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+Project Gutenberg's The World's Greatest Books, Vol VII, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books, Vol VII
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: March 9, 2004 [EBook #11527]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, V7 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS
+
+JOINT EDITORS
+
+ARTHUR MEE Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
+
+J.A. HAMMERTON Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
+
+VOL. VII FICTION
+
+
+MCMX
+
+
+
+_Table of Contents_
+
+PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE
+  Headlong Hall
+  Nightmare Abbey
+
+PORTER, JANE
+  Scottish Chiefs
+
+PUSHKIN
+  The Captain's Daughter
+
+RABELAIS
+  Gargantua and Pantagruel
+
+READE, CHARLES
+  Hard Cash
+  Never Too Late to Mend
+  The Cloister and the Hearth
+
+RICHARDSON, SAMUEL
+  Pamela
+  Clarissa Harlowe
+  Sir Charles Grandison
+
+RICHTER, JEAN PAUL
+  Hesperus
+  Titan
+
+ROSEGGER, PETER
+  Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster
+
+ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES
+  New Heloise
+
+SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE
+  Paul and Virginia
+
+SAND, GEORGE
+  Consuelo
+  Mauprat
+
+SCOTT, MICHAEL
+  Tom Cringle's Log
+
+SCOTT, SIR WALTER
+  Antiquary
+  Guy Mannering
+  Heart of Midlothian
+  Ivanhoe
+  Kenilworth
+  Old Mortality
+  Peveril of the Peak
+  (SCOTT: _Continued in Vol. VIII_.)
+
+Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of
+Volume XX
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK
+
+
+Headlong Hall
+
+
+     The novels of Thomas Love Peacock still find admirers among
+     cultured readers, but his extravagant satire and a certain
+     bookish awkwardness will never appeal to the great
+     novel-reading public. The son of a London glass merchant,
+     Peacock was born at Weymouth on October 18, 1785. Early in
+     life he was engaged in some mercantile occupation, which,
+     however, he did not follow up for long. Then came a period of
+     study, and he became an excellent classical scholar. His first
+     ambition was to become a poet, and between 1804 and 1806 he
+     published two slender volumes of verse, which attracted little
+     or no attention. Yet Peacock was a poet of considerable merit,
+     his best work in this direction being scattered at random
+     throughout his novels. In 1812 he contracted a friendship with
+     Shelley, whose executor he became with Lord Byron. Peacock's
+     first novel, "Headlong Hall," appeared in 1816, and is
+     interesting not so much as a story pure and simple, but as a
+     study of the author's own temperament. His personalities are
+     seldom real live characters; they are, rather, mouthpieces
+     created for the purposes of discussion. Peacock died on
+     January 23, 1866.
+
+
+_I.--The Philosophers_
+
+
+The ambiguous light of a December morning, peeping through the windows
+of the Holyhead mail, dispelled the soft visions of the four insides,
+who had slept, or seemed to sleep, through the first seventy miles of
+the road.
+
+A lively remark that the day was none of the finest having elicited a
+repartee of "quite the contrary," the various knotty points of
+meteorology were successively discussed and exhausted; and, the ice
+being thus broken, in the course of conversation it appeared that all
+four, though perfect strangers to each other, were actually bound to the
+same point, namely, Headlong Hall, the seat of the ancient family of the
+Headlongs, of the vale of Llanberris, in Carnarvonshire.
+
+The present representative of the house, Harry Headlong, Esquire, was,
+like all other Welsh squires, fond of shooting, hunting, racing,
+drinking, and other such innocent amusements. But, unlike other Welsh
+squires, he had actually suffered books to find their way into his
+house; and, by dint of lounging over them after dinner, he became seized
+with a violent passion to be thought a philosopher and a man of taste,
+and had formed in London as extensive an acquaintance with philosophers
+and dilettanti as his utmost ambition could desire. It now became his
+chief wish to have them all together in Headlong Hall, arguing over his
+old Port and Burgundy the various knotty points which puzzled him. He
+had, therefore, sent them invitations in due form to pass their
+Christmas at Headlong Hall, and four of the chosen guests were now on
+their way in the four corners of the Holyhead mail.
+
+These four persons were Mr. Foster, the optimist, who believed in the
+improvement of mankind; Mr. Escot, the pessimist, who saw mankind
+constantly deteriorating; Mr. Jenkison, who thought things were very
+well as they were; and the Reverend Doctor Gaster, who, though neither a
+philosopher nor a man of taste, had won the squire's fancy by a learned
+dissertation on the art of stuffing a turkey.
+
+In the midst of an animated conversation the coach stopped, and the
+coachman, opening the door, vociferated: "Breakfast, gentlemen," a sound
+which so gladdened the ears of the divine, that the alacrity with which
+he sprang from the vehicle distorted his ankle, and he was obliged to
+limp into the inn between Mr. Escot and Mr. Jenkison, the former
+observing that he ought to look for nothing but evil and, therefore,
+should not be surprised at this little accident; the latter remarking
+that the comfort of a good breakfast and the pain of a sprained ankle
+pretty exactly balanced each other.
+
+The morning being extremely cold, the doctor contrived to be seated as
+near the fire as was consistent with his other object of having a
+perfect command of the table and its apparatus, which consisted not only
+of the ordinary comforts of tea and toast, but of a delicious supply of
+new-laid eggs and a magnificent round of beef; against which Mr. Escot
+immediately pointed all the artillery of his eloquence, declaring the
+use of animal food, conjointly with that of fire, to be one of the
+principal causes of the present degeneracy of mankind.
+
+"The natural and original man," said he, "lived in the woods; the roots
+and fruits of the earth supplied his simple nutriment; he had few
+desires, and no diseases. But, when he began to sacrifice victims on the
+altar of superstition, to pursue the goat and the deer, and, by the
+pernicious invention of fire, to pervert their flesh into food, luxury,
+disease, and premature death were let loose upon the world. From that
+period the stature of mankind has been in a state of gradual diminution,
+and I have not the least doubt that it will continue to grow _small by
+degrees, and lamentably less_, till the whole race will vanish
+imperceptibly from the face of the earth."
+
+"I cannot agree," said Mr. Foster, "in the consequences being so very
+disastrous, though I admit that in some respects the use of animal food
+retards the perfectibility of the species."
+
+"In the controversy concerning animal and vegetable food," said Mr.
+Jenkison, "there is much to be said on both sides. I content myself with
+a mixed diet, and make a point of eating whatever is placed before me,
+provided it be good in its kind."
+
+In this opinion his two brother philosophers practically coincided,
+though they both ran down the theory as highly detrimental to the best
+interests of man.
+
+The discussion raged for some time on the question whether man was a
+carnivorous or frugivorous animal.
+
+"I am no anatomist," said Mr. Jenkison, "and cannot decide where doctors
+disagree; in the meantime, I conclude that man is omnivorous, and on
+that conclusion I act."
+
+"Your conclusion is truly orthodox," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster;
+"indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the
+practise of the church in all ages shows----"
+
+"That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes," said Mr. Escot.
+
+"It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine," said the reverend
+doctor.
+
+The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed.
+
+"You will allow," said Mr. Foster, as soon as they were again in motion,
+"that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two
+hundred miles of forest with as much facility as one of these vehicles
+transports you and me."
+
+"I am certain," said Mr. Escot, "that a wild man can travel an immense
+distance without fatigue; but what is the advantage of locomotion? The
+wild man is happy in one spot, and there he remains; the civilised man
+is wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates
+himself on being accommodated with a machine that will whirl him to
+another, where he will be just as miserable as ever."
+
+
+_II.--The Squire and his Guests_
+
+
+Squire Headlong, in the meanwhile, was superintending operations in four
+scenes of action at the Hall--the cellar, the library, the
+picture-gallery, and the dining-room-preparing for the reception of his
+philosophical visitors. His myrmidon on this occasion was a little,
+red-nosed butler, who waddled about the house after his master, while
+the latter bounced from room to room like a cracker. Multitudes of
+packages had arrived by land and water, from London, and Liverpool, and
+Chester, and Manchester, and various parts of the mountains; books,
+wine, cheese, mathematical instruments, turkeys, figs, soda-water,
+fiddles, flutes, tea, sugar, eggs, French horns, sofas, chairs, tables,
+carpets, beds, fruits, looking-glasses, nuts, drawing-books, bottled
+ale, pickles, and fish sauce, patent lamps, barrels of oysters, lemons,
+and jars of Portugal grapes. These, arriving in succession, and with
+infinite rapidity, had been deposited at random--as the convenience of
+the moment dictated--sofas in the cellar, hampers of ale in the
+drawing-room, and fiddles and fish-sauce in the library. The servants
+unpacking all these in furious haste, and flying with them from place to
+place, tumbled over one another upstairs and down. All was bustle,
+uproar, and confusion; yet nothing seemed to advance, while the rage and
+impetuosity of the squire continued fermenting to the highest degree of
+exasperation, which he signified, from time to time, by converting some
+newly-unpacked article, such as a book, a bottle, a ham, or a fiddle,
+into a missile against the head of some unfortunate servant.
+
+In the midst of this scene of confusion thrice confounded, arrived the
+lovely Caprioletta Headlong, the squire's sister, whom he had sent for
+to do the honours of his house, beaming like light on chaos, to arrange
+disorder and harmonise discord. The tempestuous spirit of her brother
+became as smooth as the surface of the lake of Llanberris, and in less
+than twenty-four hours after her arrival, everything was disposed in its
+proper station, and the squire began to be all impatience for the
+appearance of his promised guests.
+
+The first visitor was Marmaduke Milestone, Esq., a picturesque landscape
+gardener of the first celebrity, who promised himself the glorious
+achievement of polishing and trimming the rocks of Llanberris.
+
+A postchaise brought the Reverend Doctor Gaster, and then came the three
+philosophers.
+
+The next arrival was that of Mr. Cranium and his lovely daughter, Miss
+Cephalis Cranium, who flew to the arms of her dear friend Caprioletta.
+Miss Cephalis blushed like a carnation at the sight of Mr. Escot, and
+Mr. Escot glowed like a corn-poppy at the sight of Miss Cephalis.
+
+Mr. Escot had formerly been the received lover of Miss Cephalis, till he
+incurred the indignation of her father by laughing at a very profound
+dissertation which the old gentleman delivered.
+
+Next arrived a postchaise containing four insides. These personages were
+two very profound critics, Mr. Gall and Mr. Treacle, and two very
+multitudinous versifiers, Mr. Nightshade and Mr. McLaurel.
+
+The last arrivals were Mr. Cornelius Chromatic, the most scientific of
+all amateurs of the fiddle, with his two blooming daughters, Miss
+Tenorina and Miss Graziosa; Sir Patrick O'Prism, a dilettante painter of
+high renown, and his maiden aunt, Miss Philomela Poppyseed, a compounder
+of novels written for the express purpose of supporting every species of
+superstition and prejudice; and Mr. Panscope, the chemical, botanical,
+geological, astronomical, critical philosopher, who had run through the
+whole circle of the sciences and understood them all equally well.
+
+Mr. Milestone was impatient to take a walk round the grounds, that he
+might examine how far the system of clumping and levelling could be
+carried advantageously into effect; and several of the party supporting
+the proposition, with Squire Headlong and Mr. Milestone leading the van,
+they commenced their perambulation.
+
+
+_III.--The Tower and the Skull_
+
+
+The result of Mr. Milestone's eloquence was that he and the squire set
+out again, immediately after breakfast next morning, to examine the
+capabilities of the scenery. The object that most attracted Mr.
+Milestone's admiration was a ruined tower on a projecting point of rock,
+almost totally overgrown with ivy. This ivy, Mr. Milestone observed,
+required trimming and clearing in various parts; a little pointing and
+polishing was necessary for the dilapidated walls; and the whole effect
+would be materially increased by a plantation of spruce fir, the present
+rugged and broken ascent being first converted into a beautiful slope,
+which might be easily effected by blowing up a part of the rock with
+gunpowder, laying on a quantity of fine mould, and covering the whole
+with an elegant stratum of turf.
+
+Squire Headlong caught with avidity at this suggestion, and as he had
+always a store of gunpowder in the house, he insisted on commencing
+operations immediately. Accordingly, he bounded back to the house and
+speedily returned, accompanied by the little butler and half a dozen
+servants and labourers with pickaxes and gunpowder, a hanging stove, and
+a poker, together with a basket of cold meat and two or three bottles of
+Madeira.
+
+Mr. Milestone superintended the proceedings. The rock was excavated, the
+powder introduced, the apertures strongly blockaded with fragments of
+stone; a long train was laid to a spot sufficiently remote from the
+possibility of harm, and the squire seized the poker, and applied the
+end of it to the train.
+
+At this critical moment Mr. Cranium and Mr. Panscope appeared at the top
+of the tower, which, unseeing and unseen, they had ascended on the
+opposite side to that where the squire and Mr. Milestone were conducting
+their operations. Their sudden appearance a little dismayed the squire,
+who, however, comforted himself with the reflection that the tower was
+perfectly safe, and that his friends were in no probable danger but of a
+knock on the head from a flying fragment of stone.
+
+The explosion took place, and the shattered rock was hurled into the air
+in the midst of fire and smoke. The tower remained untouched, but the
+influence of sudden fear had so violent an effect on Mr. Cranium, that
+he lost his balance, and alighted in an ivy bush, which, giving way
+beneath him, transferred him to a tuft of hazel at its base, which
+consigned him to the boughs of an ash that had rooted itself in a
+fissure about halfway down the rock, which finally transmitted him to
+the waters of the lake.
+
+Squire Headlong anxiously watched the tower as the smoke rolled away;
+but when the shadowy curtain was withdrawn, and Mr. Panscope was
+discovered, alone, in a tragical attitude, his apprehensions became
+boundless, and he concluded that a flying fragment of rock had killed
+Mr. Cranium.
+
+Mr. Escot arrived at the scene of the disaster just as Mr. Cranium,
+utterly destitute of the art of swimming, was in imminent danger of
+drowning. Mr. Escot immediately plunged in to his assistance, and
+brought him alive and in safety to a shelving part of the shore. Their
+landing was hailed with a shout from the delighted squire, who, shaking
+them both heartily by the hand, and making ten thousand lame apologies
+to Mr. Cranium, concluded by asking, in a pathetic tone, "How much water
+he had swallowed?" and without waiting for his answer, filled a large
+tumbler with Madeira, and insisted on his tossing it off, which was no
+sooner said than done. Mr. Panscope descended the tower, which he vowed
+never again to approach within a quarter of a mile.
+
+The squire took care that Mr. Cranium should be seated next to him at
+dinner, and plied him so hard with Madeira, to prevent him, as he said,
+from taking cold, that long before the ladies sent in their summons to
+coffee, the squire was under the necessity of ringing for three or four
+servants to carry him to bed, observing, with a smile of great
+satisfaction, that he was in a very excellent way for escaping any ill
+consequences that might have resulted from his accident.
+
+The beautiful Cephalis, being thus freed from his surveillance, was
+enabled, during the course of the evening, to develop to his preserver
+the full extent of her gratitude.
+
+Mr. Escot passed a sleepless night, the ordinary effect of love,
+according to some amatory poets, and arose with the first peep of day.
+He sallied forth to enjoy the balmy breeze of morning, which any but a
+lover might have thought too cool; for it was an intense frost, the sun
+had not risen, and the wind was rather fresh from the north-east. But a
+lover is supposed to have "a fire in his heart and a fire in his brain,"
+and the philosopher walked on, careless of whither he went, till he
+found himself near the enclosure of a little mountain chapel. Passing
+through the wicket, and peeping through the chapel window, he could not
+refrain from reciting a verse in Greek aloud, to the great terror of the
+sexton, who was just entering the churchyard.
+
+Mr. Escot at once decided that now was the time to get extensive and
+accurate information concerning his theory of the physical deterioration
+of man.
+
+"You have been sexton here," said Mr. Escot, in the language of Hamlet,
+"man and boy, forty years."
+
+The sexton turned pale; the period named was so nearly the true.
+
+"During this period you have, of course, dug up many bones of the people
+of ancient times. Perhaps you can show me a few."
+
+The sexton grinned a ghastly smile.
+
+"Will you take your Bible oath you don't want them to raise the devil
+with?"
+
+"Willingly," said Mr. Escot. "I have an abstruse reason for the
+inquiry."
+
+"Why, if you have an _obtuse_ reason," said the sexton, "that alters the
+case."
+
+So saying, he led the way to the bone-house, from which he began to
+throw out various bones and skulls, and amongst them a skull of very
+extraordinary magnitude, which he swore by St. David was the skull of
+Cadwallader.
+
+"How do you know this to be his skull?" said Mr. Escot.
+
+"He was the biggest man that ever lived, and he was buried here; and
+this is the biggest skull I ever found. You see now----"
+
+"Nothing could be more logical," said Mr. Escot. "My good friend, will
+you allow me to take away this skull with me?"
+
+"St. Winifred bless us!" exclaimed the sexton. "Would you have me
+haunted by his ghost for taking his blessed bones out of consecrated
+ground? For, look you, his epitaph says:
+
+    "'He that my bones shall ill bestow,
+    Leek in his ground shall never grow.'"
+
+"But you will well bestow them in giving them to me," said Mr. Escot. "I
+will have this illustrious skull bound with a silver rim and filled with
+wine, for when the wine is in the brain is out."
+
+Saying these words, he put a dollar into the hand of the sexton, who
+instantly stood spellbound, while Mr. Escot walked off in triumph with
+the skull of Cadwallader.
+
+
+_IV.--The Proposals_
+
+
+The Christmas ball, when relatives and friends assembled from far and
+wide, was the great entertainment given at Headlong Hall from time
+immemorial, and it was on the morning after the ball that Miss
+Brindle-Mew Tabitha Ap-Headlong, the squire's maiden aunt, took her
+nephew aside, and told him it was time he was married if the family was
+not to become extinct.
+
+"Egad!" said Squire Headlong. "That is very true. I'll marry directly. A
+good opportunity to fix on someone now they are all here, and I'll pop
+the question without further ceremony. I'll think of somebody presently.
+I should like to be married on the same day with Caprioletta. She is
+going to be married to my friend Mr. Foster, the philosopher."
+
+"Oh!" said the maiden aunt, "that a daughter of our ancient family
+should marry a philosopher!"
+
+"It's Caprioletta's affair, not mine," said Squire Headlong. "I tell you
+the matter is settled, fixed, determined, and so am I, to be married on
+the same day. I don't know, now I think of it, whom I can choose better
+than one of the daughters of my friend Chromatic."
+
+With that the squire flew over to Mr. Chromatic, and, with a hearty slap
+on the shoulder, asked him "How he should like him for a son-in-law?"
+
+Mr. Chromatic, rubbing his shoulder, and highly delighted with the
+proposal, answered, "Very much indeed"; but, proceeding to ascertain
+which of his daughters had captivated the squire, the squire was unable
+to satisfy his curiosity.
+
+"I hope," said Mr. Chromatic, "it may be Tenorina, for I imagine
+Graziosa has conceived a penchant for Sir Patrick O'Prism."
+
+"Tenorina, exactly!" said Squire Headlong; and became so impatient to
+bring the matter to a conclusion that Mr. Chromatic undertook to
+communicate with his daughter immediately. The young lady proved to be
+as ready as the squire, and the preliminaries were arranged in little
+more than five minutes.
+
+Mr. Chromatic's words concerning his daughter Graziosa and Sir Patrick
+O'Prism were not lost on the squire, who at once determined to have as
+many companions in the scrape as possible; and who, as soon as he could
+tear himself from Mrs. Headlong elect, took three flying bounds across
+the room to the baronet, and said, "So, Sir Patrick, I find you and I
+are going to be married?"
+
+"Are we?" said Sir Patrick. "Then sure, won't I wish you joy, and myself
+too, for this is the first I have heard of it."
+
+"Well," said Squire Headlong, "I have made up my mind to it, and you
+must not disappoint me."
+
+"To be sure, I won't, if I can help it," said Sir Patrick. "And pray,
+now, who is that I am to be turning into Lady O'Prism?"
+
+"Miss Graziosa Chromatic," said the squire.
+
+"Och violet and vermilion!" said Sir Patrick; "though I never thought of
+it before, I dare say she will suit me as well as another; but then you
+must persuade the ould Orpheus to draw out a few notes of rather a more
+magical description than those he is so fond of scraping on his crazy
+violin."
+
+"To be sure, he shall," said the squire; and immediately returning to
+Mr. Chromatic, concluded the negotiation for Sir Patrick as
+expeditiously as he had done for himself.
+
+The squire next addressed himself to Mr. Escot: "Here are three couples
+of us going to throw off together, with the Reverend Doctor Gaster for
+whipper in. Now I think you cannot do better than to make the fourth
+with Miss Cephalis."
+
+"Indeed?" said Mr. Escot. "Nothing would be more agreeable to both of us
+than such an arrangement; but the old gentleman since I first knew him
+has changed like the rest of the world, very lamentably for the worse.".
+
+"I'll settle him," said Squire Headlong; and immediately posted up to
+Mr. Cranium, informing him that four marriages were about to take place
+by way of a merry winding up of the Christmas festivities. "In the first
+place," said the squire, "my sister and Mr. Foster; in the second, Miss
+Graziosa Chromatic and Sir Patrick O'Prism; in the third, Miss Tenorina
+Chromatic and your humble servant; and in the fourth, to which, by the
+by, your consent is wanted, your daughter----"
+
+"And Mr. Panscope," said Mr. Cranium.
+
+"And Mr. Escot," said Squire Headlong. What would you have better? He
+has ten thousand virtues."
+
+"So has Mr. Panscope. He has ten thousand a year."
+
+"Virtues?" said Squire Headlong.
+
+"Pounds," said Mr. Cranium.
+
+"Who fished you out of the water?" said Squire Headlong..
+
+"What is that to the purpose?" said Mr. Cranium. "The whole process of
+the action was mechanical and necessary. He could no more help jumping
+into the water than I could help falling into it."
+
+"Very well," said the squire. "Your daughter and Mr. Escot are
+necessitated to love one another."
+
+Mr. Cranium, after a profound reverie, said, "Do you think Mr. Escot
+would give me that skull?"
+
+"Skull?" said Squire Headlong.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Cranium. "The skull of Cadwallader."
+
+"To be sure he will. How can you doubt it?"
+
+"I simply know," said Mr. Cranium, "that if it were once in my
+possession I would not part with it for any acquisition on earth, much
+less for a wife."
+
+The squire flew over to Mr. Escot. "I told you," said he, "I would
+settle him; but there is a very hard condition attached to his
+compliance. Nothing less than the absolute and unconditional surrender
+of the skull of Cadwallader."
+
+"I resign it," said Mr. Escot.
+
+"The skull is yours," said the squire, skipping over to Mr. Cranium.
+
+"I am perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Cranium.
+
+"The lady is yours," said the squire, skipping back to Mr. Escot.
+
+"I am the happiest man alive," said Mr. Escot, and he flew off as nimbly
+as Squire Headlong himself, to impart the happy intelligence to his
+beautiful Cephalis.
+
+The departure of the ball visitors then took place, and the squire did
+not suffer many days to elapse before the spiritual metamorphosis of
+eight into four was effected by the clerical dexterity of the Reverend
+Doctor Gaster.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Nightmare Abbey
+
+
+     "Nightmare Abbey" is perhaps the most extravagant of all
+     Peacock's stories, and, with the exception of "Headlong Hall,"
+     it obtained more vogue on its publication in 1818 than any of
+     his other works. It is eminently characteristic of its
+     author--the eighteenth century Rabelaisian pagan who prided
+     himself on his antagonism towards religion, yet whose likes
+     and dislikes were invariably inspired by hatred of cant and
+     enthusiasm for progress. The hero of the story is easily
+     distinguishable as the poet Shelley. On the whole the
+     characters are more life-like presentations of humanity than
+     those of "Headlong Hall." Simple and weak though the plot is,
+     the reader is carried along to the end through a brilliant
+     maze of wit and satire; underneath which outward show of
+     irresponsible fun there pervades a gloomy note of tragedy.
+
+
+_I.--Mr. Glowry and His Son_
+
+
+Nightmare Abbey, a venerable family mansion in a highly picturesque
+state of semi-dilapidation, in the county of, Lincoln, had the honour to
+be the seat of Christopher Glowry, Esquire, a gentleman much troubled
+with those phantoms of indigestion commonly called "blue devils."
+
+Disappointed both in love and friendship, he had come to the conclusion
+that there was but one good thing in the world, videlicet, a good
+dinner; and remained a widower, with one only son and heir, Scythrop.
+
+This son had been sent to a public-school, where a little learning was
+painfully beaten into him, and thence to the university, where it was
+carefully taken out of him, and he finished his education to the high
+satisfaction of the master and fellows of his college. He passed his
+vacations sometimes at Nightmare Abbey, and sometimes in London, at the
+house of his uncle, Mr. Hilary, a very cheerful and elastic gentleman.
+The company that frequented his house was the gayest of the gay.
+Scythrop danced with the ladies and drank with the gentlemen, and was
+pronounced by both a very accomplished, charming fellow.
+
+Here he first saw the beautiful Miss Emily Girouette, and fell in love;
+he was favourably received, but the respective fathers quarrelled about
+the terms of the bargain, and the two lovers were torn asunder, weeping
+and vowing eternal constancy; and in three weeks the lady was led a
+smiling bride to the altar, leaving Scythrop half distracted. His
+father, to comfort him, read him a commentary on Ecclesiastes, of his
+own composition; it was thrown away upon Scythrop, who retired to his
+tower as dismal and disconsolate as before.
+
+The tower which Scythrop inhabited stood at the south-eastern angle of
+the abbey; the south-western was ruinous and full of owls; the
+north-eastern contained the apartments of Mr. Glowry; the north-eastern
+tower was appropriated to the servants, whom Mr. Glowry always chose by
+one of two criterions--a long face or a dismal name. The main building was
+divided into room of state, spacious apartments for feasting, and
+numerous bedrooms for visitors, who, however, were few.
+
+Occasional visits were paid by Mr. and Mrs. Hilary, but another visitor,
+much more to Mr. dowry's taste, was Mr. Flosky, a very lachrymose and
+morbid gentleman, of some note in the literary world, with a very fine
+sense of the grim and the tearful.
+
+But the dearest friend of Mr. Glowry, and his most welcome guest, was
+Mr. Toobad, the Manichean Millenarian. The twelfth verse of the twelfth
+chapter of Revelations was always in his mouth: "Woe to the inhabitants
+of the earth and of the sea, for the devil is come among you, having
+great wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time." He maintained
+that this precise time was the point of the plenitude of the power of
+the Evil Principle; he used to add that by and by he would be cast down,
+and a happy order of things succeed, but never omitted to add "Not in
+our time," which last words were always echoed by Mr. Glowry, in doleful
+response.
+
+Shortly after Scythrop's disappointment Mr. Glowry was involved in a
+lawsuit, which compelled his attendance in London, and Scythrop was left
+alone, to wander about, with the "Sorrows of Werter" in his hand.
+
+He now became troubled with the passion for reforming the world, and
+meditated on the practicability of reviving a confederacy of
+regenerators. He wrote and published a treatise in which his meanings
+were carefully wrapped up in the monk's hood of transcendental
+technology, but filled with hints of matters deep and dangerous, which
+he thought would set the whole nation in a ferment, and awaited the
+result in awful expectation; some months after he received a letter from
+his bookseller, informing him that only seven copies had been sold, and
+concluding with a polite request for the balance.
+
+"Seven copies!" he thought. "Seven is a mystical number, and the omen is
+good. Let me find the seven purchasers, and they shall be the seven
+golden candlesticks with which I shall illuminate the world."
+
+Scythrop had a certain portion of mechanical genius, and constructed
+models of cells and recesses, sliding panels and secret passages, which
+would have baffled the skill of the Parisian police. In his father's
+absence, he smuggled a dumb carpenter into his tower, and gave reality
+to one of these models. He foresaw that a great leader of regeneration
+would be involved in fearful dilemmas, and determined to adopt all
+possible precautions for his own preservation.
+
+In the meantime, he drank Madeira and laid deep schemes for a thorough
+repair of the crazy fabric of human nature.
+
+
+_II.--Marionetta_
+
+
+Mr. Glowry returned with the loss of his lawsuit, and found Scythrop in
+a mood most sympathetically tragic. His friends, whom we have mentioned,
+availed themselves of his return to pay him a simultaneous visit, and at
+the same time arrived Scythrop's friend and fellow-collegian, the Hon.
+Mr. Listless, a young gentleman devoured with a gloomy and
+misanthropical _nil curo_.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Hilary brought with them an orphan niece, Miss Marionetta
+Celestina O'Carroll, a blooming and accomplished young lady, who
+exhibited in her own character all the diversities of an April sky. Her
+hair was light brown, her eyes hazel, her features regular, and her
+person surpassingly graceful. She had some coquetry, and more caprice,
+liking and disliking almost in the same moment, and had not been three
+days in the abbey before she threw out all the lures of her beauty and
+accomplishments to make a prize of her cousin Scythrop's heart.
+
+Scythrop's romantic dreams had given him many pure anticipated
+cognitions of combinations of beauty and intelligence, which, he had
+some misgivings, were not realised by Marionetta, but he soon became
+distractedly in love, which, when the lady perceived, she altered her
+tactics and assumed coldness and reserve. Scythrop was confounded, but,
+instead of falling at her feet begging explanation, he retreated to his
+tower, seated himself in the president's chair of his imaginary
+tribunal, summoned Marionetta with terrible formalities, frightened her
+out of her wits, disclosed himself, and clasped the beautiful penitent
+to his bosom.
+
+While he was acting this reverie, his study door opened, and the real
+Marionetta appeared.
+
+"For heaven's sake, Scythrop," said she, "what is the matter?"
+
+"For heaven's sake, indeed!" said Scythrop, "for your sake, Marionetta,
+and you are my heaven! Distraction is the matter. I adore you, and your
+cruelty drives me mad!" He threw himself at her feet, and breathed a
+thousand vows in the most passionate language of romance.
+
+With a very arch look, she said: "I prithee, deliver thyself like a man
+of the world." The levity of this quotation jarred so discordantly on
+the romantic inamorato that he sprang to his feet, and beat his forehead
+with his clenched fist. The young lady was terrified, and, taking his
+hand in hers, said in her tenderest tone: "What would you have,
+Scythrop?"
+
+Scythrop was in heaven again.
+
+"What but you, Marionetta! You, for the companion of my studies, the
+auxiliary of my great designs for mankind."
+
+"I am afraid I should be but a poor auxiliary, Scythrop. What would you
+have me do?"
+
+"Do as Rosalia does with Carlos, Marionetta. Let us each open a vein in
+the other's arm, mix our blood in a bowl, and drink it as a sacrament of
+love; then we shall see visions of transcendental illumination."
+
+Marionetta disengaged herself suddenly, and fled with precipitation.
+Scythrop pursued her, crying, "Stop, stop Marionetta--my life, my love!"
+and was gaining rapidly on her flight, when he came into sudden and
+violent contact with Mr. Toobad, and they both plunged together to the
+foot of the stairs, which gave the young lady time to escape and enclose
+herself in her chamber.
+
+This was witnessed by Mr. Glowry, and he determined on a full
+explanation. He therefore entered Scythrop Tower, and at once said:
+
+"So, sir, you are in love with your cousin."
+
+Scythrop, with as little hesitation, answered, "Yes, sir."
+
+"That is candid, at least. It is very provoking, very disappointing. I
+could not have supposed that you could have been infatuated with such a
+dancing, laughing, singing, careless, merry hearted thing as
+Marionetta--and with no fortune. Besides, sir, I have made a choice for
+you. Such a lovely, serious creature, in a fine state of high
+dissatisfaction with the world! Sir, I have pledged my honour to the
+contract, and now, sir, what is to be done?"
+
+"Indeed, sir, I cannot say. I claim on this occasion that liberty of
+action which is the co-natal prerogative of every rational being."
+
+"Liberty of action, sir! There is no such thing, and if you do not
+comply with my wishes, I shall be under the necessity of disinheriting
+you, though I shall do so with tears in my eyes."
+
+He immediately sought Mrs. Hilary, and communicated his views to her.
+She straightway hinted to her niece, whom she loved as her own child,
+that dignity and decorum required them to leave the abbey at once.
+Marionetta listened in silent submission, but when Scythrop entered, and
+threw himself at her feet in a paroxysm of grief, she threw her arms
+round his neck, and burst into tears.
+
+Scythrop snatched from its repository his ancestor's skull, filled it
+with Madeira, and presenting himself before Mr. Glowry, threatened to
+drink off the contents, if he did not promise that Marionetta should not
+leave the abbey without her own consent. Mr. Glowry, who took the
+Madeira to be some deadly brewage, gave his promise in dismal panic.
+Scythrop returned to Marionetta with a joyful heart, and drank the
+Maderia by the way, leaving his father much disturbed, for he had set
+his heart on marrying his son to the daughter of his friend, Mr. Toobad.
+
+
+_III.--Celinda_
+
+
+Mr. Toobad, too much accustomed to the intermeddling of the devil in all
+his affairs to be astonished at this new trace of his cloven claw, yet
+determined to outwit him, for he was sure there could be no comparison
+between his daughter and Marionetta in the mind of anyone who had a
+proper perception of the fact that seriousness and solemnity are the
+characteristics of wisdom. Therefore he set off to meet her in London,
+that he might lose no time in bringing her to Nightmare Abbey. After the
+first joy of meeting was over, he told his daughter he had a husband
+ready for her. The young lady replied very gravely she should take the
+liberty of choosing for herself.
+
+"Have I not a fortune in my own right, sir?" said Celinda.
+
+"The more is the pity," said Mr. Toobad. "But I can find means, miss--I
+can find means."
+
+They parted for the night with the expression of opposite resolutions,
+and in the morning the young lady's chamber was empty, and what was
+become of her, Mr. Toobad had no clue to guess. He declared that when he
+should discover the fugitive, she should find "that the devil was come
+unto her, having great wrath," and continued to investigate town and
+country, visiting and revisiting Nightmare Abbey at intervals to consult
+Mr. Glowry.
+
+Notwithstanding the difficulties that surrounded her, Marionetta could
+not debar herself from the pleasure of tormenting her lover, whom she
+kept in a continual fever, sometimes meeting him with unqualified
+affection, sometimes with chilling indifference, softening him to love
+by eloquent tenderness, or inflaming him to jealousy by coquetting with
+the Hon. Mr. Listless. Scythrop's schemes for regenerating the world and
+detecting his seven golden candlesticks went on very slowly.
+
+On retiring to his tower one day Scythrop found it pre-occupied. A
+stranger, muffled to the eyes in a cloak, rose at his entrance, and
+looked at him intently for a few minutes in silence, then saying, "I see
+by your physiognomy you are to be trusted," dropped the cloak, and
+revealed to the astonished Scythrop a female form and countenance of
+dazzling grace and beauty, with long, flowing hair of raven blackness.
+
+"You are a philosopher," said the lady, "and a lover of liberty. You are
+the author of a treatise called 'Philosophical Gas?'"
+
+"I am," said Scythrop, delighted at this first blossom of his renown.
+
+She then informed him that she was under the necessity of finding a
+refuge from an atrocious persecution, and had determined to apply to him
+(on reading his pamphlet, and recognising a kindred mind) to find her a
+retreat where she could be concealed from the indefatigable search being
+made for her.
+
+Doubtless, thought Scythrop, this is one of my seven golden
+candlesticks, and at once offered her the asylum of his secret
+apartments, assuring her she might rely on the honour of a
+transcendental eleutherarch.
+
+"I rely on myself," said the lady. "I act as I please, and let the whole
+world say what it will. I am rich enough to set it at defiance. They
+alone are subject to blind authority who have no reliance on their own
+strength."
+
+Stella took possession of the recondite apartments. Scythrop intended to
+find another asylum; but from day to day postponed his intention, and by
+degrees forgot it. The young lady reminded him from day to day, till she
+also forgot it.
+
+Scythrop had now as much mystery about him as any romantic
+transcendentalist could desire. He had his esoterical and his exoterical
+love, and could not endure the thought of losing either of them. His
+father's suspicions were aroused by always finding the door locked on
+visiting Scythrop's study; and one day, hearing a female voice, and, on
+the door being opened, finding his son alone, he looked around and said:
+
+"Where is the lady?"
+
+Scythrop invited him to search the tower, but Mr. Glowry was not to be
+deceived. Scythrop talked loudly, hoping to drown his father's voice, in
+vain.
+
+"I, say, sir, when you are so shortly to be married to your cousin
+Marionetta----"
+
+The bookcase opened in the middle, and the beautiful Stella appeared,
+exclaiming:
+
+"Married! Is he going to be married? The profligate!"
+
+"Really, madam," said Mr. Glowry, "I do not know what he is going to do,
+or what anyone is going to do, for all this is incomprehensible."
+
+"I can explain it all," said Scythrop, "if you will have the goodness to
+leave us alone."
+
+Stella threw herself into a chair and burst into a passion of tears.
+Scythrop took her hand. She snatched it away, and turned her back upon
+him. Scythrop continued entreating Mr. Glowry to leave them alone, but
+he was obstinate, and would not go.
+
+A tap at the door, and Mr. Hilary entered. He stood a few minutes in
+silent surprise, then departed in search of Marionetta.
+
+Scythrop was now in a hopeless predicament.
+
+Mr. Hilary made a hue and cry, summoning his wife and Marionetta, and
+they hastened in consternation to Scythrop's apartments. Mr. Toobad saw
+them, and judging from their manner that the devil had manifested his
+wrath in some new shape, followed, and intercepted Stella's flight at
+the door by catching her in his arms.
+
+"Celinda!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Papa!" said the young lady disconsolately.
+
+"The devil is come among you!" said Mr. Toobad. "How came my daughter
+here?"
+
+Marionetta, who had fainted, opened her eyes and fixed them on Celinda.
+Celinda, in turn, fixed hers on Marionetta. Scythrop was equi-distant
+between them, like Mahomet's coffin.
+
+"Celinda," said Mr. Toobad, "what does this mean? When I told you in
+London that I had chosen a husband for you, you thought proper to run
+away from him; and now, to all appearance, you have run away to him."
+
+"How, sir? Was that your choice?"
+
+"Precisely; and if he is yours, too, we shall both be of a mind, for the
+first time in our lives."
+
+"He is not my choice, sir. This lady has a prior claim. I renounce him."
+
+"And I renounce him!" said Marionetta.
+
+Scythrop knew not what to do. He therefore retreated into his
+stronghold, mystery; maintained an impenetrable silence, and contented
+himself with deprecating glances at each of the objects of his idolatry.
+
+The Hon. Mr. Listless, Mr. Flosky, and other guests had been attracted
+by the tumult, multitudinous questions, and answers _en masse_, composed
+a _charivari_, which was only terminated by Mrs. Hilary and Mr. Toobad
+retreating with the captive damsels. The whole party followed, leaving
+Scythrop carefully arranged in a pensive attitude.
+
+
+_IV.--Scythrop's Fate_
+
+
+He was still in this position when the butler entered to announce that
+dinner was on the table. He refused food, and on being told that the
+party was much reduced, everybody had gone, requested the butler to
+bring him a pint of port and a pistol. He would make his exit like
+Werter, but finally took Raven's advice--to dine first, and be miserable
+afterwards.
+
+He was sipping his Madeira, immersed in melancholy musing, when his
+father entered and requested a rational solution of all this absurdity.
+
+"I will leave it in writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate
+is come. The world is a stage, and my direction is exit."
+
+"Do not talk so, sir; do not talk so, Scythrop! What would you have?"
+
+"I would have my love."
+
+"And pray, sir, who is your love?"
+
+"Celinda--Marionetta--either--both."
+
+"Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy, but it will not do in
+Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And renounce Marionetta?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But you must renounce one."
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"And you cannot have both. What is to be done?"
+
+"I must shoot myself!"
+
+"Don't talk so, Scythrop! Be rational, Scythrop! Consider, and make a
+cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself on your behalf."
+
+"Well, sir, I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I cannot
+choose either, and I have no resource but a pistol."
+
+"Scythrop--Scythrop, if one of them should come to you, what then? Have
+but a little patience, a week's patience, and it shall be."
+
+"A week, sir, is an age; but to oblige you, as a last act of filial
+duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening, twenty-five
+minutes past seven. At this hour next Thursday love and fate shall smile
+on me, or I will drink my last pint of port in this world."
+
+Mr. Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the abbey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the morning of the eventful Thursday, Scythrop ascended the turret
+with a telescope and spied anxiously along the road, till Raven summoned
+him to dinner at five, when he descended to his own funeral feast. He
+laid his pistol between his watch and his bottle. Scythrop rang the
+bell. Raven appeared.
+
+"Raven," said he, "the clock is too fast."
+
+"No, indeed," said Raven. "If anything it is too slow----"
+
+"Villain," said Scythrop, pointing the pistol at him, "it is too fast!"
+
+"Yes, yes--too fast, I meant!" said Raven, in fear.
+
+"Put back my watch!" said Scythrop.
+
+Raven, with trembling hand, was putting back the watch, when the rattle
+of wheels was heard; and Scythrop, springing down the stairs three steps
+together, was at the door in time to hand either of the young ladies
+from the carriage; but Mrs. Glowry was alone.
+
+"I rejoice to see you!" said he. "I was fearful of being too late, for I
+waited till the last moment in the hope of accomplishing my promise; but
+all my endeavours have been vain, as these letters will show."
+
+The first letter ended with the words: "I shall always cherish a
+grateful remembrance of Nightmare Abbey, for having been the means of
+introducing me to a true transcendentalist, and shall soon have the
+pleasure of subscribing myself
+
+                                                     "CELINDA FLOSKY."
+
+The other, from Marionetta, wished him much happiness with Miss Toobad,
+and finished with: "I shall always be happy to see you in Berkely
+Square, when, to the unalterable designation of your affectionate
+cousin, I shall subjoin the signature of
+
+                                                "MARIONETTA LISTLESS."
+
+Scythrop tore both the letters to atoms, and railed in good, set terms
+against the fickleness of women.
+
+"Calm yourself, my dear Scythrop," said Mr. Glowry. "There are yet
+maidens in England; and besides, the fatal time is past, for it is now
+almost eight."
+
+"Then that villain Raven deceived me when he said the clock was too
+fast; but I have just reflected these repeated crosses in love qualify
+me to take a very advanced degree in misanthropy. There is therefore,
+good hope that I may make a figure in the world."
+
+Raven appeared. Scythrop looked at him very fiercely, and said, "Bring
+some Madeira!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JANE PORTER
+
+
+The Scottish Chiefs
+
+
+     Jane Porter was born at Durham in 1776, but at the age of four
+     she went to Edinburgh with her family, was brought up in
+     Scotland, and had the privilege of knowing Sir Walter Scott.
+     Her first romance, "Thaddeus of Warsaw," was published in
+     1803, soon after she had removed from Edinburgh to London. Her
+     next romance, "The Scottish Chiefs," did not appear until
+     1810. It won an immediate popularity, which survived even the
+     formidable rivalry of the "Waverley Novels," and the book
+     remained a favourite, especially in Scotland, during most of
+     the last century. The story abounds in historical
+     inaccuracies, and the characters are addicted to conversing in
+     the dialect of melodrama-but these blemishes did not abate the
+     vogue of this exciting and spirited work with the reading
+     public. Miss Porter remained a prominent figure in London
+     literary society until her death on May 24, 1850.
+
+
+_I.--The Lady Marion_
+
+
+Sir William Wallace made his way swiftly along the crags and across the
+river to the cliffs which overlooked the garden of Ellerslie. As he
+approached he saw his newly-wedded wife, the Lady Marion, leaning over
+the couch of a wounded man. She looked up, and, with a cry of joy, threw
+herself into his arms. Blood dropped from his forehead upon her bosom.
+
+"O my Wallace, my Wallace!" cried she in agony.
+
+"Fear not, my love, it is a mere scratch. How is the wounded stranger?"
+
+It was Wallace who had saved the stranger's life. That day he had been
+summoned to Douglas Castle, where he had received in secret from Sir
+John Monteith an iron box entrusted to him by Lord Douglas, then
+imprisoned in England; he had been charged to cherish the box in
+strictness, and not to suffer it to be opened until Scotland was again
+free. Returning with his treasure through Lanark, he had seen a fellow
+countryman wounded, and in deadly peril at the hands of a party of
+English. Telling two of his attendants to carry the injured man to
+Ellerslie, he had beaten off the English and slain their leader--Arthur
+Heselrigge, nephew of the Governor of Lanark.
+
+"Gallant Wallace!" said the stranger, "it is Donald, Earl of Mar, who
+owes you his life."
+
+"Then blest be my arm," exclaimed Wallace, "that has preserved a life so
+precious to my country!"
+
+"Armed men are approaching!" cried Lady Marion. "Wallace, you must fly.
+But oh! whither?"
+
+"Not far, my love; I must seek the recesses of the Cartlane Crags. But
+the Earl of Mar--we must conceal him."
+
+They found a hiding-place for the wounded earl, and Wallace went away,
+promising to be near at hand. Hardly had he gone when the door was burst
+open by a band of soldiers, and Lady Wallace was confronted by the
+governor of Lanark.
+
+"Woman!" cried he, "on your allegiance to King Edward, answer me--where
+is Sir William Wallace, the murderer of my nephew?"
+
+She was silent.
+
+"I can reward you richly," he went on, "if you speak the truth. Refuse,
+and you die!"
+
+She stretched her hands to heaven.
+
+"Blessed Virgin, to thee I commit myself."
+
+"Speak!" cried the governor, drawing his sword. She sank to the ground.
+"Kneel not to me for mercy!"
+
+"I kneel to heaven alone," she said firmly, "and may it ever preserve my
+Wallace!"
+
+"Blasphemous wretch!" cried the governor, and he plunged the sword
+through her heart.
+
+A shudder of horror ran through the English soldiers.
+
+"My friends," said Heselrigge, "I reward your services with the plunder
+of Ellerslie."
+
+"Cursed be he who first carries a stick from its walls!" exclaimed a
+veteran.
+
+"Amen!" murmured all the soldiers.
+
+But next day the governor, with a body of soldiers who had not witnessed
+his infamous deed, plundered Ellerslie and burnt it to the ground.
+During the day Lord Mar was brought from his hiding-place, and taken to
+Bothwell Castle; but the English seized him and his wife, and they were
+placed in strict confinement among the English garrison on the Rock of
+Dumbarton.
+
+An aged retainer carried the awful news of the murder to Wallace in his
+concealment. For long he was overpowered with agony. Then a desperate
+determination arose in his mind. "The sun must not again rise upon
+Heselrigge!" was his thought. He called his followers, and told them of
+the deed. "From this hour," he cried, "may Scotland date her liberty, or
+Wallace return no more!"
+
+"Vengeance! vengeance!" was the cry.
+
+That night the English garrison of Lanark was surprised, and Wallace's
+sword was buried in the body of his wife's murderer.
+
+"So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!" shouted his men
+exultantly.
+
+"Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he. "Henceforth Wallace
+has neither love nor resentment but for her. From now onwards I devote
+myself to the winning of my country's freedom, or to death in her
+cause."
+
+
+_II.--Wallace the Liberator_
+
+
+Band after band of Scottish patriots flocked to the banner of Wallace--
+the banner that bore the legend "God armeth the patriot," and in which
+was embroidered a tress of Lady Marion's hair. The making of it had been
+the labour of Lady Helen Mar, daughter of the earl; admiration for
+Wallace's prowess, and sympathy with his misfortune had aroused in
+her--although she had never seen him--an eager devotion to him as the
+man who had dared to strike at tyranny and fight for his country's
+freedom.
+
+When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St.
+Fillans. But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the
+traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her
+hand had the secret approval of Lady Mar. When the ruffian laid hold
+upon her, he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis
+and his band were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell
+suddenly upon them. Soulis was forced to relinquish his prey, and was
+carried away by his men covered with wounds; while Helen found herself
+in the presence of a gentle and courteous Scottish warrior, who conveyed
+her to a hermit's cell near at hand. Without revealing his name he
+passed on his way, declaring that he went to arouse a few brave spirits
+to arms. Brief as the interview had been, Helen knew when it was ended
+that she had given her heart to the unknown knight.
+
+As her father and mother lay one dark night in Dumbarton Castle, a
+fearful uproar arose without their prison--the clashing of swords, the
+thud of falling bodies, the groans of wounded.
+
+"There is an attack," cried the earl.
+
+"Nay, who would venture to attack such a fortress as this?" answered
+Lady Mar.
+
+"Hark! it is the slogan of Sir William Wallace. Oh, for a sword!"
+exclaimed the earl.
+
+A voice was heard begging for mercy--the voice of De Valence, the
+governor.
+
+"You shall die!" was the stern answer.
+
+"Nay, Kirkpatrick, I give him life." The accents were Wallace's.
+
+A battering-ram broke down the prison-door. There stood Wallace and his
+men, their weapons and armour covered with blood. De Valence, evading
+the clutch of Kirkpatrick, thrust his dagger into Wallace's side and
+fled.
