to the more distant valleys had yet started on their lagging journey; the farmers’ gigs, the hucksters’ carts, the pack-asses still lingered, filling the streets with a chattering, moving multitude. White-coated yeomen and their wives jostled their betters—but with humble apologies—in the low-browed shops, or hardily pushed smocked-frocks from the narrow pavements, or clung together in obstinate groups in the roadway. Loud was the babel about the yards of the inns, loudest where the taprooms poured forth those who, having dined well, had also drunk deep, after the fashion of our great-grandsires.