+
+"It is nothing," said Wallace, as he staunched the wound with his scarf.
+
+"So is your mercy rewarded," muttered the grim Kirkpatrick.
+
+"So am I true to my duty," returned Wallace, "though De Valence is a
+traitor to his."
+
+The Countess of Mar looked for the first time upon Wallace's
+countenance. He was the enemy of her kinsmen of the house of Cummin;
+unknown to her husband, she had sought to betray him to one of these
+kinsmen; and now, as this beautiful woman beheld the man she had tried
+to injure, a sense of shame, accompanied by a strange fascination,
+entered her bosom.
+
+"How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man!" she said to
+herself. "Hardly have I seen this William Wallace, and yet my very being
+is lost in his!"
+
+Love mingled with ambition in her uneasy mind. Her husband was old and
+wounded; his life would not be long. Wallace had the genius of a
+conqueror. Might he not be proclaimed king of Scotland? She threw
+herself assiduously into his company during the days that followed. At
+last, with tears in eyes, she confessed her love, thinking, in her
+folly, that she could move the heart of one who had consecrated himself
+to the service of Scotland and the memory of Marion.
+
+"Your husband, Lady Mar," he said with gentleness, "is my friend; had I
+even a heart to give to women, not one sigh should arise in it to his
+dishonour. But I am deaf to women, and the voice of love sounds like the
+funeral knell of her who will never breathe it to me more."
+
+He rose, and ere the countess could reply, a messenger entered with news
+from Ayr. Eighteen Scottish chiefs had been treacherously put to death,
+and others were imprisoned and awaiting execution. Wallace and his men
+marched straight to the castle of Ayr, surprised it while the English
+lords were feasting within, and set it afire. Those who escaped the
+flames either fell by Scottish steel, or yielded themselves prisoners.
+
+Castle and fortalice opened their gates before Wallace as he marched
+from Ayr to Berwick; but at Berwick he encountered stout resistance from
+a noble foeman, the Earl of Gloucester, who with his garrison yielded
+only to starvation. Wallace, touched with their valour, permitted them
+to march out with all the honours of war, and with the chivalrous earl
+he formed a friendship that was never dimmed by the enmity of the
+nations to which they belonged.
+
+Soon there came a summons to Stirling. By a dishonourable stratagem of
+De Valence's, Lord and Lady Mar and Helen had been seized and carried to
+Stirling Castle, where Lord Mar was in danger of immediate death. Helen
+was in the power of De Valence, who pressed his hateful suit upon her.
+Wallace and his men marched hastily, and captured the town; once more De
+Valence begged Wallace's mercy, and once more, unworthy as he was,
+obtained it. But the ruthless Cressingham, commanding the castle, placed
+Lord Mar on the battlements with a rope round his neck, and declared
+that unless the attack ceased the earl and his whole family would
+instantly die. Wallace's reply was to bring forward De Valence, pale and
+trembling. "The moment Lord Mar dies, De Valence shall instantly
+perish," he declared.
+
+Cressingham agreed to an armistice, hoping to gain time until De
+Warenne, with the mighty English host then advancing from the border,
+had reached Stirling. Next morning this great army in its pride poured
+across the bridge of the Forth; but the Scottish warriors, rushing down
+from the hillsides, with Wallace at their head, swept all before them.
+It was rather a carnage than a battle. Those who escaped the steel of
+Wallace's men were thrust into the river, and land and water were
+burdened with English dead.
+
+That evening Stirling Castle surrendered, the Scottish prisoners were
+released, and their places were taken by the commanders of the enemy's
+host.
+
+
+_III.--Wallace the Regent_
+
+
+When the victorious chiefs were gathering in the hall of the castle,
+Helen looked upon each one with anxious eyes. Would the gentle knight
+who rescued her be in Wallace's train? Lady Mar turned a restless glance
+upon her step-daughter. "Wallace will behold these charms," she cried to
+herself, "and then, where am I?"
+
+Amid a crowd of knights in armour the conqueror entered; and as Helen
+raised her eyes she saw that the knight of her dream, the man who had
+saved her from worse than death, was Wallace himself!
+
+"Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!" cried the patriot Bishop of
+Dunkeld, drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, and
+pouring it upon Wallace's head.
+
+Every knee was bent, and every voice cried "Long live King William!"
+
+"Rise, lords!" exclaimed Wallace. "Kneel not to me--I am but your fellow
+soldier. Bruce lives; God has yet preserved to you a lawful monarch."
+
+Eagerly they sought to persuade him, but in vain. He consented to hold
+the kingdom for the rightful sovereign, under the name of regent, but
+the crown he would not accept. He found a nation waiting on his nod--the
+hearts of half a million people offered to his hand.
+
+On the night before the English prisoners were to start on their journey
+southwards to be exchanged with Scottish nobles--an exchange after
+which, by England's will, the war was to continue--Lady Mar, whose
+husband was now governor of Stirling Castle, gave a banquet in honour of
+the departing knights. The entertainment was conducted with that
+chivalric courtesy which a noble conqueror always pays to the
+vanquished.
+
+But the spirit of Wallace was sad amid the gaiety; seeking quiet, he
+wandered along a darkened passage that led to the chapel, unobserved
+save by his watchful enemy De Valence--whose hatred had been intensified
+by the knowledge that Helen, whose hand he had again demanded in vain,
+loved the regent. He had guessed her secret, and she had guessed
+his--the design he had of murdering the foe who had twice spared his
+life.
+
+As Wallace entered the chapel and advanced towards the altar, he saw a
+woman kneeling in prayer. "Defend him, Heavenly Father!" she cried.
+"Guard his unshielded breast from treachery!" It was Helen's voice.
+
+Wallace stepped from the shadow; Helen was transfixed and silent.
+"Continue to offer up these prayers for me," he said gently, "and I
+shall yet think, holy maid, that I have a Marion to pray for me on
+earth, as well as in heaven."
+
+"They are for your life," she said in agitation, "for it is menaced."
+
+"I will inquire by whom," answered he, "when I have first paid my duty
+at this altar. Pray with me, Lady Helen, for the liberty of Scotland."
+
+As they were praying together, Helen rose with a shriek and flung her
+arms around Wallace. He felt an assassin's steel in his back, and she
+fell senseless on his breast. Her arm was bleeding; she had partly
+warded off the blow aimed at him, and had saved his life. He took her up
+in his arms, and bore her from the chapel to the hall.
+
+"Who has done this?" cried Mar, in anguish.
+
+"I know not," replied Wallace, "but I believe some villain who aimed at
+my life." With a gasp he sank back unconscious on the bench.
+
+Helen was the first to recover, and while they were staunching the blood
+that flowed from Wallace's wound, Lady Mar turned to her step-daughter.
+
+"Will you satisfy this anxious company," said she sneeringly, "how it
+happened that you should be alone with the regent? May I ask our noble
+friends to withdraw, and leave this delicate investigation to my own
+family?"
+
+Wallace, recovering his senses, rose hastily.
+
+"Do not leave this place, my lords, till I explain how I came to disturb
+the devotions of Lady Helen;" Straightforwardly and with dignity, he
+told the story of what had happened, and the jealous Lady Mar was
+silenced.
+
+"But who was the assassin?" they asked.
+
+"I shall name him to Sir William Wallace alone," said Helen.
+
+But the dagger, found in the chapel, revealed the truth. The chiefs
+clamoured for De Valence's death, Wallace again granted him life. Next
+morning, as the cavalcade of southern knights was starting, Wallace rode
+up and handed the dagger to De Valence.
+
+"The next time that you draw this dagger," said he, "let it be with a
+more knightly aim than assassination."
+
+De Valence, careless of the looks of horror and contempt cast upon him
+by his fellow countrymen, broke it asunder, and, throwing the fragments
+in the air, said to the shivered weapon, "You shall not betray me
+again!"
+
+"Nor you betray our honours, Lord de Valence," said De Warenne sternly.
+"As lord warden of this realm, I order you under arrest until we pass
+the Scottish lines."
+
+After the exchange of prisoners had been effected, Wallace invaded the
+enemy's country, and brought rich stores from the barns of
+Northumberland to the starving people of desolated Scotland. The
+reduction followed of all the fortresses held by the English in Northern
+Scotland. King Edward himself was now advancing; but a greater peril
+menaced the regent than that of the invader.
+
+Many of the nobles, headed by the Earls of Athol, Buchan, and March,
+were bitterly jealous of the ascendancy of a low-born usurper--for so
+they called Scotland's deliverer--and conspired to restore the
+sovereignty of Edward. Their chance of treachery came when Wallace faced
+the English host at Falkirk. When the battle was joined, Athol, Buchan,
+and all the Cummins, crying, "Long live King Edward!" joined the
+English, and flung themselves upon their fellow-countrymen. Grievous was
+the havoc of Scot on Scot; and beside the English king throughout the
+battle stood Bruce, the rightful monarch, aiding in the destruction of
+his nation's liberties.
+
+But on the night of that disastrous day, a young stranger in splendid
+armour came secretly to Wallace. It was Robert Bruce, seeking to offer
+his services to his country and to wipe out the stigma that his father
+had cast upon his name.
+
+
+_IV.--The Traitors_
+
+
+None fought more fiercely than Robert Bruce in the attack made by
+Wallace's men upon the English on the banks of the Carron, and the
+traitor, Earl of March, fell by the young warrior's own hand. But
+treason, smitten on the field of battle, was rampant at Stirling; and
+when Wallace returned there, bowed with grief at the death of Lord Mar,
+he found the Cummin faction--Lady Mar's kinsmen--in furious revolt
+against the "upstart." His resolution was quickly made; he would not be
+a cause of civil strife to his country.
+
+"Should I remain your regent," said he to the assembled people, "the
+country would be involved in ruinous dissensions. I therefore quit the
+regency; and I bequeath your liberty to the care of the chieftains. But
+should it be again in danger, remember that, while life breathes in this
+heart, the spirit of Wallace will be with you still!" With these words
+he mounted his horse, and rode away, amidst the cries and tears of the
+populace.
+
+Lady Mar, whose secret hopes had been stirred afresh by the death of her
+husband, heard with consternation of Wallace's departure. But he went
+away without a thought of her; his mission was the rescue of Helen, to
+which he had pledged himself by the death-bed of Lord Mar. Helen had
+been kidnapped by De Valence, and carried off by him to his castle in
+Guienne.
+
+Wallace disguised himself as a minstrel, and travelled to Durham, where
+King Edward held his court, and where young Bruce, taken captive, was
+now confined. By making himself known to the Earl of Gloucester, Wallace
+was able to gain access to Bruce, whose father was now dead, and to lay
+his plans before him. These were that Bruce should escape from Durham,
+that the two should travel to Guienne and rescue Helen, and that they
+should then, as unknown strangers, offer their services to Scotland.
+
+The plans were fulfilled. Bruce escaped, De Valence was once more
+deprived of his prey--he did not suspect the identity of the two knights
+until after Helen had been delivered from his clutches--and the pair
+fought as Frenchmen in the wars of Scotland. To few was the truth
+revealed, and only one discovered it--a knight wearing a green plume,
+who refused to divulge his name until Wallace proclaimed his own on the
+day of victory.
+
+But the secret could not be kept for ever, and it was Wallace himself
+who cast off the disguise. At the battle of Rosslyn the day seemed lost;
+an overwhelming mass of English bore down the Scots; men were turning to
+fly. The fate of Wallace's country hung on an instant. Taking off his
+helmet, he waved it in the air with a shout, and, having thus drawn all
+eyes upon him, exclaimed: "Scots, follow William Wallace to victory!"
+The cry of "Wallace!" turned the fugitives; new courage was diffused in
+every breast; defeat was straightway changed into triumph.
+
+Soon after this declaration the knight of the green plume came to
+Wallace, tore off the disguise of knighthood, and stood before him the
+bold and unblushing Countess of Mar. It was unconquerable love, she
+said, that had induced her to act thus. Wallace told her once more that
+his love was buried in the grave, and entreated her to refrain from
+guilty passion. Angered, she thrust a dagger at his breast; he wrenched
+the weapon from her hand, and bade her go in peace.
+
+Ere sunset next evening he heard that he had been accused of treason to
+Scotland, and that his accuser was the Countess of Mar.
+
+He faced the false charge, and repudiated it. But such was the hatred of
+the Cummins and their supporters that it was plainly impossible for him
+to serve Scotland, now that his name was known, without causing
+distraction in the country's ranks. He wandered forth, alone save for
+his ever-faithful follower, Edwin Ruthven, a price set upon his head by
+the relentless Edward, leaving his enemies to rejoice, and his friends
+to despair of Scotland's liberty.
+
+
+_V.--Tragedy and Triumph_
+
+
+As Wallace journeyed in the regions made sacred to him by Marion's
+memory, he was met by Sir John Monteith, who offered to conduct him to
+Newark-on-the-Clyde, where he might embark on a vessel about to sail.
+Wallace gladly accepted the offer, little guessing that his old and
+trusted friend Monteith was in the pay of England.
+
+As he and Edwin reposed in a barn near Newark, a force of savages from
+the Irish island of Rathlin burst in upon them. Wallace, with a giant's
+strength, dispersed them as they advanced. But a shout was heard from
+the door. Monteith himself appeared, and an arrow pierced Edwin's heart.
+Wallace threw himself on his knees beside the dying boy. They sprang
+upon him, and bound him. Wallace was Edward's prisoner.
+
+As he lay in the Tower of London awaiting death, a page-boy entered
+nervously, and turned pale when he cast his eyes upon him. He started;
+he recognised the features of her who alone had ever shared his
+meditations with Marion.
+
+"Lady Helen," he cried, "has God sent you hither to be His harbinger of
+consolation?"
+
+"Will you not abhor me for this act of madness?" said Helen, in deep
+agitation. "And yet, where should I live or die but at the feet of my
+benefactor?"
+
+"Oh, Helen," exclaimed Wallace, "thy soul and Marion's are indeed one;
+and as one I love ye!"
+
+At that moment the Earl of Gloucester entered, and to this true friend
+Wallace expressed his wish that he and Helen should be united by the
+sacred rites of the church. Gloucester retired, and returned with a
+priest; the pair were joined as man and wife.
+
+Two days later Wallace stood on the scaffold. The executioner approached
+to throw the rope over the neck of his victim. Helen, with a cry, rushed
+to his bosom. Clasping her to him, he exclaimed in a low voice: "Helen,
+we shall next meet to part no more. May God preserve my country, and--"
+He stopped--he fell. Gloucester bent to his friend and spoke, but all
+was silent. He had died unsullied by the rope of Edward.
+
+"There," said Gloucester, in deepest grief, "there broke the noblest
+heart that ever beat in the breast of man."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the evening after Bannockburn. The English hosts were in
+panic-stricken flight; Scotland at last was free. Robert Bruce, king and
+conquerer, entered the Abbey of Cambuskenneth with his betrothed,
+Isabella, and stood before the bier of Wallace.
+
+Helen, wan and fragile, was borne on a litter from the adjoining
+nunnery. In her presence Bruce and Isabella were wedded; her trembling
+hands were held over them in blessing; then she threw herself prostrate
+on the coffin.
+
+At the foot of Wallace's bier stood the iron box that the dead chieftain
+had so faithfully cherished. "Let this mysterious coffer be opened,"
+said the Abbot of Inchaffray, "to reward the deliverer of Scotland
+according to its intent" Bruce unclasped the lock, and the regalia of
+Scotland was discovered!
+
+"And thus Wallace crowns thee!" said the Bishop of Dunkeld, taking the
+diadem from its coffer and setting it on Brace's head.
+
+But Helen lay motionless. They raised her, and looked upon a clay-cold
+face. Her soul had fled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDER SERGEYEVITCH PUSHKIN
+
+
+The Captain's Daughter
+
+
+     Alexander Sergeyevitch Pushkin was born at Moscow on June 7,
+     1799. He came of an ancient family, a strange ancestor being a
+     favourite negro ennobled by Peter the Great, who bequeathed to
+     him a mass of curly hair and a somewhat darker skin than
+     usually falls to the lot of the ordinary Russian. Early in
+     life a daring "Ode to Liberty" brought him the displeasure of
+     the court, and the young poet narrowly escaped a journey to
+     Siberia by accepting an official post at Kishineff, in
+     Southern Russia. But on the accession of Tsar Nicholas in
+     182s, Pushkin was recalled and appointed imperial
+     historiographer. His death, which occurred on February 10,
+     1837, was the result of a duel fought with his brother-in-law.
+     Pushkin's career was one of almost unparallelled brilliancy.
+     As a poet, he still remains the greatest Russia has produced;
+     and although his prose works do not rise to the high standard
+     of his verse, yet they are of no inconsiderable merit. "The
+     Captain's Daughter, a Russian Romance," was written about
+     1831, and published under the _nom de plume_ of Ivan Byelkin.
+     It is a story of the times of Catherine II., and is not only
+     told with interest and charm, but with great simplicity and
+     reality, and with a due sense of drama. Others of his novels
+     are "The Pistol Shot," "The Queen of Spades," and "The
+     Undertaker," the last-named a grim story in a style that has
+     been familiarised to English readers by Edgar Allan Poe.
+
+
+_I.--I Join the Army_
+
+
+My father, after serving in the army, had retired with the rank of
+senior major. Since that time he had always lived on his estate, where
+he married the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the neighbourhood.
+All my brothers and sisters died young, and it was decided that I should
+enter the army.
+
+When I was nearly seventeen, instead of being sent to join the guards'
+regiment at Petersburg, my father told me I was going to Orenburg. "You
+will learn nothing at Petersburg but to spend money and commit follies,"
+he said. "No, you shall smell powder and become a soldier, not an
+idler."
+
+It seemed horrible to me to be doomed to the dullness of a savage and
+distant province, and to lose the gaiety I had been looking forward to;
+but there was nothing for it but to submit.
+
+The morning arrived for my departure, the travelling carriage was at the
+door, and our old servant Savélütch was in attendance to accompany me.
+
+Two days later, when we were nearing our destination, a snowstorm
+overtook us. We might have perished in the snow, for all traces of the
+road were lost, but for a stranger who guided us to a small and lonely
+inn, where we passed the night. In the morning, to the sorrow of
+Savélütch, I insisted on giving our guide, who was but thinly clad, one
+of my cloaks--a hare-skin _touloup_.
+
+"Thanks, your excellency," said the vagrant, "and may heaven reward you.
+As long as I live I shall never forget your kindness."
+
+I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hare-skin _touloup_, and
+on arrival at Orenburg hasted to wait on the general, an old
+comrade-in-arms of my father's. The general received me kindly, examined
+my commission, told me there was nothing for me to do in Orenburg, and
+sent me on to Fort Bélogorsk to serve under Commander Mironoff. Bélogorsk
+lay about thirty miles beyond Orenburg, on the frontier of the Kirghiz
+Kaisak Steppes, and it was to this outlandish place I was banished.
+
+I expected to see high bastions, a wall and a ditch, but there was
+nothing at Bélogorsk but a little village, surrounded by a wooden
+palisade. An old iron cannon was near the gateway, the streets were
+narrow and crooked, and the commandant's house to which I had been
+driven was a wooden erection.
+
+Vassilissa Ignorofna, the commandant's wife, received me with simple
+kindness, and treated me at once as one of the family. An old army
+pensioner and Palashka, the one servant, laid the cloth for dinner;
+while in the square, near the house, the commandant, a tall and hale old
+man, wearing a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap, was busy drilling
+some twenty elderly men--all pensioners.
+
+Chvabrine, an officer who had been dismissed from the guards for
+fighting a duel, and Marya, a young girl of sixteen, with a fresh, round
+face, the commandant's daughter, were also at dinner.
+
+Mironoff pleaded in excuse for being late for dinner that he had been
+busy drilling his little soldiers, but his wife cut him short
+ruthlessly.
+
+"Nonsense," she said, "you're only boasting; they are past service, and
+you don't remember much about the drill. Far better for you to stay at
+home and say your prayers." Vassilissa Ignorofna never seemed to stop
+talking, and overwhelmed me with questions.
+
+In the course of a few weeks I found that she not only led her husband
+completely, but also directed all military affairs, and ruled the fort
+as completely as she did the household. This really suited Ivan Mironoff
+very well, for he was a good-hearted, uneducated man, staunch and true,
+who had been raised from the ranks, and was now grown lazy. Both husband
+and wife were excellent people, and I soon became attached to them, and
+to the daughter Marya, an affectionate and sensible girl.
+
+As for Chvabrine, he at first professed great friendship for me; but
+being in love with Marya, who detested him, he began to hate me when he
+saw a growing friendliness between Marya and myself.
+
+I was now an officer, but there was little work for me to do. There was
+no drill, no mounting guard, no reviewing of troops. Sometimes Captain
+Mironoff tried to drill his soldiers, but he never succeeded in making
+them know the right hand from the left.
+
+All seemed peace, in spite of my quarrels with Chvabrine. Every day I
+was more and more in love with Marya, and the notion that we might be
+disturbed at Fort Bélogorsk by any repetition of the riots and revolts
+which had taken place in the province of Orenburg the previous year was
+not entertained. Danger was nearer than we had imagined. The Cossacks
+and half-savage tribes of the frontier were again already in revolt.
+
+
+_II.--The Rebel Chief_
+
+
+One evening early in October, 1773, Captain Mironoff called Chvabrine
+and me to his house. He had received a letter from the general at
+Orenburg with information that a fugitive Cossack named Pugatchéf had
+taken the name of the late Czar, Peter III., and, with an army of
+robbers, was rousing the country, destroying forts and committing murder
+and theft. The news spread quickly, and then came a disquieting report
+that a neighbouring fort some sixteen miles away had been taken by
+Pugatchéf, and its officers hanged.
+
+Neither Mironoff nor Vassilissa showed any fear, and the latter declined
+to leave Bélogorsk, though willing that Marya should be sent to Orenburg
+for safety. An insolent proclamation from Pugatchéf, inviting us to
+surrender on peril of death, and the treachery of our Cossacks and of
+Chvabrine, who went over at once to the rebels, only made the commandant
+and his wife more resolute.
+
+"The scoundrel!" cried Vassilissa. "He has the impudence to invite us to
+lay our flag at his feet, and he doesn't know we have been forty years
+in the service!"
+
+It was the same when Pugatchéf was actually at our door, and the assault
+had actually begun. Old Ivan Mironoff blessed his daughter, and embraced
+his wife, and then faced death. There was no fight in the poor old
+pensioners who made up our garrison, and both Mironoff and myself were
+soon captured, bound with ropes, and led before Pugatchéf.
+
+The commandant indignantly refused to swear fidelity to the robber
+chief, and was hanged there and then in the market square; an old
+one-eyed lieutenant was soon swinging by his side. Then came my turn,
+and I gave the same answer as my captain had done. The rope was round my
+neck, when Pugatchéf shouted out "Stop!" and ordered my release. A few
+minutes later, and poor old Vassilissa, who had come in search of her
+husband, was lying dead in the market square, cut down by a Cossack's
+sword. Pugatchéf's arrival had prevented Marya's escape to Orenburg, and
+she was now lying too ill to be moved, in the house of Father Garassim,
+the parish priest.
+
+Pugatchéf gave me leave to depart in safety, but before Savélütch and I
+left the fort, the rebel bade me come and see him. He laughed aloud when
+I presented myself.
+
+"Who would have thought," he said, "that the man who guided you to a
+lodging on that night of the snowstorm was the great tzar himself? But
+you shall see better things; I will load you with favours when I have
+recovered my empire."
+
+Then he invited me again and again to enter his service, but I told him
+I had sworn fidelity to the crown; and finally he let me go, saying:
+"Either entirely punish or entirely pardon. Tell the officers at
+Orenburg they may expect me in a week."
+
+It hurt me to leave Marya behind, especially as Pugatchéf had made
+Chvabrine commandant of the fort, but there was no help for it. Father
+Garassim and his wife bade me good-bye. "Except you, poor Marya has no
+longer any protector or comforter," said the priest's wife.
+
+At Orenburg I was in safety, but the town was soon besieged, and I could
+not persuade the general to sally out and attack the rebels. All through
+those dreary weeks of the siege I was wondering anxiously about Marya,
+and then one day when we had been driving off a party of cossacks, one
+of the rebels, whom I recognised a former soldier at Bélogorsk, lingered
+to give me a letter. It was from Marya, and she told me that she was now
+in the house of Chvabrine, who threatened to kill her or hand her over
+to the robber camp if she did not marry him, and that she had but three
+days left before her fate would be sealed. Death would be easier, she
+said, than to be the wife of a man like Chvabrine.
+
+I rushed off at once to the general, and implored him to give me a
+battalion of soldiers, and let me march on Bélogorsk; but the general
+only shook his head, and said the expedition was unreasonable.
+
+I decided to go alone and appeal to Pugatchéf, but the faithful
+Savélütch insisted on accompanying me, and together we arrived at the
+rebel camp.
+
+Pugatchéf received me quite cordially, and I told him the truth, that I
+was in love with Marya, and that Chvabrine was persecuting her. He
+flared up indignantly at Chvabrine's presumption, and declared he would
+take me at once to Bélogorsk, and attend my wedding. But on our arrival
+Chvabrine mentioned that Marya was the daughter of Mironoff, and
+immediately the countenance of the robber chief clouded over.
+
+"Listen," I said, knowing Pugatchéf was well disposed towards me. "Do
+not ask of me anything against my honour or my conscience. Let me go
+with this unhappy orphan whither God shall direct, and whatever befall
+we will pray every day to God to watch over you."
+
+It seemed as if Pugatchéf's fierce heart was touched. "Be it as you
+wish," he answered. "Either entirely punish or entirely pardon is my
+motto. Take your pretty one where you like, and may God give you love
+and wisdom."
+
+A safe-conduct pass was given us, and I made up my mind to take Marya to
+my parents' house. I knew my father would think it a duty and an honour
+to shelter the daughter of a veteran who had died for his country. But
+Marya said she would never be my wife unless my parents approved of the
+marriage. We set off, and as we started I saw Chvabrine standing at the
+commandant's window, with a face of dark hatred.
+
+
+_III.--The Arrest_
+
+
+I parted from Marya two days later, and entrusted her to Savélütch, who
+promised me to escort her faithfully to my parents. My reason for this
+was that we had fallen in with a detachment of the army, and the officer
+in charge persuaded me to join him, and it seemed to me I was bound in
+honour to serve the tzarina.
+
+So all that winter, and right on till the spring came, we pursued the
+rebels; and still Pugatchéf remained untaken; and this war with the
+robbers went on to the destruction of the countryside.
+
+At last Pugatchéf was taken, and the war was at an end. A few days later
+I should have been in the bosom of my family, when an unforeseen
+thunderbolt struck me. I was ordered to be arrested and sent to Khasan,
+to the commission of inquiry appointed to try Pugatchéf and his
+accomplices.
+
+No sooner had I arrived in Khasan than I was lodged in prison, and irons
+were placed on my ankles. It was a bad beginning, but I was full of hope
+and courage, and believed that I could easily explain my dealings with
+Pugatchéf.
+
+The next day I was summoned to appear before the commission, and asked
+how long I had been in Pugatchéf's service.
+
+I replied indignantly that I had never been in his service; and then
+when I was asked how it was he had spared my life and given me a
+safe-conduct pass I told the story of the guide in the snowstorm and the
+hair-skin _touloup_.
+
+Then came the question how was it I had left Orenburg, and gone straight
+to the rebel camp?
+
+I felt I could not bring in Marya's name, and expose her as a witness to
+the cross-examination of the commission, and so I stammered and became
+silent.
+
+The officer of the guard then requested that I should be confronted with
+my principal accuser, and Chvabrine was brought into court. A great
+change had come over him. He was pale and thin, and his hair had already
+turned grey. In a feeble but clear voice Chvabrine went through his
+story against me; that I had been Pugatchéf's spy in Orenburg, and that
+after leaving that town I had done all I could to aid the rebels. I was
+glad of one thing, some spark of feeling kept him from mentioning
+Marya's name.
+
+I told the judges I could only repeat my former statement that I was
+entirely innocent of any part in the rebellion; and then I was taken
+back to prison, and underwent no further examination.
+
+Several weeks passed, and then my father was informed that the tzarina
+had condescended to pardon his criminal son, and remit the capital
+punishment, condemning him instead to exile for life in the heart of
+Siberia.
+
+The unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He had heard of my arrest,
+and both Savélütch and Marya had assured him of my complete innocence.
+Now he broke out into bitter lament.
+
+"What!" he kept on saying. "What! My son mixed up in the plots of
+Pugatchéf! Just God! What have I lived to see! The tzarina grants him
+life, but does that make it easier for me to bear? It is not the
+execution which is horrible. My ancestors have perished on the scaffold
+for conscience sake; but that an officer should join with robbers and
+felons! Shame on our race for ever!"
+
+In vain my mother endeavoured to comfort him by talking of the injustice
+of the verdict. My father was inconsolable.
+
+
+_IV.--The Captain's Daughter to the Rescue_
+
+
+From the first Marya had been received with the warm-hearted hospitality
+that belonged to old-fashioned country people. The opportunity of giving
+a home to a poor orphan seemed to them a favour from God. In a very
+short time they were sincerely attached to her, for no one could know
+Marya without loving her, and both my father and my mother looked
+forward to the union of their son Peter with the captain's daughter.
+
+My trial and condemnation plunged all three into misery; and Marya,
+believing that I could have justified myself had I chosen, and
+suspecting the motive which had kept me silent, and holding herself the
+sole cause of my misfortune, determined to save me.
+
+All at once she informed my parents that she was obliged to start for
+Petersburg, and begged them to give her the means to do so.
+
+"Why must you go to Petersburg?" said my mother, in distress. "You,
+too--are you also going to forsake us?"
+
+Marya answered that she was going to seek help from people in high
+position for the daughter of a man who had fallen a victim to his
+fidelity.
+
+My father could only bow his head. "Go," he said. "I do not wish to cast
+any obstacles between you and your happiness. May God grant you an
+honest man, and not a convicted traitor, for husband."
+
+To my mother alone Marya confided her plans, and then, with her maid
+Palashka and the faithful Savélütch--who, parted from me, consoled
+himself by remembering he was serving my betrothed--set out for the
+capital.
+
+Arrived at Sofia, Marya learnt that the court was at the summer palace
+of Tzarskoe-Selo, and at once resolved to stop there. She was able to
+get a lodging at the post-house, and the postmaster's wife, who was a
+regular gossip, began to tell her all the routine of the palace, at what
+hour the tzarina rose, had her coffee, and walked in the gardens.
+
+Next morning, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the imperial
+gardens. She saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench near the large
+lake, and went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The
+lady wore a cap and a white morning gown, and a light cloak. She
+appeared to be about fifty years old, and the repose and gravity of her
+face, and the sweetness of her blue eyes and her smile, all attracted
+Marya and inspired confidence. The lady was the first to speak.
+
+"You do not belong to this place?"
+
+"No, madame. I only arrived yesterday from the country."
+
+"You came with your parents?"
+
+"No, madame, alone. I have neither father nor mother."
+
+"You are very young to travel by yourself. You have come on business?"
+
+"Yes, madame. I have come to present a petition to the tzarina."
+
+"You are an orphan. It is some injustice or wrong you complain of? What
+is your name?"
+
+"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff, and it is for mercy I have come
+to ask."
+
+"Captain Mironoff? He commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg
+district?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+The lady seemed moved.
+
+"Forgive me," she said, speaking even more gently, "if I meddle in your
+affairs; but I am going to court. Perhaps if you explain to me what it
+is you want, I may be able to help you."
+
+Marya rose and curtsied; then she took from her pocket a folded paper,
+and handed it to her protectress, who read it over. Suddenly the
+gentleness turned to hardness in the face of the unknown lady.
+
+"You plead for Peter Grineff!" she said coldly. "The tzarina cannot
+grant him mercy. He passed over to this rebel not in ignorance, but
+because he is depraved."
+
+"It is not true!" cried Marya. "Before God it is not true! I know all; I
+will tell you everything. It was only on my account that he exposed
+himself to the misfortunes which have overtaken him. And if he did not
+vindicate himself before the judges, it was because he did not wish me
+to be mixed up in the affair."
+
+And Marya went on to relate all that had taken place at Bélogorsk.
+
+When she had finished, the lady asked her where she lodged, and told her
+she would not have to wait long for an answer to the letter.
+
+Marya went back to the post-house full of hope, and presently, to the
+consternation of her hostess, a lackey in the imperial livery entered
+and announced that the tzarina condescended to summon to her presence
+the daughter of Captain Mironoff.
+
+"Good heavens!" cried the postmaster's wife. "The tzarina summons you to
+court! And I'm sure you don't even know how to walk in court fashion.
+Shall I send for a dressmaker I know who will lend you her yellow gown
+with flounces? I think I ought to take you."
+
+But the lackey explained that the tzarina wanted Marya to come alone,
+and in the dress she should happen to be wearing. There was nothing for
+it but to obey, and, with a beating heart, Marya got into the carriage
+and was driven to the palace. Presently she was ushered into the boudoir
+of the tzarina, and recognised the lady of the garden.
+
+The tzarina spoke graciously to her, telling Marya that it was a
+happiness to grant her prayer.
+
+"I have had it all looked into, and I am convinced of the innocence of
+your betrothed. Here is a letter for your father-in-law. Do not be
+uneasy about the future. I know you are not rich, but I owe a debt to
+the daughter of Captain Mironoff."
+
+Marya, all in tears, fell at the feet of the tzarina, who raised her and
+kissed her forehead. The tzarina almost overwhelmed the orphan before
+she dismissed her.
+
+That same day Marya hastened back to my father's house in the country,
+without even having the curiosity to see the sights of Petersburg.
+
+I was released from captivity at the end of the year 1774, and, as it
+happened, I was present in Moscow when Pugatchéf was executed in the
+following year. The famous robber chief recognised me as I stood in the
+crowd, and bade me farewell with a silent movement of his head. A few
+moments later and the executioner held up the lifeless head for all the
+people to look upon.
+
+Chvabrine I never saw again after the day I was confronted with him at
+my trial.
+
+Soon after Pugatchéf's death, Marya and I were married from my father's
+house.
+
+An autograph letter from the tzarina, Catherine II., framed and glazed,
+is carefully preserved. It is addressed to the father of Peter Grineff,
+and contains, with the acquittal of his son, many praises of the
+intelligence and good heart of the daughter of Captain Mironoff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+FRANCOIS RABELAIS
+
+
+Gargantua and Pantagruel
+
+
+     Francois Rabelais was born at Seuillé in Touraine, France,
+     about 1483. Brought up in a Franciscan convent, he was made a
+     priest in 1520. During his monastic career he conceived a deep
+     and lasting contempt for monkish life, and he obtained
+     permission from the Pope to become a secular priest. He then
+     studied medicine, and became a physician. After wandering
+     about France for many years, he was appointed parish priest of
+     Meudon in 1551, and he died at Paris in 1553. "The Great and
+     Inestimable Chronicles of the Grand and Enormous Giant
+     Gargantua" ("Les Grandes et Inestimables Chroniques du Grande
+     et Enorme Géant Gargantua"), and its sequel, "Pantagruel,"
+     appeared between 1533 and 1564. Had these appeared during
+     Rabelais' life, his career would probably have been shorter
+     than it was, for the work is, with all its humour, a very
+     bitter satire against both the Roman Church and the
+     Calvinistic. Rabelais is one of the very great French writers
+     and humourists whose work is closely connected with English
+     literature. But what he borrowed from Sir Thomas More, he
+     generously repaid to Shakespeare, Swift, and Sterne. The
+     famous Abbey of Thelema is inspired by More's "Utopia"; on the
+     other hand, Shakespeare's praise of debt is taken from the
+     speech of Panurge--the most humorous character in French
+     literature, and worthy to stand beside Falstaff.
+
+
+_I.--The Very Horrific Life of the Great Gargantua_
+
+
+Grangousier was a right merry fellow in his time, and he had as great a
+love as any man living in the world for neat wine and salt meat. When he
+came to man's estate he married Gargamelle, daughter to the king of the
+Parpaillons, a jolly wench and good looking, who died in giving birth to
+a son.
+
+They had gone out with their neighbours in a hurl to Willow Grove, and
+there on the thick grass they danced so gallantly that it was a heavenly
+sport to see them so frolic. Then began flagons to go, gammons to trot,
+goblets to fly, and glasses to rattle. "Draw, reach, fill, mix. Give it
+to me--without water; so my friend. Whip me off this bowl gallantly.
+Bring me some claret, a full glass running over. A truce to thirst! By
+my faith, gossip, I cannot get in a drinking humour! Have you caught a
+cold, gammer? Let's talk of drinking. Which was first, thirst or
+drinking? Thirst, for who would have drunk without thirst in the time of
+innocence? I do, as I am a sinner. I drink to prevent thirst. I drink
+for the thirst to come. Let's have a song, a catch; let us sing a round.
+Drink for ever, and you shall never die! When I am not drinking I am as
+good as dead. Drink, or I'll--The appetite comes with eating and the
+thirst goes with drinking. Nature abhors a vacuum. Swallow it down, it
+is wholesome medicine!"
+
+It was at this moment that Gargantua was born. He did not whimper as the
+other babes used to do, but with a high, sturdy, and big voice, he
+shouted out, "Drink, drink, drink!" The sound was so extremely great
+that it rang over two counties. I am afraid that you do not thoroughly
+believe in the truth of this strange nativity. Believe it or not, I do
+not care. But an honest man, a man of good sense, always believes what
+is told him, and what he finds written.
+
+When the good man Grangousier, who was then merrily drinking with his
+guests, heard his son roar out for drink, he said to him in French, "Que
+Grand Tu As et souple le gousier!" That is to say, "How great and nimble
+a throat thou hast." Hearing this, the company said that the child
+verily ought to be called Gargantua, because it was the first word
+uttered by his father at his birth. Which the father graciously
+permitted, and to calm the child they gave him enough drink to crack his
+throat, and then carried him to the font where he was christened
+according to the manner of good Christians.
+
+So great was Gargantua, even when a babe of a day old, that seventeen
+thousand nine hundred and thirteen cows were required to furnish him
+with milk. By the ancient records to be seen in the chamber of accounts
+at Montsoreau, I find that nine thousand six hundred ells of blue velvet
+were used for his gown, four hundred and six ells of crimson velvet were
+taken up for his shoes, which were soled with the hides of eleven
+hundred brown cows; and the rest of his costume was in proportion. By
+the commandment of his father, Gargantua was brought up and instructed
+in all convenient discipline, and he spent his time like the other
+children of the country--that is, in drinking, eating, and sleeping; in
+eating, sleeping, and drinking; and in sleeping, drinking, and eating.
+
+In his youth he studied hard under a very learned man, called Master
+Tubal Holofermes, and, after studying with him for five years and three
+months, he learnt so much that he was able to say the alphabet
+backwards. About this time, the king of Numidia sent out of the country
+of Africa to Grangousier, the hugest and most enormous mare that was
+ever seen. She was as large as six elephants, and of a burnt sorrel
+colour with dapple grey spots; but, above all, she had a horrible tail.
+For it was little more or less as great as the pillar of St. Mars,
+which, as you know, is eighty-six feet in height.
+
+When Grangousier saw her, he said, "Here is the very thing to carry my
+son to Paris. He shall go there and learn what the study of the young
+men of France is, and in time to come he shall be a great scholar!"
+
+The next morning, after, of course, drinking, Gargantua set out on his
+journey. He passed his time merrily along the highway, until he came a
+little above Orleans, in which place there was a forest five-and-thirty
+leagues long and seventeen wide. This forest was most horribly fertile
+and abundant in gadflies and hornets, so that it was a very purgatory
+for asses and horses. But Gargantua's mare handsomely avenged all the
+outrages committed upon beasts of her kind. For as soon as she entered
+the forest, and the hornets gave the attack, she drew out her tail and
+swished it about, and swept down all the trees with as much ease as a
+mower cuts grass. And since then there has been neither a forest nor a
+hornet's nest in that place, for all the country was thereby reduced to
+pasture land.
+
+At last Gargantua came to Paris, and inquired what wine they drank
+there, and what learning was to be had. Everybody in Paris looked upon
+him with great admiration. For the people of this city are by nature so
+sottish, idle, and good-for-nothing, that a mountebank, a pardoner come
+from Rome to sell indulgences, or a fiddler in the crossways, will
+attract together more of them than a good preacher of the Gospel. So
+troublesome were they in pursuing Gargantua, that he was compelled to
+seek a resting-place on the towers of Notre Dame. There he amused
+himself by ringing the great bells, and it came into his mind that they
+would serve as cowbells to hang on the neck of his mare, so he carried
+them off to his lodging.
+
+At this all the people of Paris rose up in sedition. They are, as you
+know, so ready to uproars and insurrections, that foreign nations wonder
+at the stupidity of the kings of France at not restraining them from
+such tumultuous courses, seeing the manifold inconveniences which thence
+arise from day to day. Believe for a truth, that the place where the
+people gathered together was called Nesle; there, after the case was
+proposed and argued, they resolved to send the oldest and most able of
+their learned men unto Gargantua to explain to him the great and
+horrible prejudice they sustained by the want of their bells. Thereupon
+Gargantua put up the bells again in their place, and in acknowledgement
+of his courtesy, the citizens offered to maintain and feed his mare as
+long as he pleased. And they sent her to graze in the forest of Biére,
+but I do not think she is there now.
+
+For some years Gargantua studied at Paris under a wise and able master,
+and grew expert in manly sports of all kinds, as well as in learning of
+every sort. Then he was called upon to return to his country to take
+part in a great and horrible war.
+
+
+_II.--The Marvellous Deeds of Friar John_
+
+
+The war began in this way: At the time of the vintage, the shepherds of
+Grangousier's country were set to guard the vines and hinder the
+starlings from eating the grapes. Seeing some cake-bakers of Lerné
+passing down the highway with ten or twelve loads of cakes, the
+shepherds courteously asked them to sell some of their wares at the
+market price. The cake-bakers, however, were in no way inclinable to the
+request of the shepherds; and, what is worse, they insulted them hugely,
+calling them babblers, broken-mouths, carrot-pates, tunbellies,
+fly-catchers, sneakbies, joltheads, slabberdegullion druggels, and other
+defamatory epithets. And when one honest shepherd came forward with the
+money to buy some of the cakes, a rude cake-baker struck him a rude lash
+with a whip. Thereupon some farmers and their men, who were watching
+their walnuts close by, ran up with their great poles and long staves,
+and thrashed the cake-bakers as if they had been green rye.
+
+When they were returned to Lerné, the cake-makers complained to their
+king, Picrochole, saying that all the mischief was done by the shepherds
+of Grangousier. Picrochole incontinently grew angry and furious, and
+without making any further question, he had it cried throughout his
+country that every man, under pain of hanging, should assemble in arms
+at noon before his castle. Thereupon, without order or measure, his men
+took the field, ravaging and wasting everything wherever they passed
+through. All that they said to any man that cried them mercy, was: "We
+will teach you to eat cakes!"
+
+Having pillaged the town of Seuillé, they went on with the horrible
+tumult to an abbey. Finding it well barred and made fast, seven
+companies of foot and two hundred lances broke down the walls of the
+close, and began to lay waste the vineyard. The poor devils of monks did
+not know to what saint to pray in their extremity, and they made
+processions and said litanies against their foes. But in the abbey at
+that time was a cloister-monk named Friar John of the Trenchermen,
+young, gallant, frisky, lusty, nimble, quick, active, bold, resolute,
+tall, wide-mouthed, and long-nosed; a fine mumbler of matins, a fair
+runner through masses, and a great scourer of vigils--to put it short, a
+true monk, if ever there was one since the monking world monked a
+monkery. This monk, hearing the noise that the enemy made in the
+vineyard, went to see what they were doing, and perceiving that they
+were gathering the grapes out of which next year's drink of the abbey
+ought to be made, he grew mighty angry. "The devil take me," he cried,
+"if they have not already chopped our vines so that we shall have no
+drink for years to come! Did not St. Thomas of England die for the goods
+of the church? If I died in the same cause should I not be a saint
+likewise? However, I shall not die for them, but make other men to do
+so."
+
+Throwing off his monk's habit, he took up a cross made out of a sour
+apple-tree, which was as long as a lance, and with it he laid on lustily
+upon his enemies. He scattered the brains of some, and the legs and arms
+of others. He broke their necks; he had off their heads; he smashed
+their bones; he caved in their ribs; he impaled them, and he transfixed
+them. Believe me, it was a most horrible spectacle that ever man saw.
+Some died without speaking, others spoke without dying; some died while
+they were speaking, others spoke while they were dying. So great was the
+cry of the wounded, that the prior and all his monks came forth, and
+seeing the poor wretches hurt to death, began to confess them. But when
+those who had been shriven tried to depart, Friar John felled them with
+a terrible blow, saying, "These men have had confession and are
+repentant, so straight they go into Paradise!"
+
+Thus by his prowess and valour were discomfited all those of the army,
+under the number of thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-two, that
+entered the abbey close. Gargantua, who had come from Paris to help his
+father against Picrochole, heard of the marvellous feats of Friar John,
+and sought his aid, and by means of it utterly defeated the enemy. What
+became of Picrochole after his defeat I cannot say with certainty, but I
+was told that he is now a porter at Lyons. He always inquires of all
+strangers on the coming of the Cocquecigrues, for an old woman has
+prophesied that at their coming he shall be re-established in his
+kingdom.
+
+
+_III.--The Abbey of Thelema_
+
+
+Gargantua was mightily pleased with Friar John, and he wanted to make
+him abbot of several abbeys in his country. But the monk said he would
+never take upon him the government of monks. "Give me leave," he said,
+"to found an abbey after my own fancy." The notion pleased Gargantua,
+who thereupon offered him all the country of Thelema by the river of
+Loire. Friar John then asked Gargantua to institute his religious order
+contrary to all others. At that time they placed no women into nunneries
+save those who were ugly, ill-made, foolish, humpbacked, or corrupt; nor
+put any men into monasteries save those that were sickly, ill-born,
+simple-witted, and a burden to their family. Therefore, it was ordained
+that into this abbey of Thelema should be admitted no women that were
+not beautiful and of a sweet disposition, and no men that were not
+handsome, well-made, and well-conditioned. And because both men and
+women that are received into religious orders are constrained to stay
+there all the days of their lives, it was therefore laid down that all
+men and women admitted to Thelema should have leave to depart whenever
+it seemed good to them. And because monks and nuns made three vows of
+poverty, chastity, and obedience, it was appointed that those who
+entered into the new order might be rich and honourably married and live
+at liberty.
+
+For the building of the abbey Gargantua gave twenty-seven hundred
+thousand eight hundred and thirty-one long-wooled sheep; and for the
+maintenance thereof he gave an annual fee-farm rent of twenty-three
+hundred and sixty-nine thousand five hundred and fourteen rose nobles.
+In the building were nine thousand three hundred and thirty-two
+apartments, each furnished with an inner chamber, a cabinet, a wardrobe,
+a chapel, and an opening into a great hall. The abbey also contained
+fine great libraries and spacious picture galleries.
+
+All the life of the Thelemites was laid out, not by laws and rules, but
+according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose from their beds
+when it seemed good to them; they drank, worked, ate, slept, when the
+wish came upon them. No one constrained them in anything, for so had
+Gargantua established it. Their rule consisted of this one clause:
+
+    DO WHAT THOU WILT
+
+Because men are free, well-born, well-bred, conversant in honest
+company, have by nature an instinct and a spur that always prompt them
+to virtuous actions and withdraw them from vice; and this they style
+honour. When the time was come that any man wished to leave the abbey,
+he carried with him one of the ladies who had taken him for her faithful
+servant, and they were married together; and if they had formerly lived
+together in Thelema in devotion and friendship, still more did they so
+continue in wedlock; insomuch that they loved one another to the end of
+their lives, as on the first day of their marriage.
+
+
+_IV.--Pantagruel and Panurge_
+
+
+At the age of four hundred four score and forty-four years, Gargantua
+had a son by his wife, Badebec, daughter of one of the kings of Utopia.
+And because in the year that his son was born there was a great drought,
+Gargantua gave him the name of Pantagruel; for panta in Greek is as much
+as to say all, and gruel in the Arabic language has the same meaning as
+thirsty. Moreover, Gargantua foresaw, in the spirit of prophesy, that
+Pantagruel would one day be the ruler of the thirsty race, and that if
+he lived very long he would arrive at a goodly age.
+
+Like his father, Pantagruel went to Paris to study. There his spirit
+among his books was like fire among heather, so indefatigable was it and
+ardent. One day as Pantagruel was taking a walk without the city he met
+a man of a comely stature and elegant in all the lineaments of his body,
+but most pitifully wounded, and clad in tatters and rags.
+
+"Who are you, my friend?" said Pantagruel. "What do you want, and what
+is your name?" The man answered him in German, gibberish, Italian,
+English, Basque, Lantern-language, Dutch, Spanish, Danish, Hebrew,
+Greek, Breton, and Latin.
+
+"Well, well, my friend," replied Pantagruel, when the man had come to an
+end, "can you speak French?"
+
+"That I can very well, sir," he replied, "for my name is Panurge, and I
+was bred and born in Touraine, which is the garden of France. I have
+just come from Turkey, where I was taken prisoner, and my throat is so
+parched and my stomach so empty that if you will only put a meal before
+me, it will be a fine sight for you to see me walk into it."
+
+Pantagruel had conceived a great affection for the wandering scholar,
+and he took him home and set a great store of food before him. Panurge
+ate right on until the evening, went to bed as soon as he finished,
+slept till dinner time next day, so that he only made three steps and a
+jump from bed to table. Panurge was of a middle height, and had a nose
+like that of the handle of a razor. He was a very gallant and proper man
+in his person, and the greatest thief, drinker, roysterer, and rake in
+Paris. With all that, he was the best fellow in the world, and he was
+always contriving some mischief or other. Pantagruel, being pleased with
+him, gave him the castellany of Salmigondin, which was yearly worth
+6,789,106,789 royals of certain rent; besides the uncertain revenue of
+cockchafers and snails, amounting one year with another to the value of
+2,435,768, or 2,435,769 French crowns of Berry. Sometimes it amounted to
+1,234,554,321 seraphs, when it was a good season, and cockchafers and
+snails in request; but that was not every year.
+
+The new castellan conducted himself so well and prudently than in less
+than fourteen days he wasted all the revenue of his castellany for three
+whole years. Yet he did not throw it away in building churches and
+founding monasteries, but spent it in a thousand little banquets and
+joyful festivals, keeping open house for all good fellows and pretty
+girls who came that way.
+
+Pantagruel being advertised of the affair was in no wise offended. He
+only took Panurge aside, and sweetly represented to him that if he
+continued to live in this manner it would be difficult at any time to
+make him rich.
+
+"Rich?" answered Panurge. "Have you undertaken the impossible task to
+make me rich? Be prudent, like me, and borrow money beforehand, for you
+never know how things will turn out."
+
+"But," said Pantagruel, "when will you be out of debt?"
+
+"The Lord forbid I should ever be out of debt," replied Panurge. "Are
+you indebted to somebody? He will pray night and morning that your life
+may be blessed, long and prosperous. Fearing to lose his debt, he will
+always speak good of you in every company; moreover, he will continually
+get new creditors for you, in the hope, that, through them, you will be
+able to pay him."
+
+To this Pantagruel answering nothing. Panurge went on with his
+discourse, saying: "To think that you should run full tilt at me and
+twit me with my debts and creditors! In this one thing only do I esteem
+myself worshipful, reverend, and formidable. I have created something
+out of nothing--a line of fair and jolly creditors! Imagine how glad I
+am when I see myself, every morning, surrounded by them, humble,
+fawning, and full of reverence. You ask me when I will be out of debt.
+May the good Saint Babolin snatch me, if I have not always held that
+debt was the connection and tie between the heavens and the earth; the
+only bond of union of the human race; without it the whole progeny of
+Adam would soon perish. A world without debts! Everything would be in
+disorder. The planets, reckoning they were not indebted to each other,
+would thrust themselves out of their sphere. The sun would not lend any
+light to the earth. No rain would descend on it, no wind blow there, and
+there would be no summer or harvest. Faith, hope, and charity will be
+quite banished from such a world; and what would happen to our bodies?
+The head would not lend the sight of its eyes to guide the hands and the
+feet; the feet would refuse to carry the head, and the hands would leave
+off working for it. Life would go out of the body, and the chafing soul
+would take its flight after my money.
+
+"On the contrary, I shall be pleased to represent unto your fancy
+another world, in which everyone lends and everyone owes. Oh, how great
+will be the harmony among mankind! I lose myself in this contemplation.
+There will be peace among men; love, affection, fidelity, feastings,
+joy, and gladness; gold, silver, and merchandise will trot from hand to
+hand. There will be no suits of law, no wars, no strife. All will be
+good, all will be fair, all will be just. Believe me, it is a divine
+thing to lend, and an heroic virtue to owe. Yet this is not all. We owe
+something to posterity."
+
+"What is that?" said Pantagruel.
+
+"The task of creating it," said Panurge. "I have a mind to marry and get
+children."
+
+"We must consult the Oracle of the Divine Bottle," exclaimed Pantagruel,
+"before you enter on so dangerous an undertaking. Come, let us prepare
+for the voyage."
+
+
+_V.--The Divine Bottle_
+
+
+Pantagruel knew that the Oracle of the Divine Bottle could only be
+reached by a perilous voyage in unknown seas and strange islands. But,
+undismayed by this knowledge, he fitted out a great fleet at St. Malo,
+and sailed beyond the Cape of Good Hope to Lantern Land. As they were
+voyaging along, beyond the desolate land of the Popefigs and the blessed
+island of the Papemanes, Pantagruel heard voices in the air, and the
+pilot said: "Be not afraid, my lord! We are on the confines of the
+frozen sea, where there was a great fight last winter between the
+Arimaspians and the Nepheliabetes. The cries of the men, the neighing of
+the horses, and all the din of battle froze in the air, and now that the
+warm season is come, they are melting into sound."
+
+"Look," said Pantagruel, "here are some that are not yet thawed." And he
+threw on deck great handfuls of frozen words, seeming like sugar-plums
+of many colours. Panurge warmed some of them in his hands, and they
+melted like snow into a barbarous gibberish. Panurge prayed Pantagruel
+to give him some more, but Pantagruel told him that to give words was
+the part of a lover.
+
+"Sell me some, then," cried Panurge.
+
+"That is the part of a lawyer," said Pantagruel. But he threw three or
+four more handfuls of them on the deck, and as they melted all the
+noises of the battle rang about the ship.
+
+From this point Pantagruel sailed straight for Lantern Land, and came to
+the desired island in which was the Oracle of the Bottle. On the front
+of the Doric portal was engraved in fine gold the sentence: "In Wine,
+Truth." The noble priestess, Bachuc, led Panurge to the fountain in the
+temple, within which was placed the Divine Bottle. After he had danced
+round it three Bacchic dances, she threw a magic powder into the
+fountain, and its water began to boil violently and Panurge sat upon the
+ground and waited for the oracle. First of all a noise like that made by
+bees at their birth came from the Divine Bottle, and immediately after
+this was heard the word, "Drink!"
+
+The priestess then filled some small leather vessels with this fantastic
+water, and gave them to Panurge and Pantagruel, saying: "If you have
+observed what is written above the temple gates, you at last know that
+truth is hidden in wine. Be yourselves the expounders of your
+undertaking, and now go, friends, in the protection of that intellectual
+sphere, the centre of which is in all places and the circumference
+nowhere, which we call God. What has become of the art of calling down
+from heaven, thunder and celestial fire, once invented by the wise
+Prometheus? You have certainly lost it. Your philosophers who complain
+that all things were written by the ancients, and that nothing is left
+for them to invent, are evidently wrong. When they shall give their
+labour and study to search out, with prayer to the sovereign God (whom
+the Egyptians named the Hidden and Concealed, and invoking Him by that
+name, besought Him to manifest and discover Himself to them), He will
+grant to them, partly guided by good Lanterns, knowledge of Himself and
+His creatures. For all philosophers and ancient sages have considered
+two things necessary for the sure and pleasant pursuit of the way of
+divine knowledge and choice of wisdom--the goodness of God, and the
+company of men.
+
+"Now go, in the name of God, and may He guide you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CHARLES READE
+
+
+Hard Cash
+
+
+     Charles Reade made his first appearance as an author
+     comparatively late in life. He was the son of an English
+     squire, born at Ipsden on June 8, 1814, and was educated for
+     the Bar, being entered at Lincoln's Inn in 1843. His literary
+     career began as dramatist, and it is significant that it was
+     his own wish that the word "dramatist" should stand first in
+     the description of his works on his tombstone. His maiden
+     effort in stage literature, "The Ladies' Battle," was produced
+     in 1851; but it was not until November, 1852, with the
+     appearance of "Masks and Faces"--the story which he afterwards
+     adapted into prose under the title of "Peg Woffington"--that
+     Reade became famous as a playwright. From 1852 until his
+     death, which occurred on April 11, 1884, Reade's life is
+     mainly a catalogue of novels and dramas. Like many of Charles
+     Reade's works, "Hard Cash, a Matter-of-Fact Romance," is a
+     novel with a purpose, and was written with the object of
+     exposing abuses connected with the lunacy laws and the
+     management of private lunatic asylums. Entitled "Very Hard
+     Cash," it first appeared serially in the pages of "All the
+     Year Round," then under the editorship of Charles Dickens, and
+     although its success in that form was by no means
+     extraordinary, its popularity on its publication in book form
+     in 1863 was well deserved and emphatic. The appearance of
+     "Hard Cash," which is a sequel to a comparatively trivial
+     tale, "Love me Little, Love me Long," provoked much hostile
+     criticism from certain medical quarters--criticism to which
+     Reade replied with vehemence and characteristic vigour. His
+     activity in the campaign against the abuses of lunacy law did
+     not end with the publication of this story, since he conducted
+     personal investigations in many individual cases of false
+     imprisonment under pretence of lunacy.
+
+
+_I.--The Dodd and Hardie Families_
+
+
+In a snowy-villa, just outside the great commercial seaport, Barkington,
+there lived, a few years ago, a happy family. A lady, middle-aged, but
+still charming; two young friends of hers, and an occasional visitor.
+
+The lady was Mrs. Dodd; her periodical visitor her husband, the captain
+of an East Indiaman; her friends were her son Edward, aged twenty, and
+her daughter, Julia, nineteen.
+
+Mrs. Dodd was the favourite companion and bosom friend of both her
+children. They were remarkably dissimilar. Edward was comely and manly,
+no more; could walk up to a five-barred gate and clear it; could row all
+day, and then dance all night; and could not learn his lessons to save
+his life.
+
+In his sister Julia modesty, intelligence, and, above all, enthusiasm
+shone, and made her an incarnate sunbeam.
+
+This one could learn her lessons with unreasonable rapidity, and Mrs.
+Dodd educated her herself, from first to last; but Edward she sent to
+Eton, where he made good progress--in aquatics and cricket.
+
+In spite of his solemn advice--"you know, mamma, I've got no
+headpiece"--he was also sent to Oxford, and soon found he could not have
+carried his wares to a better market. Advancing steadily in that line of
+study towards which his genius lay, he was soon as much talked about in
+the university as any man in his college, except one. Singularly enough,
+that one was his townsman--much Edward's senior in standing, though not
+in age. Young Alfred Hardie was doge of a studious clique, and careful
+to make it understood that he was a reading man who boated and cricketed
+to avoid the fatigue of lounging.
+
+To this young Apollo, crowned with variegated laurel, Edward looked up
+from a distance, praised him and recorded his triumphs in all his
+letters; but he, thinking nothing human worthy of reverence but
+intellect, was not attracted by Edward, till at Henley he saw Julia, and
+lo! true life had dawned. He passed the rest of the term in a soft
+ecstasy, called often on Edward, and took a prodigious interest in him,
+and counted the days till he should be for four months in the same town
+as his enchantress. Within a month of his arrival in Barkington he
+obtained Mrs. Dodd's permission to ask his father's consent to propose
+an engagement to Julia, which was promptly refused; and inquiry,
+petulance, tenderness, and logic were alike wasted on Mr. Hardie by his
+son in vain. He would give no reason. But Mrs. Dodd, knowing him of old,
+had little doubt, and watched her daughter day and night to find whether
+love or pride was the stronger, all the mother in arms to secure her
+daughter's happiness. Finding this really at stake, she explained that
+she knew the nature of Mr. Hardie's objections, and they were objections
+that her husband, on his return, would remove. "My darling," she said,
+"pray for your father's safe return, for on him, and on him alone, your
+happiness depends, as mine does."
+
+Next day Mrs. Dodd walked two hours with Alfred, and his hopes revived
+under her magic, as Julia's had. The wise woman quietly made terms. He
+was not to come to the house except on her invitation, unless indeed he
+had news of the Agra to communicate; but he might write once a week, and
+enclose a few lines to Julia. On this he proceeded to call her his best,
+dearest, loveliest friend--his mother. That touched her. Hitherto he had
+been to her but a thing her daughter loved. Her eyes filled.
+
+"My poor, warm-hearted, motherless boy," she said, "pray for my
+husband's safe return."
+
+So now two more bright eyes looked longingly seaward for the Agra,
+homeward bound.
+
+
+_II.--Richard Hardie's Villainy_
+
+
+Richard Hardie was at that moment the unlikeliest man in Barkington to
+decline Julia Dodd, with hard cash in five figures, for his
+daughter-in-law.
+
+The great banker stood, a colossus of wealth and stability to the eye,
+though ready to crumble at a touch, and, indeed, self-doomed; for
+bankruptcy was now his game. This was a miserable man, far more so than
+his son, whose happiness he was thwarting; and of all things that gnawed
+him, none was more bitter than to have borrowed £5,000 of his children's
+trust money, and sunk it. His son's marriage would expose him; lawyers
+would peer into trusts, etc.
+
+When his son announced his attachment to a young lady living in a
+suburban villa it was a terrible blow, but if Alfred had told him hard
+cash in five figures could be settled by the bride's family on the young
+couple, he would have welcomed the wedding with a secret gush of joy,
+for he could then have thrown himself on Alfred's generosity, and been
+released from that one corroding debt.
+
+He had for months spent his days poring over the books, fabricating and
+maturing a false balance-sheet. Suspecting that the cashier was watching
+him, he one day handed him his dismissal, polite but peremptory, and
+went on cooking his accounts with surpassing dignity. Rage supplying the
+place of courage, the cashier let him know that he--poor, despised Noah
+Skinner--had kept genuine books while he had been preparing false ones.
+
+He was at the mercy of his servant, and bowed his pride to flatter
+Skinner, and soon saw this was the way to make him a clerk of wax. He
+became his accomplice, and on this his master told him everything it was
+impossible to keep from him. At this moment Captain Dodd was announced.
+Mr. Hardie explained to his new ally the danger that threatened him from
+Miss Julia Dodd.
+
+"And now," said he, "the women have sent the father to soften me. I
+shall be told his girl will die if she can't have my boy."
+
+But, instead of the heartbroken father he expected, in came the gallant
+sailor, with a brown cheek reddened with triumph and excitement, who
+held out his hand cordially, almost shouting in a jovial voice, "Well,
+sir, here I am, just come ashore, and visiting you before my very wife;
+what d'ye think of that?"
+
+Hardie stared, and remained on his guard, puzzled; while David Dodd
+showed his pocket-book, and in the pride of his heart, and the fever in
+his blood--for there were two red spots on his cheeks all the time--told
+the cold pair its adventures in a few glowing words; the Calcutta
+firm--the two pirates--the hurricane--the wrecks, the land-sharks he had
+saved it from. "And here it is safe, in spite of them all, and you must
+be good enough to take care of it for me."
+
+He then opened the pocket-book, and Mr. Hardie ran over the notes and
+bills, and said the amount was £14,010 12s. 6d.
+
+Dodd asked for a receipt, and while it was written poor Dodd's heart
+overflowed.
+
+"It's my children's fortune, you see; I don't look on a sixpence of it
+as mine. It belongs to my little Julia, bless her, she's a rosebud if
+ever there was one; and my boy Edward, he's the honestest young chap you
+ever saw; but how could they miss either good looks or good hearts, and
+her children? Here's a Simple Simon vaunting his own flesh and blood,
+but you know how it is with us fathers; our hearts are so full of the
+little darlings, out it must come. You can imagine how joyful I feel at
+saving their fortune from land-sharks, and landing it safe in an honest
+man's hands."
+
+Skinner gave him the receipt.
+
+"All right, little gentleman; now my heart is relieved of such a weight.
+Good-bye, shake hands. God bless you! God bless you both!" And with this
+he was out and making ardently for Albion Villa.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later the door burst open, and David Dodd stood on the
+threshold, looking terrible. He seemed black and white with anger and
+anxiety. Making a great effort to control his agitation, he said, "I
+have changed my mind, sir; I want my money back."
+
+Mr. Hardie said faintly, "Certainly; may I ask----"
+
+"No matter," cried Dodd. "Come! My money! I must and will have it."
+
+Hardie drew himself up majestically; and Dodd said, "Well, I beg your
+pardon, but I can't help it!"
+
+The banker's mind went into a whirl. It was death to part with this
+money and get nothing by it. He made excuses. Dodd eyed him sternly, and
+said quietly, "So you can't give me my money because your cashier has
+carried it away. It is not in this room, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What, not in that safe there?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Hardie stoutly.
+
+"My money! My money!" cried David fiercely. "No more words. I know you
+now. I _saw_ you put it in that safe. You want to steal my children's
+money. My money, ye pirate, or I'll strangle you!"
+
+While Hardie unlocked the safe with trembling hands, Dodd stood like a
+man petrified; the next moment his teeth gnashed loudly together, and he
+fell headlong on the floor in a fit. So the £14,000 remained with the
+banker.
+
+Not many days after this a crowd stood in front of the old bank, looking
+at the shutters, and a piece of paper announcing a suspension, only for
+a month or so.
+
+Many things now came to Alfred Hardie's knowledge till he began to
+shudder at his own father, and was troubled with dark, mysterious
+surmises, and wandered alone, or sat brooding and dejected. Richard
+Hardie's anxiety to know whether David Dodd was to live or die
+increased. He was now resolved to fly to the United States with his
+booty, and cheat his son with the rest. On his putting a smooth inquiry
+to Alfred, his face flushed with shame or anger, and he gave a very
+short, obscure reply. So he invited the doctor to dinner, and elicited
+the information that David's life indeed was saved, but he was a maniac;
+and his sister, a sensible, resolute woman, had signed the certificate,
+and he was now in a private asylum.
+
+Mr. Hardie smiled, and sipped his tea luxuriously; he would not have to
+go to a foreign land after all. Who would believe a lunatic? He said, "I
+presume, Alfred, you are not so far gone as to insist on propagating
+insanity by a marriage with Captain Dodd's daughter now?"
+
+Alfred ground his teeth, and replied that his father should be the last
+man to congratulate himself on the affliction that had fallen on that
+family he aspired to enter, all the more now they had calamities for him
+to share.
+
+"More fool you," put in Mr. Hardie calmly.
+
+"For I much fear you are the cause of that calamity."
+
+"I really don't know what you allude to."
+
+The son fixed his eyes on his father, and said, "The fourteen thousand
+pounds, sir!"
+
+One unguarded look confirmed Alfred's suspicions; he could not bear to
+go on exposing his father, and wandered out, sore perplexed and nobly
+wretched, into the night.
+
+
+_III.--Alfred in Confinement_
+
+
+At last Alfred decided that justice _must_ be done, and confided his
+suspicions to the Dodds. Edward's good commonsense at once settled that,
+as the man who married Julia would be the greatest sufferer by Hardie
+senior's fraud, Hardie junior should settle his own £10,000 on her, and
+marry her as soon as he came of age. Alfred joyfully agreed, privately
+arranging that the money should be settled on Julia's parents, and
+preparations went on apace.
+
+But on the wedding-day the bridal party waited in vain for the
+bridegroom, and Edward ran to his lodgings to fetch him.
+
+He came back alone, white with wrath, hurried the insulted bride and her
+mother into the carriage, and they went home as if from a funeral. Aye,
+and a funeral it was; for the sweetest girl in England buried her hopes,
+her laugh, her May of youth that day.
+
+As soon as possible this heartbroken trio removed to London, where Mrs.
+Dodd became a dressmaker, and Edward a fireman.
+
+It was true Alfred _had_ received a letter in a female hand, but it was
+from a discharged servant of his father's, offering information about
+the £14,000 if he would come to a house about ten miles off the next
+morning. He calculated he could do so, and still be in the church in
+time, and drove there with all his luggage, only to find himself shut up
+in a lunatic asylum.
+
+He made a desperate resistance, but was soon overpowered and left
+handcuffed, hobbled, and strapped down, more helpless than a swaddled
+infant. He lay mute as death in his gloomy cell; deeper horror grew and
+grew, gusts of rage swept over him, gusts of despair. What would his
+Julia think? He shouted, he screamed, he prayed. He saw her, lovelier
+than ever, all in white, waiting for him, with sweet concern in her
+peerless face. Half-past ten struck. He struggled, he writhed, he made
+the very room shake, and lacerated his flesh, but that was all. No
+answer, no help, no hope.
+
+By-and-by his good wit told him his only chance was calmness; they could
+not long confine him as a madman, being sane. But all his efforts to
+convince his keepers that he was sane were useless; his letters seemed
+to go, but he got no answers; his appeals to visiting justices were in
+vain. The responsibility rested with the people who signed the
+certificates, and he could not even find out who they were. After months
+of softening hearts and buying consciences, he was on the point of
+escape, when he was moved to another asylum. Here there was no
+brutality, but constant watchfulness; and he had almost prevailed on the
+doctor to declare him cured when he was again moved to a still more
+brutal place, if possible, than the first.
+
+One day he found himself locked in his room. This was unusual, for
+though they called him a lunatic in words, they called him sane by all
+their acts. He thought the commissioners must be in the house; had he
+known who really was in the house he would have beaten himself to pieces
+against the door.
+
+At dinner there was a new patient, very mild and silent, with a
+beautiful mild brown eye like some gentle animal's. Alfred contrived to
+say some kind word to him; and the newcomer handled his forelock, and
+announced himself as William Thompson, adding, with simple pride, "Able
+seaman, just come aboard, your honour."
+
+At night Alfred dreamed he heard Julia's sweet, mellow voice speaking to
+him; and lo, it was the able seaman. He slept no more, but lay sighing.
+
+The matron told him this was David Dodd, Alfred redoubled his efforts to
+escape, and at last one of the keepers consented to help him off. He was
+sitting on his bed full dressed, full of hope, his money in his pocket,
+waiting for his liberator. Every moment he expected to hear the key in
+the door.
+
+Then came a smell of burning, and feet ran up and down. "Fire!" rang
+from men's voices. Fire cracked above his head; he sprang up at the
+window, and dashed his hand through it, and fell back. He sprang again,
+and caught the woodwork; it gave way, and he fell back, nearly stunning
+himself. The flames roared fearfully now, and David, thinking it was a
+tempest, shouted appropriate orders. Alfred implored him, and got him to
+kneel down with him, and prayed. He gave up all hope, and prepared to
+die.
+
+Crash! As if discharged from a cannon, came bursting through the window
+a helmeted figure, rope in hand, and alighted erect and commanding on
+the floor. All three faces came together, and Edward recognised his
+father and Alfred Hardie. Edward clawed his rope to the bed, and hauled
+up a rope ladder, crying, "Now, men, quick for your lives!" But poor
+David called that deserting the ship, and demurred, till Alfred assured
+him the captain had ordered it. He then touched his forelock to Edward,
+and went down the ladder. Alfred followed.
+
+They were at once overpowered with curiosity and sympathy, and had to
+shake a hundred hands.
+
+"Gently, good friends; don't part us," said Alfred.
+
+"He's the keeper," said one of the crowd, and all helped them to the
+back door.
+
+Alfred ran off across country for bare life. To his horror, David
+followed him, shouting cheerily, "Go ahead, messmate, I smell blue
+water."
+
+"Come on, then!" cried Alfred, half mad himself; and the pair ran
+furiously the livelong night. Free!
+
+
+_IV.--Into Smooth Waters_
+
+
+Exhilarated by freedom, Alfred began to nurse aspiring projects; he
+would indict his own father and the doctor, and wipe off the stigma they
+had cast on him. Meantime, he would cure David and restore him to his
+family. They bowled along towards blue water with a perfect sense of
+security. But at Folkestone, David disappeared, and Alfred, hearing as
+he ran wildly all over the place that there was "another party on the
+same lay"--the mad gentleman's wife--took the first train to London,
+dispirited and mortified. David was in good hands, however, and Alfred
+had glorious work on hand--love and justice.
+
+He at once put his affairs into a lawyer's hands, and thought of love
+alone. After a violent encounter with his late keepers and a narrow
+escape from capture, in the midst of Elysium with Julia, her mother
+returned in despair. David had completely disappeared. Again these
+lovers were separated, and again Edward's commonsense came to the
+rescue. Alfred went back to Oxford to read for his first class, and
+Julia to her district visiting, while the terrible delays of the law
+went on. Alfred had begun to believe trial by jury would never be
+allowed him, and when at last, after many postponements, the trial did
+come on, he was being examined in the schools, and refused to come till
+his counsel had actually opened the case. Mr. Thomas Hardie, Alfred's
+uncle, was the defendant, for it was proved he had authorised Alfred's
+arrest.
+
+A detective had been employed to find Mr. Barkington, a little man in
+Julia's district, whom the lawyers suspected might be useful; and when
+the trial was half over, he led them all in great excitement to the back
+slums of Westminster. Mr. Barkington, _alias_ Noah Skinner, was wanted
+by another client of his.
+
+The room was full of an acrid vapour, and a mummified figure sat at the
+table, dead this many a day of charcoal fumes; in his hand a banker's
+receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for £14,000. The lawyer was handing it to
+Julia, having just found a will bequeathing all Skinner had in the world
+to her, with his blessing, when a solemn voice said: "No; it is mine."
+
+A keen cry from Julia's heart, and in an instant she was clinging round
+her father's neck. Edward could only get at his hand. Instinct told them
+Heaven had given them back their father, mind and all.
+
+Alfred Hardie slipped out, and ran like a deer to tell Mrs. Dodd.
+
+Husband and wife met alone in Mrs. Dodd's room. No eyes ventured to
+witness a scene so strange, so sacred.
+
+They all thought in their innocence that Hardie _v_. Hardie was now at
+an end, with Captain Dodd ready to prove Alfred's sanity; but the lawyer
+advised them not to put the captain to the agitation of the witness-box.
+
+Mr. Thomas Hardie, the defendant, won the case for Alfred by admitting
+in the witness-box that his brother Richard had declared that "if you
+don't put Alfred in a madhouse, I will put you in one."
+
+The jury found for the plaintiff, Alfred Hardie, and gave the damages at
+£3,000. The verdict was received with acclamation by the people, and in
+the midst of this Alfred's lawyer announced that the plaintiff had just
+gained his first class at Oxford.
+
+Mr. Richard Hardie restored the £14,000, and a few years later died a
+monomaniac, believing himself penniless when he possessed £60,000.
+
+Alfred married Julia, and, with the consent of his wife, took his father
+to live with them. Then Alfred determined to pay in full all who had
+been ruined by the bank failure, and in time the old bank was reopened
+with Edward Dodd as managing partner. In the end, no creditor of Richard
+Hardie was left unpaid. Alfred went in for politics and became an M.P.
+for Barkington; whence to dislodge him I pity anyone who tries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+It Is Never Too Late to Mend
+
+
+     "It is Never Too Late to Mend, a Matter-of-Fact Romance,"
+     published in 1856, is, like "Hard Cash," a story with a
+     purpose, the object in this instance being to illustrate the
+     abuses of prison discipline in England and Australia. Many of
+     the passages describing Australian life are exceptionally
+     vivid and imaginative, and exhibit Charles Reade, if not in
+     the front rank of novelists of his day, at least occupying a
+     high position.
+
+
+_I.--In Berkshire_
+
+
+George Fielding, assisted by his brother William, tilled The Grove--as
+nasty a little farm as any in Berkshire. It was four hundred acres, all
+arable, and most of it poor, sour land. A bad bargain, and the farmer
+being sober, intelligent, proud, sensitive, and unlucky, is the more to
+be pitied.
+
+Susanna Merton was beautiful and good; George Fielding and she were
+acknowledged lovers, but latterly old Merton had seemed cool whenever
+his daughter mentioned the young man's name.
+
+William Fielding, George's brother, was in love with his brother's
+sweetheart, but he never looked at her except by stealth; he knew he had
+no business to love her.
+
+While George Fielding had been going steadily down-hill, till even the
+bank declined to give him credit, Mr. Meadows, who had been a carter,
+was, at forty years of age, a rich corn-factor and land surveyor.
+
+This John Meadows was not a common man. He had a cool head, and an iron
+will; and he had the soul of business--method.
+
+Meadows was generally respected; by none more than by old Merton. In
+fact, it seemed to Merton that John Meadows would make a better
+son-in-law than George Fielding.
+
+The day came when a distress was issued against Fielding's farm for the
+rent, and as it happened on that very day Susan and her father had come
+to dinner at The Grove. Old Merton, knowing how things stood, spoke his
+mind to George.
+
+"You are too much of a man, I hope, to eat a woman's bread; and if you
+are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it. If Susan marries you
+she will have to keep you instead of you her."
+
+"Is this from Susanna, as well as you?" said George, with a trembling
+lip.
+
+"Susan is an obedient daughter. What I say she'll stand to."
+
+This was blow number two for George Fielding. The third stroke on that
+day was the arrest of Mr. Robinson who had been staying at The Grove as
+a lodger. Mr. Robinson dressed well, too well, perhaps, but somehow the
+rustics wouldn't accept him for a gentleman. George had taken a great
+liking to his lodger, and Mr. Robinson was equally sincere in his
+friendship for Fielding. And now it turned out that the fools who had
+disparaged Robinson were right, and he, George Fielding, wrong. Before
+his eyes, and amidst the grins of a score of gaping yokels, Thomas
+Robinson, alias Scott, a professional thief, was handcuffed and carried
+off to the county gaol.
+
+This finished George. An invitation to go out to Australia with the
+younger son of a neighbouring landowner, hitherto disregarded, was now
+accepted.
+
+Old Merton approved the decision, and when his daughter implored him not
+to let George go, he replied plainly, to both of them:
+
+"Susan! Mayhap the lad thinks me his enemy, but I'm not. My daughter
+shall not marry a bankrupt farmer, but you bring home a thousand
+pounds--just one thousand pounds--to show me you are not a fool, and you
+shall have my daughter, and she shall have my blessing." And the old
+farmer gave George his hand upon it.
+
+Meadows exulted, thinking, with George in Australia, he could secure his
+own way with Susan and old Merton. He had forgotten one man; old Isaac
+Levi, of whom he had made an implacable enemy, by insisting on his
+turning out of the house where he lived. Meadows, having bought the
+house, intended to live in it himself, and treated the prayers and
+entreaties of the old Jew with contempt. Only the interference of George
+Fielding, on the day of his own ruin, had saved old Levi from personal
+violence at the hands of Meadows; and so while George was sinking under
+the blows of fortune, he had made a friend in Isaac Levi.
+
+Before George sailed William promised that he would think no more of
+Susan as a sweetheart.
+
+"She's my sister from this hour--no more, no less," he declared. "And
+may the red blight fall on my arm and my heart if I or any man takes her
+from you--any man! Sooner than a hundred men should take her from you
+while I am here I'd die at their feet a hundred times."
+
+William kept his eye on Meadows, but Meadows soon had William in his
+clutches. For John Meadows lent money upon ricks, waggons, leases, and
+such things, to farmers in difficulties, employing as his agent in these
+transactions a middle-aged, disreputable lawyer named Peter Crawley--a
+cunning fool and a sot.
+
+First William Fielding, and then old Merton were heavy debtors to Peter
+Crawley, that is to John Meadows; for Merton, a solid enough farmer, was
+beguiled into rash and ruinous speculations by a friend of Meadows'.
+
+And now George Fielding is gone to Australia to make a thousand pounds
+by farming and cattle-feeding, so that he may marry Susan. Susan, at
+home, is often pensive and always anxious, but not despondent. Meadows
+is falling deeper and deeper in love, but keeping it jealously secret;
+on his guard against Isaac Levi, and on his guard against William;
+hoping everything from time and accidents, and from George's incapacity
+to make money; and watching with keen eye and working with subtle
+threads to draw everybody into his power who could assist or thwart him
+in his object. William Fielding is going down the hill, Meadows was
+mounting; getting the better of his passion, and gradually substituting
+a brother-in-law's regard. Within eighteen months William was happily
+married to another farmer's daughter in the neighbourhood.
+
+
+_II.--In Gaol_
+
+
+Under Governor Hawes the separate and silent system flourished in ----
+gaol, and the local justices entirely approved the system. In the view
+of Hawes and the justices severe punishment of mind and body was the
+essential object of a gaol.
+
+Now Tom Robinson had not been in gaol these four years, and though he
+had heard much of the changes in gaol treatment, they had not yet come
+home to him. When, therefore, instead of being greeted with the
+boisterous acclamations of other spirits as bad as himself, he was
+ushered into a cell white as driven snow, and his duties explained to
+him, the heavy penalty he was under should a speck of dirt ever be
+discovered on the walls or floor, Thomas looked blank and had a
+misgiving. To his dismay he found that the silent cellular system was
+even carried out in the chapel, where each prisoner had a sort of
+sentry-box to himself, and that the hour's promenade for exercise
+conversation was equally impossible.
+
+The turnkeys were surly and forbidding, and the hours dragged wearily to
+this active-minded prisoner. Robinson was driven to appeal to the
+governor to put him on hard labour.
+
+"We'll choose the time for that," said the governor, with a knowing
+smile. "You'll be worse before you are better, my man."
+
+On the tenth day Robinson tried to exchange a word with a prisoner in
+chapel, and for this he was taken to the black-hole.
+
+Now Robinson was a man of rare capacity, full of talent and the courage
+and energy that show in action, but not rich in the fortitude that bears
+much. When they took him out of the black-hole, after six hours'
+confinement, he was observed to be white as a sheet, and to tremble
+violently all over.
+
+The day after this the doctor reported No. 19--this was Robinson--to be
+sinking, and on this Hawes put him to garden work. The man's life and
+reason were saved by that little bit of labour. Then for a day or two he
+was employed in washing the corridors, and in making brushes; after
+that, came the crank. This was a machine consisting of a vertical post
+with an iron handle, and it was worked as villagers draw a bucket up
+from a well.
+
+"Eighteen hundred revolutions per hour, and two hours before dinner,"
+was the order given to No. 19, a touch of fever a few days later made it
+impossible for him to get through his task, and Hawes brutally had the
+unfortunate prisoner placed in the jacket.
+
+This horrible form of torture consisted of a stout waistcoat, with a
+rough-edged collar. Robinson knew resistance was useless. He was jammed
+in the jacket, pinned tight to the collar, and throttled in the collar.
+Weakened by fever, he succumbed sooner than the torturers had calculated
+upon, and a few minutes later No. 19 would have been a corpse if he had
+not been released.
+
+Water was dashed over him, and then Hawes shouted: "I never was beat by
+a prisoner yet, and I never will be," and had him put back again. Every
+time he fainted, water was thrown over him.
+
+The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so
+that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket. "He
+will break out before long," said Hawes to himself, "and then--"
+
+Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side
+of his prudence. This bitter struggle in the thief's heart harmed his
+soul more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny. All the
+vices of the old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical
+effect of solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs. He made a
+desperate appeal to the chaplain: "We have no friends here, sir, but
+you--not one. Have pity on us."
+
+But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man--unequal to the task of
+standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and
+governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.
+
+Robinson now became a far worse man. He hated the human race, and said
+to himself, "From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!"
+
+It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office,
+and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.
+
+Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the
+punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners,
+and in the end triumphed handsomely. Hawes, in the face of an official
+inquiry by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane
+regime was instituted in the gaol.
+
+For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but
+when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the
+darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson's sanity
+preserved,--the man's heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn
+to honesty.
+
+Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the
+promise of an early ticket-of-leave. Mr. Eden, anxious for the man's
+future, thought of George Fielding. Taking Sunday duty in the parish
+where Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted
+with Susan, and had learnt her story. He now wrote to her: "Thomas
+Robinson goes to Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave
+almost immediately. I have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that
+poor Robinson with such a companion would be as honest as the day, and a
+useful friend, for he is full of resources. So I want you to do a
+Christian act, and write a note to Mr. Fielding, and let this poor
+fellow take it to him."
+
+Susan's letter came by return of post. Robinson sailed in the convict
+ship for Australia, and in due time was released. He found George
+Fielding at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan,
+and his own readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between
+the two men.
+
+
+_III.--Between Australia and Berkshire_
+
+
+Meadows, having the postmaster at Farnborough under his thumb, read all
+George's letters to Susan before they were delivered. As long as George
+was in difficulties--and the thousand pounds seemed as far off as ever
+until Tom Robinson struck gold and shared the luck with his partner--the
+letters gave Meadows no uneasiness. With the discovery of gold he
+decided Susan must hear no more from her lover, and that Fielding must
+not return. By this time, old Merton was heavily in debt to Meadows, and
+saw escape from bankruptcy only in Meadows becoming his son-in-law,
+while Susan was kindly disposed to Meadows because he said nothing of
+love, and was willing to talk about Australia.
+
+Meadows confided his plan to Peter Crawley.
+
+"My plan has two hands; I must be one, you the other. _I_ work thus: I
+stop all letters from him to her. Presently comes a letter from
+Australia telling how George Fielding has made his fortune and married a
+girl out there. She won't believe it at first, perhaps, but when she
+gets no more letters from him she will. Of course, I shall never mention
+his name, but I make one of my tools hang gaol over old Merton. Susan
+thinks George married. I strike upon her pique and her father's
+distress. I ask him for his daughter; offer to pay my father-in-law's
+debts and start him afresh. Susan likes me already. She will say no,
+perhaps, three or four times, but the fifth she will say yes. Crawley,
+the day that John and Susan Meadows walk out of church man and wife I
+put a thousand pounds into your hand and set you up in any business you
+like; in any honest business, that is. But suppose, Crawley, while I am
+working, this George Fielding were to come home with money in both
+pockets?"
+
+"He would kick it all down in a moment."
+
+"Crawley, George Fielding must not come back this year with a thousand
+pounds. That paper will prevent him; it is a paper of instructions. My
+very brains lie in that paper; put it in your pocket. You are going a
+journey, and you will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month."
+
+"When am I to start, sir? Where am I to go to?"
+
+"To-morrow morning. To Australia."
+
+A dead silence on both sides followed these words, as the two colourless
+faces looked into one another's eyes across the table.
+
+To Australia Peter Crawley went, and with half-a-dozen of the most
+villainous ruffians on earth in his pay, it seemed impossible for
+Fielding and Robinson to escape. But here the ex-thief's alertness came
+to George Fielding's aid, and the two men managed to get the better of
+all the robbers and assassins who attacked their tent. Robinson, in
+fact, not only saved his own and his partner's lives, by common consent
+he was elected captain at the gold-diggings, and by his authority some
+sort of law and order were established throughout the camp, and all
+thefts were heavily punished.
+
+The finding of a large nugget by Robinson ended gold-digging for these
+two men. The nugget was taken to Sydney and fetched £3,800, and when
+Crawley, who had pursued them from the camp, reached the city, he found
+they had already sailed for England.
+
+George Fielding went to Australia to make £1,000, and by industry,
+sobriety, and cattle, he did not make £1,000; but, with the help of a
+converted thief, he did by gold-digging, industry, and sobriety, make
+several thousand pounds, and take them safe away home, spite of many
+wicked devices and wicked men.
+
+Mr. Meadows flung out Peter Crawley, his left hand, into Australia to
+keep George from coming back to Susan with £1,000, and his left hand
+failed, and failed completely. But his right hand?
+
+
+_IV.--George Fielding's Return_
+
+
+One market day a whisper passed through Farnborough that George Fielding
+had met with wonderful luck. That he had made his fortune by gold, and
+was going to marry a young lady out in Australia. Farmer Merton brought
+the whisper home; Meadows was sure he would.
+
+When eight months had elapsed without a letter from George, Susan could
+no longer deceive herself with hopes. George was either false to her or
+dead. She said as much to Meadows, and this inspired him with the idea
+of setting about a report that George was dead. Susan's mind had long
+been prepared for bitter tidings, and when old Merton tried in a clumsy
+way to prepare her for sad news, she fixed her eyes on him, and said,
+"Father, George is dead."
+
+Old Merton hung his head, and made no reply. Susan crept from the room
+pale as ashes.
+
+Then Meadows contradicted this report, and showed a letter he had
+received, saying that "George Fielding was married yesterday to one of
+the prettiest girls in Sydney. I met them walking in the street to-day."
+
+"He is alive!" Susan said. "Thank God he is alive. I will not cry for
+another woman's husband."
+
+It was not pique that made Susan accept John Meadows, it was to save her
+father from ruin. She said plainly that she could not pretend affection,
+and that it was only her indifference that made her consent. She tried
+to give happiness, and to avoid giving pain, but her heart of hearts was
+inaccessible.
+
+The return of Crawley with the news that Fielding and Robinson were at
+hand, drove Meadows to persuade Susan to hasten the marriage. The
+following Monday had been fixed, Susan agreed to let it take place the
+preceding Thursday.
+
+The next thing was Meadows himself recognised Fielding and Robinson;
+they were staying the night at the King's Head, in Farnborough, where
+Meadows was taking a glass of ale. He promptly decided on his game. The
+travellers called for hot brandy-and-water, and while the waiter left it
+for a moment, Meadows dropped the contents of a certain white paper into
+the liquor. In the dead of night he left his bedroom, and crept to the
+room where Robinson slept. The drug had done its work. Meadows found
+£7,000 under the sleeper's pillow, and carried the notes off undetected.
+
+He returned in the early morning to his own house, he explained to
+Crawley why he had done this. "Don't you see that I have made George
+Fielding penniless, and that now old Merton won't let him have his
+daughter. He can't marry her at all now, and when the writ is served on
+old Merton he will be as strong as fire for me and against George
+Fielding. I am not a thief, and the day I marry Susan £7,000 will be put
+in George Fielding's hand; he won't know by whom, but you and I shall
+know. I am a sinner, but not a villain."
+
+He lit a candle and placed it in the grate. "Come now," Meadows said
+coolly, "burn them; then they will tell no tale."
+
+Crawley shrieked: "No, no, sir! Don't think of it, give them to me, and
+in twelve hours I will be in France!"
+
+Meadows hesitated, and then agreed to give him the notes on condition
+Crawley went to France that very day.
+
+Crawley kept faith. He hugged his treasure to his bosom, and sat down at
+the railway-station waiting for the train.
+
+Old Isaac Levi was there, and a police officer whom Crawley knew.
+
+"You have £7,000 about you, Mr. Crawley," whispered Isaac in his ear.
+"Stolen! Give it up to the police officer. Stolen by him, received by
+you. Give it up unless you prefer a public search. Here is a search
+warrant from the mayor."
+
+"I won't without Mr. Meadows' authority. Send for Mr. Meadows, if you
+dare!"
+
+"Well, we will take you to Mr. Meadows. Keep the money till you see him,
+but we must secure you. Let us go in a carriage."
+
+Meantime, Mr. Meadows had gone to the bank, and had made over the sum of
+£7,000 to George Fielding and Thomas Robinson. Then he hastened to the
+church, for it was his wedding-day, and every delay was dangerous.
+
+The parson was late, and while Meadows stood waiting outside the church,
+along with old Merton and his daughter, and a crowd of neighbours,
+George Fielding and Robinson came up.
+
+"Susan!" cried a well-known voice behind her. The bride turned, and
+forgot everything at the sight of George's handsome, honest face, and
+threw herself into his arms. George kissed the bride.
+
+"What have you done?" cried Susan. "You are false to me! You never wrote
+me a letter for twelve months, and you are married to a lady in
+Bathurst! Oh, George!"
+
+"Who has been telling her I have ever had a thought of any girl but
+her?" said George sternly. "Here is the ring you gave me, Susan."
+
+"Miss Merton and I are to be married to-day," said Meadows.
+
+"I was there before you, Mr. Meadows, but I won't stand upon that, and I
+wouldn't give a snap of the finger to have her if her will was toward
+another. So please yourself, Susan, my lass; only this must end. Choose
+between John Meadows and George Fielding."
+
+Susan looked up in astonishment.
+
+"What choice can there be? The moment I saw your face I forgot there was
+a John Meadows in the world!" With that she bolted off home.
+
+George turned to old Merton.
+
+"I crossed the seas on the faith of your promise, and I have brought
+back the thousand pounds."
+
+"John," said old Merton, "I must stand to my word, and I will--it is
+justice."
+
+It was then that Robinson, producing his pocket-book, found they had
+been robbed. Despair fell upon George. But Meadows was promptly hindered
+from pursuing any advantage by the arrival of Isaac Levi, with a
+magistrate and police officers. Presently Crawley was produced. The game
+was up. Levi had overheard all that had passed between Meadows and
+Crawley. Crawley turned upon Meadows, and the magistrate had no choice
+but to commit Meadows for trial, while the notes were returned to their
+rightful owners.
+
+A month later George and Susan were married, and Farmer Merton's debts
+paid.
+
+Robinson wisely went back to Australia, and more wisely married an
+honest serving-maid. He is respected for his intelligence and good
+nature, and is industrious and punctilious in business.
+
+When the assizes came on neither Robinson nor George was present to
+prosecute, and their recognisances were forfeited. Meadows and Crawley
+were released, and Meadows went to Australia. His mother, who hated her
+son's sins, left her native land at seventy to comfort him and win him
+to repentance.
+
+"Even now his heart is softening," she said to herself. "Three times he
+has said to me 'That George Fielding is a better man than I am.' He will
+repent; he bears no malice, he blames none but himself. It is never too
+late to mend."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+The Cloister and the Hearth
+
+
+     "The Cloister and the Hearth" a Tale of the Middle Ages, is by
+     common consent the greatest of all Charles Reade's stories. A
+     portion of it originally appeared in 1859 in "Once a Week,"
+     under the title of "A Good Fight," and such was its success in
+     this guise that it increased the circulation of that
+     periodical by twenty thousand. During the next two years
+     Reade, recognising its romantic possibilities, expanded it to
+     its present length. As a picture of the manners and customs of
+     the times it is almost unsurpassable; yet pervading the whole
+     is the strong, clear atmosphere of romantic drama never
+     allowing the somewhat ample descriptions to predominate the
+     thrilling interest with which the story is charged. Sir Walter
+     Besant regarded it as the "greatest historical novel in the
+     language." Swinburne remarked of it that "a story better
+     conceived, better constructed, or better related, it would be
+     difficult to find anywhere."
+
+
+_I.--Gerard Falls in Love_
+
+
+It was past the middle of the fifteenth century when our tale begins.
+
+Elias, and Catherine his wife, lived in the little town of Tergon in
+Holland. He traded, wholesale and retail, in cloth and curried leather,
+and the couple were well to do. Nine children were born to them; four of
+these were set up in trade, one, Giles, was a dwarf, another, little
+Catherine, was a cripple. Cornelis, the eldest, and Sybrandt, the
+youngest, lived at home, too lazy to work, waiting for dead men's shoes.
+
+There remained young Gerard, a son apart and distinct, destined for the
+Church. The monks taught him penmanship, and continued to teach him,
+until one day, in the middle of a lesson, they discovered he was
+teaching them. Then Gerard took to illuminating on vellum, and in this
+he was helped by an old lady, Margaret Van Eyck, sister of the famous
+brothers Van Eyck, who had come to end her days near Tergon. When Philip
+the Good, Count of Flanders, for the encouragement of the arts, offered
+prizes for the best specimens of painting on glass and illumination on
+vellum, Gerard decided to compete. He sent in his specimens, and his
+mother furnished him with a crown to go to Rotterdam and see the work of
+his competitors and the prize distribution. Gerard would soon be a
+priest, she argued; it seemed hard if he might not enjoy the world a
+little before separating himself from it for life.
+
+It was on the road to Rotterdam, within a league of the city, that
+Gerard found an old man sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a
+comely young woman holding his hand. The old man wore a gown, and a fur
+tippet, and a velvet cap--sure signs of dignity; but the gown was rusty,
+and the fur old--sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed in
+plain russet cloth, yet snow-white lawn covered her neck.
+
+"Father, I fear you are tired," said Gerard bashfully.
+
+"Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man; "and faint for lack of
+food."
+
+The girl whispered, "Father, a stranger--a young man!" But Gerard, with
+simplicity, and as a matter of course, was already gathering sticks for
+a fire. This done, he took down his wallet, and brought his tinder-box
+and an iron flask his careful mother had put in.
+
+Ghysbrecht Van Swikten, the burgomaster of Tergon, an old man redolent
+of wealth, came riding by while Gerard was preparing a meal of soup and
+bread by the roadside. He reined in his steed and spoke uneasily: "Why,
+Peter--Margaret--what mummery is this?" Then, seeing Gerard, he cast a
+look of suspicion on Margaret, and rode on. The wayfarers did not know
+that more than half the wealth of the burgomaster belonged to old Peter
+Brandt, now dependent on Gerard for his soup; but Ghysbrecht knew it,
+and carried it in his heart, a scorpion of remorse that was not
+penitence.
+
+From that hour Gerard was in love with Margaret, and now began a pretty
+trouble. For at Rotterdam, thanks to a letter from Margaret Van Eyck,
+Gerard won the favour of the Princess Marie, who, hearing that he was to
+be a priest, promised him a benefice. And yet no sooner was Gerard
+returned home to Tergon than he must needs go seeking Margaret, who
+lived alone with her father, old Peter Brandt, at Sevenbergen.
+Ghysbrecht's one fear was that if Gerard married Margaret the youth
+would sooner or later get to hear about certain documents in the
+burgomaster's possession, documents which established Brandt's right to
+lands held by the burgomaster, and which old Peter had long forgotten.
+
+So Ghysbrecht went to Eli and Catherine and showed them a picture Gerard
+had made of Margaret Brandt, and said that if Eli ordered it his son
+should be locked up until he came to his senses. Henceforth there was no
+longer any peace in the little house at Tergon, and at last Eli declared
+before the whole family that he had ordered the burgomaster to imprison
+his son Gerard in the Stadthouse rather than let him marry Margaret.
+Gerard turned pale at this, and his father went on to say, "and a priest
+you shall be before this year is out, willy-nilly."
+
+"Is it so?" cried Gerard. "Then hear me all. By God and St. Bavon, I
+swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives. Since force is to
+decide it, and not love and duty, try force, father. And the day I see
+the burgomaster come for me I leave Tergon for ever, and Holland too,
+and my father's house, where it seems I am valued only for what is to be
+got out of me."
+
+And he flung out of the room white with anger and desperation.
+
+"There!" cried Catherine. "That comes of driving young folk too hard.
+Now, heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or single."
+
+Gerard went to his good friend Margaret Van Eyck, who advised him to go
+to Italy, where painters were honoured like princes, and to take the
+girl he loved with him. Ten golden angels she gave him besides to take
+him to Rome.
+
+Gerard decided to marry Margaret Brandt at once, and a day or two later
+they stood before the altar of Sevenbergen Church. But the ceremony was
+never concluded, although Gerard got a certificate from the priest, for
+Ghysbrecht getting wind of what was afoot, sent his servants, who
+stopped the marriage, and carried Gerard off to the burgomaster's
+prison. In the room where he was confined were very various documents,
+which the prisoner got hold of.
+
+Gerard escaped from the prison, and vowing he had done with Tergon, bade
+farewell to Margaret, and set off for Italy. Once across the frontier in
+Germany he was safe from Ghysbrecht's malice. He also had in his keeping
+the piece of parchment which gave certain lands to Peter Brandt, and
+which Ghysbrecht had hitherto held.
+
+
+_II.--To Rome_
+
+
+It is likely Gerard would never have reached Rome but for his faithful
+comrade Denys, a soldier making his way home to Burgundy, whom he met
+early on the road. Gerard, at first, was for going on alone, but his
+companion would not be refused.
+
+"You will find me a dull companion, for my heart is very heavy," said
+Gerard, yielding.
+
+"I'll cheer you, mon gars."
+
+"I think you would," said Gerard sweetly; "and sore need have I of a
+kindly voice in mine ear this day."
+
+"Oh, no soul is sad alongside me. I lift up their poor little hearts
+with my consigne; 'Courage, tout le monde, le diable est mort.' Ha! Ha!"
+
+"So be it, then," said Gerard. "We will go together as far as Rhine, and
+God go with us both!"
+
+"Amen!" said Denys, and lifted up his cap.
+
+The pair trudged manfully on, and Denys enlivened the weary way. He
+chattered about battles and sieges, and things which were new to Gerard;
+and he was one of those who _make_ little incidents wherever they go. He
+passed nobody without addressing him. "They don't understand it, but it
+wakes them up," said he. But, whenever they fell in with a monk or
+priest, he pulled a long face and sought the reverend father's blessing,
+and fearlessly poured out on him floods of German words in such order as
+not to produce a single German sentence. He doffed his cap to every
+woman, high or low, he caught sight of, and complimented her in his
+native tongue, well adapted to such matters; and at each carrion crow or
+magpie down came his crossbow, and he would go a furlong off the road to
+circumvent it; and indeed he did shoot one old crow with laudable
+neatness, and carried it to the nearest hen-roost, and there slipped in
+and sat it upon a nest. "The good-wife will say, 'Alack, here is
+Beelzebub a hatching of my eggs.'"
+
+But the time came for parting and Denys, with a letter from Gerard to
+Margaret Brandt, reached Tergon, and found Eli and Catherine and gave
+them news of their son. "Many a weary league we trode together," said
+Denys. "Never were truer comrades; never will be while earth shall last.
+First I left my route a bit to be with him, then he his to be with me.
+We talked of Sevenbergen and Tergon a thousand times, and of all in this
+house. We had our troubles on the road, but battling them together made
+them light. I saved his life from a bear, he mine in the Rhine; for he
+swims like a duck, and I like a hod o' bricks; and we saved one
+another's lives at an inn in Burgundy, where we two held a room for a
+good hour against seven cut-throats, and crippled one and slew two; and
+your son met the stoutest champion I ever countered, and spitted him
+like a sucking-pig, else I had not been here. And at our sad parting,
+soldier though I be, these eyes did rain salt, scalding tears, and so
+did his, poor soul. His last word to me was: 'Go, comfort Margaret!' So
+here I be. Mine to him was: 'Think no more of Rome. Make for Rhine, and
+down stream home.'"
+
+Margaret Brandt had removed to Rotterdam, and there was no love lost
+between her and Catherine; but Gerard's letter drew them to a
+reconciliation, and from that day Catherine treated Margaret as her own
+daughter, and made much of Gerard's child when it was born. Eli and his
+son Richart, now a wealthy merchant, decided that Gerard must be bidden
+return home on the instant, for they longed to see him, and since he was
+married to Margaret, it was useless for any further strife on the
+matter.
+
+But Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster, knew by this time that Gerard had
+obtained the parchment relating to Peter Brandt's lands, and was anxious
+that Gerard should not return. Cornelis and Sybrandt were also against
+their brother, and willing to aid the burgomaster in any diabolical
+adventure. So a letter was concocted and Margaret Van Eyck's signature
+forged to it, and in this letter it was said that Margaret Brandt was
+dead.
+
+In the meantime, Gerard had reached Rome. The ship he sailed in was
+wrecked off the coast between Naples and Rome, and here Gerard was
+nearly drowned. He and a Dominican friar clung to a mast when the ship
+had struck.
+
+It was a terrible situation; one moment they saw nothing, and seemed
+down in a mere basin of watery hills; the next they caught glimpses of
+the shore speckled bright with people, who kept throwing up their arms
+to encourage them.
+
+When they had tumbled along thus a long time, suddenly the friar said
+quietly: "I touched the ground."
+
+"Impossible, father," said Gerard. "We are more than a hundred yards
+from shore. Prythee, leave not our faithful mast."
+
+"My son," said the friar, "you speak prudently. But know that I have
+business of Holy Church on hand, and may not waste time floating, when I
+can walk in her service. There, I felt it with my toes again! Thy
+stature is less than mine; keep to the mast; I walk." He left the mast
+accordingly, and extending his powerful arms, rushed through the water.
+Gerard soon followed him. At each overpowering wave the monk stood like
+a tower, and, closing his mouth, threw his head back to encounter it,
+then emerged and ploughed lustily on. At last they came close to the
+shore, and then the natives sent stout fishermen into the sea, holding
+by long spears, and so dragged them ashore.
+
+The friar shook himself, bestowed a short paternal benediction on the
+natives, and went on to Rome, without pausing.
+
+Gerard grasped every hand upon the beach. They brought him to an
+enormous fire, left him to dry himself, and fetched clothes for him to
+wear.
+
+Next day, towards afternoon, Gerard--twice as old as last year, thrice
+as learned in human ways, a boy no more, but a man who had shed blood in
+self-defence, and grazed the grave by land and sea--reached the Eternal
+City.
+
+
+_III.--The Cloister_
+
+
+Gerard stayed in Rome, worked hard, and got money for his illuminations.
+He put by money of all he earned, and Margaret seemed nearer and nearer.
+Then came the day when the forged letter reached him. "Know that
+Margaret Brandt died in these arms on Thursday night last. The last
+words on her lips was 'Gerard!' She said: 'Tell him I prayed for him at
+my last hour, and bid him pray for me.'" The letter was signed with
+Margaret Van Eyck's signature, sure enough.
+
+Gerard staggered against the window sill and groaned when he read this.
+His senses failed him; he ran furiously about the streets for hours.
+Despair followed.
+
+On the second day he was raving with fever on the brain, and on his
+recovery from the fever a dark cloud fell on Gerard's noble mind.
+
+His friend Fra Jerome, the same Dominican friar who had escaped from the
+wreck with him, exhorted him to turn and consecrate his gifts to the
+Church.
+
+"Malediction on the Church!" cried Gerard. "But for the Church I should
+not lie broken here, and she lie cold in Holland." Fra Jerome left him
+at this.
+
+Gerard's pure and unrivalled love for Margaret had been his polar star.
+It was quenched, and he drifted on the gloomy sea of no hope. He rushed
+fiercely into pleasure, and in those days, more than now, pleasure was
+vice. The large sums he had put by for Margaret gave him ample means for
+debauchery, and he sought for a moment's oblivion in the excitements of
+the hour. "Ghysbrecht lives; Margaret dies!" he would try out. "Curse
+life, curse death, and whosoever made them what they are!"
+
+His heart deteriorated along with his morals, and he no longer had
+patience for his art, as the habits of pleasure grew on him.
+
+Then life itself became intolerable to Gerard, and one night, in
+resolute despair, he flung himself into the river. But he was not
+allowed to drown, and was carried, all unconscious, to the Dominican
+convent. Gerard awoke to find Father Jerome by his bedside.
+
+"Good Father Jerome, how came I hither?" he inquired.
+
+"By the hand of Heaven! You flung away God's gift. He bestowed it on you
+again. Think of it! Hast tried the world and found its gall. Now try the
+Church! The Church is peace. Pax vobiscum!"
+
+Gerard learnt that the man who had saved him from drowning was a
+professional assassin.
+
+Saved from death by an assassin!
+
+Was not this the finger of Heaven--of that Heaven he had insulted,
+cursed, and defied?
+
+He shuddered at his blasphemies. He tried to pray, but found he could
+only utter prayers, and could not pray.
+
+"I am doomed eternally!" he cried. "Doomed, doomed!" Then rose the
+voices of the choir chanting a full service. Among them was one that
+seemed to hover above the others--a sweet boy's voice, full, pure,
+angelic.
+
+He closed his eyes and listened. The days of his own boyhood flowed back
+upon him.
+
+"Ay," he sighed, "the Church is peace of mind. Till I left her bosom I
+ne'er knew sorrow, nor sin."
+
+And the poor torn, worn creature wept; and soon was at the knees of a
+kind old friar, confessing his every sin with sighs and groans of
+penitence.
+
+And, lo! Gerard could pray now, and he prayed with all his heart.
+
+He turned with terror and aversion from the world, and begged
+passionately to remain in the convent. To him, convent nurtured, it was
+like a bird returning wounded, wearied, to its gentle nest.
+
+He passed his novitiate in prayer and mortification and pious reading
+and meditation.
+
+And Gerard, carried from the Tiber into that convent a suicide, now
+passed for a young saint within its walls.
+
+Upon a shorter probation than usual, he was admitted to priests' orders,
+and soon after took the monastic vows, and became a friar of St.
+Dominic.
+
+Dying to the world, the monk parted with the very name by which he had
+lived in it, and so broke the last link of association with earthly
+feelings. Here Gerard ended, and Brother Clement began.
+
+The zeal and accomplishments of Clement, especially his rare mastery of
+language, soon transpired, and he was destined to travel and preach in
+England, corresponding with the Roman centre.
+
+It was rather more than twelve months later when Clement and Jerome set
+out for England. They reached Rotterdam, and here Jerome, impatient
+because his companion lingered on the way, took ship alone, and advised
+Clement to stop awhile and preach to his own countrymen.
+
+Clement was shocked and mortified at this contemptuous desertion. He
+promised to sleep at the convent and preach whenever the prior should
+appoint, and then withdrew abruptly. Shipwrecked with Jerome, and saved
+on the same fragment of the wreck; his pupil, and for four hundred miles
+his fellow traveller in Christ; and to be shaken off like dirt, the
+first opportunity. "Why, worldly hearts are no colder nor less trusty
+than this," said he. "The only one that ever really loved me lies in a
+grave hard by at Sevenbergen, and I will go and pray over it."
+
+
+_IV.--Cloister and Hearth_
+
+
+Friar Clement, preaching in Rotterdam, saw Margaret in the church and
+recognised her. Within a day or two he learnt from the sexton, who had
+been in the burgomaster's service, the story of the trick that had been
+played upon him by his brothers, in league with Ghysbrecht.
+
+That same night a Dominican friar, livid with rage, burst into the room
+when Eli and Catherine were collected with their family round the table
+at supper.
+
+Standing in front of Cornelius and Sybrandt he cursed them by name, soul
+and body, in this world and the next. Then he tore a letter out of his
+bosom, and flung it down before his father.
+
+"Read that, thou hard old man, that didst imprison thy son, read, and
+see what monsters thou has brought into the world! The memory of my
+wrongs, and hers dwell with you all for ever! I will meet you again at
+the judgement day; on earth ye will never see me more!"
+
+And in a moment, as he had come, so he was gone, leaving them stiff and
+cold, and white as statues, round the smoking board.
+
+Eli drove Cornelis and Sybrandt out of doors at the point of a sword
+when he understood their infamy, and heavy silence reigned in his house
+that night.
+
+And where was Clement?
+
+Lying at full length upon the floor of the convent church, with his lips
+upon the lowest step of the altar, in an indescribable state of terror,
+misery, penitence, and self-abasement; through all of which struggled
+gleams of joy that Margaret was alive.
+
+Then he suddenly remembered that he had committed another sin besides
+intemperate rage. He had neglected a dying man. He rose instantly, and
+set out to repair the omission.
+
+The house he was called to was none other than the Stadthouse, and the
+dying man was his old enemy Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster.
+
+Clement trembled a little as he entered, and said in a low voice "Pax
+vobiscum." Ghysbrecht did not recognise Gerard in the Dominican friar,
+and promised in his sickness to make full restitution to Margaret Brandt
+for the withholding of her property from her.
+
+As soon as he was quite sure Margaret had her own, and was a rich woman,
+Friar Clement disappeared.
+
+The hermit of Gouda had recently died, and Clement found his cell amidst
+the rocks, and appropriated it. The news that he had been made vicar of
+Gouda never reached his ears to disturb him.
+
+It was Margaret who discovered Clement's hiding-place and sought him
+out, and begged him to leave the dismal hole he inhabited, and come to
+the vacant vicarage.
+
+"My beloved," said he, with a strange mixture of tenderness and dogged
+resolution, "I bless thee for giving me one more sight of thy sweet
+face, and may God forgive thee, and bless thee, for destroying in a
+minute the holy place it hath taken six months of solitude to build. I
+am a priest, a monk, and though my heart break I must be firm. My poor
+Margaret, I seem cruel; yet I am kind; 'tis best we part; ay, this
+moment."
+
+But Margaret went away, and, determined to drive Clement from his
+hermitage, returned again with their child, which she left in the cell
+in its owner's absence. Now, Clement was fond of children, and, thinking
+the infant had been deserted by some unfortunate mother, he at once set
+to work to comfort it.
+
+"Now bless thee, bless thee sweet innocent! I would not change thee for
+e'en a cherub in heaven," said Clement. Soon the child was nestling in
+the hermit's arms.
+
+"I ikes oo," said the little boy. "Ot is oo? Is oo a man?"
+
+"Ay, little heart, and a great sinner to boot"
+
+"I ikes great tingers. Ting one a tory."
+
+Clement chanted a child's story in a sort of recitative. The boy
+listened with rapture, and presently succumbed to sleep.
+
+Clement began to rock his new treasure in his arms, and to crone over
+him a little lullaby well known in Tergon, with which his own mother had
+often set him off.
+
+He sighed deeply, and could not help thinking what might have been but
+for a piece of paper with a lie in it.
+
+The next moment the moonlight burst into his cell, and with it, and in
+it, Margaret Brandt was down at his knee with a timorous hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Gerald, you do not reject us. You cannot."
+
+The hermit stared from the child to her in throbbing amazement.
+
+"Us?" he gasped at last.
+
+Margaret was surprised in her turn.
+
+"What!" she cried. "Doth not a father know his own child? Fie, Gerard,
+to pretend! 'Tis thine own flesh and blood thou holdest to thine heart."
+
+Long they sat and talked that night, and the end of it was Clement
+promised to leave his cave for the manse at Gouda. But once the new
+vicar was installed Margaret kept away from the parsonage. She left
+little Gerard there to complete the conquest her maternal heart ascribed
+to him, and contented herself with stolen meetings with her child.
+
+Then the new vicar of Gouda, his beard close shaved, and in a grey frock
+and large felt hat, came to bring her to the vicarage.
+
+"My sweet Margaret!" he cried. "Why is this? Why hold you aloof from
+your own good deed? We have been waiting and waiting for you every day,
+and no Margaret."
+
+And Margaret went to the manse, and found Catherine, Clement's mother,
+there; and next day being Sunday the two women heard the Vicar of Gouda
+preach in his own church. It was crammed with persons, who came curious,
+but remained. Never was Clement's gift as a preacher displayed more
+powerfully. In a single sermon, which lasted two hours, and seemed to
+last but twenty minutes, he declared the whole scripture.
+
+The two women in a corner sat entranced, with streaming eyes.
+
+As soon as they were by themselves, Margaret threw her arms round
+Catherine's neck and kissed her.
+
+"Mother, mother, I am not quite a happy woman, but oh! I am a proud
+one."
+
+And she vowed on her knees never by word or deed to let her love come
+between this young saint and heaven.
+
+The child, who lived to become the great Erasmus, was already winning a
+famous name at school, when Margaret was stricken with the plague and
+died. A fortnight later and Clement left his vicarage and entered the
+Dominican convent to end life as he began it. A few days later and he,
+too, was dead, and the convent counted him a saint.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SAMUEL RICHARDSON
+
+
+Pamela
+
+
+     Samuel Richardson, the son of a joiner, was born at some place
+     not identified in Derbyshire, England, 1689. After serving an
+     apprenticeship to a stationer, he entered a printing office as
+     compositor and corrector of the press. In 1719 Richardson,
+     whose career throughout was that of the industrious
+     apprentice, took up his freedom, and began business as printer
+     and stationer in Salisbury Court, London. Success attended his
+     venture; he soon published a newspaper, and also obtained the
+     printing of the journals of the House of Commons. "Pamela, or
+     Virtue Rewarded," was written as the result of a suggestion by
+     two booksellers that Richardson should compose a volume of
+     familiar letters for illiterate country folk. It was published
+     towards the end of 1740, and its vogue, in an age particularly
+     coarse and robust, was extraordinary. Of the many who
+     ridiculed his performance the most noteworthy was Fielding,
+     who produced what Richardson and his friends regarded as the
+     "lewd and ungenerous engraftment of 'Joseph Andrews.'" The
+     story has many faults, but the portrayal of Pamela herself is
+     accomplished with the success of a master hand. Richardson
+     died July 4, 1761.
+
+
+_I.--Pamela to her Parents_
+
+
+MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I have great trouble, and some comfort, to
+acquaint you with. The trouble is that my good lady died of the illness
+I mention'd to you, and left us all griev'd for the loss of her; for she
+was a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants. Much I fear'd,
+that as I was taken by her ladyship to wait upon her person, I should be
+quite destitute again, and forc'd to return to you and my poor mother,
+who have enough to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my lady's goodness
+had put me to write and cast accounts, and made me a little expert at my
+needle, and otherwise qualify'd above my degree, it was not every family
+that could have found a place that your poor Pamela was fit for. But
+God, whose graciousness to us we have so often experienc'd, put it into
+my good lady's heart, on her death-bed, just an hour before she expir'd,
+to recommend to my young master all her servants, one by one; and when
+it came to my turn to be recommended (for I was sobbing and crying at
+her pillow) she could only say, "My dear son!" and so broke off a
+little; and then recovering--"remember my poor Pamela!" and those were
+some of her last words! O, how my eyes overflow! Don't wonder to see the
+paper so blotted!
+
+Well, but God's will must be done, and so comes the comfort, that I
+shall not be obliged to return back to be a burden to my dear parents!
+For my master said, "I will take care of you all, my good maidens; and
+for you, Pamela (and took me by the hand before them all), for my dear
+mother's sake I will be a friend to you, and you shall take care of my
+linen." God bless him! and pray with me, my dear father and mother, for
+a blessing upon him, for he has given mourning and a year's wages to all
+my lady's servants; and I, having no wages as yet, my lady having said
+she would do for me as I deserv'd, ordered the housekeeper to give me
+mourning with the rest, and gave me with his own hand four guineas and
+some silver, which were in my lady's pocket when she died; and said if I
+was a good girl, and faithful and diligent, he would be a friend to me,
+for his mother's sake. And so I send you these four guineas for your
+comfort. I send them by John, our footman, who goes your way; but he
+does not know what he carries; because I seal them up in one of the
+little pill-boxes which my lady had, wrapp'd close in paper, that they
+may not chink, and be sure don't open it before him.
+
+Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be--
+
+                                                Your dutiful Daughter.
+
+I have been scared out of my senses, for just now, as I was folding up
+this letter in my lady's dressing-room, in comes my young master! Good
+sirs, how I was frightened! I went to hide the letter in my bosom, and
+he, seeing me tremble, said smiling, "To whom have you been writing,
+Pamela?" I said, in my confusion, "Pray your honour, forgive me! Only to
+my father and mother." "Well, then, let me see what a hand you write."
+He took it without saying more, and read it quite through, and then gave
+it me again. He was not angry, for he took me by the hand and said, "You
+are a good girl to be kind to your aged father and mother; tho' you
+ought to be wary what tales you send out of a family." And then he said,
+"Why, Pamela, you write a pretty hand, and _spell_ very well, too. You
+may look into any of my mother's books to improve yourself, so you take
+care of them."
+
+But I am making another long letter, so will only add to it, that I
+shall ever be your dutiful daughter.
+
+                                                        PAMELA ANDREWS
+
+
+_II.--Twelve Months Later_
+
+
+MY DEAR MOTHER,--You and my good father may wonder you have not had a
+letter from me in so many weeks; but a sad, sad scene has been the
+occasion of it. But yet, don't be frightened, I am honest, and I hope
+God, in his goodness, will keep me so.
+
+O this angel of a master! this fine gentleman! this gracious benefactor
+to your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the prayer of his
+good, dying mother! This very gentleman (yes, I _must_ call him
+gentleman, though he has fallen from the merit of that title) has
+degraded himself to offer freedoms to his poor servant; he has now
+showed himself in his true colours, and, to me, nothing appears so black
+and so frightful.
+
+I have not been idle; but had writ from time to time, how he, by sly,
+mean degrees, exposed his wicked views, but somebody stole my letter,
+and I know not what is become of it. I am watched very narrowly; and he
+says to Mrs. Jervis, the housekeeper, "This girl is always scribbling; I
+think she may be better employed." And yet I work very hard with my
+needle upon his linen and the fine linen of the family; and am, besides,
+about flowering him a waistcoat. But, oh, my heart's almost broken; for
+what am I likely to have for any reward but shame and disgrace, or else
+ill words and hard treatment!
+
+As I can't find my letter, I'll try to recollect it all. All went well
+enough in the main, for some time. But one day he came to me as I was in
+the summer-house in the little garden at work with my needle, and Mrs.
+Jervis was just gone from me, and I would have gone out, but he said,
+"Don't go, Pamela, I have something to say to you, and you always fly me
+when I come near you, as if you were afraid of me."
+
+I was much out of countenance you may well think, and began to tremble,
+and the more when he took me by the hand, for no soul was near us.
+
+"You are a little fool," he said hastily, "and know not what's good for
+yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you if you are
+obliging, and don't stand in your own light." And so saying, he put his
+arm about me and kiss'd me.
+
+Now, you will say, all his wickedness appear'd plainly. I burst from
+him, and was getting out of the summer-house, but he held me back, and
+shut the door.
+
+I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, "I'll do you no
+harm, Pamela; don't be afraid of me."
+
+I sobb'd and cry'd most sadly. "What a foolish hussy you are!" said he.
+"Have I done you any harm?" "Yes, sir," said I, "the greatest harm in
+the world; you have taught me to forget myself, and have lessen'd the
+distance that fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself to be
+so free to a poor servant. I am honest, though poor; and if you were a
+prince I would not be otherwise than honest."
+
+He was angry, and said, "Who, little fool, would have you otherwise?
+Cease your blubbering. I own I have undervalued myself; but it was only
+to try you. If you can keep this matter secret, you'll give me the
+better opinion of your prudence. And here's something," added he,
+putting some gold in my hand, "to make you amends for the fright I put
+you in. Go, take a walk in the garden, and don't go in till your
+blubbering is over."
+
+"I won't take the money, indeed, sir," said I, and so I put it upon the
+bench. And as he seemed vexed and confounded at what he had done, I took
+the opportunity to hurry out of the summer-house.
+
+He called to me, and said, "Be secret, I charge you, Pamela; and don't
+go in yet."
+
+O how poor and mean must those actions be, and how little they must make
+the best of gentlemen look, when they put it into the power of their
+inferiors to be greater than they!
+
+Pray for me, my dear father and mother; and don't be angry that I have
+not yet run away from this house, so late my comfort and delight, but
+now my terror and anguish. I am forc'd to break off hastily.
+
+                                     Your dutiful and honest DAUGHTER.
+
+
+_III.--Pamela in Distress_
+
+
+O my dearest Father and Mother,--Let me write and bewail my miserable
+fate, though I have no hope that what I write can be convey'd to your
+hands! I have now nothing to do but write and weep and fear and pray!
+But I will tell you what has befallen me, and some way, perhaps, may be
+opened to send the melancholy scribble to you. Alas, the unhappy Pamela
+may be undone before you can know her hard lot!
+
+Last Thursday morning came, when I was to set out and return home to
+you, my dearest parents. I had taken my leave of my fellow-servants
+overnight, and a mournful leave it was to us all, for men, as well as
+women servants, wept to part with me; and for _my_ part, I was
+overwhelmed with tears on the affecting instances of their love.
+
+My master was above stairs, and never ask'd to see me. False heart, he
+knew that I was not to be out of his reach! Preserve me, heaven, from
+his power, and from his wickedness!
+
+I look'd up when I got to the chariot, and I saw my master at the
+window, and I courtsy'd three times to him very low, and pray'd for him
+with my hands lifted up; for I could not speak. And he bow'd his head to
+me, which made me then very glad he would take such notice of me.
+
+Robin drove so fast that I said to myself, at this rate of driving I
+shall soon be with my father and mother. But, alas! by nightfall he had
+driven me to a farmhouse far from home; and the farmer and his wife, he
+being a tenant of Mr. B., my master, while they treated me kindly, would
+do nothing to aid me in flight. And next day he drove me still further,
+and when we stopped at an inn in a town strange to me, the mistress of
+the inn was _expecting_ me, and immediately called out for her sister,
+Jewkes. Jewkes! thought I. That is the name of the housekeeper at my
+master's house in Lincolnshire.
+
+Then the wicked creature appear'd, and I was frighted out of my wits.
+The wretch would not trust me out of her sight, and soon I was forced to
+set out with her in the chariot. Now I gave over all thoughts of
+redemption.
+
+Here are strange pains, thought I, taken to ruin a poor, innocent,
+helpless young female. This plot is laid too deep to be baffled, I fear.
+
+About eight at night we enter'd the courtyard of this handsome, large,
+old, lonely mansion, that looked to me then as if built for solitude and
+mischief. And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the scene of my
+ruin, unless God protect me, Who is all-sufficient.
+
+I was very ill at entering it, partly from fatigue, and partly from
+dejection of spirits. Mrs. Jewkes seem'd mighty officious to welcome me,
+and call'd me _madam_ at every word.
+
+"Pray, Mrs. Jewkes," said I, "don't _madam_ me so! I am but a silly,
+poor girl, set up by the gambol of fortune for a May-game. Let us,
+therefore, talk upon afoot together, and that will be a favour done me.
+I am now no more than a poor desolate creature, and no better than a
+prisoner."
+
+"Ay, ay," says she, "I understand something of the matter. You have so
+great power over my master that you will soon be mistress of us all; and
+so I will oblige you, if I can. And I must and will call you madam, for
+such are the instructions of my master, and you may depend upon it I
+shall observe my orders."
+
+"You will not, I hope," replied I, "do an unlawful or wicked thing for
+any master in the world."
+
+"Look ye!" said she. "He is my master, and if he bids me do a thing that
+I _can_ do, I think I _ought_ to do it; and let him, who has power to
+command me, look to the _lawfulness_ of it."
+
+"Suppose," said I, "he should resolve to ensnare a poor young creature
+and ruin her, would you assist him in such wickedness? And do you not
+think that to rob a person of her virtue is worse than cutting her
+throat?"
+
+"Why, now," said she, "how strangely you talk! Are not the two sexes
+made for each other? And is it not natural for a man to love a pretty
+woman?" And then the wretch fell a-laughing, and talk'd most
+impertinently, and show'd me that I had nothing to expect either from
+her virtue or compassion.
+
+_I am now come to the twenty-seventh day of my imprisonment_. One
+stratagem I have just thought of, though attended with this discouraging
+circumstance that I have neither friends, nor money, nor know one step
+of the way were I actually out of the house. But let bulls and bears and
+lions and tigers and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful man
+stand in my way, I cannot be in more danger than I now think myself in.
+
+Mrs. Jewkes has received a letter. She tells me, as a secret, that she
+has reason to think my master has found a way to satisfy my scruples. It
+is by marrying me to his dreadful Swiss servant, Colbrand, and buying me
+of him on the wedding-day for a sum of money! Was ever the like heard?
+She says it will be my duty to obey my husband, and that when my master
+has paid for me, and I am surrender'd up, the Swiss is to go home again,
+with the money, to his former wife and children; for, she says, it is
+the custom of these people to have a wife in every nation.
+
+But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing!
+
+_Friday, the thirty-sixth day of imprisonment_. Mercy on me! What will
+become of me? Here is my master come in his fine chariot! What shall I
+do? Where shall I hide myself?
+
+He has entered and come up!
+
+He put on a stern and a haughty air. "Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful
+creature, you do well, don't you, to give me all this trouble and
+vexation?"
+
+I could not speak, but sobb'd and sigh'd, as if my heart would break.
+"Sir," I said, "permit me to return to my parents. That is all I have to
+ask."
+
+He flew into a violent passion. "Is it thus," said he, "I am to be
+answered? Begone from my sight!"
+
+The next day he sent me up by Mrs. Jewkes his proposals. They were seven
+in number, and included the promise of an estate of £250 a year in Kent,
+to be settled on my father; and a number of suits of rich clothing and
+diamond rings were to be mine if I would consent to be his mistress.
+
+My answer was that my parents and their daughter would much rather
+choose to starve in a ditch or rot in a noisome dungeon, than accept of
+the fortune of a monarch upon such wicked terms.
+
+Mrs. Jewkes now tells me he is exceedingly wroth, and that I must quit
+the house, and may go home to my father and mother.
+
+_Sunday night_. Well, my dear parents, here I am at an inn in a little
+village. And Robin, the coachman, assures me he has orders to carry me
+to you. O, that he may say truth and not deceive me again!
+
+"I have proofs," said my master to Mrs. Jewkes, when I left the house,
+"that her virtue is all her pride. Shall I rob her of that? No, let her
+go, perverse and foolish as she is; but she deserves to go away
+virtuous, and she shall."
+
+I think I was loth to leave the house. Can you believe it? I felt
+something so strange and my heart was so heavy.
+
+
+_IV.--Virtue Triumphant--Pamela's Journal_
+
+
+_Monday Morning, eleven o'clock._ We are just come in here, to the inn
+kept by Mr. Jewkes's relations.
+
+Just as I sat down, before setting out to pursue my journey, comes my
+master's groom, all in a foam, man and horse, with a letter for me, as
+follows:
+
+"I find it in vain, my Pamela, to struggle against my affection for you,
+and as I flatter myself you may be brought to _love_ me, I begin to
+regret parting with you; but, God is my witness, from no dishonourable
+motives, but the very contrary.
+
+"You cannot imagine the obligation your return will lay me under to your
+goodness, and if you are the generous Pamela I imagine you to be let me
+see by your compliance the further excellency of your disposition. Spare
+me, my dearest girl, the confusion of following you to your father's,
+which I must do if you go on--for I find I cannot live without you, and
+I must be--
+
+                                              "Yours, and only yours."
+
+What, my dear parents, will you say to this letter? I am resolved to
+return to my master, and am sending this to you by Thomas the coachman.
+
+It was one o'clock when we reach'd my master's gate. Everybody was gone
+to rest. But one of the helpers got the keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and
+open'd the gates. I was so tired when I went to get out of the chariot
+that I fell down, and two of the maids coming soon after helped me to
+get up stairs.
+
+It seems my master was very ill, and had been upon the bed most of the
+day; but being in a fine sleep, he heard not the chariot come in.
+
+_Tuesday Morning_. Mrs. Jewkes, as soon as she got up, went to know how
+my master did, and he had had a good night. She told him he must not be
+surprised--that Pamela was come back. He raised himself up.
+
+"Can it be?" said he. "What, already? Ask her if she will be so good as
+to make me a visit. If she will not, I will rise and attend her."
+
+Mrs. Jewkes came to tell me, and I went with her. As soon as he saw me,
+he said:
+
+"Oh, my Pamela, you have made me quite well!"
+
+How kind a dispensation is sickness sometimes! He was quite easy and
+pleased with me.
+
+The next day my master was so much better that he would take a turn
+after breakfast in the chariot, handing me in before all the servants,
+as if I had been a lady. At first setting out, he kissed me a little too
+often, that he did; but he was exceedingly kind to me in his words as
+well.
+
+At last, he said:
+
+"My sister, Lady Davers, threatens to renounce me, and I shall incur the
+censures of the world if I act up to my present intentions. For it will
+be said by everyone that Mr. B. has been drawn in by the eye, to marry
+his mother's waiting maid. Not knowing, perhaps, that to her mind, to
+her virtue, as well as to the beauties of her person, she owes her
+well-deserved conquest; and that there is not a lady in the kingdom who
+will better support the condition to which she will be raised if I
+should marry her." And added he, putting his arm round me: "I pity my
+dear girl, too, for her part in this censure, for here she will have to
+combat the pride and slights of the neighbouring gentry all around us.
+Lady Davers and the other ladies will not visit you; and you will, with
+a merit superior to them all, be treated as if unworthy their notice.
+Should I now marry my Pamela, how will my girl relish all this? Will not
+these be cutting things to my fair one?"
+
+"Oh, sir," said I, "your poor servant has a much greater difficulty than
+this to overcome."
+
+"What is that?" said he a little impatiently. "I will not forgive your
+doubts now."
+
+"No, sir," said I, "I cannot doubt; but it is, how I shall _support_,
+how I shall _deserve, your_ goodness to me!"
+
+"Dear girl!" said he, and press'd me to his bosom. "I was afraid you
+would again have given me reason to think you had doubts of my honour,
+and this at a time when I was pouring out my whole soul to you, I could
+not so easily have forgiven."
+
+"But, good sir," said I, "my greatest concern will be for the rude jests
+you will have yourself to encounter for thus stooping beneath yourself.
+For as to _me_ I shall have the pride to place more than half the ill
+will of the ladies to their envying my happiness."
+
+"You are very good, my dearest girl," said he. "But how will you bestow
+your _time_, when you will have no visits to receive or pay? No parties
+of pleasure to join in? No card-tables to employ your winter evenings?"
+
+"In the first place, sir, if you will give me leave, I will myself look
+into all such parts of the family management as may befit the mistress
+of it to inspect. Then I will assist your housekeeper, as I used to do,
+in the making of jellies, sweetmeats, marmalades, cordials; and to pot
+and candy and preserve, for the use of the family; and to make myself
+all the fine linen of it. Then, sir, if you will indulge me with your
+company, I will take an airing in your chariot now and then; and I have
+no doubt of so behaving as to engage you frequently to fill up some part
+of my time in your instructive conversation."
+
+"Proceed, my dear girl," said he. "I love to hear you talk !"
+
+"Music, which my good lady also had me instructed in, will also fill up
+some intervals if I should have any. Then, sir, you know, I love reading
+and scribbling, and tho' most of the latter will be employed in the
+family accounts, yet reading, in proper books, will be a pleasure to me,
+which I shall be unwilling to give up for the best company in the world
+when I cannot have yours."
+
+"What delight do you give me, my beloved Pamela, in this sweet foretaste
+of my happiness! I will now defy the saucy, busy censures of the world."
+
+_Ten days later_. Your happy, thrice happy Pamela, is at last married,
+my dearest parents.
+
+This morning we entered the private chapel at this house, and my master
+took my hand and led me up to the altar. Mr. Peters, the good rector,
+gave me away, and the curate read the service. I trembled so, I could
+hardly stand.
+
+And thus the dear, once haughty, assailer of Pamela's innocence, by a
+blessed turn of Providence, is become the kind, the generous protector
+and rewarder of it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Clarissa Harlowe
+
+
+     "Clarissa Harlowe," written after "Pamela," brought Richardson
+     a European reputation. The first four volumes of the novel
+     appeared in 1747, the last four in 1748, and during the next
+     few years translations were being executed in French and
+     German. Like "Pamela," the story itself is thin and simple,
+     but the characters are drawn with a bolder and surer touch.
+     "No work had appeared before," says Scott, "perhaps none has
+     appeared since, containing so many direct appeals to the
+     passions." Yet opinions were singularly divided as to its
+     merits. Dr. Johnson said that the novel "enlarged the
+     knowledge of human nature."
+
+
+_I.--At Harlowe Place_
+
+
+CLARISSA is persecuted by her family to marry Mr. Roger Solmes, but
+favours Richard Lovelace, who is in love with her. That her grandfather
+had left Clarissa a considerable estate accounts mainly for the
+hostility of the family to Clarissa's desire for independence.
+
+Clarissa writes to her friend, Miss Howe:
+
+"_January_ 15. The moment, my dear, that Mr. Lovelace's visits were
+mentioned to my brother on his arrival from Scotland he expressed his
+disapprobation, declaring he had ever hated him since he had known him
+at college, and would never own me for a sister if I married him.
+
+"This antipathy I have heard accounted for in this manner:
+
+"Mr. Lovelace was always noted for his vivacity and courage, and for the
+surprising progress he made in literature, while for diligence in study
+he had hardly his equal. This was his character at the university, and
+it gained him many friends, while those who did not love him, feared
+him, by reason of the offence his vivacity made him too ready to give,
+and of the courage he showed in supporting it. My brother's haughtiness
+could not bear a superiority; and those whom we fear more than love we
+are not far from hating. Having less command of his passions than the
+other, he was evermore the subject of his ridicule, so that they never
+met without quarrelling, and everybody siding with Lovelace, my brother
+had an uneasy time of it, while both continued in the same college.
+
+"Then on my brother's return he found my sister (to whom Lovelace had
+previously paid some attention) ready to join him in his resentment
+against the man he hated. She utterly disclaimed all manner of regard
+for him.
+
+"Their behaviour to him when they could not help seeing him was very
+disobliging, and at last they gave such loose rein to their passion
+that, instead of withdrawing when he came, they threw themselves in his
+way to affront him.
+
+"Mr. Lovelace, you may believe, ill brooked this, but contented himself
+by complaining to me, adding that, but for my sake, my brother's
+treatment of him was not to be borne.
+
+"After several excesses, which Mr. Lovelace returned with a haughtiness
+too much like that of the aggressor, my brother took upon himself to
+fill up the doorway once when he came, as if to oppose his entrance;
+and, upon his asking for me, demanded what his business was with his
+sister.
+
+"The other, with a challenging air, told him he would answer a gentleman
+_any_ question. Just then the good Dr. Lewin, the clergyman, came to the
+door, and, hearing the words, interposed between, both gentlemen having
+their hands upon their swords, and, telling Mr. Lovelace where I was,
+the latter burst by my brother to come to me, leaving him chafing, he
+said, like a hunted boar at bay.
+
+"After this, my father was pleased to hint that Mr. Lovelace's visits
+should be discontinued, and I, by his command, spoke a great deal
+plainer; but no absolute prohibition having been given, things went on
+for a while as before, till my brother again took occasion to insult Mr.
+Lovelace, when an unhappy recontre followed, in which my brother was
+wounded and disarmed, and on being brought home and giving us ground to
+suppose he was worse hurt than he was, and a fever ensuing, everyone
+flamed out, and all was laid at my door.
+
+"Mr. Lovelace sent twice a day to inquire after my brother, and on the
+fourth day came in person, and received great incivilities from my two
+uncles, who happened to be there.
+
+"I fainted away with terror, seeing everyone so violent; hearing his
+voice swearing he could not depart without seeing me, my mamma
+struggling with my papa, and my sister insulting me. When he was told
+how ill I was, he departed, vowing vengeance.
+
+"He was ever a favourite with our domestics; and on this occasion they
+privately reported his behaviour in such favourable terms that those
+reports and my apprehensions of the consequences, induced me to 'read a
+letter' he sent me that night imploring me 'to answer' it some days
+after.
+
+"To this unhappy necessity is owing our correspondence; meantime I am
+extremely concerned to find that I am become the public talk."
+
+"_February_ 20. Alas, my dear, I have sad prospects! My brother and
+sister have found another lover for me; he is encouraged by everybody.
+Who do you think it is? No other than that Solmes. They are all
+determined too, my mother with the rest.
+
+"Yesterday, Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony
+presented him as a gentleman he had a particular friendship for. My
+father said, 'Mr. Solmes is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe.' My mother
+looked at him, and at me; and I at her, with eyes appealing for pity,
+while my brother and sister sir'd him at every word."
+
+"_February_ 24. They drive on at a furious rate. The man lives here.
+Such terms, such settlements. That's the cry. I have already stood the
+shock of three of this man's visits.
+
+"What my brother and sister have said of me, I cannot tell. I am in
+heavy disgrace with my papa.
+
+"_March_ 9. I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace, although I have not
+answered his former one. He knows all that passes here, and is
+excessively uneasy upon what he hears, and solicits me to engage my
+honour to him never to have Mr. Solmes. I think I can safely promise him
+that.
+
+"I am now confined to my room; my maid has been taken away from me. In
+answer to my sincere declaration, that I would gladly compound to live
+single, my father said angrily that my proposal was an artifice. Nothing
+but marrying Solmes should do."
+
+"_April_ 5. I must keep nothing by me now; and when I write lock myself
+in that I may not be surprised now they think I have no pen and ink.
+
+"I found another letter from this diligent man, and he assures me they
+are more and more determined to subdue me.
+
+"He sends me the compliments of his family, and acquaints me with their
+earnest desire to see me amongst them. Vehemently does he press for my
+quitting this house while it is in my power to get away, and again
+craves leave to order his uncle's chariot-and-six to attend my commands
+at the stile leading to the coppice adjoining to the paddock.
+
+"Settlements he again offers; Lord M. and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty to
+be guarantees of his honour.
+
+"As to the disgrace a person of my character may be apprehensive of on
+quitting my father's house, he observes, too truly I doubt, that the
+treatment I meet with is in everybody's mouth, that all the disgrace I
+can receive they have given me. He says he will oppose my being sent
+away to my uncle's. He tells me my brother and sister and Mr. Solmes
+design to be there to meet me; that my father and mother will not come
+till the ceremony is over, and then to try to reconcile me to my odious
+husband.
+
+"How, my dear, am I driven!"
+
+_April_ 8. Whether you will blame me or not I cannot tell. I have
+deposited a letter to Mr. Lovelace confirming my resolution to leave
+this house on Monday next. I tell him I shall not bring any clothes than
+those I have on, lest I be suspected. That it will be best to go to a
+private lodging near Lady Betty Lawrance's that it may not appear to the
+world I have refuged myself with his family; that he shall instantly
+leave me nor come near me but by my leave, and that if I find myself in
+danger of being discovered and carried back by violence, I will throw
+myself into the protection of Lady Betty or Lady Sarah.
+
+"Oh, my dear, what a sad thing is the necessity forced upon me for all
+this contrivance!"
+
+
+_II.--In London_
+
+
+Clarissa, after staying in lodgings at St. Albans, is persuaded by
+Lovelace that she will be safer from her family in London. After
+refusing a proposal for an immediate marriage, she therefore moves to
+London to lodge in a house recommended as thoroughly respectable by
+Lovelace, but which in reality is kept by a widow, Mrs. Sinclair, of no
+good repute, who is in the pay of Lovelace.
+
+Clarissa to her friend, Miss Howe:
+
+"_April 26._ At length, my dear, I am in London. My lodgings are neatly
+furnished, and though I like not the old gentlewoman, yet she seems
+obliging, and her kinswomen are genteel young people.
+
+"I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace, and have great reason
+to be so. He began by letting me know that he had been to inquire the
+character of the widow. It was well enough, he said, but as she lived by
+letting lodgings and had other rooms in the houses which might be taken
+by the enemy, he knew no better way than to take them all, unless I
+would remove to others.
+
+"It was easy to see he spoke the slighter of the widow to have a
+pretence to lodge here himself, and he frankly owned that if I chose to
+stay here he could not think of leaving me for six hours together. He
+had prepared the widow to expect that we should be here only a few days,
+till we could fix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition.
+
+"'Fix _ourselves_ in a house, Mr. Lovelace?' I said. 'Pray in what
+light?'
+
+"'My dearest life, hear me with patience. I am afraid I have been too
+forward, for my friends in town conclude me to be married.'
+
+"'Surely, sir, you have not presumed----'
+
+"'Hear me, dearest creature. You have received with favour my addresses,
+yet, by declining my fervent tender of myself you have given me
+apprehension of delay. Your brother's schemes are not given up. I have
+taken care to give Mrs. Sinclair a reason why two apartments are
+necessary for us in our retirement.'
+
+"I raved at him. I would have flung from him, yet where could I go?
+
+"Still, he insisted upon the propriety of appearing to be married. 'But
+since you dislike what I have said, let me implore you,' he added, 'to
+give a sanction to it by naming an early day--would to Heaven it were
+to-morrow!'
+
+"What could I say? I verily believe, had he urged me in a proper way, I
+should have consented to meet him at a more sacred place than the
+parlour below.
+
+"The widow now directs all her talk to me as 'Mrs. Lovelace,' and I,
+with a very ill-grace, bear it."
+
+"_April 28._ Mr. Lovelace has returned already. 'My dearest life,' said
+he. 'I cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I
+should. Spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your friends
+till we are married. When they know we are married, your brother's plots
+will be at an end, and they must all be reconciled to you. Why, then,
+would you banish me from you? Why will you not give the man who has
+brought you into difficulties, and who so honourably wishes to extricate
+you from them, the happiness of doing so?'
+
+"But, my dear although the opportunity was so inviting, he urged not for
+the _day_. Which is the _more extraordinary_, as he was so pressing for
+marriage before we came to town."
+
+After some weeks, Clarissa succeeds in escaping from Mrs. Sinclair's
+house and takes lodgings at Hampstead. But Lovelace finds out her
+refuge, and sends two women, who pretend to be his relatives, Lady Betty
+and Lady Sarah, and Clarissa is beguiled back to Mrs. Sinclair's for an
+interview. Once inside the house, however, she is not allowed to leave
+it. Her health is now seriously injured, and her letters home have been
+answered by her father's curse.
+
+Lovelace to his friend, John Belford:
+
+"_June 18._ I went out early this morning, and returned just now, when I
+was informed that my beloved, in my absence, had taken it into her head
+to attempt to get away.
+
+"She tripped down, with a parcel tied up in a handkerchief, her hood on,
+and was actually in the entry, when Mrs. Sinclair saw her.
+
+"'Pray, madam,' whipping between her and the street-door, 'be pleased to
+let me know whither you are going?'
+
+"'Who has a right to control me?' was the word.
+
+"'I have, madam, by order of your spouse, and I desire you will be
+pleased to walk up again.'
+
+"She would have spoken, but could not; and, bursting into tears, turned
+back, and went to her chamber.
+
+"That she cannot fly me, that she must see me, are circumstances greatly
+in my favour. What can she do but rave and exclaim?
+
+"To-night, as I was sitting with my pen in my chamber, she entered the
+dining-room with such dignity in her manner as struck with me great awe,
+and prepared me for the poor figure I made in the subsequent
+conversation. But I will do her justice. She accosted me with an air I
+never saw equalled.
+
+"'You see before you, sir, the wretch whose preference of you to all
+your sex you have rewarded as it _deserved_ to be rewarded. Too evident
+is it that it will not be your fault, villainous man, if the loss of my
+soul as well as my honour, which you have robbed me of, will not be
+completed. But, tell me--for no doubt thou hast _some_ scheme to
+pursue,--since I am a prisoner in the vilest of houses, and have not a
+friend to protect me, what thou intendest shall become of the remnant of
+a life not worth keeping; tell me if there are more evils reserved for
+me, and whether thou hast entered into a compact with the grand
+deceiver, in the person of the horrid agent of this house, and if the
+ruin of my soul is to complete the triumphs of so vile a confederacy?
+Say, if thou hast courage to speak out to her whom thou hast ruined;
+tell me what further I am to suffer from thy barbarity.'
+
+"I had prepared myself for raving and execrations. But such a majestic
+composure--seeking me--whom yet, it is plain, by her attempt to get
+away, she would have avoided seeing. How could I avoid looking like a
+fool, and answering in confusion?
+
+"'I--I--I--cannot but say--must own--confess--truly sorry--upon my soul
+I am--and--and--will do all--do everything--all that--all that you
+require to make amends!'
+
+"'Amends, thou despicable wretch! And yet I hate thee not, base as thou
+art, half as much as I hate myself, that I saw thee not sooner in thy
+proper colours, that I hoped either morality, gratitude, or humanity
+from one who defies moral sanction. What amends hast _thou_ to propose?
+What amends can such a one as thou make to a person of spirit or common
+sense for the evils thou hast made me suffer?'
+
+"'As soon, madam; as soon as----'
+
+"'I know what thou wouldst tell me. But thinkest thou that marriage will
+satisfy for a guilt like thine? Destitute as thou hast made me both of
+friends and fortune, I too much despise the wretch who could rob himself
+of his wife's honour, to endure the thoughts of thee in the light thou
+seemest to hope I will accept thee. Had I been able to account for
+myself and your proceedings, a whole week should not have gone over my
+head before I had told you what I now tell you, that the man who has
+been the villain to me you have been shall never make me his wife. All
+my prospects are shut in. I give myself up for a lost creature as to
+this world. Hinder me not from entering upon a life of penitence. Let me
+try to secure the only hope I have left. This is all the amends I ask of
+you. I repeat, am I now at liberty to dispose of myself as I please?'
+
+"Now comes the fool, the miscreant, hesitating in his broken answer. 'My
+dearest love, I am quite confounded. There is no withstanding your
+eloquence. If you can forgive a repentant villain, I vow by all that's
+sacred--and may a thunderbolt strike me dead at your feet if I am not
+sincere--that I will, by marriage, before to-morrow noon, without
+waiting for anybody, do you all the justice I can. And you shall ever
+after direct me as you please till you have made me more worthy of your
+angelic purity. Nor will I presume so much as to touch your garment till
+I can call so great a blessing lawfully mine.'
+
+"'Oh, thou guileful betrayer! Hadst thou not seemed beyond the
+possibility of forgiveness, I might have been induced to think of taking
+a wretched chance with a man so profligate. But it would be criminal to
+bind my soul in covenant to a man allied to perdition.'
+
+"'_Allied to perdition_, madam?'
+
+"But she would not hear me, and insisted upon being at her own disposal
+for the remainder of her short life. She abhorred me in every light; and
+more particularly in that in which I offered myself to her acceptance.
+
+"And saying this she flung from me, leaving me shocked and confounded at
+her part of a conversation which she began with such severe composure,
+and concluded with such sincere and unaffected indignation. Now, Jack,
+to be thus hated and despised."
+
+
+_III.--The Death of Clarissa_
+
+
+In the absence of Lovelace from London Clarissa manages to escape from
+Mrs. Sinclair's, and takes refuge in the house of Mrs. Smith, who keeps
+a glove shop in King Street, Covent Garden. Her health is now ruined
+beyond recovery, and she is ready to die. Belford discovers her retreat,
+and protects her from Lovelace.
+
+Mr. Mowbray, a friend, to Robert Lovelace, Esq.:
+
+"_June 29._ Dear Lovelace,--I have plaguey news to acquaint thee with.
+Miss Harlowe is gone off. Here's the devil to pay. I heartily condole
+with thee. But it may turn out for the best. They tell me thou wouldst
+have married her had she staid. But I know thee better.
+
+                                                      "Thine heartily,
+
+                                                    "RICHARD MOWBRAY."
+
+Belford to Lovelace:
+
+"_June 29._ Thou hast heard the news. Bad or good I know not which thou
+wilt deem it.
+
+"How strong must be her resentment of the barbarous treatment she has
+received, that has made her _hate_ the man she once _loved_, and rather
+than marry him to expose her disgrace to the world!"
+
+Lovelace to Belford:
+
+"_June 30._ I am ruined, undone, destroyed.
+
+"If thou canst find her out, and prevail upon her to consent, I will, in
+thy presence, marry her. She cannot be long concealed; I have set all
+engines at work to find her out, and if I do, who will care to embroil
+themselves with a man of my figure, fortune, and resolution?"
+
+Belford to Lovelace:
+
+"_August 31._ When I concluded my last, I hoped that my next attendance
+upon this surprising lady would furnish me with some particulars as
+agreeable as now could be hoped for from the declining way she is in;
+but I think I was never more shocked in my life than on the occasion I
+shall mention.
+
+"When I attended her about seven in the evening, she had hardly spoken
+to me, when she started, and a blush overspread her sweet face on
+hearing, as I also did, a sort of lumbering noise upon the stairs, as if
+a large trunk were bringing up between two people. 'Blunderers!' said
+she. 'They have brought in something two hours before the time. Don't be
+surprised, sir, it is all to save _you_ trouble.'
+
+"Before I could speak in came Mrs. Smith. 'Oh, madam,' said she, 'what
+have you done?'
+
+"' Lord have mercy upon me, madam,' cried I, 'what have you done?' For
+she, stepping at the instant to the door, Mrs. Smith told me it was a
+coffin. Oh, Lovelace that thou hadst been there at the moment! Thou, the
+causer of all these shocking scenes! Surely thou couldst not have been
+less affected than I, who have no guilt as to _her_ to answer for.
+
+"With an intrepidity of a piece with the preparation, having directed
+them to carry it into her bed-chamber, she returned to us. 'They were
+not to have brought it till after dark,' said she. 'Pray excuse me, Mr.
+Belford; and don't you be concerned, Mrs. Smith. Why should you? There
+is nothing more in it than the unusualness of the thing. Why may we not
+be as reasonably shocked at going to the church where are the monuments
+of our ancestors, as to be moved at such a sight as this.'
+
+"How reasonable was all this. But yet we could not help being shocked at
+the thoughts of the coffin thus brought in; the lovely person before our
+eyes who is in all likelihood so soon to fill it."
+
+Belford to Lovelace:
+
+"_September 7._ I may as well try to write, since were I to go to bed I
+should not sleep; and you may be glad to know the particulars of her
+happy exit. All is now hushed and still. At four o'clock yesterday I was
+sent for. Her cousin, Colonel Mordern, and Mrs. Smith were with her. She
+was silent for a few minutes. Her breath grew shorter. Her sweet voice
+and broken periods methinks still fill my ears, and never will be out of
+my memory. 'Do you, sir,' turning her head towards me, 'tell your friend
+that I forgive him, and I pray to God to forgive him. Let him know how
+happily I die, and that such as my own I wish to be his last hour.'
+
+"With a smile of charming serenity overspreading her face, she expired.
+
+"Oh, Lovelace, but I can write no more."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Sir Charles Grandison
+
+
+     "Sir Charles Grandison, and the Honourable Miss Byron, in a
+     Series of Letters," published in 1753, was the third and last
+     of Samuel Richardson's novels. Like its predecessors, it is of
+     enormous length (it first appeared in seven volumes) and is
+     written in the form of a series of letters. The idea of the
+     author was to "present to the public, in Sir Charles
+     Grandison, the example of a man acting uniformly well through
+     a variety of trying scenes, because all his actions are
+     regulated by one steady principle--a man of religion and
+     virtue, of liveliness and spirit, accomplished and agreeable,
+     happy in himself and a blessing to others." Such a portrait of
+     "a man of true honour" provoked the highest enthusiasm in the
+     eighteenth century; but to-day we have little patience for the
+     faultless diction and exemplary conduct of Sir Charles, and,
+     of the two, Miss Byron, the heroine, is by far the more
+     interesting. The "advertisement" to the edition of 1818
+     proclaimed the book "the most perfect work of its kind that
+     ever appeared in this or any other language," and we may
+     accept that verdict without admiring "the kind."
+
+
+_I.--Miss Lucy Selby to Her Cousin, Miss Harriet Byron_
+
+
+_Ashby-Cannons, January 10._ Your resolution to accompany your cousin,
+Mrs. Reeves, to London, has greatly alarmed your three lovers, and two
+of them, at least, will let you know that it has. Such a lovely girl as
+my Harriet must expect to be more accountable for her steps than one
+less excellent and less attractive.
+
+Mr. Greville, in his usual resolute way, threatens to follow you to
+London; and there, he says, he will watch the motions of every man who
+approaches you; and, if he finds reason for it, will _early_ let such
+man know _his_ pretensions, and the danger he may run into if he pretend
+to be his competitor. But let me not do him injustice; though he talks
+of a rival thus harshly, he speaks of you more highly than man ever
+spoke of woman.
+
+Mr. Fenwick, in less determined manner, declares that he will follow you
+to town, if you stay there above _one_ fortnight.
+
+The gentle Orme sighs his apprehensions, and wishes you would change
+your purpose. Though hopeless, he says, it is some pleasure to him that
+he can think himself in the same county with you; and, much more, that
+he can tread in your footsteps to and from church every Sunday, and
+behold you there. He wonders how your grandmamma, your aunt, your uncle,
+can spare you. Your cousin Reeves's surely, he says, are very happy in
+their influences over us all.
+
+Each of the gentlemen is afraid that by increasing the number of your
+admirers, you will increase his difficulties; but what is that to them,
+I asked, when they already know that you are not inclined to favour any
+of the three?
+
+Adieu, my dearest Harriet. May angels protect and guide you withersoever
+you go!
+
+                                                           LUCY SELBY.
+
+
+_II.--Miss Byron to Miss Selby_
+
+
+_Grosvenor Street, London, February 3._ We are returned from a party at
+Lady Betty's. She had company with her, to whom she introduced us, and
+presented me in a very advantageous character. But mutual civilities had
+hardly passed when Lady Betty, having been called out, returned,
+introducing as a gentleman who would be acceptable to everyone, Sir
+Hargrave Pollexfen. "He is," whispered she to me, as he saluted the rest
+of the company in a very gallant manner, "a young baronet of a very
+large estate; the greatest part of which has lately come to him by the
+death of relatives, all very rich." Let me give you a sketch of him, my
+Lucy.
+
+Sir Hargrave Pollexfen is handsome and genteel; pretty tall, about
+twenty-eight or thirty. He has remarkably bold eyes, rather approaching
+to what we would call goggling, and he gives himself airs with them, as
+if he wished to have them thought rakish; perhaps as a recommendation,
+in his opinion, to the ladies. With all his foibles he is said to be a
+man of enterprise and courage, and young women, it seems, must take care
+how they laugh with him, for he makes ungenerous constructions to the
+disadvantage of a woman whom he can bring to seem pleased with his
+jests.
+
+The taste of the present age seems to be dress; no wonder, therefore,
+that such a man as Sir Hargrave aims to excel in it. What can be
+misbestowed by a man on his person who values it more than his mind? But
+what a length I have run!
+
+
+_III.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_
+
+
+We found at home, waiting for Mr. Reeves's return, Sir John Allestree, a
+worthy, sensible man, of plain and unaffected manners, upwards of fifty.
+
+Mr. Reeves mentioning to him our past entertainment and company, Sir
+John gave us such an account of Sir Hargrave as let me know that he is a
+very dangerous and enterprising man. He says that, laughing and light as
+he is in company, he is malicious, ill-natured, and designing, and
+sticks at nothing to carry a point on which he has once set his heart.
+He has ruined, Sir John says, three young creatures already, under vows
+of marriage.
+
+Could you have thought, my Lucy, that this laughing, fine-dressing man,
+could have been a man of malice, and of resentment, a cruel man, yet Sir
+John told two very bad stories of him.
+
+But I had no need of these stories to determine me against receiving his
+addresses. What I saw of him was sufficient.
+
+
+_IV.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_
+
+
+_Wednesday, February 8._ Sir Hargrave came before six o'clock. He was
+richly dressed. He asked for my cousin Reeves, I was in my chamber,
+writing.
+
+He excused himself for coming so early on the score of his impatience.
+
+Shall I give you, from my cousins, an account of the conversation before
+I went down? You know Mrs. Reeves is a nice observer.
+
+He had had, he told my cousins, a most uneasy time of it, ever since he
+saw me. He never saw a woman before whom he could love as he loved me.
+By his soul, he had no view but what was strictly honourable. He gloried
+in the happy prospects before him, and hoped, as none of my little
+_army_ of admirers had met encouragement from me, that _he_ might be the
+happy man.
+
+"I told you, Mr. Reeves," said he, "that I will give you _carte blanche_
+as to settlements. I will lay before you, or before any of Miss Byron's
+friends, my rent-rolls. There never was a better conditioned estate. She
+shall live in town, or in the country, as she thinks fit."
+
+On a message that tea was near ready, I went down.
+
+"Charming Miss Byron," said he, addressing me with an air of kindness
+and freedom, "I hope you are all benignity and compassion." He then
+begged I would hear him relate the substance of what had passed between
+him and Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, referred to the declaration he had made,
+boasted of his violent passion, and besought my favour with the utmost
+earnestness.
+
+As I could not think of encouraging his addresses, I thought it best to
+answer him without reserve.
+
+"Sir Hargrave, you may expect nothing from me but the simplest truth. I
+thank you, sir, for your good opinion of me, but I cannot encourage your
+addresses."
+
+"You _cannot_, madam, _encourage my addresses!_" He stood silent a
+minute or two, looking upon me as if he said, "Foolish girl! Knows she
+whom she refuses?" "I have been assured, madam, that your affections are
+not engaged. But surely, it must be a mistake; some happy man----"
+
+"Is it," I interrupted, "a necessary consequence that the woman who
+cannot receive the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen must be engaged?"
+
+"Why, madam, as to that, I know not what to say, but a man of my
+fortune----" He paused. "What, madam, can be your objection? Be so good
+as to name it, that I may know whether I can be so happy as to get over
+it."
+
+"We do not, we _cannot_, all like the same person. There is _something_
+that attracts or disgusts us."
+
+"_Disgusts!_ Madam--disgusts! Miss Byron!"
+
+"I spoke in general, sir; I dare say, nineteen women out of twenty would
+think themselves favoured in the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen."
+
+"But _you_, madam, are the twentieth that I must love; and be so good as
+to let me know----"
+
+"Pray, sir, ask me not a reason for a _peculiarity_. You may have more
+merit, perhaps, than the man I may happen to approve of better;
+but--_shall_ I say?--you do not--you do not hit my fancy, sir."
+
+"_Not hit your fancy_, madam! Give me leave to say" (and he reddened
+with anger) "that my fortune, my descent, and my ardent affection for
+you ought to avail with me. Perhaps, madam, you think me too airy a man.
+You have doubts of my sincerity. You question my honour."
+
+"That, sir, would be to injure myself," and making a low courtesy, I
+withdrew in haste.
+
+My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin another letter.
+
+
+_V.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_
+
+
+Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Hargrave again called, and renewed
+his addresses, making vehement professions of love, and offering me
+large settlements. To all of which I answered as before; and when he
+insisted upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly told him that I had
+not the opinion of his morals that I must have of those of the man to
+whom I gave my hand in marriage.
+
+"Of my _morals_, madam!" (and his colour went and came). "My _morals_,
+madam!" He arose from his seat and walked about the room muttering. "You
+have no opinion of my morals? By heaven, madam! But I will bear it
+all--yet, 'No opinion of my morals!' I cannot bear that."
+
+He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his head; and, snatching up
+his hat, bowed to the ground, his face crimsoned over, and he withdrew.
+
+Mr. Reeves attended him to the door. "Not like my morals!" said he. "I
+have _enemies_, Mr. Reeves. Miss Byron treats politely everybody but me,
+sir. Her scorn may be repaid--would to God I could say, with scorn, Mr.
+Reeves! Adieu!"
+
+And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the glasses with violence; and
+rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swelling. And away it
+drove.
+
+A fine husband for your Harriet would this half madman make! Drawn in by
+his professions of love, and by £8,000 a year, I might have married him;
+and when too late found myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and madman
+for the remainder of my life.
+
+
+_VI.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq._
+
+
+_Friday, February 17_. No one, at present, but yourself, must see the
+contents of what I am going to write.
+
+You must not be too much surprised. But how shall I tell you the news;
+the dreadful news!
+
+O, my cousin Selby! We know not what has become of our dearest Miss
+Byron.
+
+We were last night at the masked ball in the Hay-market.
+
+Between two and three we all agreed to go home. The dear creature was
+fatigued with the notice everybody took of her. Everybody admired her.
+
+I waited on her to her chair, and saw her in it, before I attended Lady
+Betty and my wife to theirs.
+
+I saw that neither the chair, nor the chairmen were those who brought
+her. I asked the meaning and was told that the chairmen we had engaged
+had been inveigled away to drink somewhere. She hurried into it because
+of her dress, and being warm; no less than four gentlemen followed her
+to the very chair.
+
+I ordered Wilson, my, cousin's servant, to bid the chairmen stop, when
+they had got out of the crowd till Lady Betty's chair and mine, and my
+wife's joined them.
+
+I saw her chair move, and Wilson, with his lighted flambeaux, before it,
+and the four masks who followed her to the chair return into the house.
+
+When our servants could not find that her chair had stopped, we supposed
+that, in the hurry, the fellow heard not my orders; and directed our
+chairmen to proceed, not doubting but that we should find her got home
+before us.
+
+But what was our consternation at finding her not arrived, and that Lady
+Betty (to whose house we thought she might have been carried) had not
+either seen or heard of her!
+
+I had half a suspicion of Sir Hargrave, as well from the character given
+us of him by a friend, as because of his impolite behaviour to the dear
+creature on her rejecting him; and sent to his house in Cavendish Square
+to know if he were at home: and if he were, at what time he returned
+from the ball.
+
+Answer was brought that he was in bed, and they supposed would not be
+stirring till dinner-time; and that he returned from the ball between
+four and five this morning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+O, my dear Mr. Selby! We _have_ tidings! The dear creature is living and
+in honourable hands. Read the enclosed letter, directed to me.
+
+"Sir,--Miss Byron is in safe hands. She has been cruelly treated, and
+was many hours speechless. But don't frighten yourselves; her fits,
+though not less frequent, are weaker and weaker. The bearer will
+acquaint you who my brother is; to whom you owe the preservation and
+safety of the loveliest woman in England, and he will direct you to a
+house where you will be welcome, with your lady (for Miss Byron cannot
+be removed) to convince yourself that all possible care is taken of her
+by _your humble servant_,
+
+                                                "CHARLOTTE GRANDISON."
+
+What we learnt from the honest man who brought the letter is, briefly,
+as follows:
+
+His master is Sir Charles Grandison; a gentleman who has not been long
+in England.
+
+Sir Charles was going to town in his chariot and six when he met our
+distressed cousin.
+
+Sir Hargrave is the villain.
+
+Sir Charles had earnest business in town, and he proceeded thither,
+after he had rescued the dear creature and committed her to the care of
+his sister. God forever bless him!
+
+
+_VII.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq.: In Continuation_
+
+
+_February_ 18. I am just returned from visiting my beloved cousin, who
+is still weak, but is more composed than she has hitherto been, the
+amiable lady, Miss Grandison tells me.
+
+Sir Charles Grandison is, indeed, a fine figure. He is the bloom of
+youth. I don't know that I have ever seen a handsomer or genteeler man.
+Well might his sister say that if he married he would break a score of
+hearts.
+
+I will relate all he said in the first person, as nearly in his own
+words as possible.
+
+"About two miles on this side Hounslow," said he, "I saw a chariot and
+six driving at a great rate.
+
+"The coachman seemed inclined to dispute the way with mine. This
+occasioned a few moments' stop to both. I ordered my coachman to break
+the way. I don't love to stand on trifles. My horses were fresh and I
+had not come far.
+
+"The curtain of the chariot we met was pulled down. I knew by the arms
+it was Sir Hargrave Pollexfen's.
+
+"There was in it a gentleman who immediately pulled up the canvas.
+
+"I saw, however, before he drew it up another person wrapped up in a
+man's scarlet cloak.
+
+"'For God's sake, help--help!' cried out the person. 'For God's sake,
+help!'
+
+"I ordered my coachman to stop.
+
+"'Drive on!' said the gentleman, cursing his coachman. 'Drive on when I
+bid you I'
+
+"'Help!' again cried she, but with a voice as if her mouth was half
+stopped.
+
+"I called to my servants on horseback to stop the postilion of the other
+chariot; and I bid Sir Hargrave's coachman proceed at his peril. Then I
+alighted, and went round to the other side of the chariot.
+
+"Again the lady endeavoured to cry out. I saw Sir Hargrave struggle to
+pull over her mouth a handkerchief, which was tied around her head. He
+swore outrageously.
+
+"The moment she beheld me, she spread out both her hands--'For God's
+sake!'
+
+"'Sir Hargrave Pollexfen,' said I, 'by the arms. You are engaged, I
+doubt, in a very bad affair.'
+
+"'I _am_ Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, and am carrying a fugitive wife.'
+
+"'Your _own_ wife, Sir Hargrave?'
+
+"'Yes, by heaven!' said he. 'And she was going to elope from me at a
+damned masquerade!'
+
+"'Oh, no, no, no!' said the lady.
+
+"'Let me ask the lady a question, Sir Hargrave. Are you, madam, Lady
+Pollexfen?' said I.
+
+"'Oh, no, no, no!' was all she could say.
+
+"Two of my servants came about me; a third held the head of the horse on
+which the postilion sat. Three of Sir Hargrave's approached on their
+horses, but seemed as if afraid to come too near, and parleyed together.
+
+"'Have an eye to those fellows,' said I. 'Some base work is on foot.
+Sirrah!'--to the coachman--'proceed at your peril!'
+
+"Sir Hargrave then, with violent curses and threatenings, ordered him to
+drive over everyone that opposed him.
+
+"'Oh, sir--sir,' cried the lady, 'help me, for I am in a villain's
+hands! Trick'd--vilely trick'd!'
+
+"'Do you,' said I to my servants, 'cut the traces if you cannot
+otherwise stop this chariot! Leave Sir Hargrave to me!'
+
+"The lady continued screaming, and crying out for help. Sir Hargrave
+drew his sword, and then called upon his servants to fire at all that
+opposed his progress.
+
+"'My servants, Sir Hargrave, have firearms as well as yours. They will
+not dispute my orders. Don't provoke me to give the word.' Then,
+addressing the lady: 'Will you, madam, put yourself into my protection?'
+
+"'Oh, yes, yes, with my whole heart! Dear, good sir, protect me!'
+
+"I opened the chariot door. Sir Hargrave made a pass at me.
+
+"'Take _that_ for your insolence, scoundrel!' said he.
+
+"I was aware of his thrust, and put it by; but his sword a little raked
+my shoulder. My sword was in my hand, but undrawn.
+
+"The chariot door remaining open. I seized him by the collar before he
+could recover himself from the pass he had made at me, and with a jerk
+and a kind of twist, laid him under the hind wheel of his chariot. I
+wrenched his sword from him, and snapped it, and flung the two pieces
+over my head.
+
+"His coachman cried out for his master. Mine threatened _his_ if he
+stirred. The postilion was a boy. My servant had made him dismount
+before he joined the other two. The wretches, knowing the badness of
+their cause, were becoming terrified.
+
+"One of Sir Hargraves's legs, in his sprawling, had got between the
+spokes of his chariot-wheel. I thought this was fortunate for preventing
+farther mischief. I believe he was bruised with the fall; the jerk was
+violent.
+
+"I had not drawn my sword. I hope I never shall be provoked to do it in
+a private quarrel. I should not, however, have scrupled to draw it on
+such an occasion as this had there been an absolute necessity for it.
+
+"The lady, though greatly terrified, had disengaged herself from the
+man's cloak. I offered my hand, and your lovely cousin threw herself
+into my arms, as a frighted bird pursued by a hawk has flown into the
+bosom of a man passing by. She was ready to faint. She could not, I
+believe, have stood. I carried the lovely creature round, and seated her
+in my chariot.
+
+"'Be assured, madam,' said I, 'that you are in honourable hands. I will
+convey you to my sister, who is a young lady of honour and virtue.'
+
+"I shut the chariot door. Sir Hargrave was now on his legs, supported by
+his coachman; his other servants had fled.
+
+"I bid one of my servants tell him who I was. He cursed me, and
+threatened vengeance.
+
+"I then stepped back to my chariot, and reassured Miss Byron, who had
+sunk down at the bottom of it. What followed, I suppose, Charlotte"--
+bowing to his sister--"you told Mr. Reeves?"
+
+"I can only say, my brother," said Miss Grandison, "that you have
+rescued an angel of a woman, and you have made me as happy by it as
+yourself."
+
+
+_VIII.--Mr. Deane to Sir Charles Grandison_
+
+
+_Selby House, October_ 3. An alliance more acceptable, were it with a
+prince, could not be proposed, than that which Sir Charles Grandison, in
+a manner so worthy of himself, has proposed with a family who have
+thought themselves under obligation to him ever since he delivered the
+darling of it from the lawless attempts of a savage libertine. I know to
+whom I write; and will own that it has been _my_ wish in a most
+particular manner. As to the young lady, I say nothing of her, yet how
+shall I forbear? Oh, sir, believe me, she will dignify your choice. Her
+duty and her inclination through every relation of life were never
+divided.
+
+Excuse me, sir. No parent was ever more fond of his child than I have
+been from her infancy of this my daughter by adoption.
+
+
+_IX.--Miss Byron to Lady G. (Formerly Charlotte Grandison)_
+
+
+_October_ 14. Sir Charles came a little after eleven. He addressed us
+severally with his usual politeness, and my grandmother particularly,
+with such an air of reverence as did himself credit, because of her
+years and wisdom.
+
+Presently my aunt led me away to another chamber, and then went away,
+but soon returned, and with her the man of men.
+
+She but turned round, and saw him take my hand, which he did with a
+compliment that made me proud, and left us together.
+
+Oh, my dear, your brother looked the humble, modest lover, yet the man
+of sense, of dignity, in love. I could not but be assured of his
+affection.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On one knee he dropped, and taking my passive hand between his, and
+kissing it, he said:
+
+"My dear Miss Byron, you are goodness itself. I approached you with
+diffidence and with apprehension. May blessings attend my future life,
+as my grateful heart shall acknowledge this goodness!"
+
+Again he kissed my hand, rising with dignity. I could have received his
+vows on my knees, but I was motionless; yet how was I delighted to be
+the cause of joy to him! Joy to your brother--to Sir Charles Grandison!
+
+He saw me greatly affected, and considerately said:
+
+"I will leave you, my dear Miss Byron, to entitle myself to the
+congratulations of all our friends below. From this moment I date my
+happiness!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER
+
+
+Hesperus
+
+
+     Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, who was born at Wunsiedel, in
+     Bavaria, on March 21, 1763, and died on November 14, 1825, was
+     the son of a poor but highly accomplished schoolmaster, who
+     early in his career became a Lutheran pastor at Schwarzenbach,
+     on the Saale. Young Richter entered Leipzig University in
+     1780, specially to study theology, but became one of the most
+     eccentric and erratic of students, a veritable literary gypsy,
+     roaming over vast fields of literature, collating and noting
+     immense stores of scientific, artistic, historic, and
+     philosophic facts. Driven to writing for subsistence, he only
+     won a reputation by slow degrees, but so great at last was the
+     esteem in which his countrymen held him that he is typically
+     styled "Der Einzige" ("The Unique"). The turning point proved
+     to be the issue of "The Invisible Lodge" ("Die Unsichtbare
+     Loge") in 1793, a romance founded on some of his academic
+     experiences. Then followed a brilliant series of works which
+     have made Richter's name famous. Among these was "Hesperus,"
+     published in 1794, which made him one of the most famous of
+     German writers. Fanciful and extravagant as the work is, and
+     written without any regard to the laws of composition, it is
+     nevertheless stamped with genius. In all Richter's stories the
+     plot goes for nothing; it is on the thoughts that he strikes
+     out by the way that his fame depends.
+
+
+_I.--Friendship_
+
+
+"Victor," said Flamin, to the young Englishman, "give me this night thy
+friendship for ever, and swear to me that thou wilt never disturb me in
+my love to thee. Swear thou wilt never plunge me in misfortune and
+despair!"
+
+The two friends were standing at midnight in the mild, sweet air of May,
+alone on the watch-tower of the little watering place of St. Luna. It
+was their first meeting for eight years. Flamin was the son of Chaplain
+Eymann, who had retired from the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen;
+Victor was the heir of Lord Horion, a noble Englishman who lived at
+Flachsenfingen and directed all the affairs of the prince. The two boys
+had been sent in their infancy to London and brought up together there
+for twelve years; then for six years they had lived with Chaplain Eymann
+at St. Luna, and Victor had naturally conceived a great affection for
+the old clergyman and a deep love for his son. When, however, Victor was
+eighteen years of age, Lord Horion had sent him to Göttingen to study
+medicine, and he had remained at that university for eight years.
+Everybody wondered why a great English nobleman should want to bring his
+son up as a physician; but Horion was a politician and his ways were
+dark and secret. Neither Chaplain Eymann nor the wife of that worthy
+pastor ever understood why his lordship should have been so anxious that
+Flamin and Victor should be brought up together and united by the
+closest ties of friendship; but being good, simple souls, they accepted
+the favours showered upon their son without seeking to discover if there
+were any reason for them. Eight years' absence had not diminished
+Victor's affection for them, but the young English nobleman was alarmed
+by the strange, wild passion which Flamin displayed as soon as they were
+alone together.
+
+"You know I love you, Flamin, more than I love myself," he said,
+clasping his friend in his arms, and leading him to a seat on the
+watch-tower. "Of course, I swear never to overwhelm you in misfortune,
+or desert you or hate you. What is it that brings such gloomy thoughts
+into your mind?"
+
+"I will tell thee everything now, Victor!" exclaimed his friend. "I will
+open all my heart to thee."
+
+At first he was too much overcome by his feelings to speak. For a long
+time the two young men remained silent, gazing into the dark blue depths
+of the night The Milky Way ran, like the ring of eternity, around the
+immensity of space; below it glided the sharp sickle of the moon,
+cutting across the brief days and the brief joys of men. But clear among
+the stars shone the Twins, those ever-burning, intertwined symbols of
+friendship; westward they rose, and on the right of them blazed the
+heart of the Lion. The two friends had studied astronomy together, and
+when Victor pointed out the happy sign in the midnight sky, Flamin began
+to tell him his troubles. He, a poor clergyman's son, had fallen wildly
+in love with Clotilda, the beautiful daughter of Prince January, of
+Flachsenfingen. She was living at the country seat of the Lord
+Chamberlain Le Baut, at St. Luna; so poor Flamin was able to see her
+every day. Knowing that he could neither forget her nor win her, he was
+tortured by a strange, hopeless jealousy, and he now confessed that,
+instead of looking forward with joy to Victor's return to his home, he
+had been consumed with fear lest his brilliant, noble, handsome friend
+should utterly eclipse him in the sight of his beloved lady.
+
+"Cannot I do anything to help you?" said Victor, tenderly.
+
+"Your father has immense influence over Prince January," said Flamin,
+"could you beg him to get me some court position at Flachsenfingen? If
+only I could make my way in the world, perhaps I might be able to hope
+to win at last the hand of my lady."
+
+Victor at once promised to do all in his power; and the two friends,
+newly reattached to each other, came down from the watch-tower, and,
+with their arms lovingly entwined, they returned to the parsonage.
+
+
+_II.--Love_
+
+
+The next day Chamberlain Le Baut gave a garden party in honour of the
+son of the great English minister.
+
+"Take good care!" said the chaplain's wife as Victor set off; "she is
+very beautiful."
+
+Victor had no need to ask who "she" was.
+
+"I shall take care not to take care," he replied, with a smile.
+
+Victor was too much of a man of the world to fall in love at first
+sight. But when he entered the garden, and a sweet, tall, and lovely
+figure came forward to greet him from behind the foliage, he felt as if
+all his blood had been driven in his face. It was Clotilda. She spoke to
+him, but he listened to the melody of her voice, instead of to her
+words, so that he did not understand what she was saying. Her quiet,
+reserved eyes, however, brought him to his senses; but still he could
+not help feeling glad that, as Flamin's friend, he had some claim upon
+her attention and her society. It seemed to him as if everything that
+she did was done by her for the first time in life; and he would no
+doubt have shown a strange embarrassment in her company if the Lord
+Chamberlain and his wife and a throng of guests had not come into the
+garden and surrounded him and distracted him by their compliments.
+Recovering his self-possession, he concealed his real feelings by giving
+full play to his faculty for malicious and witty sayings. But though he
+succeeded in amusing the company, he displeased Clotilda; for the talk
+fell on the topic of women.
+
+"The thing which a girl most easily forgets," said the Lord Chamberlain,
+"is how she looks; that is why she is always gazing into a mirror."
+
+"Perhaps that is also the reason," said Victor, "why no woman regards
+another as more beautiful than she is. The most that a woman will admit
+is that her rival is younger than herself."
+
+Nothing fell upon Clotilda--and this is always found in the best of her
+sex--more keenly than satire upon womankind, and though she concealed
+the fact that she both endured and despised this sort of wit, she began
+to distrust the lips and the heart of the young Englishman, and treated
+him during this time with such cold civility, that he had to exaggerate
+his wild gaiety in order to conceal the grief that he felt.
+
+But as she was walking at evening in the garden, a loose leaf blew out
+of a book that she was holding, and Victor picked it up and read: "On
+this earth man has only two and a half minutes--one to smile, one to
+sigh, and a half a one to love; for in the midst of it he dies."
+
+"Dahore! This is a saying of Dahore!" exclaimed Victor. "Clotilda, do
+you know my beloved master Dahore?" Clotilda turned towards him, her
+face transfigured with a lovely radiance. Their two noble souls
+discovered at last their affinity in their common love for the wise and
+gracious spirit who had nourished their young souls. For some strange
+reason Lord Horion, as they found out as soon as they began to converse
+together in a sweet and sincere intimacy, had had them brought up by the
+same master; and Dahore, an eccentric, lovable man with a profound
+wisdom, had made them, in both mind and soul, comrades to each other,
+though he educated one in London and the other at St. Luna.
+
+"He taught Flamin and me at the same time," said Victor, looking to see
+what effect the name of his friend had on Clotilda. She smiled sweetly,
+but mysteriously, when he went on to speak of his loving friendship for
+the son of Chaplain Eymann.
+
+The next day he knew why her smile was so mysterious. Lord Horion
+arrived from Flachsenfingen with some extraordinary news. Flamin had
+been appointed a counsellor to Prince January. Never had Victor in his
+wildest dreams of his friend's advancement, imagined that he would
+obtain at a leap so high an important position as this. The young
+Englishman himself had been sent to study at Göttingen in order that he
+might be qualified to act as the prince's physician; but Flamin, without
+any labour, had suddenly obtained a place of authority almost equal to
+that occupied by Lord Horion.
+
+Late that evening, however, Lord Horion revealed to his son a strange
+secret, in the light of which everything was explained. The Prince of
+Flachsenfingen was a man of a rather weak and evil character, over whom
+Horion ruled by sheer force of will. Prince January had had two
+children, a boy and a girl, and the English lord had had them brought up
+far away from the malicious influences of the court. In order that
+January might not interfere in the education of the heir, Horion had
+told him that the boy had perished in infancy in London. As a matter of
+fact, the child had been brought up with Victor.
+
+"So Flamin is the heir to the throne of Flachsenfingen!" exclaimed
+Victor.
+
+"Yes," said Horion, "and I have trained you to guide and direct him in
+the same way as I guide and direct his father. For the present, however,
+I must have complete control of the matter. Swear that you will not
+divulge the secret of Flamin's birth to him or to any one else, before I
+give you permission."
+
+For a moment Victor hesitated. He remembered the promise that Flamin had
+wrung from him on the watch-tower, and this, he was beginning to see,
+might involve him in a perilous misunderstanding.
+
+"Does Clotilda know?" he said.
+
+"I revealed the secret to her when she came to St. Luna," said Horion,
+"under the same conditions that I am now revealing it to you. She swore
+to reveal it under no circumstances whatever, and you must do the same
+before you leave this spot."
+
+So Victor took the oath with a strange mixture of misgiving and joy. As
+he walked back, slowly and thoughtfully, to the chaplain's house, he at
+last admitted to himself that he was deeply in love with Clotilda.
+Instead of returning to England and leaving Flamin in possession of the
+field, as he had resolved on doing, he was now at liberty to try and win
+the beautiful, noble girl. On the other hand, Flamin would misunderstand
+his actions, and this would bring both of them into great danger.
+
+The next day Victor received his appointment as physician to the Prince
+of Flachsenfingen, and he was summoned to the court, together with
+Clotilda. He now divined what his father's intentions were in regard to
+him and the lovely young girl. Instead, however, of going with her to
+Flachsenfingen, he dressed himself in poor attire and set out on an
+aimless journey through Europe, without telling anyone where he was
+going.
+
+
+_III.--Enmity_
+
+
+Victor had a profound aversion from the wild and yet vacant kind of life
+that men pursued at the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen. He was
+comforted in his separation by the thought that so long as it lasted he
+was spared from disturbing the delusions of her jealous brother. But
+when he at last came to Flachsenfingen, he was grieved to find that his
+beautiful lady had grown pale and sorrowful. Like a sweet flower taken
+from the clear fresh air of the forest and placed in a hot, closed room,
+she was pining in the close, heavy atmosphere of the court, which was so
+crowded and yet so lonely. At the sight of her distress, Victor forgot
+his promise to Flamin. Meeting her at evening in the forest near the
+palace, he sank on his knees before her in the dewy grass, and told her
+all his love for her, and of the promise he had made to Flamin. Clotilda
+stooped and clasped his hand, and drew him up, and he folded her to his
+breast.
+
+"We must part, dearest," he said, "until my father sees fit to reveal to
+your brother the secret of his birth."
+
+A nightingale broke out into a passion of song as Victor gathered up his
+courage to bid her farewell. The call of the nightingale was suddenly
+answered by another nightingale. It kept flying as it sang, and, with
+its voice muffled by the thick blossoms on the trees, it sent a
+languishing melody flowing out of a dim, flowering dell a hundred paces
+away. The two lovers, who dreaded and delayed to part, wandered
+confusedly after the receding nightingale into the hollow of the forest;
+they knew not that they were alone, for in their hearts was God. At last
+Clotilda recovered herself, and as the nightingale ceased, she turned
+round to say good-bye. But Victor lingered, and took both of her hands,
+though for very grief he could not bear to look upon her. With tears in
+his eyes he murmured, "Good-bye, my dearest. My heart is too heavy. I
+can say no more. Do not sorrow, darling. Nothing can part us
+now--neither life nor death."
+
+Like a transfigured spirit bending down to an angel, he stooped and
+touched her sweet mouth. In a gentle kiss, in which their hovering souls
+only glided tremorously from afar to meet each other with fluttering
+wings, he took from her yielding lips the seal of her pure love. As he
+did so, there came a crashing sound from the dark trees around them.
+
+"You scoundrel!" cried Flamin, rushing down into the hollow, his eyes
+gleaming in the moonlight, and his face white with anger. "Take it, take
+it! I will have your blood for this!"
+
+He had two pistols in his hand, and he thrust one fiercely towards
+Victor. The Englishman drew Clotilda aside, and then went up to his
+friend, saying, "I have not wronged you. Believe me, Flamin, I remember
+the oath I gave you, and I swear that I have been faithful to you. Only
+wait until I see my father, and everything will be explained."
+
+"I want no explanation, you faithless scoundrel," shouted Flamin, "Take
+it, or I will kill you where you stand."
+
+In his blind fury he was pointing the muzzle of the pistol at the
+trembling form of Clotilda, and Victor snatched the weapon from him in
+order to save her.
+
+"I will have blood for this--blood, blood!" Flamin kept saying, reeling
+about the floor of the dell like a drunken man.
+
+"You are my brother, my brother!" cried Clotilda. "Don't you hear? You
+are my brother!"
+
+She ran up to Flamin to take the pistol from him, but reeled and fell to
+the ground in a swoon. Victor looked at her wildly, and thinking that
+she was dead, turned upon Flamin.
+
+"If you want blood," he said sternly, "take mine."
+
+"You fire first," exclaimed Flamin.
+
+Victor lifted his pistol up into the air and shot at the top of a tree;
+then he stood calm and silent waiting for Flamin to fire. His old friend
+pointed the pistol straight at his heart, but hesitated; and Clotilda
+recovered her senses and staggered to her feet, and threw herself before
+her lover. Flamin looked at them in gloomy wonder without lowering his
+pistol. He would have liked to kill them both with one shot, but the
+instinct of a life-long friendship unnerved him. He hurled his pistol
+away, saying, "It isn't worth troubling to kill a scoundrel like you,"
+and then turned and strode fiercely through the forest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some weeks afterwards Victor was standing on the watch-tower at St. Luna
+alone, with a letter from Lord Horion in his hand. He looked down from
+the height, and he was tempted to throw himself over. He had regained
+the friendship of Flamin, but it seemed to him that he had now lost all
+hope of winning Clotilda. For Lord Horion had explained the whole of the
+strange, tortuous policy which he had used in regard to Prince January.
+He informed Victor that he had introduced Flamin to the prince, and had
+proved to him that the young man was his heir. "They asked me, my dear
+Victor," Horion went on to say in his letter, "a question which I was
+surprised at your not asking. If Flamin is the son of the prince, where
+is the son of Chaplain Eymann whom I took to London to be educated with
+him? My dear boy, I have no son, and you really are the child of Eymann
+and his good wife. This secret I felt bound to reveal to the prince at
+the same time that I was forced to reveal the secret of Flamin's birth.
+It was because I wished to postpone the revelations until you were
+established in the prince's good graces that I made you take the oath
+that you took so unwillingly."
+
+Victor felt that what the heir to a great English nobleman might aspire
+to, the son of a poor country clergyman could never hope to attain. By a
+strange vicissitude of fortune he now found himself in the same position
+as that in which Flamin had been when they met on the watch-tower after
+their long separation. His mournful meditations were suddenly
+interrupted by two figures who had silently crept up the stairs of the
+tower. They were Flamin and Clotilda, and each of them put an arm around
+Victor and led him to the parsonage. On the way he learnt that Clotilda
+had known all along that he was the son of Chaplain Eymann.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Titan
+
+
+     The climax of Jean Paul Richter's inspiration, and of his
+     obscurity, was reached in "Titan," published during 1801-3. He
+     meant it to be his greatest romance, and posterity has
+     confirmed his judgement. Of all his works, it is the most
+     characteristic of its author. It has all the peculiarities of
+     his style, peculiarities that are reflected in the prose of
+     Thomas Carlyle, his most eminent British admirer and
+     interpreter. The book itself took ten years to write, and
+     according to his correspondence, Richter intended to call it
+     "Anti-Titan," having in view his attacks on the material
+     selfishness of the age which, to gain its own ends, would move
+     mountains. The motive--a comparison between a man of moral
+     grandeur and one of grandiose immorality--came to Richter
+     while he was engaged on "Hesperus," a fact that explains why
+     certain characters from the earlier romance reappear in
+     "Titan."
+
+
+_I.--Liana_
+
+
+For many years Albano, the young Spanish Count Cesara, had lived within
+sight of the capital city of the state of Hohenfliess; yet he had never
+entered it--his mother, so his father told him, had shut it against him,
+desiring that he should be reared in the Carthusian monastery of rural
+life, not sullied in his youth by mingling with courtiers and men of the
+world.
+
+And now the gates of Pestitz were open to him. Contemplate the heated
+face of my hero, who at last is riding into the streets, built up in his
+fancy of temples of the sun, where who knows but that at every long
+window, on every balcony, his beloved Liana may be standing?
+
+Gaspard, Count Cesara, Knight of the Fleece, had met his son, for the
+first time in Albano's memory, at Lake Maggiore, and Albano had come
+away from the meeting with a feeling of chill that poisoned his heart,
+eager as it was to love and be loved, and a vague, discomposing sense
+that in his birth there was a mystery. But the thought of his father's
+coldness, all thoughts that troubled and confused, were forgotten on his
+entry into Pestitz, in the eager hope of seeing Liana, his beloved, and
+his friend, her brother, Charles Roquairol; for neither his beloved nor
+her brother had he ever yet in his life beheld.
+
+The love and the friendship were of the imagination, and the imagination
+was begotten of the accounts given by Von Falterle, the
+accomplishments-master of Albano in the village of Blümenbuhl, and of
+his former pupil Liana, daughter of the Minister von Froulay. It was his
+wont to paste up long altar-pieces of Liana's charms, charms which her
+father had sought to enhance by means of delicate and almost meagre
+fare, by shutting up his orangery, whose window he seldom lifted off
+from this flower of a milder clime--until she had become a tender
+creature of pastil-dust, which the gusts of fate and monsoons of climate
+could almost blow to pieces. In Albano's silent heart, therefore, there
+was to be seen a saintly image of Liana, the ascending Raphael's Mary,
+but, like the pictures of the saints in Passion-week, hanging behind a
+veil.
+
+And as for her brother, the madcap Roquairol, who in his thirteenth year
+had shot at himself with suicidal intent because the little Countess
+Linda de Romeiro, Albano's father's ward, had turned her back upon him,
+could our hero's admiration be withheld from a youth of his own age who
+already possessed all the accomplishments and had tasted all the
+passions?
+
+When Albano entered Pestitz, eager that his dreams of love and
+friendship should be realised, the aged Prince of Hohenfliess had just
+departed this life, and Liana, intimate friend of the Princess Julienne,
+daughter of the dead prince, was smitten with temporary blindness, due
+to emotion and consequent headache. Albano first beheld her in the
+garden of her father, the minister, standing in the glimmer of the moon.
+The blest youth saw irradiated the young, open, still Mary's-brow, and
+the delicate proportions, which, like the white attire, seemed to exalt
+the form. Thou too fortunate man!--to whom the only visible goddess,
+Beauty, appears so suddenly, in her omnipotence!
+
+Ah, why must a deep, cold cloud steal through this pure and lofty
+heaven?
+
+The inauguration of the new prince was held--of the enfeebled Prince
+Luigi--upon whose expected speedy decease the neighbouring princely
+house of Haarkaar founded its hopes of acquiring the dominions of
+Hohenfliess. It was on the night of an inauguration ball that Albano,
+having poured out his heart to Roquairol in a letter, met his
+long-hoped-for friend, and sealed their affections by declaring that he
+would never wed Linda de Romeiro, whom it was thought Count Gaspard had
+designed for his son's bride, and for whom Roquairol's youthful passion
+had not been extinguished.
+
+When Liana recovered her sight, she was sent to Blümenbuhl for
+restoration of health--to the home of Albano's foster-father, the
+provincial-director Wehrfritz. Thither often came Albano; thither also
+came Roquairol, to bask in the wondering admiration that Rabette,
+Albano's foster-sister, bestowed on him with all the fervour of her
+innocent rural mind. Albano's dream was fulfilled; he loved Liana in
+realty as he had loved her in imagination. Roquairol thought he loved
+Rabette; in truth, her simplicity was to this experienced conqueror of
+feminine hearts but a new and, for the moment, overmastering sensation.
+
+On a glorious evening Albano and Liana stood on a sloping
+mountain-ridge; overhead was a heaven filled with a life-intoxicated,
+tumultuous creation, as the sun-god stalked away over his evening-world.
+He seized Liana's hands and pressed them wildly to his breast; flames
+and tears suffused his eyes and his cheeks, and he stammered, "Liana, I
+love thee!"
+
+She stepped back, and drew her white veil over her face.
+
+"Wouldst thou love the dead?" she said.
+
+He knew her meaning. Her friend Caroline, whom she had loved and who had
+died, had appeared in a vision, and announced that she would die in the
+next year.
+
+"The vision was not true!" cried Albano.
+
+"Caroline, answer him!" Liana folded her hands as if in prayer; then she
+raised the veil, looked at him tenderly, and said, in a low tone, "I
+will love thee, good Albano, if I do not make thee miserable."
+
+"I will die with thee!" said he.
+
+Charles appeared with Rabette; he, also, had spoken frantic words of
+love, and Rabette clung around him compassionately, as a mother around
+her child.
+
+A few more days of joyous life at Blümenbuhl, and Liana returned to her
+home at Pestitz. Then for weeks Albano saw nothing of her, heard nothing
+of her. Liana was in sore trouble. Her father had disapproved of the
+match; what mattered much more to her, her mother also. The mother's
+opposition was on the quite decisive ground that she could not endure
+Albano.
+
+The Minister von Froulay had more specific reasons for his hostility--
+the most specific of all being that he had designed his daughter for one
+Bouverot, a disreputable court intriguer, his leaning towards Bouverot
+being based on financial liabilities, and stimulated by financial
+expectations. The minister's lady detested Bouverot, but in desiring
+separation between Liana and Albano, she was her husband's ally. Behold,
+then, Liana torn between duty towards her mother and love for Albano.
+
+Once Albano saw her, but heard no explanation. The prince was wedded to
+the Princess of Haarbaar, and it was at a wedding festivity in the
+grounds of the pleasure palace of Lilar that Albano looked upon his
+beloved. But she was pledged for the time to tell him nothing, and she
+told him nothing. The princess looked curiously at her, for Liana
+exactly resembled the princess's younger sister, the philanthropic
+Idoine, who devoted herself to the idyllic happiness of her peasantry in
+the Arcadian village that it was her whim to rule.
+
+To the aged and saintly court chaplain, Spener, Liana at last brought
+her perplexities. Here the history moves in veils. How he extorted from
+her the promise to renounce her Albano for ever is a mystery watched and
+hidden by the Great Sphinx of the oath she swore to him.
+
+On the next day Albano was summoned, and stood with quivering lips
+before the beloved.
+
+"I am true to you--even unto death," she said; "but all is over."
+
+He looked upon her, wild, wondering.
+
+"I have resigned you," she said; "and my parents are not to blame. There
+is a mystery that has constrained me--"
+
+"Oh, God!" he cried. "Is it thus with external fidelity and love?" In
+whirling, cruel passion he pictured his love, her coldness, his pain,
+her violated oath.
+
+"I did not think thou wert so hard," she said. "Oh, it grows dark to me;
+let me to my mother!"
+
+Albano gazed into the groping, timid face, and guessed all--her
+blindness had returned!
+
+The mother rushed up. "May God bring you retribution for this!" cried
+Albano to her. "Farewell, unhappy Liana!"
+
+For many days Albano lived without love or hope, in bitter
+self-reproach; every recollection darted into him a scorpion-sting. And
+to him in his agony came the tormenting news that the fickle Roquairol
+had deserted Rabette. He drove the false one from his presence; sister
+and brother, beloved and friend, were now utterly lost to him.
+
+At length he learned that Liana had recovered her sight, and that she
+was dying. Once more, for the last time, he was admitted to her
+presence. She reclined in an easy-chair, white-clad, with white, sunken
+cheeks.
+
+"Welcome, Albano!" she said feebly, but with the old smile. "Some day
+thou wilt know why I parted from thee. On this, my dying day, I tell
+thee my heart has been true to thee." She handed him a sheet with a
+sketch she had made with trembling hand of the noble head of Linda de
+Romeiro. "It is my last wish that them shouldst love her," she said.
+"She is more worthy of thee."
+
+"Ah, forgive, forgive!" sobbed Albano.
+
+"Farewell, beloved!" she said calmly, while her feeble hand pressed his.
+For a while she was silent. Suddenly she said, with a low tone of
+gladness, "Caroline! Here, here, Caroline! How beautiful thou art!"
+Liana's fingers ceased to play; she lay peaceful and smiling, but dead.
+
+
+_II.--Linda De Romeiro_
+
+
+Albano's state for a long time was one of fever. He lay dressed in bed,
+unable to walk, in a burning heat, talking wildly, and as each hour
+struck on the clock, springing up to kneel down and utter the prayer,
+"Liana, appear, and give me peace!" to the high, shut-up heavens.
+
+"Poor brother!" said Schoppe the librarian, his old preceptor and dear
+friend. "I swear to thee thou shalt get thy peace to-day."
+
+He went to Linda de Romeiro, now in Pestitz after long wandering, and
+placed his design before her. Would the Princess Idoine, Liana's
+likeness, appear before Albano as a vision and give him peace? Linda
+consented to plead with Idoine. But Idoine made a difficulty. It was not
+the unusualness and impropriety of the thing that she dreaded, but the
+untruthfulness and unworthiness of playing false with the holy name of a
+departed soul, and cheating a sick man with a superficial similarity.
+
+At length Idoine gave her decision. "If a human life hangs upon this, I
+must conquer my feeling."
+
+As eight o'clock struck, Albano knelt in the dusk, crying, "Peace,
+peace!"
+
+Idoine trembled as she heard him; but she entered, clothed in white, the
+image of the dead Liana.
+
+"Albano, have peace!" she said, in a low and faltering tone.
+
+"Liana!" he groaned, weeping.
+
+"Peace!" cried she more strongly, and vanished.
+
+"I have my peace now, good Schoppe," said Albano softly, "and now I will
+sleep."
+
+Time gradually unfolded Albano's grief instead of weakening it. His life
+had become a night, in which the moon is under the earth, and he could
+not believe that Luna would gradually return with an increasing bow of
+light. Not joys, but only actions--those remote stars of night--were now
+his aim. As he travelled with his father in Italy after his recovery,
+the news of the French Revolution gave an object to his eagerness.
+
+"Take here my word," he wrote to Schoppe, "that as soon as the probable
+war of Gallic freedom breaks out I take my part decidedly in it, for
+it."
+
+But at Ischia, Albano was dazzled by a wonder; he saw Linda de Romeiro.
+When she raised her veil, beauty and brightness streamed out of a rising
+sun; delicate, maidenly colours, lovely lines and sweet fullness of
+youth played like a flower garland about the brow of a goddess, with
+soft blossoms around the holy seriousness and mighty will on brow and
+lip, and around the dark glow of the large eye.
+
+As Albano and Linda walked on the mountain Epomeo, looking upon the
+coasts and promontories of that rare region, upon cities and sea, upon
+Vesuvius without flame or thunder, white with sand or snow, Albano's
+heart was an asbestos leaf written over and cast into the fire--burning,
+not consuming; his whole former life went out, the leaf shone fiery and
+pure for Linda's hand. He gazed into her face lovingly and serenely as a
+sun-god in morning redness, and pressed her hands. "Give them to me for
+ever!" said he earnestly.
+
+She inclined modestly her beautiful head upon his breast, but
+immediately raised it again, with its large, moist eyes, and said
+hurriedly, "Go now! Early to-morrow come, Albano! Adio! Adio!"
+
+Count Gaspard bestowed his paternal consent on the union, and the lovers
+returned separately to Hohenfliess. A difference arose; Albano was still
+bent on warring for France, Linda sought to dissuade him. They
+quarrelled, and parted in anger.
+
+On the day after the quarrel Linda received a letter in Albano's
+handwriting begging forgiveness, and asking for a meeting in the gardens
+of Lilar. She went there at the appointed evening hour, although, owing
+to the night-blindness from which, like many Spaniards, she often
+suffered, she could not see her lover. But she kissed him, and heard his
+burning words of love.
+
+But Albano had not written, and had not entered Lilar. Roquairol's old
+passion for Linda was undiminished; his rage at Albano was beyond
+bounds. He could mimic Albano's writing and voice; he knew of Linda's
+night-blindness. On the next night, in the presence of Albano and Linda,
+he slew himself with his own hand.
+
+The death of Roquairol lay like a blight between the lovers. They parted
+for ever.
+
+
+_III.--Idoine_
+
+
+"War!" This word alone gave Albano peace. He made himself ready for a
+journey to France, and ere he set forth he sought out the little spot of
+earth, beneath a linden-tree, where reposed the gentle Liana, the
+friendly, lovely angel of peace.
+
+Suddenly, with a shudder, he beheld the white form of Liana herself
+leaning against the linden. He believed some dream had drawn down the
+airy image from heaven, and he expected to see it pass away. It
+lingered, though quiet and mute. Kneeling down, he exclaimed,
+"Apparition, comest thou from God? Art thou Liana?"
+
+Quickly the white form looked round, and saw the youth. She rose slowly,
+and said, "My name is Idoine. I am innocent of the cruel deception, most
+unhappy youth." Then he covered his eyes, from a sudden, sharp pang at
+the return of the cold, heavy reality. Thereupon he looked at her again,
+and his whole being trembled at her glorified resemblance to the
+departed--prouder and taller her stature, paler her complexion, more
+thoughtful the maidenly brow. She could not, when he looked upon her so
+silently and comparingly, repress her sympathy; she wept, and he too.
+
+"Do I, too, distress you?" said he, in the highest emotion.
+
+"I only weep," she innocently said, "that I am not Liana."
+
+"Noble princess," he replied, "this holy spot takes away all sense of
+mutual strangeness. Idoine, I know that you once gave me peace, and here
+I thank you."
+
+"I did it," she said, "without knowing you, and therefore could allow
+myself the use of a fleeting resemblance."
+
+He looked at her sharply; everything within him loved her, and his whole
+heart, opened by wounds, was unfolded to the still soul. But a stern
+spirit closed it. "Unhappy one, love no one again; for a dark,
+destroying angel goes with poisoned sword behind thy love."
+
+Idoine turned to go. He knelt, pressed her hand to his bosom, and only
+said, "Peace, all-gracious one!" Idoine, after a few swift steps, passed
+out of his sight.
+
+Albano hastened preparations for his journey; but ere the preparations
+were ended, a letter was brought to him that caused him to abandon the
+project altogether. It was a letter from the long-dead Princess
+Eleonore, wife of the old prince who had died when Albano had first
+entered Pestitz. Now, in the fullness of time, was the letter placed
+before Albano's eyes and the token of the fullness of time was the
+death, without issue, of Prince Luigi, and the seeming inheritance of
+his dominions by the House of Haarkaar.
+
+Thus the letter began:
+
+"My son,--Hear thine own history from the mouth of thy mother; from no
+other will it come to thee more acceptably.
+
+"The birth of thy brother Luigi at a late period of our married life
+annihilated the hopes of succession of the house of Haarkaar. But Count
+Cesara discovered proofs of some dark actions which were to cost thy
+poor brother his life. 'They will surely get the better of us at last,'
+said thy father.
+
+"Madame Cesara and I loved each other; we were both of romantic spirit.
+She had just borne a lovely daughter, called Linda. We made the singular
+contract that, if I bore a son, we would exchange; with her, my son
+could grow up without incurring the danger which had always threatened
+thy brother in my house.
+
+"Soon afterwards I brought forth thee and thy sister Julienne at a
+birth. 'I keep' I said, to the countess, 'my daughter, thou keepest
+thine; as to Albano, let the prince decide.' Thy father allowed that
+thou shouldst be brought up as son of the count. The documents of thy
+genealogy were thrice made out, and I, the count, and the court chaplain
+Spener, were put in possession of them. The Countess Cesara went off
+with Linda to Valencia, and took the name Romeiro. By this change of
+names all would be covered up as it now stands.
+
+"Ah, I shall not live to be permitted openly to clasp thy son in my
+arms! May it go well with thee, dearest child! God guide all our weak
+expedients for the best.
+
+                                                 "Thy faithful mother,
+
+                                                            "ELEONORE"
+
+Albano stood for a long time speechless. Joy of life, new powers and
+plans, delight in the prospect of the throne, the images of new
+relations, and displeasure at the past, stormed through each other in
+his spirit.
+
+He went out, and in the twilight stood upon the mountains, whence he
+could overlook, but with other eyes than once, the city which was to be
+the circus and theatre of his powers. He belongs now to a German house,
+the people around him are his kinsmen; the prefiguring ideals, which he
+had once sketched to himself at the coronation of his brother, of the
+warm rays wherewith a prince as a constellation can enlighten and enrich
+lands, were now put into his hands for fulfilment. His pious father,
+still blessed by the grandchildren of the country, pointed to him the
+pure sun-track of his princely duty: only actions give life strength,
+only moderation gives it a charm.
+
+He descended to Blümenbuhl. The funeral bell of the little church of
+Blümenbuhl tolled for Luigi. Albano joined his sister Julienne, and they
+betook themselves with Idoine and Rabette to the church. At the bright
+altar was the venerable Spener; the long coffin of the brother stood
+before the altar between rows of lights. Here, near such altar-lights,
+had once the oppressed Liana knelt while swearing the renunciation of
+her love. The whole constellation of Albano's shining past had gone down
+below the horizon, and only one bright star of all the group stood
+glimmering still above the earth--Idoine.
+
+After the solemn service, Idoine addressed herself to him oftener; her
+sweet voice was more tender, though more tremulous; her maidenly shyness
+of the resemblance to Liana seemed conquered or forgotten. Her existence
+had decided itself within her, and on her virgin love, as on a spring
+soil by one warm evening rain, all buds had been opened into bloom.
+
+"How many a time, Albano," said Julienne, "hast thou here, in thy
+long-left youthful years, looked toward the mountains for thine own
+ones--for thy hidden parents, and brothers and sisters--for thou hadst
+always a good heart!"
+
+Here Idoine unconsciously looked at him with inexpressible love, and his
+eyes met hers.
+
+"Idoine," said he, "I have that heart still; it is unhappy, but
+unstained."
+
+Then Idoine hid herself quickly and passionately in Julienne's bosom,
+and said, scarcely audibly, "Julienne, if Albano rightly knows me, then
+be my sister!"
+
+"I do know thee, holy being!" said Albano, and clasped his bride to his
+bosom.
+
+"Look up at the fair heaven!" cried Julienne. "The rainbow of eternal
+peace blooms there, and the tempests are over, and the world's all so
+bright and green. Wake up, my brother and sister!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+PETER ROSEGGER
+
+
+The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster
+
+
+     In Austrian literature the "story in dialect" is a modern
+     development. Its founder and most distinguished exponent is
+     Peter Kettenfeier Rosegger, who was born at Alpel, near
+     Krieglach, on July 31, 1843, and who has spent his lifetime
+     among the people of the Styrian Alps. Mr. Rosegger first
+     attracted attention in 1875 with a volume of short stories,
+     bearing the general title of "Schriften des
+     Waldschulmeisters," or "Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster,"
+     and since then he has written a large number of similar tales,
+     all more or less sentimental in tone, and all dealing with
+     certain aspects of peasant life. "The Papers of the Forest
+     Schoolmaster," which takes the form of a diary, is not only
+     one of the most winsome idylls that has come from Herr
+     Rosegger's pen, but it exhibits a delicacy of touch, a keen
+     penetration into the mysteries of human life, and a deep
+     insight into nature in her various moods; and under all there
+     is a strong current of romance and a great sense of the poetry
+     of things--qualities that have made its author one of the
+     foremost prose poets in recent German literature.
+
+
+Mist and rain made it impossible for me to ascend the "Grey Tooth" for
+some days after I had arrived at Winkelsteg, the highest village in the
+remotest valley, and I was temporarily lodged in the schoolhouse, which
+had been deserted since the schoolmaster, who--so I was told--had lived
+in this out-of-the-way corner for fifty years, had disappeared last
+Christmas. The whole next day the rain continued to beat against the
+window. There was nothing to be done, and I spent my time in arranging
+the scattered but numbered sheets of the vanished schoolmaster's
+manuscript, which I found littered in the drawer allotted to me for my
+scant belongings. And then I began to read that strange man's diary, the
+first page of which only bore the words:
+
+
+_The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster_
+
+
+So I am at last settled in this wilderness. And I will write it all
+down, although I know not for whom. My father died when I was seven, and
+I was taken charge of by an itinerant umbrella-maker who taught me his
+trade, and on his death left me his stock of some two dozen umbrellas,
+which I took to the market. A heavy shower just at midday helped me to
+sell them rapidly, and I only retained one for my own protection and for
+that of an elegant gentleman who, unable to secure a carriage, made me
+accompany him to town to save him from getting drenched. He made me tell
+him all about myself, and offered to take me as apprentice in his
+bookshop. He was a kind master. When he discovered' that I was more
+interested in the contents of his books than in my work he secured me
+admission in a college. I studied hard, and obtained my meals at the
+houses of private pupils whom I undertook to coach. My friend Henry, a
+clothmaker's son, had procured me a post as teacher to Hermann, the son
+of the Baron von Schrankenheim. I was treated with every consideration
+in his house, and became deeply attached to my pupil's sister. Of
+course, the case was hopeless then; but in a few years, when I should
+have passed my examinations and taken my degrees--who knows?
+
+An indiscreet speech, which offended my teachers, made an end to all my
+dreams. I was ploughed, and I resolved at once to leave the town, and to
+seek my fortune in the world. I first enlisted with Andreas Hofer to
+fight the French invaders, and was carried off a prisoner into France.
+Then only I learnt that the Tyrolese were rebels against their own
+emperor, that I had fought for a bad cause; and to atone for it I took
+service with the great Napoleon's army. I was among those who escaped
+from the Russian disaster, and, in my enthusiasm for Napoleon, whom I
+regarded as the liberator of the peoples, fought for him against my own
+country. At Leipzig I shot Henry, my best friend, whom I only recognised
+when in his agony he called me by my name. Then only my eyes were
+opened. Failure had dogged my every step. A hermit's life in the
+wilderness was all that was left for me. This resolve I communicated to
+the Baron von Schrankenheim, who, after vain attempts to dissuade me
+from my purpose, spoke to me of this wilderness, his property, where I
+could do real good among the rough wood-cutters, poachers, shepherds and
+charcoal-burners, who, cut off from the rest of the world, eked out
+their existence without priest or doctor or schoolmaster. Winkelsteg was
+to be my hermitage; and now I am here, a schoolmaster without a school.
+I shall have to study these rough folk and gain their confidence before
+I can set to work.
+
+
+_The Forest Folk_
+
+
+Strange trades are carried on in this wilderness. These people literally
+dig their bread out of earth and stone and ant-heaps, scrape it off the
+trees, distill it out of uneatable fruit. There is the root-digger,
+whose booty of mountain ovens is said to go to far Turkey to be turned
+into scent. He would long have given up digging, to live entirely on
+poaching, but for his hope to unearth some day treasure of gold and
+jewels. One of these "forest-devils" has just died. He never worked at
+all. His profession was eating. He went from village to village and from
+fair to fair, eating cloth and leather, nails, glass, stones, to the
+amazement of his audience. He died from eating a poisonous root given
+him by some unknown digger--they say it was the devil himself. His
+funeral oration was delivered by a pale, bent, quiet man, known as the
+Solitary, of whose life nobody can give one any information.
+
+Then there is the pitch-boiler. You can smell him from afar, and see him
+glitter through the thicket. His pitch-oil is bought by the wood-cutter
+for his wounds, by the charcoal-burner for his burns, by the carter for
+his horse, by the brandy-distiller for his casks. It is a remedy for all
+ailments. The most dangerous of all the forest-devils is the
+brandy-distiller. He is better dressed than the others, has a kind word
+for everybody, and plays the tempter with but too great success.
+
+Black Matthias is dying in his miserable hut. His little boy and girl
+are playing around him, and his wife bids them be silent. "Let them
+shout," says Matthias; "but try and keep down Lazarus' temper." On his
+death-bed Matthias told me the story of his life--how he, a jolly, happy
+fellow, fell into the recruiting-officers' trap, escaped from their
+clutches, was betrayed by his own village people, and flogged through
+the line, and how they rubbed vinegar and salt into his wounded back;
+how he escaped from the battlefield and found refuge in this
+wilderness--a changed man, quarrelsome, with an uncontrollable temper,
+which led him into many a brawl; and how, under great provocation, he
+had stabbed a wood-burner at the inn, and had been beaten within an inch
+of his life by the wood-cutters. His life was now ebbing away fast, and
+he had good reason to fear that his uncontrollable temper would live in
+his son. Hence his exhortation to his wife. Black Matthias died a few
+hours after he had told me of his sad life.
+
+And so I get to know them all, and make friends with them all,
+especially with the children, and with the shepherd lad Berthold and the
+poor milkmaid Aga. There was a wedding down at Heldenichlag, where they
+have a parish church, and dancing and merrymaking at the inn all night.
+Next morning Berthold went to the priest. He wanted to marry Aga, but
+the priest told him he was too young, too poor; he could come back again
+in ten years! The poor lad is left speechless and does not know how to
+explain _why_ he wants to be united for ever with his Aga. Sadly he
+leaves the room, but out in the open air his spirit returns to him. On
+the second day of the wedding feast there was no holding him. He was the
+wildest and merriest of the lot. In the afternoon we all returned to
+Winkelsteg in the forest.
+
+                                                                 1815.
+
+I know I must begin with a church. And at last I have obtained the
+baron's consent. I have designed the plan myself--it must be large
+enough to hold all who are in need of comfort here, and bright and
+cheerful, for there is darkness enough in the forest. And the steeple
+must be slender like a finger pointing heavenwards. Three bells there
+must be to announce the Trinity of God in one Person, and to sing the
+song of faith, hope, and love. And an organ there must be, but no
+pictures and gilding and show.
+
+                                                       _Autumn_, 1816.
+
+I have been taking a census. How very limited is their range of names.
+They have no family names, and only some half dozen Christian names!
+This must be altered. I must invent names for them, according to their
+occupation or dwelling or character: Sepp Woodcutter, Hiesel
+Springhutter, and so forth. They like their new names; only Berthold
+gets angry and refuses to take a name. "A name for me? I want no name; I
+am nobody. The priest won't let me marry. Call me Berthold Misery, or
+call me Satan!"
+
+                                                          _May_, 1817.
+
+I have been ill--the result of being snowed up on the way home from a
+visit to a forester who had been wounded by a poacher. The danger is
+over now, but my eyes continue to suffer. The forest folk have been very
+good to me, and much concerned about my progress. And now I am able to
+go out again. To-day I was watching a spider in the thicket, when I saw
+Aga rushing towards me. "Ah, it's you!" she cried. "You must help us. We
+want to live in honour and decency. The priest won't marry us. You can
+ask for our blessing." The next moment Berthold had joined her and they
+were kneeling before me. And I pronounced the words which I had no right
+to pronounce. I married them in the heart of the green forest.
+
+                                              _St. James's Day_, 1817.
+
+Matthias's widow is in despair. Lazarus has disappeared. In a fit of
+temper he threw a stone at her, then gave a wild yell and rushed away.
+"It was a _small_ stone, but there is a heavy stone upon my heart,"
+laments the mother; "his running away is the biggest stone he could have
+thrown."
+
+                                          _St. Catherine's Day_, 1817.
+
+Lazarus' sister found a letter pinned on to a stick on her father's
+grave, which she often visits. It was from her brother, and told them
+not to worry--he is "in the school of the Cross." And then there was
+another letter to say that he was well, and thinking of them all. They
+answered, imploring him to return, and fixed the note and a little cross
+on the tomb. It is still there, and has never been opened.
+
+                                                        _March_, 1818.
+
+Berthold is gone among the wood-cutters, and has got his hut. A little
+girl was born to Aga yesterday, and I was sent for to baptise it. I am
+no priest, and must not steal a name from the calendar. So I called her
+Forest Lily, and baptised her with the water of the priest.
+
+                                                       _Summer_, 1818.
+
+The first Sunday in these forests! The church is finished, and the bells
+have summoned the people from the whole neighbourhood. The priest has
+come from Heldenichlag to dedicate the church, and the schoolmaster to
+play the organ. But some of the folk grumble because there is no inn by
+the church; and I hear that the _grassteiger_ has applied for a spirit
+license. This is the shadow of the church!
+
+In the evening, as I went back to the church, I saw a youth, apparently
+at prayer, who took to his heels the moment he found he was discovered.
+I caught him up and recognised. Lazarus! But I could not get a word out
+of him. I rang the church bells, and soon the lad was surrounded by the
+astonished villagers. He only murmured, "Paulus, Paulus!" and refused to
+take the proffered food, though he looked half starved. I took him back
+to his mother the same evening.
+
+                                                     _December_, 1818.
+
+Lazarus must have been through a miraculous school. He has completely
+lost his evil temper, but he refuses to speak clearly of his life during
+the past year, though he mumbles of a rock-cave, a good dark man, of
+penance, and of a crucifix. We have no priest. I have to look after the
+church, ring the bells, play the organ, sing and conduct prayer on
+Sundays. I hear bad news of Hermann, my old pupil. He is said to be
+leading a wild life in the capital. I cannot believe it.
+
+                                                       _Summer_, 1819.
+
+And now we have a priest--as strange and mysterious as the altar
+crucifix which I had taken to the church from the rock valley. On the
+last day of the hay-month, when I entered the church to ring the bells,
+I found "the Solitary" reading mass on the highest step of the altar. I
+asked for an explanation, and he answered with a rusty voice that he
+would tell me all next Saturday at a desolate place he appointed in the
+forest.
+
+The Solitary has told me the whole sad story of his life. He was born in
+a palace, and had been rocked in a golden cradle. He had drained the cup
+of pleasure to the very dregs, and then, prompted by his tutor, had
+joined a religious order, taken the binding vow, and renounced his
+fortune to the order. A girl, whom he had known before, implored him not
+to leave her and her child in distress. It was too late--he was now
+penniless and irrevocably bound. She drowned herself and haunted his
+dreams, even after he had become a priest under the name of Paulus.
+Blind obedience was exacted from him by his order, and when he refused
+to betray a king's confession he was sent as missionary to India. After
+his return he became a zealot, exacting severe penance from sinners, and
+through his severity driving a man to suicide. In his remorse he, too,
+had sought refuge in this wilderness, where no one knew him, and where
+one day he found Lazarus, took him to his cave, and taught him to tame
+his quick temper. I had always thought the first pastor at Winkelsteg
+should be a repentant sinner, and not a just man. We have now our
+priest.
+
+                                                       _Winter_, 1830.
+
+For more than ten years I have neglected my diary, partly because I was
+no longer alone, but had a friend and companion in "the Solitary,"
+partly because I was busy with the building of the schoolhouse. I have
+my own ideas on education. The child is a book in which we read, and
+into which we ought to write. They ought to hear of nought but the
+beautiful, the good, the great. They ought to learn patriotism--not the
+patriotism which makes them die, but that which makes them live for
+their country.
+
+Berthold has become a poacher. I have already had to intercede for him
+with the gamekeeper. Then, one winter's night, Forest Lily, his
+daughter, was sent out to beg some milk for the babies. Snow fell
+heavily, and she did not return. For three days they searched, and
+finally found her huddled up with a whole herd of deer in a snow-covered
+thicket of dry branches--kept alive by the animals' warmth and the pot
+of milk she was taking home. When Berthold heard that the forest animals
+had saved his child, he smashed his gun against a rock, and shouted,
+"Never again! never again!"
+
+                                                _Carnival Time_, 1832.
+
+In the parsonage lies a farm-hand with a broken jaw. Drink and quarrel
+and fight--it is ever the same. The priest has warned them often enough.
+He has called the brandy-distiller a poison-brewer, and a few days ago
+the distiller came to the parsonage, armed with a heavy stick. He poured
+out his complaints. The priest was spoiling his honest business. What
+was he to do? He took up a threatening attitude. "So you have come at
+last," said Father Paulus; "I was going to come to you. So you won't
+give them any more spirits--you are a benefactor of the community! I
+quite agree with you. You will prepare medicines and oils and ointments
+from the roots and resin? I'll help you, and in a few years you will be
+a well-to-do man."
+
+The distiller was speechless. He had said nothing of the sort, but it
+all seemed so reasonable to him. He grumbled a few words, stumbled
+across the threshold, and threw his stick away as far as it would fly.
+
+                                                     _March 22_, 1832.
+
+Our priest died to-day.
+
+I can scarcely believe it. But there is no knocking at the window as I
+pass the parsonage--no friendly face smiling at me. And I can scarcely
+believe that he has gone.
+
+                                                _Ascension Day_, 1835.
+
+A few days ago I had a letter from my former pupil, our present master.
+He was ill, tired of the world, and wanted to find peace and rest in the
+mountains. He remembered his old teacher, and asked me to be his guide.
+I went to meet him, and he behaved so strangely that I thought I was
+walking with a madman. On the second day he seemed better. He wanted to
+ascend at once the highest peak, known as the "Grey Tooth." And as we
+passed the dark mountain lake, we saw a beautiful young woman bathing.
+She looked like a water-nymph. But when she saw us she disappeared under
+the water, and did not show herself again. Was she drowning herself from
+very modesty? I pulled her out of the water, we dressed her; then fear
+gave her strength, she jumped up and ran away. It was my "Forest Lily."
+
+Hermann no longer insisted on climbing the mountain. He came with me to
+Winkelsteg, remained three days, made Berthold gamekeeper, and arranged
+that he should forthwith marry Aga in our church. Before he left he said
+to me: "She thought more of her maidenhood than of her life. I never
+knew there were such women. This is a new world for me--I, too, belong
+to the forest. I entrust her to you--teach her if she wants to learn,
+and take care of her. And keep the secret If I can be cured, I shall
+return."
+
+                                                       _Summer_, 1837.
+
+It has come to pass. Schrankenheim has broken through class prejudice.
+Two days ago he was married to Forest Lily in our church. They have left
+us, and have gone to the beautiful city of Salzburg.
+
+The years pass in loneliness and monotony. Yet they have brought a great
+change. A prosperous village now surrounds the church, and orchards
+surround the village. And the folk are no longer savages. How smartly
+they are now dressed on Sundays! The young people have more knowledge
+than the old, but too little reverence for the old. But they still smoke
+tobacco and drink spirits. What can an old schoolmaster do quite by
+himself?
+
+                                                       _Spring_, 1848.
+
+Hermann's beautiful sister, she who turned my head so many years ago, is
+coming here to seek refuge from the troubles in town, where they are
+building barricades. I must see that everything is made pleasant and
+comfortable for her.
+
+                                                         _June_, 1848.
+
+To-day she gave a dinner party, and invited the parson and the
+innkeeper. And I was sent a piece of meat and a glass of wine. I gave it
+to a beggar. So two beggars have received alms to-day. I hear they spoke
+of me during dinner. She said I received charity from her father when I
+was a poor student; then I ran away from school and returned as a
+vagabond. So you know it now, Andreas Erdmann!
+
+                                                _Christmas Eve_, 1864.
+
+I have not left the forest for fifty years. If I could only see the sea.
+They say on a clear day you can see it from the "Grey Tooth."
+To-morrow----
+
+Here the diary broke off abruptly. The next day being bright and sunny,
+I engaged a lad to guide me on the deferred ascent. It was glorious. And
+whilst my eyes were searching the far distance, my companion gave a
+sudden scream, and pointed--at a human head protruding from the snow. He
+recognised the schoolmaster. We dug him out of the hard snow and found
+in his pocket a paper on which a shaky hand had written in pencil:
+"Christmas Day. At sunset I beheld the sea and lost my eyesight"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
+
+
+The New Heloise
+
+
+     Jean Jacques Rousseau, born at Geneva on June 28, 1712, tells
+     the story of his own life in the "Confessions" (see LIVES AND
+     LETTERS, Vol. X). All his dreams of felicity having been
+     shattered, he took up his abode in Paris, where he made a poor
+     living by copying music. Hither, again, he returned after a
+     short stay in Venice, where he acted as secretary in the
+     Embassy. He now secured work on the great Encyclopaedia, and
+     became known, in 1749, by an essay on the arts and sciences,
+     in which he attacked all culture as an evidence and cause of
+     social degeneration. A successful opera followed in 1753; and
+     to the same year belongs his "Essay on Inequality among Men"
+     ("Discours sur l'inégalité parmi les Hommes"), in which he
+     came forward as the apostle of the state of nature, and of
+     anarchy. His revolutionary ideas were viewed with great
+     displeasure by the authorities, and he fled in 1764 to
+     Switzerland; and in 1766, under the auspices of David Hume, to
+     England. Rousseau wrote "The New Heloise" ("La Nouvelle
+     Héloise") in 1756-7, while residing at the Hermitage at
+     Montmorency--an abode where, in spite of certain quarrels and
+     emotional episodes, he passed some of the most placid days of
+     his life. This book, the title of which was founded on the
+     historic love of Abelard and Heloise (see Vol. IX), was
+     published in 1760. Rousseau's primary intention was to reveal
+     the effect of passion upon persons of simple but lofty nature,
+     unspoiled by the artificialities of society. The work may be
+     described as a novel because it cannot very well be described
+     as anything else. It is overwhelmingly long and diffuse; the
+     slender stream of narrative threads its way through a
+     wilderness of discourses on the passions, the arts, society,
+     rural life, religion, suicide, natural scenery, and nearly
+     everything else that Rousseau was interested in--and his
+     interests were legion. "The New Heloise" is thoroughly
+     characteristic of the wandering, enthusiastic,
+     emotional-genius of its author. Several brilliant passages in
+     it are ranked among the classics of French literature; and of
+     the work as a whole, it may be said, judicially and without
+     praise or censure, that there is nothing quite like it in any
+     literature. Rousseau died near Paris, July 2, 1778.
+
+
+_I.--"The Course of True Love"_
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+I must escape from you, mademoiselle. I must see you no more.
+
+You know that I entered your house as tutor to yourself and your cousin,
+Mademoiselle Claire, at your mother's invitation. I did not foresee the
+peril; at any rate, I did not fear it. I shall not say that I am now
+paying the price of my rashness, for I trust I shall never fail in the
+respect due to your high birth, your beauty, and your noble character.
+But I confess that you have captured my heart. How could I fail to adore
+the touching union of keen sensibility and unchanging sweetness, the
+tender pity, all those spiritual qualities that are worth so much more
+to me than personal charms?
+
+I have lost my reason. I promise to strive to recover it. You, and you
+alone, can help me. Forbid me from appearing in your presence, show this
+letter if you like to your parents; drive me away. I can endure anything
+from you. I am powerless to escape of my own accord.
+
+
+FROM JULIE
+
+I must, then, reveal my secret! I have striven to resist, but I am
+powerless. Everything seems to magnify my love for you; all nature seems
+to be your accomplice; every effort that I make is in vain. I adore you
+in spite of myself.
+
+I hope and I believe that a heart which has seemed to me to deserve the
+whole attachment of mine will not belie the generosity that I expect of
+it; and I hope, also that if you should prove unworthy of the devotion I
+feel for you, my indignation and contempt will restore to me the reason
+that my love has caused me to lose.
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+Oh, how am I to realise the torrent of delights that pours into my
+heart? And how can I best reassure the alarms of a timid and loving
+woman? Pure and heavenly beauty, judge more truly, I beseech you, of the
+nature of your power. Believe me, if I adore your loveliness, it is
+because of the spotless soul of which that loveliness is the outward
+token. When I cease to love virtue, I shall cease to love you, and I
+shall no longer ask you to love me.
+
+
+FROM JULIE
+
+My friend, I feel that every day I become more attached to you; the
+smallest absence from you is insupportable; and when you are not with me
+I must needs write you, so that I may occupy myself with you
+unceasingly.
+
+My mind is troubled with news that my father has just told me. He is
+expecting a visit from his old friend, M. de Wolmar; and it is to M. de
+Wolmar, I suspect, that he designs that I should be married. I cannot
+marry without the approval of those who gave me life; and you know what
+the fury of my father would be if I were to confess my love for you--for
+he would assuredly not suffer me to be united to one whom he deems my
+inferior in that mere worldly rank for which I care nothing. Yet I
+cannot marry a man I do not love; and you are the only man I shall ever
+love.
+
+It pains me that I must not reveal our secret to my dear mother, who
+esteems you so highly; but would she not reveal it, from a sense of
+duty, to my father? It is best that only my inseparable Cousin Claire
+should know the truth.
+
+
+FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE
+
+I have bad news for you, my dear cousin. First of all, your love affair
+is being gossipped about; secondly, this gossip has indirectly brought
+your lover into serious danger.
+
+You have met my lord Edouard Bomston, the young English noble who is now
+staying at Vevay. Your lover has been on terms of such warm friendship
+with him ever since they met at Sion some time ago that I could not
+believe they would ever have quarrelled. Yet they quarrelled last night,
+and about you.
+
+During the evening, M. d'Orbe tells me, mylord Edouard drank freely, and
+began to talk about you. Your lover was displeased and silent. Mylord
+Edouard, angered at his coldness, declared that he was not always cold,
+and that somebody, who should be nameless, caused him to behave in a
+very different manner. Your lover drew his sword instantly; mylord
+Edouard drew also, but stumbled in his intoxication, and injured his
+leg. In spite of M. d'Orbe's efforts to reconcile them, a meeting was
+arranged to take place as soon as mylord Edouard's leg was better.
+
+You must prevent the duel somehow, for mylord Edouard is a dangerous
+swordsman. Meanwhile, I am terrified lest the gossip about you should
+reach your father's ears. It would be best to get your lover to go away
+before any mischief comes to pass.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+I am told that you are about to fight the man whom I love--for it is
+true that I love him--and that he will probably die by your hand. Enjoy
+in advance, if you can, the pleasure of piercing the bosom of your
+friend, but be sure that you will not have that of contemplating my
+despair. For I swear that I shall not survive by one day the death of
+him who is to me as my life's breath. Thus you will have the glory of
+slaying with a single stroke two hapless lovers who have never willingly
+committed a fault towards you, and who have delighted to honour you.
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+Have no fear for me, dearest Julie. Read this, and I am sure that you
+will share in my feelings of gratitude and affection towards the man
+with whom I have quarrelled.
+
+This morning mylord Edouard entered my room, accompanied by two
+gentlemen. "I have come," he said, "to withdraw the injurious words that
+intoxication led me to utter in your presence. Pardon me, and restore to
+me your friendship. I am ready to endure any chastisement that you see
+fit to inflict upon me."
+
+"Mylord," I replied, "I acknowledge your nobility of spirit. The words
+you uttered when you were not yourself are henceforth utterly
+forgotten." I embraced him, and he bade the gentlemen withdraw.
+
+When we were alone, he gave me the warmest testimonies of friendship;
+and, touched by his generosity, I told him the whole story of our love.
+He promised enthusiastically to do what he could to further our
+happiness; and this is the nobler in him, inasmuch as he admitted that
+he had himself conceived a tender admiration for you.
+
+
+FROM JULIE
+
+Dearest, the worst has happened. My father knows of our love. He came to
+me yesterday pale with fury; in his wrath he struck me. Then, suddenly,
+he took me in his arms and implored my forgiveness. But I know that he
+will never consent to our union; I shall never dare to mention your name
+in his presence. My love for you is unalterable; our souls are linked by
+bonds that time cannot dissolve. And yet--my duty to my parents! How can
+I do right by wronging them? Oh, pity my distraction!
+
+It seems that mylord Edouard impulsively asked my father for his consent
+to our union, telling him how deeply we loved each other, and that he
+would mortally injure his daughter's happiness if he denied her wishes.
+My father replied, in bitter anger, that he would never suffer his child
+to be united to a man of humble birth. Mylord Edouard hotly retorted
+that mere distinctions of birth were worthless when weighed in the scale
+with true refinement and true virtue. They had a long and violent
+argument, and parted in enmity.
+
+I must take counsel with Cousin Claire, who never suffers her reason to
+be clouded with those heart-torments of which I am the unhappy victim.
+
+
+FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE
+
+On learning of your distress, dear cousin, I made up my mind that your
+lover must go away, for your sake and his own; I summoned M. d'Orbe and
+mylord Edouard. I told M. d'Orbe that the success of his suit to me
+depended on his help to you. You know that my friendship for you is
+greater than any love can be. Mylord Edouard acted splendidly. He
+promised to endow your lover with a third of his estate, and to take him
+to Paris and London, there to win the distinction that his talents
+deserve.
+
+M. d'Orbe went to order a chaise, and I proceeded to your lover and told
+him that it was his duty to leave at once. At first he passionately
+refused, then he yielded to despair; then he begged to be allowed to see
+you once more. I refused; I urged that all delays were dangerous. His
+agony brought tears to my eyes, but I was firm. M. d'Orbe led him away;
+mylord Edouard was waiting with the chaise, and they are now on the way
+to Besançon and Paris.
+
+
+_II.--The Separation_
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+Why was I not allowed to see you before leaving? Did you fear that the
+parting would kill me? Be reassured. I do not suffer--I think of you--I
+think of the time when I was dear to you. Nay, you love me yet, I know
+it. But why so cruelly drive me away? Say one word, and I return like
+the lightning. Ah, these babblings are but flung into empty air. I shall
+live and die far away from you--I have lost you for ever!
+
+
+FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE
+
+Deep depression has succeeded violent grief in the mind of your lover.
+But I can count upon his heart, it is a heart framed to fight and to
+conquer.
+
+I have a proposition to make which I hope you will carefully consider.
+In your happiness and your lover's I have a tender and inextinguishable
+interest, since between you I perceive a deeper harmony than I have ever
+known to exist between man and woman. Your present misfortunes are due
+to my indiscretion; let me do what I can to repair the fault.
+
+I have in Yorkshire an old castle and a large estate. They are yours and
+your lover's, Julie, if you will accept them. You can escape from Vevay
+with the aid of my valet, when I have left there; you can join your
+lover, be wedded to him, and spend the rest of your days happily in the
+place of refuge I have designed for you.
+
+Reflect upon this, I beseech you. I should add that I have said nothing
+of this project to your lover. The decision rests with you and you
+alone.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+Your letter, mylord, fills me with gratitude and admiration. It would
+indeed be joy for me to gain happiness under the auspices of so generous
+a friend, and to procure from his kindness the contentment that fortune
+has denied me.
+
+But could contentment ever be granted to me if I had the consciousness
+of having pitilessly abandoned those who gave me birth? I am their only
+living child; all their pleasure, all their hope is in me. Can I deliver
+up their closing days to shame, regrets, and tears? No, mylord,
+happiness could not be bought at such a price. I dare brave all the
+sorrows that await me here; remorse I dare not brave.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO HER LOVER
+
+I have just returned from the wedding of Claire and M. d'Orbe. You will,
+I know, share my pleasure in the happiness of our dearest friend; and
+such is the worth of the friendship that joins us, that the good fortune
+of one of us should be a real consolation for the sorrows of the other
+two.
+
+Continue to write me from Paris, but let me tell you that I am not
+pleased with the bitterness of your letters--a bitterness unworthy of my
+philosophic tutor of the happy bygone days at Vevay. I wish my true love
+to see all things clearly, and to be the just and honest man I have
+always deemed him--not a cynic who seeks a sorry comfort in misfortune
+by carping at the rest of mankind.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER
+
+I am about to ask of you a great sacrifice; but I know you will perceive
+it to be a necessary sacrifice, and I think that your devotion to
+Julie's true happiness will endure even this final test.
+
+Julie's mother has died, and Julie has tormented herself with the idea
+that her love troubles have hastened her parent's end. Since then she
+has had a serious illness, and is now in a depressed state both
+physically and mentally. Nothing, I am convinced, can cure her save
+absolute oblivion of the past, and the beginning of a new life--a
+married life.
+
+M. de Wolmar is here once more, and Julie's father will insist upon her
+union with him. This quiet, emotionless, observant man cannot win her
+love, but he can bring her peace. Will you cease from all correspondence
+with her, and renounce all claim to her? Remember that Julie's whole
+future depends upon your answer. Her father will force her to obey him;
+prove that you are worthy of her love by removing all obstacles to her
+obedience.
+
+
+FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO HER FATHER
+
+I hereby renounce all claims upon the hand of Julie d'Etange, and
+acknowledge her right to dispose of herself in matrimony without
+consulting her heart.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER
+
+Julie is married. Give thanks to the heaven that has saved you both.
+Respect her new estate; do not write to her, but wait to hear from her.
+Now is the time when I shall learn whether you are worthy of the esteem
+I have ever felt for you.
+
+
+FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE'S LOVER
+
+A squadron is fitting out at Plymouth for the tour of the globe, under
+the command of my old friend George Anson. I have obtained permission
+for you to accompany him. Will you go?
+
+
+FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO MADAME D'ORBE
+
+I am starting, dear and charming cousin, for a voyage round the
+world--to seek in another hemisphere the peace that I cannot enjoy in
+this. Adieu, tender and inseparable friends, may you make each other's
+happiness!
+
+
+_III.--The Philosophic Husband_
+
+
+FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX (PSEUDONYM OF JULIE'S LOVER)
+
+I learn that you have returned to Europe after all these years of
+travel. Although I have not as yet the pleasure of knowing you, permit
+me nevertheless to address you. The wisest and dearest of women has
+opened her heart to me. I believe that you are worthy of having been
+loved by her, and I invite you to our home. Innocence and peace reign
+within it; you will find there friendship, hospitality, esteem, and
+confidence.
+
+                                                               WOLMAR.
+
+P.S.--Come, my friend; we wait you with eagerness. Do not grieve me by a
+refusal.
+
+                                                                JULIE.
+
+
+FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+I have seen her, mylord! She has called me her friend--her dear friend.
+I am happier than ever I was in my life.
+
+Yet when I approached M. de Wolmar's house at Clarens, I was in a state
+of frantic nervousness. Could I bear to see my old love in the
+possession of another? Would I not be driven to despair? As the carriage
+neared Clarens, I wished that it would break down. When I dismounted I
+awaited Julie in mortal anxiety. She came running and calling out to me,
+she seized me in her arms. All my terrors were banished, I knew no
+feeling but joy.
+
+M. de Wolmar, meanwhile, was standing beside us. She turned to him, and
+introduced me to him as her old friend. "If new friends have less ardour
+than old ones," he said to me as he embraced me, "they will be old
+friends in their turn, and will yield nothing to others." My heart was
+exhausted, I received his embraces passively.
+
+When we reached the drawing-room she disappeared for a moment, and
+returned--not alone. She brought her two children with her, darling
+little boys, who bore on their countenances the charm and the
+fascination of their mother. A thousand thoughts rushed into my mind, I
+could not speak; I took them in my arms, and welcomed their innocent
+caresses.
+
+The children withdrew, and M. de Wolmar was called away. I was alone
+with Julie. I was conscious of a painful restraint; she was seemingly at
+ease, and I became gradually reassured. We talked of my travels, and of
+her married life; there was no mention of our old relations.
+
+I came to realise how Julie was changed, and yet the same. She is a
+matron, the happy mother of children, the happy mistress of a prosperous
+household. Her old love is not extinguished; but it is subdued by
+domestic peace and by her unalterable virtue--let me add, by the trust
+and kindness of her elderly husband, whose unemotional goodness has been
+just what was needed to soothe her passion and sorrow. I am her old and
+dear friend; I can never be more. And, believe me, I am content.
+Occasionally, pangs of regret tear at my heart, but they do not last
+long; my passion is cured, and I can never experience another.
+
+How can I describe to you the peace and felicity that reign in this
+household? M. de Wolmar is, above all things, a man of system; the life
+of the establishment moves with ordered regularity from the year's
+beginning to its end. But the system is not mechanical; it is founded on
+wide experience of men, and governed by philosophy. In the home life of
+Julie and her husband and children luxury is never permitted; even the
+table delicacies are simple products of the country. But, without
+luxury, there is perfect comfort and perfect confidence. I have never
+known a community so thoroughly happy, and it is a deep joy to me to be
+admitted as a cherished member of it.
+
+One day M. de Wolmar drew Julie and myself aside, and where do you think
+he took us? To a plantation near the house, which Julie had never
+entered since her marriage. It was there that she had first kissed me.
+She was unwilling to enter the place, but he drew her along with him,
+and bade us be seated. Then he began:
+
+"Julie, I knew the secret of your love before you revealed it to me. I
+knew it before I married you. I may have been in the wrong to marry you,
+knowing that your heart was elsewhere; but I loved you, and I believed I
+could make you happy. Have I succeeded?"
+
+"My dear husband," said Julie, in tears, "you know you have succeeded."
+
+"One thing only," he went on, "was necessary to prove to you that your
+old passion was powerless against your virtue, and that was the presence
+of your old lover. I trusted you; I believed, from my knowledge of you,
+that I could trust him. I invited him here, and since then I have been
+quietly watching. My high anticipations of him are justified. And as for
+you, Julie, the haunting fears that your virtue would fail before the
+test inflicted by the return of your lover have, once and for all, been
+put to rest. Past wounds are healed. Monsieur," he added, turning to me,
+"you have proved yourself worthy of our fullest confidence and our
+warmest friendship."
+
+What could I answer? I could but embrace him in silence.
+
+Madame d'Orbe, now a widow, is about to come here to take permanent
+charge of the household, leaving Julie to devote herself to the training
+of the children.
+
+Hasten to join us, mylord; your coming is anxiously awaited. For my own
+part, I shall not be content until you have looked with your own eyes
+upon the peaceful delights of our life at Clarens.
+
+
+FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+Madame d'Orbe is now with us. We look to you to complete the party. When
+you have made a long stay at Clarens, I shall be ready to join you in
+your projected journey to Rome.
+
+Julie has revealed to me the one trouble of her life. Her husband is a
+freethinker. Will you aid me in trying to convince him of his error, and
+thus perfecting Julie's happiness?
+
+
+_IV.--The Veil_
+
+
+FROM SAINT PREUX TO MADAME D'ORBE
+
+Mylord Edouard and I, after leaving you all yesterday, proceeded no
+farther than Villeneuve; an accident to one of mylord's attendants
+delayed us, and we spent the night there.
+
+As you know, I had parted from Julie with regret, but without violent
+emotion. Yet, strangely enough, when I was alone last night the old
+grief came back. I had lost her! She lived and was happy; her life was
+my death, her happiness my torment! I struggled with these ideas. When I
+lay down, they pursued me in my sleep.
+
+At length I started up from a hideous dream. I had seen Julie stretched
+upon her death-bed. I knew it was she, although her face was covered by
+a veil. I advanced to tear it off; I could not reach it. "Be calm, my
+friend," she said feebly; "the veil of dread covers me, no hand can
+remove it." I made another effort, and awoke.
+
+Again I slept, again I dreamt the dream. A third time I slept, a third
+time it appeared to me. This was too much. I fled from my room to mylord
+Edouard's.
+
+At first, he treated the dream as a jest; but, seeing my panic-stricken
+earnestness, he changed his tune. "You will have a chance of recovering
+your reason to-morrow," he said. Next morning we set out on our journey,
+as I thought. Brooding over my dream, I never noticed that the lake was
+on the left-hand of the carriage, that we were returning. When I roused
+myself, I found that we were back again at Clarens!
+
+"Now, go and see her again; prove that the dream was wrong," said
+Edouard.
+
+I went nervously, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself. I could hear you
+and Julie talking in the garden. I was cured in an instant of my
+superstitious folly; it fled from my mind. I retired without seeing her,
+feeling a man again. I rejoined mylord Edouard, and drove back to
+Villeneuve. We are about to resume the journey to Rome.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX
+
+Why did you not come to see us, instead of merely listening to our
+voices? You have transfixed the terror of your dream to me. Until your
+return, I shall never look upon Julie without trembling, lest I should
+lose her.
+
+M. de Wolmar has let you know his wish that you should remain
+permanently with us and superintend the education of his children. I am
+sure you will accept Rejoin us swiftly, then; I shall not have an easy
+moment until you are amongst us once more.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX
+
+It has come to pass. You will never see her more! The veil! The veil!
+Julie is dead!
+
+
+FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX
+
+I have allowed your first hours of grief to pass in silence. I was in no
+condition to give details, nor you to receive them. Now I may write, and
+you may read.
+
+We were on a visit to the castle of Chillon, guests of the bailli of
+Vevay. After dinner the whole party walked on the ramparts, and our
+youngest son slipped and fell into the deep water. Julie plunged in
+after him. Both were rescued; the child was soon brought round, but
+Julie's state was critical. When she had recovered a little, she was
+taken back to Clarens. The doctor told her she had but three days to
+live. She spent those three days in perfect cheerfulness and
+tranquillity of spirit, conversing with Madame D'Orbe, the pastor, and
+myself, expressing her content that her life should end at a time when
+she had attained complete happiness. On the fourth morning we found her
+lifeless.
+
+During the three days she wrote a letter, which I enclose. Fulfil her
+last requests. There yet remains much for you to do on earth.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO SAINT PREUX
+
+All is changed, my dear friend; let us suffer the change without a
+murmur. It was not well for us that we should rejoin each other.
+
+For it was an illusion that my love for you was cured; now, in the
+presence of death, I know that I still love you. I avow this without
+shame, for I have done my duty. My virtue is without stain, my love
+without remorse.
+
+Come back to Clarens; train my children, comfort their noble father,
+lead him into the light of Christian faith. Claire, like yourself, is
+about to lose the half of her life; let each of you preserve the other
+half by a union that in these latter days I have often wished to bring
+about.
+
+Adieu, sweet friend, adieu!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+BERNARDIN DE ST. PIERRE
+
+
+Paul and Virginia
+
+
+     Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint Pierre was born at Havre on
+     January 19, 1737. Like many boys that are natives of seaports,
+     he was anxious to become a sailor; but a single voyage cured
+     him of his desire for a seafaring life, although not of his
+     love for travel. For some years afterwards he was a rolling
+     stone, sometimes soldier and sometimes engineer, visiting one
+     European country after another. In 1771 he obtained a
+     government appointment in Mauritius, a spot which was the
+     subject of his first book (see TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, Vol.
+     XIX), and which was afterwards made the scene of "Paul and
+     Virginia." In his "Nature Studies," 1783, he showed an
+     enthusiasm for nature that contrasted vividly with the
+     artificiality of most eighteenth-century writers; but his fame
+     was not established until he had set all the ladies of France
+     weeping with his "Paul and Virginia," perhaps the most
+     sentimental book ever written. It was published in 1787, and
+     although it does not cause in modern readers the tearful
+     raptures that it provoked on its first appearance, its fame
+     has survived as the most notable work of a romantic and
+     nature-loving sentimentalist with remarkable powers of
+     narration. Saint Pierre died on January 21, 1814.
+
+
+_I.--The Home Among the Rocks_
+
+
+On the eastern declivity of the mountain which rises behind Port Louis,
+in the Isle of France, are still to be seen, on a spot of ground
+formerly cultivated, the ruins of two little cottages. They are situated
+almost in the midst of a basin formed by enormous rocks, with only one
+opening, from which you may look upon Port Louis and the sea.
+
+I took pleasure in retiring to this place, where one can at once enjoy
+an unbounded prospect and profound solitude. One day, as I was sitting
+near the cottages, an elderly man approached me. His hair was completely
+white, his aspect simple and majestic. I saluted him, and he sat down
+beside me.
+
+"Can you inform me, father," I asked, "to whom these two cottages
+belonged?"
+
+"My son," replied he, "these ruins were inhabited by two families, which
+there found the means of true happiness. But who will deign to take an
+interest in the history, however affecting, of a few obscure
+individuals?"
+
+"Father," I replied, "relate to me, I beseech you, what you know of
+them; and be assured that there is no man, however depraved by
+prejudices, but loves to hear of the felicity which nature and virtue
+bestow."
+
+Upon this the old man related what follows.
+
+In the year 1735 there came to this spot a young widow named Madame de
+la Tour. She was of a noble Norman family; but her husband was of
+obscure birth. She had married him portionless, and against the will of
+her relations, and they had journeyed here to seek their fortune. The
+husband soon died, and his widow found herself destitute of every
+possession except a single negro woman. She resolved to seek a
+subsistence by cultivating a small plot of ground, and this was the spot
+that she chose.
+
+Providence had one blessing in store for Madame de la Tour--the blessing
+of a friend. Inhabiting this spot was a sprightly and sensible woman of
+Brittany, named Margaret. She, like madame, had suffered from the
+sorrows of love; she had fled to the colonies, and had here established
+herself with her baby and an old negro, whom she had purchased with a
+poor, borrowed purse.
+
+When Madame de la Tour had unfolded to Margaret her former condition and
+her present wants the good woman was moved with compassion; she tendered
+to the stranger a shelter in her cottage and her friendship. I knew them
+both, and went to offer them my assistance. The territory in the
+rock-basin, amounting to about twenty acres, I divided equally between
+them. Margaret's cottage was on the boundary of her own domain, and
+close at hand I built another cottage for Madame de la Tour. Scarcely
+had I completed it when a daughter was born to madame. She was called
+Virginia; the infant son of Margaret bore the name of Paul.
+
+The two friends, so dear to each other in spite of their difference in
+rank, spun cotton for a livelihood. They seldom visited Port Louis, for
+fear of the contempt with which they were treated on account of the
+coarseness of their dress. But if they were exposed to a little
+suffering when abroad, they returned home with so much more additional
+satisfaction. They found there cleanliness and freedom, blessings which
+they owed entirely to their own industry, and to servants animated with
+zeal and affection. As for themselves, they had but one will, one
+interest, one table. They had everything in common.
+
+Their mutual love redoubled at the sight of their two children. Nothing
+was to be compared with the attachment which the babes showed for each
+other. If Paul complained, they brought Virginia to him; at the sight of
+her he was pacified. If Virginia suffered, Paul lamented; but Virginia
+was wont to conceal her pain, that her sufferings might not distress
+him. All their study was to please and assist each other. They had been
+taught no religion but that which instructs us to love one another; and
+they raised toward heaven innocent hands and pure hearts, filled with
+the love of their parents. Thus passed their early infancy, like a
+beautiful dawn, which seems to promise a still more beautiful day.
+
+Madame de la Tour had moments of uneasiness during her daughter's
+childhood; sometimes she used to say to me: "If I should die what would
+become of Virginia, dowerless as she is?" She had an aunt in France, a
+woman of quality, rich, old, and a devotee, to whom she had written at
+the time of Virginia's birth. Not until 1746--eleven years later--did a
+reply reach her. Her aunt told her that she merited her condition for
+having married an adventurer; that the untimely death of her husband was
+a just chastisement of God; that she had done well not to dishonour her
+country by returning to France; and that after all she was in an
+excellent country, where everybody made fortunes except the idle.
+
+She added, however, that in spite of all this she had strongly
+recommended her to the governor of the island, M. de la Bourdonaye. But,
+conformably to a custom too prevalent, in feigning to pity she had
+calumniated her; and, consequently, madame was received by the governor
+with the greatest coolness.
+
+Returning to the plantation with a bitter heart, madame read the letter
+tearfully to all the family. Margaret clasped her to her arms; Virginia,
+weeping, kissed her hands; Paul stamped with rage; the servants hearing
+the noise, ran in to comfort her.
+
+Such marks of affection soon dissipated madame's anguish.
+
+"Oh, my children!" she cried. "Misfortune only attacks me from afar;
+happiness is ever around me!"
+
+
+_II--Nature's Children_
+
+
+As the years went on, Paul and Virginia grew up together in purity and
+contentment. Every succeeding day was to them a day of happiness. They
+were strangers to the torments of envy and ambition. By living in
+solitude, so far from degenerating into savages, they had become more
+humane. If the scandalous history of society did not supply them with
+topics of discourse, nature filled their hearts with transports of
+wonder and delight. They contemplated with rapture the power of that
+Providence which, by aid of their hands, had diffused amid these barren
+rocks abundance, beauty, and simple and unceasing pleasures.
+
+When the weather was fine, the families went on Sundays to mass at the
+church of Pamplemousses. When mass was over, they ministered to the sick
+or gave comfort to the distressed. From these visits Virginia often
+returned with her eyes bathed in tears, but her heart overflowing with
+joy, for she had been blessed with an opportunity of doing good.
+
+Paul and Virginia had no clocks nor almanacs nor books of history or
+philosophy; the periods of their lives were regulated by those of
+nature. They knew the hour of the day by the shadow of the trees; the
+seasons by the times when the trees bore flowers or fruits; and years by
+the number of the harvests.
+
+"It is dinner-time," Virginia would say to the family; "the shadows of
+the banana-trees are at their feet." Or, "Night approaches, for the
+tamarinds are closing their leaves."
+
+When asked about her age and that of Paul, "My brother," she would
+answer, "is the same age with the great coconut-tree of the fountain,
+and I the same age with the small one. The mango-trees have yielded
+their fruit twelve times, and the orange-trees have opened their
+blossoms twenty-four times since I came into the world."
+
+Thus did these two children of nature advance in life; hitherto no care
+had wrinkled their foreheads, no intemperance had corrupted their blood,
+no unhappy passion had depraved their hearts; love, innocence, piety
+were daily unfolding the beauties of their souls in graces ineffable, in
+their features, their attitude, and their movements.
+
+Nevertheless, in time Virginia felt herself disturbed by a strange
+malady. Serenity no longer sat upon her forehead, nor smiles upon her
+lips. She withdrew herself from her innocent amusements, from her sweet
+occupations, and from the society of her family.
+
+Sometimes, at the sight of Paul, she ran up to him playfully, when all
+of a sudden an unaccountable embarrassment seized her; a lively red
+coloured her cheeks, and her eyes no longer dared to fix themselves on
+his.
+
+Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame de la Tour, "Why should we not marry
+our children? Their passion for each other is extreme, although my son
+is not sensible of it."
+
+"Not yet," answered madame; "they are too young, and too poor. But if we
+send Paul to India for a short time, commerce will supply him with the
+means of buying some slaves. On his return we will marry him to
+Virginia, for I am certain that no one can make my daughter so happy as
+your son Paul. Let us consult our neighbour about it."
+
+So they discussed the matter with me, and I approved of their plan. But
+when I opened the business to Paul, I was astonished when he replied,
+"Why would you have me quit my family for a visionary project of
+fortune? If we wish to engage in trade, cannot we do so by carrying our
+superfluities to the city, without any necessity for my rambling to
+India? What if any accident should befall my family during my absence,
+more especially Virginia, who even now is suffering? Ah, no! I could
+never make up my mind to quit them."
+
+I durst not hint to him that Virginia was lovesick, and that the voyage
+had been projected that the two might be separated until they had grown
+a little older.
+
+
+_III.--Virginia's Departure_
+
+
+Just at this time a letter came to Madame de la Tour from her aunt, who
+had just recovered from a dangerous illness, and whose obdurate heart
+had been softened by the fear of death. She requested her niece to
+return to France; or, if the state of her health prevented her from
+undertaking the voyage, to send Virginia thither, on whom she intended
+to bestow a good education, a place at court, and a bequest of all her
+possessions. The return of her favour, she added, depended entirely on
+compliance with these injunctions.
+
+The letter filled the family with utter consternation.
+
+"Can you leave us?" Margaret asked, in deep anxiety.
+
+"No," replied madame, "I will never leave you. With you I have lived,
+and with you I mean to die."
+
+At these words tears of joy bedewed the cheeks of the whole household,
+and the most joyous of all, although she gave the least testimony to her
+pleasure, was Virginia.
+
+But next morning they were surprised to receive a visit from the
+governor. He, too, had heard from madame's aunt. "Surely," he said, "you
+cannot without injustice deprive your young and beautiful daughter of so
+great an inheritance." Taking madame aside, he told her that a vessel
+was on the point of sailing, and that a lady who was related to him
+would take care of her daughter. He then placed upon the table a large
+bag of piastres, which one of his slaves had brought. "This," he said,
+"is what your aunt has sent to make the preparations for the voyage."
+
+After the governor had left, madame urged her daughter to go. But wealth
+had no temptations for Virginia. She thought only of her family, and of
+her love for Paul. "Oh, I shall never have resolution to quit you!" she
+cried.
+
+But in the evening came her father confessor, sent by the governor. "My
+children," said he as he entered, "there is wealth in store for you now,
+thanks to Heaven. You have at length the means of gratifying your
+benevolent feeling by ministering to the unhappy. We must obey the will
+of Providence," he continued, turning to Virginia. "It is a sacrifice, I
+grant, but it is the command of the Almighty."
+
+Virginia, with downcast eyes and trembling voice, replied, "If it is the
+command of God that I should go, God's will be done." And burst into
+tears.
+
+I was with the family at supper that evening. Little was eaten, and
+nobody uttered a syllable.
+
+After supper Virginia rose first, and went out. Paul quickly followed
+her. The rest of us went out soon afterwards, and we sat down under the
+banana-trees. Paul and Virginia were not far off, and we heard every
+word they said.
+
+"You are going to leave us," began Paul, "for the sake of a relation
+whom you have never seen!"
+
+"Alas!" replied Virginia. "Had I been allowed to follow my own
+inclinations, I should have remained here all my days. But my mother
+wishes me to go. My confessor says it is the will of God that I should
+go."
+
+"Ah!" said Paul. "And do you say nothing of the attractions of wealth?
+You will soon find another on whom you can bestow the name of brother
+among your equals--one who has riches and high birth, which I cannot
+offer you. But whither can you go to be more happy than where you are?
+Cruel girl! How will our mothers bear this separation? What will become
+of me? Oh, since a new destiny attracts you, since you seek fortune in
+far countries, let me at least go with you! I will follow you as your
+slave."
+
+Paul's voice was stifled with sobs. "It is for your sake that I go!"
+cried Virginia tearfully. "You have laboured daily to support us. By my
+wealth I shall seek to repay the good you have done to us all. And would
+I choose any brother but thee! Oh, Paul, Paul, you are far dearer to me
+than a brother!"
+
+At these words he clasped her in his arms. "I shall go with her. Nothing
+shall shake my resolution!" he declared, in a terrible voice.
+
+We ran towards them, and Paul turned savagely on Madame de la Tour. "Do
+you act the part of a mother," he cried, "you who separate brother and
+sister? Pitiless woman! May the ocean never give her back to your arms!"
+His eyes sparkled; sweat ran down his countenance.
+
+"Oh, my friend," cried Virginia to him in terror, "I swear by all that
+could ever unite two unhappy beings that if I remain here I will only
+live for you; and if I depart, I will one day return to be yours!"
+
+His head drooped; a torrent of tears gushed from his eyes.
+
+"Come to-night to my home, my friend," I said. "We will talk this matter
+over to-morrow."
+
+"I cannot let her go!" cried madame, in distraction.
+
+Paul accompanied me in silence. After a restless night he arose at
+daybreak, and returned to his own home.
+
+Virginia had gone! The vessel had sailed at daybreak, and she was on
+board.
+
+By intricate paths Paul climbed to the summit of a rock cone, from which
+a vast area of sea was visible. From here he perceived the vessel that
+bore away Virginia; and here I found him in the evening, his head
+leaning against the rock, his eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+When I had persuaded him to return home, he bitterly reproached madame
+with having so cruelly deceived him. She told us that a breeze had
+sprung up in the early morning, and that the governor himself, his
+officers, and the confessor has come and carried Virginia off in spite
+of all their tears and protests, the governor declaring that it was for
+their good that she was thus hurried away.
+
+Paul wandered miserably among all the spots that had been Virginia's
+favourites. He looked at her goats, and at the birds that came
+fluttering to be fed by the hand of her who had gone. He watched the dog
+vainly searching, following the scent up and down. He cherished little
+things that had been hers--the last nosegay she had worn, the coconut
+cup out of which she was accustomed to drink.
+
+At length he began to labour in the plantation again. He also besought
+me to teach him reading and writing, so that he might correspond with
+Virginia; and geography and history, that he might learn the situation
+and character of the country whither she had gone.
+
+We heard a report that Virginia had reached France in safety; but for
+two years we heard no other news of her.
+
+
+_IV.--Virginia's Return_
+
+
+When at length a letter arrived from Virginia it appeared that she had
+written several times before, but as she had received no replies, she
+feared that her great-aunt had intercepted her former letters.
+
+She had been placed in a convent school, and although she lived in the
+midst of riches, she had not the disposal of a single farthing. She was
+not allowed to mention her mother's name, and was bidden to forget the
+land of savages where she was born; but she would sooner forget herself.
+
+To Paul she sent some flower-seeds in a small purse, on which were
+embroidered the letters "P" and "V" formed of hair that he knew to be
+Virginia's.
+
+But reports were current that gave him great uneasiness. The people of
+the vessel that had brought the letter asserted that Virginia was about
+to be married to a great nobleman; some even declared that the wedding
+was already over.
+
+But soon afterwards his disquietude ceased at the news that Virginia was
+about to return.
+
+On the morning of December 24, 1752, Paul saw a signal indicating that a
+vessel was descried at sea, and he hastened to the city. A pilot went
+out to reconnoitre her according to the custom of the port; he came back
+in the evening with the news that the vessel was the Saint Gerard, and
+that her captain hoped to bring her to anchor off Port Louis on the
+following afternoon. Virginia was on board, and sent by the pilot a
+letter to her mother which Paul, after kissing it with transport,
+carried hurriedly to the plantation.
+
+Virginia wrote that her great-aunt had tried to force her into marriage,
+had disinherited her on her refusal, and had sent her back to the
+island. Her only wish now was once more to see and embrace her dear
+family.
+
+Paul, in his excitement, rushed to tell me the news, although it was
+late at night. As we walked together we were overtaken by a breathless
+negro.
+
+"A vessel from France has just cast anchor under Amber Island," he said.
+"She is firing distress guns, for the sea is very heavy."
+
+"That will be Virginia's vessel," I said. "Let us go that way to meet
+her."
+
+The heat was stifling, and the flashes of lightning that illumined the
+dense darkness revealed masses of thick clouds lowering over the island.
+In the distance we heard the boom of the distress-gun. We quickened our
+pace without saying a word, not daring to communicate our anxiety to
+each other.
+
+When we reached the coast by Amber Island, we found several planters
+gathered round a fire, discussing whether the vessel could enter the
+channel in the morning and find safety.
+
+Soon after dawn the governor arrived with a detachment of soldiers, who
+immediately fired a volley. Close at hand came the answering boom of the
+ship's gun; in the dim light we could see her masts and yards, and hear
+the voices of the sailors. She had passed through the channel, and was
+secure--save from the hurricane.
+
+But the hurricane came. Black clouds with copper edging hung in the
+zenith; seabirds made their way, screaming, to shelter in the island.
+Then fearful noises as of torrents were heard from the sea; the mists of
+the morning were swept away and the storm was upon us.
+
+The vessel was now in deadly peril, and ere long what we had feared took
+place. The cables on her bows snapped, and she was dashed upon the rocks
+half a cable's length from the shore. A cry of grief burst from every
+breast.
+
+Paul was about to fling himself into the sea, when I seized him by the
+arm.
+
+"Oh. let me go to her rescue," he cried, "or let me die!"
+
+I tied a rope round his waist, and he advanced toward the ship,
+sometimes walking, sometimes swimming. He hoped to get on board the
+vessel, for the sea in its irregular movements left her almost dry. But
+presently it returned with redoubled fury, and the unhappy Paul was
+hurled back upon the shore, bleeding, bruised, and senseless.
+
+The ship was now going to pieces, and the despairing crew were flinging
+themselves into the sea. On the stern gallery stood Virginia, stretching
+out her arms towards the lover who sought to save her. When he was
+thrust back she waved her hand towards us, as if bidding us an eternal
+farewell.
+
+One sailor remained with her, striving to persuade her to undress and
+try to swim ashore. With a dignified gesture she repelled him. Then a
+prodigious mountain of water swept towards the vessel. The sailor sprang
+off, and was carried ashore. Virginia vanished from our sight.
+
+We found her body on the beach of a bay near at hand, whither much of
+the wreckage had been carried. Her eyes were closed, but her countenance
+showed perfect calm; only the pale violet of death blended itself upon
+her cheeks with the rose of modesty. One of her hands was firmly closed.
+I disengaged from it, with much difficulty, a little casket; within the
+casket was a portrait of Paul--a gift from him which she had promised
+never to part with while she lived.
+
+Paul was taken home stretched on a palanquin. His coming brought a ray
+of comfort to the unhappy mothers; the tears, which had been till then
+restrained through excess of sorrow, now began to flow, and, nature
+being thus relieved, all the three bereaved ones fell into a lethargic
+repose.
+
+It was three weeks ere Paul was sufficiently recovered to walk. For day
+after day, when his strength was restored, he wandered among the places
+endeared to him by memories of Virginia. His eyes grew hollow, his
+colour faded, his health gradually but visibly declined. I strove to
+mitigate his feelings by giving him change of scene, by taking him to
+the busy inhabited parts of the island. My efforts proving quite
+ineffectual, I tried to console him by reminding him that Virginia had
+gained eternal happiness.
+
+"Since death is a blessing, and Virginia is happy," he replied
+mournfully, "I will die, also, that I may again be united to her."
+
+Thus, the consolation I sought to administer only aggravated his
+despair.
+
+Paul died two months after his beloved Virginia, whose name was ever on
+his lips to the last. Margaret survived her son only by a week, and
+Madame de la Tour, who had borne all her terrible losses with a
+greatness of soul beyond belief, lived but another month.
+
+By the side of Virginia, at the foot of the bamboos near the church of
+Pamplemousses, Paul was laid to rest. Close at hand the two mothers were
+buried. No marble is raised over their humble graves, no inscriptions
+record their virtues, but in the hearts of those who loved them, they
+have left a memory that time can never efface.
+
+With these words the old man, tears flowing from his eyes, arose and
+went away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE SAND
+
+
+Consuelo
+
+
+     The life of the great French novelist, George Sand, is as
+     romantic as any of the characters in her novels. She was born
+     at Paris in July, 1804, her real name being Armandine Lucile
+     Aurore Dupin. At eighteen she married the son of a colonel and
+     baron of the empire, by name Dudevant, but after nine years
+     she separated from her husband, and, bent upon a literary
+     career, made her way to Paris. Success came quickly. Entering
+     into a literary partnership with her masculine friend, Jules
+     Sandeau, the chief fruit of their joint enterprise was "Rose
+     et Blanche." This was followed by her independent novel,
+     "Indiana," a story that brought her the enthusiastic praises
+     of the reading public, and the warm friendship of the most
+     distinguished personages in French literary society. A few
+     years later her relations with the poet Alfred De Musset
+     provided the matter for what is now an historic episode. Her
+     literary output was enormous, consisting of a hundred or more
+     volumes of novels and stories, four volumes of autobiography,
+     and six of correspondence. Yet everything that she wrote is
+     marked by that richness, delicacy and power of style and of
+     thought which constitutes her genius. "Consuelo," which
+     appeared in 1844, is typical of all these in its sparkling
+     dialogue, flowing narrative, and vivid description. George
+     Sand died on June 7, 1876.
+
+
+_I.--In Venice_
+
+
+Little Consuelo, at the age of fourteen, was the best of all the pupils
+of the Maestro Porpora, a famous Italian composer, of the eighteenth
+century.
+
+At that time in Venice a certain number of children received a musical
+education at the expense of the state, and it was Porpora, the great
+musician--then a soured and disappointed man--who trained the voices of
+the girls. They were not equally poor, these young ladies, and among
+them were the daughters of needy artists, whose wandering existence did
+not permit them a long stay in Venice. Of such parentage was little
+Consuelo, born in Spain, and arriving in Italy by the strange routes of
+Bohemians. Not that Gonsuelo was really a gipsy. She was of good Spanish
+blood, and had a calmness of mind and manner quite foreign to the
+wandering races. A rare and happy temperament was hers, and, in spite of
+poverty and orphanhood--for her mother, who brought her to Venice, was
+dead--Consuelo worked on with Porpora, finding the labour an enjoyment,
+and overcoming the difficulties of her art as if by some invisible
+instinct.
+
+When Consuelo was eighteen Count Zustiniani, having heard her sing in
+Porpora's choir, decided she must come out as a prima donna in his
+theatre. For the fame and success of this theatre Zustiniani cared more
+than for anything else in the world--not that he was eager for money,
+but because he was an enthusiast for music--a man of taste, an amateur,
+whose great business in life was to gratify his taste. He liked to be
+talked about and to have his theatre and his magnificence talked about.
+
+The success of Consuelo was assured when she appeared for the first time
+in Gluck's "Ipermnestra." The debutante was at once self-possessed and
+serious, receiving the applause of the audience without fear or
+humility. For her art itself, and not the results of art, were the main
+thing, and her inward satisfaction in her performance did not depend on
+the amount of approbation manifested by the public.
+
+But Zustiniani, gratified as he was by the triumph of his new prima
+donna, was not content with Consuelo's success on the stage; he also
+wanted her for himself. Consuelo gravely refused the jewels and
+ornaments he offered her, and the count was strangely annoyed. He was
+thrilled with unknown emotions by Consuelo's singing, and his patrician
+soul could not realise that this poor little pupil of Porpora's was not
+to be won by the ordinary methods, which he had hitherto employed
+successfully in the conquest of opera singers.
+
+Porpora saved Consuelo from the count's threatening attentions.
+
+The prima donna suddenly disappeared, and it was said she had gone to
+Vienna, that she had been engaged for the emperor's theatre, and that
+Porpora was also going there to conduct his new opera.
+
+Count Zustiniani was particularly embarrassed by Consuelo's flight. He
+had led all Venice to believe this wonderful new singer favoured his
+addresses. Some, indeed, maintained for a time that, jealous of his
+treasure, the count had hidden her in one of his country houses. But
+when they heard Porpora say, with a blunt openness which could never
+deceive, that he had advised his pupil to go to Germany and wait for
+him, there was nothing left but to try and find out the motives for this
+extraordinary decision.
+
+To all inquiries addressed to him Porpora answered that no one should
+ever know from him where Consuelo was to be found.
+
+In real truth, it was not only Zustiniani who had driven Consuelo away.
+A youth named Anzoleto, who had grown up in Venice with Consuelo so that
+the two were as brother and sister, and who lacked both heart and
+constancy, made life too hard for Consuelo. Anxious to get all the
+advantages of Consuelo's friendship, and to be known as her betrothed,
+so that he could procure an engagement in the opera through her generous
+influence, he yet made love to another singer, a former favourite of
+Zustiniani's. Learning of Anzoleto's heartless unfaithfulness, and
+pressed by Zustiniani, Consuelo had turned to her old master for help,
+and had not been disappointed.
+
+
+_II.--In Bohemia_
+
+
+Among the mountains which separate Bohemia from Bavaria stood an old
+country house, known as the Castle of the Giant, the residence of the
+Lords of Rudolstadt. A strange mystery reigned over this ancient family.
+Count Christian Rudolstadt, the head of the house, a widower, his elder
+sister, the Canoness Wenceslawa, a venerable lady of seventy, and Count
+Albert, the only son and heir, lived alone with their retainers, never
+associating with their neighbours. The count's brother, Baron Frederick
+Rudolstadt, with his daughter Amelia, had for some time past taken up
+their abode in the Castle of the Giants, and it was the hope of the two
+brothers that Albert and Amelia would become betrothed. But the silence
+and gloom of the place were hateful to Amelia, and Albert's deep
+melancholy and absent-mindedness were not the tokens of a lover.
+
+Albert, in fact, had so brooded over the horrors of the old wars between
+Catholic and Protestant in Bohemia, that when the fit was on him he
+believed himself living and acting in those terrible times, and it was
+this kind of madness in his son which made Count Christian shun all
+social intercourse. Albert was now thirty, and the doctors had predicted
+that this year he would either conquer the fancies which took such
+fierce hold on him, or succumb entirely.
+
+One night, when the family were assembled round the hearth, the castle
+bell rang, and presently a letter was brought in. It was from Porpora to
+Count Christian, and the count, having read it, passed it on to Amelia.
+
+It seemed that Christian had written to Porpora, whom he had long known
+and respected, to ask him to recommend him a companion for Amelia, and
+the letter now arrived not only recommended Consuelo, but Consuelo
+herself had brought it.
+
+The old count at once hastened with his niece to welcome Porporpina, as
+the visitor was called, and the terror which the journey to the castle
+and the first impressions of the gloomy place had struck upon the young
+singer only melted at the warmth of Christian's praises of her old
+master, Porpora.
+
+From the first the whole household treated Consuelo with every kindness,
+and Amelia very soon confided in her new friend all that she knew of the
+family history, explaining that her cousin Albert was certainly mad.
+
+Albert himself seemed unaware of Consuelo's presence until one day when
+he heard her sing. Amelia's singing always made him uneasy and restless,
+but the first time Consuelo sang--she had chosen a religious piece from
+Palestrina--Albert suddenly appeared in the room, and remained
+motionless till the end. Then, falling on his knees, his large eyes
+swimming in tears, he exclaimed, in Spanish: "Oh, Consuelo, Consuelo! I
+have at last found thee!"
+
+"Consuelo?" cried the astonished girl, replying in the same language.
+"Why, señor, do you call me by that name?"
+
+"I call you Consolation, because a consolation has been promised to my
+desolate life, and because you are that consolation which God at last
+grants to my solitary and gloomy existence. Consuelo! If you leave me,
+my life is at an end, and I will never return to earth again!" Saying
+this he fell at her feet in a swoon; and the two girls, terrified,
+called the servants to carry him to his room and restore him to
+consciousness. But hardly had Albert been left alone before his
+apartment was empty, and he had disappeared.
+
+Days passed, and the anxiety at the castle remained unrelieved. It was
+not the first time Albert had disappeared, but now his absence was
+longer than usual. Consuelo found out the secret of his hiding-place--a
+vaulted hall at the end of a long gallery in a cave in the forest was
+Albert's hermitage, and a secret passage from the moat of the castle
+enabled him to pass unseen to his solitude. She traced him to the
+chamber in the recesses of the cavern.
+
+Already Consuelo had discovered the two natures in Albert--the one wise,
+the other mad; the one polished, tender, merciful; the other strange,
+untamed and violent She saw that sympathy and firmness were both needed
+in dealing with this lonely and unfortunate man--sympathy with his
+religious mysticism, and firmness in urging him not to yield to the
+images of his mind.
+
+That Albert was in love with her, Consuelo understood; but to his
+pleadings she had but one answer:
+
+"Do not speak of love, do not speak of marriage. My past life, my
+recollections, make the first impossible. The difference in our
+conditions would render the second humiliating and insupportable to me.
+Let it be enough that I will be your friend and your consoler, whenever
+you are disposed to open your heart to me."
+
+And with this Albert, for a time, professed to be content. So determined
+was he, however, to win Consuelo's heart, that he readily obeyed her
+advice, and even promised never to return to his hermitage without first
+asking her to accompany him.
+
+Gentle old Count Christian himself came later to plead his son's cause
+with Consuelo. Amelia and her father had left the Castle of the Giants,
+and Christian realised how much Consuelo had already done for the
+restoration of his son's health.
+
+"You were afraid of me, dear Consuelo," said the old man. "You thought
+that the old Rudolstadt, with his aristocratic prejudices, would be
+ashamed to owe his son to you. But you are mistaken, and I go to bring
+my son to your feet, that together we may bless you for extending his
+happiness."
+
+"Oh, stop, my dear lord!" said Consuelo, amazed. "I am not free. I have
+an object, a vocation, a calling. I belong to the art to which I have
+devoted myself since my childhood. I could only renounce all this--if--
+if I loved Albert. That is what I must find out. Give me at least a few
+days, that I may learn whether I have this love for him within my
+heart."
+
+The arrival of the worthless Anzoleto at the Castle of the Giants drove
+Consuelo once more to flight. Anzoleto had enjoyed some success at
+Venice, but having incurred the wrath of Zustiniani, he was escaping to
+Prague. Passing through Bohemia, the fame of a beautiful singer at the
+castle of the Rudolstadts came to his ears, and Anzoleto resolved to
+recover the old place he had once held in Consuelo's heart. He gave
+himself out as Consuelo's brother, and was at once admitted to the
+castle and treated kindly. For Consuelo, the only course open now was to
+flee to Vienna, and take refuge with Porpora, and this she did, leaving
+in the dead of night, after writing explanations to Christian and
+Albert.
+
+
+_III.--In Vienna_
+
+
+The greater part of the journey to Vienna was accomplished on foot, and
+Consuelo had for her travelling companion a humble youth, whose name was
+Joseph Haydn, and whose great musical genius was yet to be recognized by
+the world.
+
+Many months had elapsed since Consuelo had seen her master and
+benefactor, and to the joy which she experienced in pressing old Porpora
+in her arms a painful feeling soon succeeded. Vexation and sorrow had
+imprinted their marks on the brow of the old maestro. He looked far
+older, and the fire of his countenance seemed chilled by age. The
+unfortunate composer had flattered himself that he would find in Vienna
+fresh chances of success and fortune; but he was received there with
+cold esteem, and happier rivals were in possession of the imperial
+favour and the public admiration. Being neither a flatterer nor an
+intriguer, Porpora's rough frankness was no passport to influence, and
+his ill-humour made enemies rather than friends. He held out no hopes to
+Consuelo.
+
+"There are no ears to listen, no hearts to comprehend you in this place,
+my child," he said sadly. "If you wish to succeed, you would do well to
+follow the master to whom they owe their skill and their fortune."
+
+But when Consuelo told him of the proposal made by Count Albert, and of
+Count Christian's desire for her marriage with his son, the tyrannical
+old musician at once put his foot down.
+
+"You must not think of the young count!" he said fiercely. "I positively
+forbid you! Such a union is not suitable. Count Christian would never
+permit you to become an artist again. I know the unconquerable pride of
+these nobles, and you cannot hesitate for an instant between the career
+of nobility and that of art."
+
+So resolute was Porpora that Consuelo should not be tempted from the
+life he had trained her for, that he did not hesitate to destroy,
+unread, her letters to the Rudolstadts, and letters from Count Christian
+and Albert. He even wrote to Christian himself, declaring that Consuelo
+desired nothing but the career of a public singer.
+
+But when, after many disappointments and rebuffs, Consuelo at last was
+appointed to take the prima donna's place for six days at the imperial
+opera house, she was frightened at the prospect of the toils and
+struggles before her feverish arena of the theatre seemed to her a place
+of terror and the Castle of the Giants a lost paradise, an abode of
+peace and virtue.
+
+Consuelo's triumph at the opera had been indisputable. Her voice was
+sweeter and richer than when she sang in Venice, and a perfect storm of
+flowers fell upon the stage at the end of the performance. Amid these
+perfumed gifts Consuelo saw a green branch fall at her feet, and when
+the curtain was lowered for the last time she picked it up. It was a
+bunch of cypress, a symbol of grief and despair.
+
+To add to her distress, she was now conscious that her love for Albert
+was a reality, and no answer had come from him or from Count Christian
+to the letters she had sent. Twice in the six days at the opera she had
+caught a glimpse, so it seemed to her, of Count Albert, but on both
+occasions the figure had melted away without a word, and unobserved by
+all at the theatre.
+
+No further engagement followed at the opera, and Consuelo's thoughts
+turned more and more to the Rudolstadts. If only she could hear from
+Christian or his son, she would know whether she was free to devote
+herself absolutely to her art. For she had made her promise to Count
+Christian that she would send him word should she feel sure of being in
+love with Albert; and now that word had been sent, and no reply had
+come.
+
+Porpora, with a promise of an engagement at the royal theatre in Berlin,
+and anxious to take Consuelo with him, had confessed, in answer to her
+objection to leaving Vienna before hearing from Christian, that letters
+had come from the Rudolstadts, which he had destroyed.
+
+"The old count was not at all anxious to have a daughter-in-law picked
+up behind the scenes," said Porpora, "and so the good Albert sets you at
+liberty."
+
+Consuelo never suspected her master of this profound deceit, and, taking
+the story he had invented for truth, signed an agreement to go to Berlin
+for two months.
+
+
+_IV.--The Return to Bohemia_
+
+
+The carriage containing Porpora and Consuelo had reached the city of
+Prague, and was on the bridge that spans the Moldau, when a horseman
+approached and looked in at the window, gazing with a tranquil
+curiosity. Porpora pushed him back, exclaiming:
+
+"How dare you stare at ladies so closely."
+
+The horseman replied in Bohemian, and Consuelo, seeing his face, called
+out:
+
+"Is it the Baron Frederick of Rudolstadt?"
+
+"Yes, it is I, signora!" replied the baron, in a dejected tone. "The
+brother of Christian, the uncle of Albert. And in truth, is it you
+also?"
+
+The baron accompanied them to a hotel, and there explained to Consuelo
+that he had received a letter from the canoness, his sister, bidding
+him, at Albert's request, be on the bridge of Prague at seven o'clock
+that evening.
+
+"The first carriage that passes you will stop; if the first person you
+see in it can leave for the castle that same evening, Albert, perhaps,
+will be saved. At least, he says it will give him a hold on eternal
+life. I do not know what he means, but he has the gift of prophecy and
+the perception of hidden things. The doctors have given up all hope for
+his life."
+
+"Is the carriage ready, sir?" Consuelo said, when the latter was
+finished. "If so I am ready also, and we can set out instantly."
+
+"I shall follow you," said Porpora. "Only we must be in Berlin in a
+week's time."
+
+The carriage and horses were already in the courtyard, and in a few
+minutes the baron and Consuelo were on their journey to the castle of
+the Rudolstadts.
+
+At the doorway of the castle they were met by the aged canoness, who,
+seizing Consuelo by the arm, said:
+
+"We have not a moment to lose. Albert begins to grow impatient. He has
+counted the hours and minutes till your arrival, and announced your
+approach before we heard the sound of the carriage wheels. He was sure
+of your coming; but, he said, if any accident detained you, it would be
+too late. Signora, in the name of Heaven, do not oppose any of his
+wishes; promise all he asks; pretend to love him. Albert's hours are
+numbered; his life is close. All we ask of you is to soothe his
+sufferings." Then, as they approached the great saloon, she added, "Take
+courage, signora. You need not be afraid of surprising him, for he
+expects you, and has seen you coming hours ago."
+
+The door opened and Consuelo darted forward to her lover. Albert was
+seated in a large arm-chair before the fire. It was no longer a man, it
+was a spectre, Consuelo saw. His face, still beautiful, was as a face of
+marble. There was no smile on his lips, no ray of joy in his eyes.
+Consuelo knelt before him; he looked fixedly at her, and then, giving a
+sign to the canoness, she placed his arms on Consuelo's shoulders. Then
+she made the young girl lay her head on Albert's breast, and the dying
+man whispered in her ear: "I am happy." With another sign, he made the
+canoness understand that she and his father were to kiss his betrothed.
+
+"From my very heart!" exclaimed the canoness, with emotion. The old
+count who had been holding his brother's hand in one of his and
+Porpora's in the other, left them to embrace Consuelo fervently.
+
+The doctor urged an immediate marriage.
+
+"I can answer positively for nothing," he said, "but I venture to think
+much good may come of it. Your excellency consented to this marriage
+formerly----"
+
+"I always consented to it. I never opposed it," said the count. "It was
+Master Porpora who wrote to say that he would never consent, and that
+she likewise had renounced all idea. Alas, it was the death-blow to my
+unhappy child!"
+
+"Do not grieve," murmured Albert to Consuelo. "I have understood for
+many days now that you were faithful. I know that you have endeavoured
+to love me, and have succeeded. But we have been deceived, and you must
+forgive your master, as I forgive him."
+
+Consuelo looked at Porpora, and the old musician reproached himself for
+homicide, and burst into tears. Only Consuelo's consent was necessary,
+and this was given.
+
+The marriage was hastened on. Porpora and the doctor served as
+witnesses. Albert found strength to pronounce a decisive "Yes," and the
+other responses in the service in a clear voice, and the family from
+this felt a new hope for his recovery. Hardly had the chaplain recited
+the closing prayer over the newly-married couple, before Albert arose
+and threw himself into his father's arms; then, seating himself again in
+his arm-chair, he pressed Consuelo to his heart, and exclaimed:
+
+"I am saved!"
+
+"It is nature's last effort," said the doctor.
+
+Albert's arms loosed their hold, and fell forward on his knees. His gaze
+was riveted on Consuelo; gradually the shade crept from his forehead to
+his lips, and covered his face with a snowy veil.
+
+"It is the hand of Death!" said the doctor, breaking the silence.
+
+Consuelo would take neither her husband's title nor his riches.
+
+"Stay with us, my daughter?" cried the canoness, "for you have a lofty
+soul and a great heart!"
+
+But Consuelo tore herself away after the funeral, though her heart was
+wrung with grief. As she crossed the drawbridge with Porpora, Consuelo
+did not know that already the old count was dead, and that the Castle of
+the Giants, with its riches and its sufferings, had become the property
+of the Countess of Rudolstadt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Mauprat
+
+
+     It was while George Sand was pleading for a separation from
+     her husband, on the ground of incompatibility of temperament,
+     that "Mauprat" was written, and the powerful story, full of
+     storm, sentiment, and passion, bears the marks of its
+     tumultuous birth.
+
+
+_I.--Bernard Mauprat's Childhood_
+
+
+In the district of Varenne, within a gloomy ravine, stands the ruined
+castle of Roche-Mauprat. It is a place I never pass at night without
+some feeling of uneasiness; and now I have just learnt its history from
+Bernard Mauprat, the last of the line.
+
+Bernard Mauprat is eighty-four and no man is more represented in the
+province. Passing his house with a friend who knew the old man, we
+ventured to call, and were received with stately welcome. Later Mauprat
+told us his story in the following words:
+
+There were formerly two branches of the Mauprat family and I belonged to
+the elder. My grandfather was that Tristan de Mauprat whose crimes are
+still remembered. My father was his eldest son, and on his death, which
+occurred at a shooting party, the only living member of the younger
+branch, the chevalier, Hubert de Mauprat, a widower with an infant
+daughter, begged that he might be allowed to adopt me, promising to make
+me his heir. My grandfather refused the offer, and when I was seven
+years old and my mother died--poisoned some said by my grandfather--I
+was carried off by that terrible man to his house at Roche-Mauprat. I
+only knew afterwards that my father was the only son of Tristan's who
+had married and that consequently I was the heir to the property.
+
+It was a terrible journey I made with my grandfather but more terrible
+still was the life led at Roche-Mauprat by Tristan and his eight sons.
+Beset by creditors, the Mauprats with a dozen peasants and poachers
+defied the civil laws as they had already broken all moral laws. They
+formed themselves into a body of adventurers, levying blackmail on the
+small farms of the neighbourhood, intimidating the tax-collectors and at
+times not hesitating from petty thefts at fairs. Masters and servants
+were united in bonds of infamy. Debauchery, extortion, fraud, and
+cruelty were the precept and example of my youth. All notions of justice
+were scoffed at, and the civilisation, the light of education, and the
+philosophy of social equality, then spreading in France and preparing
+the way for the convulsion of the Revolution, found no entrance at
+Roche-Mauprat.
+
+The eight sons, the pride and strength of old Mauprat, all resembled him
+in physical vigour, brutality of manners, and in a cunning ill-nature.
+They gave themselves the airs of knights of the twelfth century. What
+elsewhere was called assassination and robbery I was taught to call
+battle and conquest. The frightful tortures heaped upon prisoners by my
+uncles gave me a horrible uneasiness, but what kept me from admiring the
+savagery that surrounded me was the ill-usage I received myself. I grew
+up without conceiving any liking for vice, but a tendency to hatred was
+fostered. Of virtue or simple human affection I knew nothing, and a
+blind and brutal anger was nourished in my breast.
+
+As the years went by Roche-Mauprat became more and more isolated. People
+left the neighbourhood to escape our violent depredations, and in
+consequence we had to go farther afield for plunder. I joined in the
+robberies as a soldier serves in a campaign, but on more than one
+occasion I helped some unfortunate man who had been knocked down to get
+up and escape.
+
+My grandfather died when I was fifteen. A year later and so threatened
+were we by crown officers, private creditors and infuriated peasants,
+that it was a question of either fleeing the country or bracing
+ourselves for a decisive struggle, and if needs be finding a grave under
+the ruins of the castle.
+
+
+_II.--Meet my Cousin Edmée_
+
+
+One night, when wind and rain beat fiercely against the old walls of the
+castle and I sat at supper with my uncles, a horn was heard at the
+portcullis. I had been drinking heavily, and boasting that I would make
+a conquest of the first woman brought to Roche-Mauprat--for I had been
+rallied on my modesty--when a second blast of the horn announced that it
+was my Uncle Lawrence bringing in a prize.
+
+"If it is a woman," cried my Uncle Antony, as he went out to the
+portcullis, "I swear by the soul of my father that she shall be yours,
+and we'll see if your courage is equal to your conceit."
+
+When the door opened again a woman entered, and one of the Mauprats
+whispered to me that the young lady had lost her way at a wolf hunt and
+that Lawrence, meeting her in the forest, had promised to escort her to
+Rochemaure where she had friends. Never having seen the face of one of
+my uncles, and little dreaming she was near their haunt, for she had
+never had a glimpse of Roche-Mauprat, she was led into the castle
+without having the least suspicion of the trap into which she had
+fallen. When I beheld this woman, so young and so beautiful, with her
+expression of calm sincerity and goodness, it seemed to me I was
+dreaming.
+
+My uncles withdrew, for Antony had pledged his word, and I was left
+alone with the stranger. For a moment I felt more bewildered and
+stupefied than pleased. With the fumes of wine in my head I could only
+suppose this lady was some acquaintance of Lawrence's, and that she had
+been told of my drunken boast and was willing to put my gallantry to the
+proof. I got up and bolted and double-locked the door.
+
+She was sitting close to the fire, drying her wet garments, without
+noticing what I had done. I made up my mind to kiss her, but no sooner
+had she raised her eyes to mine than this familiarity became impossible.
+All I could say, was:
+
+"Upon my word, mademoiselle, you are a charming creature, and I love
+you--as true as my name is Bernard Mauprat."
+
+"Bernard Mauprat!" she cried, springing up; "you are Bernard Mauprat,
+you? In that case learn to whom you are speaking, and change your
+manners."
+
+"Really!" I said with a grin, "but let my lips meet yours, and you shall
+see if I am not as nicely mannered as those uncles of mine."
+
+Her lips grew white. Her agony was manifest in every gesture. I
+shuddered myself, and was in a state of great perplexity.
+
+This woman was beautiful as the day. I do not believe that there has
+ever lived a woman as lovely as she. And this was the first trial of her
+life.
+
+She was my young cousin, Edmée de Mauprat, daughter of M. Hubert de
+Mauprat, the chevalier. She was of my age, for we were both seventeen,
+and I ought to have protected her against the world at the peril of my
+life.
+
+"I swear by Christ," she said, taking my hands in hers, "that I am
+Edmée, your cousin, your prisoner--yes, and your friend, for I have
+always felt an interest in you."
+
+Her words were cut short by the report of a gun outside; more shots were
+heard and the alarm trumpet sounded.
+
+I heard my Uncle Lawrence shouting violently at the door. "Where is that
+coward? Where is that wretched boy? Bernard, the mounted police are
+attacking us, and you are amusing yourself by making love while our
+throats are being cut. Come and help us, Bernard."
+
+"May the devil take the lot of you," I cried, "if I believe a single
+word of all this."
+
+But the shots rang out louder and for half an hour the fighting was most
+desperate. Our band amounted to twenty-four all told, and the enemy were
+fifty soldiers in addition to a score of peasants.
+
+As soon as I learnt that we were really being attacked, I had taken my
+weapons and done what I called my duty, after leaving Edmée locked in
+the room.
+
+After three assaults had been repulsed there was a long lull, and I
+returned to my captive. The fear lest my uncles should get possession of
+Edmée made me mad. I kept on telling her I loved her and wanted her for
+myself, and seeing what an animal it was she had to deal with, my cousin
+made up her mind accordingly. She threw her arms round me, and let me
+kiss her. "Do you love me?" she asked.
+
+From this moment the victory was hers. The wolf in me was conquered, and
+the man rose in its place.
+
+"Yes, I love you! Yes, I love you!"
+
+"Well, then," she said distractedly, "let us love each other and escape
+together."
+
+"Yes; let us escape," I answered. "I loathe this house, and I loathe my
+uncles. I have long wanted to escape. And yet I shall only be hanged,
+you know." For I knew I had as much to fear from the besiegers as from
+the besieged.
+
+"They won't hang you," she rejoined with a laugh; "my betrothed is a
+lieutenant-general."
+
+"Your betrothed!" I burst out in a fit of jealousy. "You are going to be
+married?"
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Swear that you will not marry before I die. Swear that you will be mine
+sooner than this lieutenant-general's," I cried.
+
+Edmée swore as I asked her, and she made me swear in return that her
+promise should be a secret. Then I clasped her in my arms, and we
+remained motionless until fresh shots announced that the fight had begun
+again. Every moment of delay was dangerous now. I seized a torch, and
+lifting a trap door made her descend with me to the cellar. Thence we
+passed into a subterranean passage, and finally hurried forth into the
+open, holding each other's hands as a sign of mutual trust. I found a
+horse that had belonged to my grandfather in the forest, and this animal
+carried us some miles from Roche-Mauprat, before it stumbled and threw
+us. Edmée was unhurt but my ankle was badly sprained. Fortunately we
+were near a lonely building called Gayeau Tower, the dwelling place of a
+remarkable man called Patience, a peasant who was both a hermit and a
+philosopher, and who, like Edmée, was filled with the new social gospel
+of Rousseau. Between these two a warm friendship existed.
+
+"The lamb in the company of the wolf," cried Patience when he saw us.
+
+"My friend," replied Edmée, "welcome him as you welcome me. I was a
+prisoner at Roche-Mauprat, and it was he who rescued me."
+
+At that Patience took me by the arm and led me in. A few days later I
+was carried to the chateau of the chevalier, M. Hubert de Mauprat, at
+Sainte-Sévère, and there I learnt that Roche-Mauprat had been taken,
+that five of my uncles were dead, and that two, John and Antony, had
+disappeared.
+
+"Bernard," added the chevalier, "I owe to you the life I hold dearest in
+the world. All my own life shall be devoted to giving you proofs of my
+gratitude and esteem. Bernard, we are both of us victims of a vicious
+family. The wrong that has been done you shall be repaired. They have
+deprived you of education, but your soul has remained pure. Bernard, you
+will restore the honour of your family, promise me this."
+
+
+_III.--I Go to America and Return_
+
+
+For a long time I am sure my presence was a source of utter discomfort
+to the kind and venerable chevalier, and to his daughter. I was boorish
+and illiterate and Edmée was one of the most perfect women to be found
+in France. She found her happiness in her own family, and the sweetest
+simplicity crowned her mental powers and lofty virtues. Brute like, at
+that time I saw her only with the eyes of the body, and believed I loved
+her because she was beautiful. Her fiance, M. de la Marche, the
+lieutenant-general, a shallow and frigid Voltairean, understood her but
+little better. A day came when I could understand her--the day when M.
+de la Marche could have understood her would never have come.
+
+The first step was taken on my part when I realised that I was ignorant
+and savage, and I applied to the Abbé Aubert, the chaplain, whose
+offices I had hitherto despised, to instruct me. I learnt quickly, and
+soon vanity at my rapid progress became the bane of my life.
+
+With Edmée I was so passionately in love that jealousy would awaken the
+old brutality that I thought dead, and I would gladly have killed de la
+Marche in a duel. Then after an outburst remorse would overtake me.
+
+My cousin at last told me plainly that while she would be true to her
+word, and not marry anyone before me, she would not marry me, and that
+on her father's death a convent should be her refuge. I knew my
+boorishness was responsible for this, and resolved to leave her.
+
+Lafayette was taking out volunteers to help the United States in their
+war of independence. I told him I would go with him, and crossed hastily
+into Spain, whence he was going to sail to America.
+
+I left a note to my uncle, and wrote to Edmée that, as far as I was
+concerned, she was free, and that, while I would not thwart a wish of
+hers, it was impossible for me to witness a rival's triumph.
+
+Before we sailed came the following reply from Edmée:
+
+"You have done well, Bernard. Go where honour and love of truth call
+you. Return when your mission is accomplished; you will find me neither
+married nor in a convent."
+
+I cannot describe the American war. I stayed till peace was declared,
+and then chafing at my long absence from France, for I was away six
+years--and more in love with Edmée than ever, at last set sail and in
+due time landed at Brest.
+
+I had not sent any letter to announce my coming, and when I reached the
+Château of Sainte-Sévère I almost feared to cross the threshold. Then I
+rushed forward and entered the drawing room. The chevalier was asleep
+and did not wake. Edmée, bending over her tapestry, did not hear my
+steps.
+
+For a few seconds I stood looking at her, then I fell at her feet
+without being able to say a word. She uttered no cry, no exclamation of
+surprise, but took my head in her two arms, and held it for sometime
+pressed to her bosom. The good chevalier, who had waked with a start,
+stared at us in astonishment; then he said:
+
+"Well, well! what is the meaning of this?"
+
+He could not see my face, hidden as it was in Edmée's breast. She pushed
+me towards him, and the old man clasped me in his feeble arms with a
+burst of generous affection.
+
+Never shall I forget the welcome they gave me. An immense change had
+taken place in me during those years of the war. I had learnt to bring
+my instincts and desires into harmony with my affections, my reason, and
+I had greatly developed my power of acquiring learning.
+
+Edmée was not surprised at my intellectual progress, but she rejoiced at
+it. I had shown it in my letters, she said.
+
+My good uncle, the chevalier, now took a real liking for me, and where
+formerly natural generosity and family pride had made him adopt me, a
+genuine sympathy made him give me his friendship. He did not disguise
+from me that his great desire, before falling into the sleep that knows
+no waking, was to see me married to Edmée; and when I told him this was
+the one wish of my soul, the one thought of my life, he said:
+
+"I know, I know. Everything depends on her, and I think she can no
+longer have any reasons for hesitation.... At all events," he added, "I
+cannot see any that she could allege at present."
+
+From these words I concluded that he himself had long been favourable to
+my suit, and that any obstacle which might exist lay with Edmée. But so
+much did I stand in awe of Edmée's sensitive pride and her unspeakable
+goodness that I dared not ask her point-blank to decide my fate. M. de
+la Marche I knew had left France, and all thought of an engagement on
+his part with Edmée was at an end. In a proud struggle to conceal the
+poverty of his estate, all his fortune had gone, and he had not been
+long in following me to America.
+
+The chevalier insisted on my visiting my property of Roche-Mauprat.
+Thanks to my uncle, great improvements had been accomplished in my
+absence, and the land was being well cultivated by good tenants. I knew
+that I ought not to neglect my duty, and though I had not set foot on
+the accursed soil since the day I left it with Edmée, I set out and was
+away two days.
+
+I stayed in the gloomy old house and the only remarkable thing about the
+visit was that I had a vision of my wicked uncle John Mauprat.
+
+
+_IV.--My Trial and Happiness_
+
+
+We had gone on a hunting party one day after my return, and Edmée and I
+were separated from the rest. Somehow the old unbridled passions rose up
+within me and I succeeded in affronting Edmée with my fierce speech.
+Then I hastened away, ashamed and fearful.
+
+I had not gone more than thirty paces when I heard the report of a gun
+from the spot where I had left Edmée. I stopped, petrified with horror,
+and then retraced my steps. Edmée was lying on the ground, rigid and
+bathed in blood. Patience was standing by her side with his arms crossed
+on his breast, and his face livid. For myself, I could not understand
+what was taking place. I fancy that my brain, already bewildered by my
+previous emotions, must have been paralyzed. I sat down on the ground by
+Edmée's side. She had been shot in the breast in two places, and the
+Abbé Aubert was endeavouring to staunch the blood with his handkerchief.
+
+"Dead, dead," said Patience, "and there is the murderer! She said so as
+she gave up her pure soul to God; and Patience will avenge her! It is
+very hard but it must be so! It is God's will, since I alone was here to
+learn the truth!"
+
+"Horrible, horrible!" exclaimed the Abbé.
+
+Edmée was carried away to the chateau, and I followed and for several
+days remained in a state of prostration. When strength and consciousness
+returned I learnt that she was not dead, but that everybody believed me
+guilty of attempted murder. Patience himself told me the only thing for
+me to do was to leave that part of the country. I swore I was innocent
+and would not be saddled with the crime.
+
+Then, one evening, I saw mounted police in the courtyard.
+
+"Good!" I said, "let my destiny take its course." But before quitting
+the house, perhaps forever, I wished to see Edmée again for the last
+time. I walked straight to her room, and there I found the Abbé and the
+doctor. I heard the latter declare that the wounds in themselves were
+not mortal, and the only danger was from a violent disturbance in the
+brain.
+
+I approached the bed, and took Edmée's cold and lifeless hand. I kissed
+it a last time, and, without saying a single word to the others, went
+and gave myself up to the police.
+
+I was immediately thrown into prison and in a few days my trial began at
+the assizes. I was convicted, but through the efforts of certain friends
+a revision of my sentence was granted, and I was allowed a new trial.
+
+At this trial Patience appeared and declared that, while he had believed
+from what Edmée had said that I was guilty, it had come into his head
+that some other Mauprat might have fired the shot. It appeared that John
+Mauprat was now living in the neighbourhood, as a penitent Trappist
+monk, and he had been seen in company with another monk who was not to
+be found since the attack on Edmée. "So I put myself on the track of
+this wandering monk," Patience concluded, "and I have discovered who he
+is. He is the would-be murderer of Edmée de Mauprat, and his name is
+Antony Mauprat."
+
+It then turned out that Antony's plot was to kill Edmée, get me hanged
+for the murder, and then, when the chevalier was dead, claim the
+estates. John Mauprat knew of his brother's intentions but denied all
+complicity and was eventually sent back to his monastery. Antony was
+subsequently convicted and broken on the wheel.
+
+But before I was finally acquitted Edmée herself gave evidence for me.
+She was still far from well but answered clearly all the irritating and
+maddening questions that were put to her. When she said to the president
+of the court, "Everything which to you seems inexplicable in my conduct
+finds its justification in one word: I love him!" I could not help
+crying out, "Let them take me to the scaffold now; I am king of all the
+earth."
+
+But as I have said, it was proved that Antony Mauprat was the criminal;
+and no sooner was I acquitted and set at liberty, with my character
+completely cleared, than I hastened to Edmée.
+
+I arrived in time to witness my great-uncle's last moments. He
+recognised me, clasped me to his breast, blessed me at the same time as
+Edmée, and put my hand into his daughter's.
+
+After we had paid the last tribute of affection to our noble and
+excellent relative, we left the province for sometime and paid a visit
+to Switzerland, Patience and the Abbé Aubert bearing us company.
+
+At the end of Edmée's mourning we returned. This was the time that had
+been fixed for our marriage, which was duly celebrated in the village
+chapel.
+
+The years of happiness with my wife beggar description. She was the only
+woman I ever loved, and though she has now been dead ten years I feel
+her loss as keenly as on the first day, and seek only to make myself
+worthy of rejoining her in a better world after I have completed my
+probation here.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+MICHAEL SCOTT
+
+
+Tom Cringle's Log
+
+
+     Michael Scott was a merchant who turned an unquestioned
+     literary faculty to excellent account. Born at Cowlairs, near
+     Glasgow, Scotland, Oct. 30, 1789, at the age of seventeen
+     Scott was sent to Jamaica to manage a small estate of his
+     father's, and a few years later entered business at Kingstown.
+     Both of these occupations necessitated frequent journeys, by
+     land and by sea, and the experiences gained thereby form the
+     basis of "Tom Cringle's Log." The story appeared anonymously
+     at intermittent intervals in "Blackwood's Magazine" (1829-33),
+     being published in book form in 1834. Its authorship was
+     attributed, among others, to Captain Marryatt, and so
+     successfully did Scott himself conceal his identity with it
+     that the secret was not known until after his death, which
+     occurred at Glasgow on November 7, 1835. Of its kind, "Tom
+     Cringle's Log" is a veritable masterpiece. Humour and pathos
+     and gorgeous descriptions are woven into a thrilling
+     narrative. Scott wrote many other things beside "Tom Cringle,"
+     but only one story, "The Cruise of the Midge" (1836), is in
+     any way comparable with his first and most famous romance.
+
+
+_I.--The Quenching of the Torch_
+
+
+The evening was closing in dark and rainy, with every appearance of a
+gale from the westward, and the red and level rays of the setting sun
+flashed on the black hull and tall spars of his Britannic Majesty's
+sloop Torch. At the distance of a mile or more lay a long,
+warlike-looking craft, rolling heavily and silently in the trough of the
+sea.
+
+A flash was seen; the shot fell short, but close to us, evidently thrown
+from a heavy cannon.
+
+Mr. Splinter, the first lieutenant, jumped from the gun he stood on, and
+dived into the cabin to make his report.
+
+Captain Deadeye was a staid, wall-eyed veteran, with his coat of a
+regular Rodney cut, broad skirts, long waist, and stand-up collar, over
+which dangled either a queue, or marlinspike with a tuft of oakum at the
+end of it--it would have puzzled old Nick to say which. His lower spars
+were cased in tight unmentionables of what had once been white
+kerseymere, and long boots, the coal-scuttle tops of which served as
+scuppers to carry off the drainings from his coat-flaps in bad weather;
+he was, in fact, the "last of the sea-monsters," but, like all his
+tribe, as brave as steel, and, when put to it, as alert as a cat.
+
+He no sooner heard Splinter's report, than he sprang up the ladder.
+
+"Clear away the larboard guns!" I absolutely jumped off the deck with
+astonishment--who could have spoken it? The enemy was a heavy American
+frigate, and it appeared such downright madness to show fight under the
+very muzzles of her guns, half a broadside from which was sufficient to
+sink us. It was the captain, however, and there was nothing for it but
+to obey.
+
+"Now, men, mind your aim; our only chance is to wing him." The men--with
+cutlasses buckled round their waists, and many with nothing but their
+trousers on--instinctively cheered. Blaze went our cannonades and long
+gun in succession, and down came the fore-topsail; the head of the
+topmast had been shot away. "That will do; now knock off, my boys, and
+let us run for it. Make all sail."
+
+Jonathan was for an instant paralysed by our impudence; but he yawed and
+let drive his whole broadside; and fearfully did it transmogrify us.
+Half an hour before we were as gay a little sloop as ever floated, with
+a crew of 120 as fine fellows as ever manned a British man-of-war. The
+iron-shower sped--ten of the 120 never saw the sun rise again; 17 more
+were wounded, three mortally; our hull and rigging were regularly cut to
+pieces.
+
+But we had the start, crippled and be-devilled though we were; and as
+the night fell, we contrived to lose sight of our large friend, and
+pursue our voyage to Jamaica.
+
+A week later, and the hurricane fell upon us. Our chainplates, strong
+fastenings, and clenched bolts, drew like pliant wires, shrouds and
+stays were torn away, and our masts and spars were blown clean out of
+the ship into the sea. Had we shown a shred of the strongest sail in the
+vessel, it would have been blown out of the bolt-rope in an instant.
+With four men at the wheel, one watch at the pumps, and the other
+clearing the wreck, we had to get her before the wind.
+
+Our spirits were soon dashed, when the old carpenter, one of the coolest
+and bravest men in the ship, rose through the forehatch pale as a ghost,
+with his white hairs streaming out in the wind. He did not speak to any
+of us, but clambered aft, towards the capstan, to which the captain had
+lashed himself.
+
+"The water is rushing in forward like a mill-stream, sir; she is fast
+settling down by the head."
+
+The brig, was, indeed, rapidly losing her buoyancy.
+
+"Stand by, to heave the guns overboard."
+
+Too late, too late! Oh, God, that cry! I was stunned and drowning, a
+chaos of wreck was beneath me and around me and above me, and blue,
+agonised, gasping faces and struggling arms, and colourless clutching
+hands, and despairing yells for help, where help was impossible; when I
+felt a sharp bite on the neck, and breathed again. My Newfoundland dog,
+Sneezer, had snatched at me, and dragged me out of the eddy of the
+sinking vessel.
+
+For life, dear life, nearly suffocated, amidst the hissing spray, we
+reached the cutter, the dog and his helpless master.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For three miserable days I had been exposed, half naked and bareheaded,
+in an open boat, without water, or food, or shade. The third fierce West
+Indian noon was long passed, and once more the dry, burning sun sank in
+the west, like a red hot shield of iron. I glared on the noble dog as he
+lay at the bottom of the boat, and would have torn at his throat with my
+teeth, not for food, but that I might drink his hot blood; but as he
+turned his dull, gray, glazing eye on me, the pulses of my heart
+stopped, and I fell senseless.
+
+When my recollection returned, I was stretched on some fresh plantain
+leaves, in a low, smoky hut, with my faithful dog lying beside me,
+whining and licking my hands and face. Underneath the joists, that bound
+the rafters of the roof together, lay a corpse, wrapped in a boatsail,
+on which was clumsily written with charcoal, "The body of John Deadeye,
+Esq., late commander of his Britannic Majesty's sloop Torch."
+
+There was a fire on the floor, at which Lieutenant Splinter, in his
+shirt and trousers, drenched, unshorn, and death-like, was roasting a
+joint of meat, whilst a dwarfish Indian sat opposite to him fanning the
+flame with a palm-leaf. I had been nourished during my delirium; for the
+fierceness of my sufferings were assuaged, and I was comparatively
+strong. I anxiously inquired of the lieutenant the fate of our
+shipmates.
+
+"All gone down in the old Torch; and had it not been for the launch and
+our four-footed friend there, I should not have been here to have told
+it. All that the sharks have left of the captain and five seamen came
+ashore last night. I have buried the poor fellows on the beach where
+they lay, as well as I could, with an oar-blade for a shovel, and the
+_bronze ornament_ there," pointing to the Indian, "for an assistant."
+
+
+_II.--Perils on Land_
+
+
+I was awakened by the low growling and short bark of the dog. The night
+was far spent, and the amber rays of the yet unrisen sun were shooting
+up in the east.
+
+"That's a musket shot," said the lieutenant. The Indian crept to the
+door, and placed his open palms behind his ears. The distant wail of a
+bugle was heard, then three or four dropping shots again, in rapid
+succession. Mr. Splinter stooped to go forth, but the Indian caught him
+by the leg, uttering the single word "Espanoles" (Spaniards).
+
+On the instant a young Indian woman, with a shrieking infant in her
+arms, rushed to the door. There was a blue gunshot wound in her neck,
+and her features were sharpened as if in the agony of death. Another
+shot, and the child's small, shrill cry blended with the mother's death
+shriek; falling backwards the two rolled over the brow of the hill out
+of sight. The ball had pierced the heart of the parent through the body
+of her offspring. By this time a party of Spanish soldiers had
+surrounded the hut, one of whom, kneeling before the low door, pointed
+his musket into it. The Indian, who had seen his wife and child shot
+down before his face, fired his rifle and the man fell dead.
+
+Half a dozen musket balls were now fired at random through the wattles
+of the hut, while the lieutenant, who spoke Spanish well, sung out
+lustily that we were English officers who had been shipwrecked.
+
+"Pirates!" growled the officer of the party. "Pirates leagued with
+Indian bravos; fire the hut, soldiers, and burn the scoundrels!"
+
+There was no time to be lost; Mr. Splinter made a vigorous attempt to
+get out, in which I seconded him with all the strength that remained to
+me, but they beat us back again with the butts of their muskets.
+
+"Where are your commissions, your uniforms, if you be British officers?"
+We had neither, and our fate appeared inevitable.
+
+The doorway was filled with brushwood, fire was set to the hut, and we
+heard the crackling of the palm thatch, while thick, stifling white
+smoke burst in upon us through the roof.
+
+"Lend a hand, Tom, now or never." We laid our shoulders to the end wall,
+and heaved at it with all our might; when we were nearly at our last
+gasp it gave way, and we rushed headlong into the middle of the party,
+followed by Sneezer, with his shaggy coat, full of clots of tar, blazing
+like a torch. He unceremoniously seized, _par le queue_, the soldier who
+had throttled me, setting fire to the skirts of his coat, and blowing up
+his cartridge-box. I believe, under Providence, that the ludicrousness
+of this attack saved us from being bayoneted on the spot. It gave time
+for Mr. Splinter to recover his breath, when, being a powerful man, he
+shook off the two soldiers who had seized him, and dashed into the
+burning hut again. I thought he was mad, especially when I saw him
+return with his clothes and hair on fire, dragging out the body of the
+captain. He unfolded the sail it was wrapped up in, and pointing to the
+remains of the naval uniform in which the mutilated corpse was dressed,
+he said sternly to the officer, "We are in your power, and you may
+murder us if you will; but _that_ was my captain four days ago, and you
+see at least _he_ was a British officer--satisfy yourself."
+
+The person he addressed, a handsome young Spaniard, shuddered at the
+horrible spectacle.
+
+When he saw the crown and anchor, and his Majesty's cipher on the
+appointments of the dead officer, he became convinced of our quality,
+and changed his tone.
+
+"'Tis true, he is an Englishman. But, gentlemen, were there not three
+persons in the hut?"
+
+There were, indeed, and the Indian perished in the flames, making no
+attempt to escape.
+
+The officer, who belonged to the army investing Carthagena, now treated
+us with great civility; he heard our story, and desired his men to
+assist us in burying the remains of our late commander.
+
+We stayed that night with the captain of the outpost, who received us
+very civilly at a temporary guard-house, and apologised for the
+discomfort under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he
+had, and that was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us
+into the hut, where we found a rough deal coffin, lying on the very
+bench that was to be our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness
+in the world, saying, "It was only one of his people who had died that
+morning of yellow fever."
+
+"Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we
+have had of it, Tom!"
+
+
+_III.--The Piccaroon_
+
+
+From the Spanish headquarters at Torrecilla we were allowed to go to the
+village of Turbaco, a few miles distant from the city for change of air.
+
+"Why, Peter," said Mr. Splinter, addressing a negro who sat mending his
+jacket in one of the enclosures near the water gate of the arsenal,
+"don't you know me?"
+
+"Cannot say dat I do," rejoined the negro, very gravely. "Have not de
+honour of your acquaintance, sir."
+
+"Confound you, sir! But I know you well enough, my man; and you can
+scarcely have forgotten Lieutenant Splinter of the Torch, one would
+think?"
+
+The name so startled the poor fellow, that in his hurry to unlace his
+legs, as he sat tailor-fashion, he fairly capsized and toppled down on
+his nose.
+
+"Eh!--no--yes, him sure enough! And who is de piccaniny hofficer? Oh! I
+see, Massa Tom Cringle! Where have you dropped from, gentlemen? Where is
+de old Torch? Many a time hab I, Peter Mangrove, pilot to him Britannic
+Majesty's squadron, taken de old brig in and through amongst de keys at
+Port Royal."
+
+"She will never give you that trouble again, my boy--foundered--all
+hands lost, Peter, but the two you see before you."
+
+"Werry sorry, Massa 'Plinter, werry sorry. What? de black cook's-mate
+and all? But misfortune can't be help. Stop till I put up my needle, and
+I will take a turn wid you. Proper dat British hofficers in distress
+should assist one anoder--we shall consult togeder. How can I serve
+you?"
+
+"Why, Peter, if you could help us to a passage to Port Royal, it would
+be serving us most essentially. Here we have been for more than a month,
+without a single vessel belonging to the station having looked in; our
+money is running short, and in another six weeks we shall not have a
+shot left in the locker."
+
+The negro looked steadfastly at us, and then carefully around before he
+answered.
+
+"You see, Massa 'Plinter, I am desirable to serve you; it is good for me
+at present to make some friend wid the hofficer of de squadron, being as
+how dat I am absent widout leave. If you will promise dat you will stand
+my friends, I will put you in de way of getting a shove across to de
+east end of Jamaica; and I will go wid you, too, for company. But you
+must promise dat you will not seek to know more of de vessel, nor of her
+crew, than dey are willing to tell you, provided you are landed safe."
+
+Mr. Splinter agreed and presently Peter Mangrove went off in a canoe to a
+large, shallow vessel, to reappear with another blackamoor, of as
+ungainly an exterior as could well be imagined.
+
+"Pray, sir, are you the master of that vessel?" said the lieutenant.
+
+"No, sir, I am the mate; and I learn you are desirous of a passage to
+Jamaica." This was spoken with a broad Scotch accent.
+
+"Yes, we do," said I, in very great astonishment; "but we will not sail
+with the devil; and who ever saw a negro Scotchman before?"
+
+The fellow laughed. "I am black, as you see; so were my father and
+mother before me. But I was born in the good town of Glasgow,
+notwithstanding; and many a voyage I have made as cabin-boy and cook
+with worthy old Jock Hunter. But here comes our captain. Captain
+Vanderbosh, here are two shipwrecked British officers who wish to be put
+ashore in Jamaica; will you take them, and what will you charge for
+their passage?"
+
+The man he spoke to was a sun-burnt, iron-visaged veteran.
+
+"Vy for von hundred thaler I will land dem safe in de bay."
+
+The bargain was ratified, and that same evening we set sail. When off
+the San Domingo Gate two boats full of men joined us, and our crew was
+strengthened by about forty as ugly Christians, of all ages and
+countries, as I ever set eyes on. From the moment they came on board
+Captain Vanderbosh sank into the petty officer, and the Scottish negro
+took the command, evincing great coolness, energy, and skill.
+
+When night had fallen the captain made out a sail to windward.
+Immediately every inch of canvas was close furled, every light carefully
+extinguished, a hundred and twenty men with cutlasses at quarters, and
+the ship under bare poles. The strange sail could be seen through the
+night-glasses; she now burned a blue light--without doubt an old
+fellow-cruiser of ours, the Spark.
+
+"She is from Santa Martha with a freight of specie, I know," said
+Williamson. "I will try a brush with her."
+
+"I know the craft," Splinter struck in, "a heavy vessel of her class,
+and you may depend on hard knocks and small profit if you do take her;
+while, if she takes you----"
+
+"I'll be hanged if she does," said Williamson, and he grinned at the
+conceit; "or, rather, I will blow the schooner up with my own hand
+before I strike; better that than have one's bones bleached in chains on
+a quay at Port Royal. But you cannot control us, gentlemen; so get down
+below, and take Peter Mangrove with you. I would not willingly see those
+come to harm who have trusted me."
+
+However, there was no shot flying as yet, and we stayed on deck. All
+sail was once more made, and presently the cutter saw us, tacked, and
+stood towards us. Her commander hailed: "Ho, the brigantine, ahoy! What
+schooner is that?"
+
+"Spanish schooner, Caridad," sung out Williamson.
+
+"Heave-to, and send your boat on board."
+
+"We have none that will swim, sir."
+
+"Very well, bring to, and I will send mine."
+
+We heard the splash of the jolly-boat touching the water; then the
+measured stroke of the oars, and a voice calling out, "Give way, my
+lads."
+
+The character of the vessel we were on board of was now evident; and the
+bitter reflection that we were, as it were, chained to the stake on
+board of a pirate, on the eve of a fierce contest with one of our own
+cruisers, was aggravated by the consideration that a whole boat's crew
+would be sacrificed before a shot was fired.
+
+The officer in the boat had no sooner sprung on board than he was caught
+by two strong hands, gagged, and thrown down the main hatchway.
+
+"Heave," cried a voice, "and with a will!" and four cold 32-pound shot
+were hove at once into the boat alongside, which, crashing through her
+bottom, swamped her in a moment, precipitating the miserable crew into
+the boiling sea. Their shrieks rang in my ears as they clung to the oars
+and some loose planks of the boat.
+
+"Bring up the officer, and take out the gag," said Williamson.
+
+Poor Malcolm, who had been an old messmate of mine, was now dragged to
+the gangway, his face bleeding, and heavily ironed, when the blackamoor,
+clapping a pistol to his head, bade him, as he feared instant death,
+hail the cutter for another boat.
+
+The young midshipman turned his pale mild countenance upwards as he said
+firmly, "Never!" The miscreant fired, and he fell dead.
+
+"Fire!" The whole broadside was poured in, and we could hear the shot
+rattle and tear along the cutter's deck, and the shrieks and groans of
+the wounded.
+
+We now ranged alongside, and close action commenced; never do I expect
+to see such an infernal scene again. Up to this moment all had been
+coolness and order on board the pirate; but when the yards locked, the
+crew broke loose from all control--they ceased to be men--they were
+demons, for they threw their own dead and wounded indiscriminately down
+the hatchways, to get clear of them. They had stripped themselves almost
+naked; and although they fought with the most desperate courage, yelling
+and cursing, each in his own tongue, yet their very numbers, pent up in
+a small vessel, were against them. Amidst the fire and smoke we could
+see that the deck had become a very shamble; and unless they soon
+carried the cutter by boarding, it was clear that the coolness and
+discipline of the service must prevail. The pirates seemed aware of this
+themselves, for they now made a desperate attempt at boarding, led on by
+the black captain. While the rush forward was being made, by a sudden
+impulse, Splinter and I, followed by Peter, scrambled from our shelter,
+and in our haste jumped down, knocking over the man at the wheel.
+
+There was no time to be lost; if any of the crew came aft we were dead
+men; so we tumbled down through the cabin skylight, and stowed ourselves
+away in the side berths. The noise on deck soon ceased--the cannon were
+again plied--gradually the fire slackened, and we could hear that the
+pirate had scraped clear and escaped. Some time after this, the
+lieutenant commanding the cutter came down. We both knew him well, and
+he received us cordially.
+
+In a week we were landed at Port Royal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was a midshipman when I began my log, but before I finally left the
+West Indies I was promoted to the rank of commander, and appointed to
+the Lotus Leaf, under orders for England.
+
+Before I set sail, however, I was married to my cousin Mary in Jamaica;
+and when we got to Old England, where the Lotus Leaf was paid off, I
+settled for a time on shore, the happiest, etc., until some years
+afterwards, when the wee Cringles began to tumble home so fast that I
+had to cut and run, and once more betake myself to the salt sea.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+
+The Antiquary
+
+
+     Sir Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh on August 15, 1771. As
+     a child he was feeble and sickly, and very early he was
+     smitten with lameness which remained with him through life,
+     although he matured into a man of robust health. He was
+     educated for the law, which he began to practise in 1792.
+     Although he had fair success in his profession, he soon began
+     to occupy his leisure time with literature, and his first work
+     was published in 1796. The first of the "Waverley" series made
+     its appearance anonymously in 1814. As the series progressed,
+     it became known that Walter Scott was the author of the famous
+     novels, and he became the idol of the hour. In 1820 a
+     baronetcy was bestowed upon him. Six years later he joined an
+     old friend in the establishment of a large printing and
+     publishing business in Edinburgh, but the venture was not
+     successful, and Scott soon found himself a bankrupt. Here his
+     manhood and proud integrity were most nobly shown. With stern
+     and unfaltering resolution, he set himself to the task of
+     paying his debts from the profits of his pen. Within a space
+     of two years he realised for his creditors the amazing sum of
+     nearly forty thousand pounds, but the limits of endurance had
+     been reached, and in 1830 he was smitten down with paralysis,
+     from which he never thoroughly rallied. He died at Abbotsford
+     on September 31, 1832. As a lyrist Scott especially excelled,
+     and as a novelist he takes rank among the foremost. Although
+     many of his works are lax and careless in structure, yet if a
+     final test in greatness in the field of novel writing be the
+     power to vitalise character, very few writers can be held to
+     surpass Sir Walter Scott. According to Basil Hall, "The
+     Antiquary" was Scott's own favourite romance. It was published
+     in May, 1816, the third of the Waverley Novels, and in it the
+     author intended to illustrate the manners of Scotland during
+     the last ten years of the eighteenth century. "I have been
+     more solicitous," he writes, "to describe manners minutely,
+     than to arrange in any case an artificial and combined
+     narrative, and have but to regret that I felt myself unable to
+     unite these two requisites of a good novel." Scott took
+     considerable pains to point out that old Edie Ochiltree, the
+     wandering mendicant with his blue gown, was by no means to be
+     confounded with the utterly degraded class of beings who now
+     practise that wandering trade. Although "The Antiquary" was
+     not so well received on its first appearance as "Waverley" or
+     "Guy Mannering," it soon rose to equal, and with some readers,
+     superior popularity.
+
+
+_I.--Travelling Companions_
+
+
+It was early on a fine summer's day, near the end of the eighteenth
+century, when a young man of genteel appearance, journeying towards the
+north-east of Scotland, provided himself with a ticket in one of those
+public carriages which travel between Edinburgh and the Queensferry, at
+which place there is a passage-boat for crossing the Firth of Forth.
+
+The young gentleman was soon joined by a companion, a good-looking man
+of the age of sixty, perhaps older, but his hale complexion and firm
+step announced that years had not impaired his strength of health. This
+senior traveller, Mr. Jonathan Oldenbuck (by popular contraction
+Oldbuck), of Monkbarns, was the owner of a small property in the
+neighbourhood of a thriving seaport town on the north-eastern coast of
+Scotland, which we shall denominate Fairport. His tastes were
+antiquarian, his wishes very moderate. The burghers of the town regarded
+him with a sort of envy, as one who affected to divide himself from
+their rank in society, and whose studies and pleasures seemed to them
+alike incomprehensible. Some habits of hasty irritation he had
+contracted, partly from an early disappointment in love, but yet more by
+the obsequious attention paid to him by his maiden sister and his orphan
+niece.
+
+Mr. Oldbuck, finding his fellow-traveller an interested and intelligent
+auditor, plunged at once into a sea of discussion concerning urns,
+vases, and Roman camps, and when they reached Queensferry, and stopped
+for dinner at the inn, he at once made some advances towards
+ascertaining the name, destination, and quality of his young companion.
+
+His name, the young gentleman said, was Lovel. His father was a north of
+England gentleman. He was at present travelling to Fairport, and if he
+found the place agreeable, might perhaps remain there for some weeks.
+
+"Was Mr. Lovel's excursion solely for pleasure?"
+
+"Not entirely."
+
+"Perhaps on business with some of the commercial people of Fairport?"
+
+"It was partly on business, but had no reference to commerce."
+
+Here he paused, and Mr. Oldbuck, having pushed his inquiries as far as
+good manners permitted, was obliged to change the conversation.
+
+The mutual satisfaction which they found in each other's society induced
+Mr. Oldbuck to propose, and Lovel willingly to accept, a scheme for
+travelling together to the end of their journey. A postchaise having
+been engaged, they arrived at Fairport about two o'clock on the
+following day.
+
+Lovel probably expected that his travelling companion would have invited
+him to dinner on his arrival; but his consciousness of a want of ready
+preparation for unexpected guests prevented Oldbuck from paying him that
+attention. He only begged to see him as early as he could make it
+convenient to call in a forenoon, and recommended him to a widow who had
+apartments to let.
+
+A few days later, when his baggage had arrived from Edinburgh, Mr. Lovel
+went forth to pay his respects at Monkbarns, and received a cordial
+welcome from Mr. Oldbuck. They parted the best of friends, but the
+antiquary was still at a loss to know what this well-informed young man,
+without friends, connections, or employment, could have to do as a
+resident at Fairport. Neither port wine nor whist had apparently any
+charms for him. A coffee-room was his detestation, and he had as few
+sympathies with the tea-table. There was never a Master Lovel of whom so
+little positive was known, but nobody knew any harm of him.
+
+"A decent, sensible lad," said the Laird of Monkbarns to himself, when
+these particulars of Lovel had been reported to him. "He scorns to enter
+into the fooleries and nonsense of these idiot people at Fairport. I
+must do something for him--I must give him a dinner, and I will write to
+Sir Arthur to come to Monkbarns to meet him. I must consult my
+womankind."
+
+Accordingly, such consultation having been held, the following letter
+was sent to Sir Arthur Wardour, of Knockwinnock Castle:
+
+"Dear Sir Arthur,--On Tuesday, the 17th inst, I hold a symposium at
+Monkbarns, and pray you to assist thereat, at four o'clock precisely. If
+my fair enemy, Miss Isabel, can and will honour us by accompanying you,
+my womankind will be but too proud. I have a young acquaintance to make
+known to you, who is touched with some stain of a better spirit than
+belong to these giddy-paced times, reveres his elders, and has a pretty
+notion of the classics. And as such a youth must have a natural contempt
+for the people about Fairport, I wish to show him some rational as well
+as worshipful society. I am, dear Sir Arthur, etc., etc."
+
+In reply to this, at her father's request, Miss Wardour intimated, "her
+own and Sir Arthur's compliments, and that they would have the honour of
+waiting upon Mr. Oldbuck. Miss Wardour takes this opportunity to renew
+her hostility with Mr. Oldbuck, on account of his long absence from
+Knockwinnock, where his visits give so much pleasure."
+
+
+_II.--The Treacherous Sands_
+
+
+Sir Arthur and his daughter had set out, on leaving Monkbarns, to return
+to Knockwinnock by the turnpike road; but when they discerned Lovel a
+little before them Miss Wardour immediately proposed to her father that
+they should take another direction, and walk home by the sands.
+
+Sir Arthur acquiesced willingly, and the two left the high road, and
+soon attained the side of the ocean. The tide was by no means so far out
+as they had computed; but this gave them no alarm; there was seldom ten
+days in the year when it approached so near the cliffs as not to leave a
+dry passage.
+
+As they advanced together in silence a sudden change of weather made
+Miss Wardour draw close to her father. As the sun sank the wind rose,
+and the mass of waters began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink
+in deeper furrows. Presently, through the drizzling rain, they saw a
+figure coming towards them, whom Sir Arthur recognised as the old
+blue-gowned beggar, Edie Ochiltree.
+
+"Turn back! Turn back!" exclaimed the vagrant. "The tide is running on
+Halket-head, like the Fall of Fyers! We will maybe get back by Ness
+Point yet. The Lord help us--it's our only chance! We can but try."
+
+The waves had now encroached so much upon the beach, that the firm and
+smooth footing which they had hitherto had on the sand must be exchanged
+for a rougher path close to the foot of the precipice, and in some
+places even raised upon its lower ledges. It would have been utterly
+impossible for Sir Arthur Wardour or his daughter to have found their
+way along these shelves without the guidance and encouragement of the
+beggar, who had been there before in high tides, though never, he
+acknowledged, "in sae awsome a night as this."
+
+It was indeed a dreadful evening. The howling of the storm mingled with
+the shrieks of the sea-fowl. Each minute the raging tide gained ground
+perceptibly. The three still struggled forward; but at length they
+paused upon the highest ledge of rock to which they could attain, for it
+seemed that any farther attempt to advance could only serve to
+anticipate their fate.
+
+The fearful pause gave Isabella Wardour time to collect the powers of a
+mind naturally strong and courageous.
+
+"Must we yield life," she said, "without a struggle? Is there no path,
+however dreadful, by which we could climb the crag?"
+
+"I was a bold cragsman," said Ochiltree, "once in my life; but it's lang
+syne, and nae mortal could speel them without a rope. But there was a
+path here ance--His name be praised!" he ejaculated suddenly, "there's
+ane coming down the crag e'en now! there's ane coming down the crag e'en
+now!" Then, exalting his voice, he halloo'd out to the daring adventurer
+such instructions as his former practice forced upon his mind.
+
+The adventurer, following the directions of old Edie, flung him down the
+end of the rope, which he secured around Miss Wardour. Then, availing
+himself of the rope, which was made fast at the other end, Ochiltree
+began to ascent the face of the crag, and after one or two perilous
+escapes, was safe on the broad flat stone beside our friend Lovel. Their
+joint strength was able to raise Isabella to the place of safety which
+they had attained, and the next thing was to raise Sir Arthur beyond the
+reach of the billows.
+
+The prospect of passing a tempestuous night upon a precipitous piece of
+rock, where the spray of the billows flew high enough to drench them,
+filled old Ochiltree with apprehension for Miss Wardour.
+
+"I'll climb up the cliff again," said Lovel, "and call for more
+assistance."
+
+"If ye gang, I'll gang too," said the bedesman.
+
+"Hark! hark!" said Lovel. "Did I not hear a halloo?"
+
+The unmistakable shout of human voices from above was soon augmented,
+and the gleam of torches appeared.
+
+On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled.
+Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with
+unwonted desperation to the very brink of the crag. Some fishermen had
+brought with them the mast of a boat, and this was soon sunk in the
+ground and sufficiently secured. A yard, across the upright mast, and a
+rope stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed
+an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair
+down to the flat shelf on which the sufferers had roosted.
+
+Lovel bound Miss Wardour to the back and arms of the chair, while
+Ochiltree kept Sir Arthur quiet.
+
+"What are ye doing wi' my bairn? She shall not be separated from me!
+Isabel, stay with me, I command you!"
+
+"Farewell, my father!" murmured Isabella; "farewell, my--my friends!"
+and, shutting her eyes, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those
+who were above.
+
+A loud shout announced the success of the experiment. The chair was
+again lowered, and Sir Arthur made fast in it; and after Sir Arthur had
+been landed safe and sound, old Ochiltree was brought up; finally Lovel
+was safely grounded upon the summit of the cliff. As he recovered from a
+sort of half-swoon, occasioned by the giddiness of the ascent, he cast
+his eyes eagerly around. The object for which they sought was already in
+the act of vanishing. Her white garment was just discernible as she
+followed on the path which her father had taken. She had lingered till
+she saw the last of their company rescued from danger, but Lovel was not
+aware that she had expressed in his fate even this degree of interest.
+
+
+_III.--The Duel_
+
+
+Some few weeks after the perilous escape from the tide, Sir Arthur
+invited Mr. Lovel and the Monkbarns family to join him on a visit to the
+ruins of a certain priory in the neighbourhood. Lovel at once accepted,
+and Mr. Oldbuck decided that there would be room for his niece in a
+postchaise. This niece, Mary M'Intyre, like her brother Hector, was an
+orphan. They were the offspring of a sister of Monkbarns, who had
+married one Captain M'Intyre, a Highlander. Both parents being dead, the
+son and daughter were left to the charge of Mr. Oldbuck. The nephew was
+now a captain in the army, the niece had her home at Monkbarns.
+
+All went happily at Sir Arthur's party at the ruins, until the
+unexpected arrival of Hector M'Intyre. This newcomer, a handsome young
+man about five-and-twenty, had ridden to Monkbarns, and learning his
+uncle's absence had come straight on to join the company. On his
+introduction to Lovel the young soldier bowed with more reserve than
+cordiality, and Lovel was equally frigid and haughty in return.
+
+Miss Wardour's obvious determination not to allow Captain M'Intyre an
+opportunity for private conversation with her drove Hector to speak to
+his sister.
+
+"Pray who is this Mr. Lovel, whom our old uncle has at once placed so
+high in his good graces?"
+
+"If you mean how Mr. Lovel comes to visit at Monkbarns you must ask my
+uncle; and you must know that Mr. Lovel rendered Miss Wardour and him a
+service of the most important kind."
+
+"What! that romantic story is true, then? And does the valorous knight
+aspire to the hand of the young lady whom he redeemed from peril? I did
+think that she was uncommonly dry to me as we walked together."
+
+"Dear Hector," said his sister, "do not continue to nourish any
+affection for Miss Wardour. Your perseverance is hopeless. Above all, do
+not let this violent temper of yours lead you to lose the favour of our
+uncle, who has hitherto been all that is kind and paternal to us."
+
+Captain M'Intyre promised to behave civilly, and returned to the
+company.
+
+On Lovel mentioning, in the course of conversation, that he was an
+officer in a certain regiment, M'Intyre could not refrain from declaring
+that he knew the officers of that regiment, and had never heard of the
+name of Lovel.
+
+Lovel blushed deeply, and taking a letter out of an envelope, handed it
+to M'Intyre. The latter acknowledged the handwriting of General Sir
+----, but remarked that the address was missing.
+
+"The address, Captain M'Intyre," answered Lovel, "shall be at your
+service whenever you choose to inquire after it."
+
+"I certainly shall not fail to do so," rejoined Hector.
+
+The party broke up, Lovel returned to Fairport, and early next morning
+was waited upon by a military friend of Captain M'Intyre. Upon Lovel
+declining to give his name the captain insisted on his fighting, and
+that very evening the duel was arranged to take place in a valley close
+by the ruins of St. Ruth.
+
+Captain M'Intyre's ball grazed the side of his opponent, but did not
+draw blood. That of Lovel was more true, and M'Intyre reeled and fell.
+
+The grasp of old Ochiltree, who had appeared on the scene, roused Lovel
+to movement, and leaving M'Intyre to the care of a surgeon, he followed
+the bedesman into the recesses of the wood, in order to get away by boat
+the following morning.
+
+Amid the secret passages of the ruins, well known to Ochiltree, Lovel
+was to pass the night; but all rest was impossible by the discovery of
+two human figures, one of whom Lovel made out to be a German named
+Donsterswivel, a swindling impostor who promised discoveries of gold to
+Sir Arthur Wardour, gold buried in the ruins, and only to be unearthed
+by magic and considerable expenditure of ready money.
+
+"That other ane," whispered Edie, "maun be, according to a' likelihood,
+Sir Arthur Wardour. I ken naebody but himself wad come here at this time
+wi' that German blackguard."
+
+Donsterswivel, with much talk of planetary influences, and spirits, and
+"suffumigation," presently set fire to a little pile of chips, and when
+the flame was at the highest flung in a handful of perfumes, which
+produced a strong and pungent odour.
+
+A violent explosion of sneezing, which the mendicant was unable to
+suppress, accompanied by a grunting, half-smothered cough, confounded
+the two treasure-seekers.
+
+"I was begun to think," said the terrified German, "that this would be
+bestermost done in de daylight; we was bestermost to go away just now."
+
+"You juggling villain!" said the baronet; "this is some legerdemain
+trick of yours to get off from the performance of your promise, as you
+have so often done before. You shall show me that treasure, or confess
+yourself a knave."
+
+Here Edie, who began to enter into the humour of the scene, uttered an
+extraordinary howl. Donsterswivel flung himself on his knees. "Dear Sir
+Arthur, let us go, or let me go!"
+
+"No, you cheating scoundrel!" said the knight, unsheathing his sword. "I
+will see this treasure before you leave this place, or, by heaven, I'll
+run this sword through you though all the spirits of the dead should
+rise around us!"
+
+"For de lofe of heaven, be patient, mine honoured patron; do not speak
+about de spirits--it makes dem angry."
+
+Donsterswivel at length proceeded to a corner of the building where lay
+a flat stone upon the ground. With great trepidation he removed the
+stone, threw out a shovelful or two of earth, and produced a small case
+or casket. This was at once opened by the baronet, and appeared to be
+filled with coin.
+
+"This is being indeed in good luck," said Sir Arthur; "and if you think
+it omens proportional success upon a larger venture, I will hazard the
+necessary advance."
+
+But the German's guilty conscience and superstitious fears made him
+anxious to escape, and accordingly he hurried Sir Arthur from the spot.
+
+"Saw onybody e'er the like o' that!" said Edie to Lovel.
+
+"His faith in the fellow is entirely restored," said Lovel, "by this
+deception, which he had arranged beforehand."
+
+"Ay, ay; trust him for that. He wants to wile him out o' his last
+guinea, and then escape to his own country, the land-louper."
+
+But thanks to old Edie's efforts, Donsterswivel was checked in his
+scheme for the plunder of Sir Arthur Wardour.
+
+
+_IV.--The Secret is Disclosed_
+
+
+Captain M'Intyre's wound turned out to be not so dangerous as was at
+first suspected, and after some six weeks' nursing at Monkbarns, the
+hot-tempered soldier was once more in full health.
+
+It was during those weeks that the Antiquary met after an interval of
+more than twenty years, the Earl of Glenallan, a neighbouring laird.
+Lord Glenallan and Mr. Oldbuck had both loved the same lady, Eveline
+Neville, and against the commands of the old countess, his mother,
+Glenallan had married Miss Neville. Driven by the false taunts of the
+countess to believe, as her husband did, the marriage invalid, the
+unhappy Eveline had thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea, and the
+child born to her had been kept in concealment in England by her
+brother, Geraldin Neville. The countess died, and an old fish woman,
+once the countess's confidential maid, when dying, demanded to see Lord
+Glenallan, and on her death-bed told him the truth, and that his child
+was living.
+
+The scare of a French invasion brought Lord Glenallan, with Mr. Oldbuck,
+and Sir Arthur Wardour, to Fairport, and to his uncle's surprise and
+satisfaction, Captain M'Intyre acted as military adviser to the
+volunteers with remarkable presence of mind, giving instructions calmly
+and wisely.
+
+The arrival of an officer from headquarters was eagerly expected in
+Fairport, and at length a cry among the people announced "There's the
+brave Major Neville come at last!" A postchaise and four drove into the
+square, amidst the huzzas of the volunteers and inhabitants, and what
+was the surprise of all present, but most especially that of the
+Antiquary, when the handsome uniform and military cap disclosed the
+person and features of the pacific Lovel! A warm embrace was necessary
+to assure him that his eyes were doing him justice. Sir Arthur was no
+less surprised to recognise his son, Captain Wardour, as Major Neville's
+companion.
+
+The first words of the young officers were a positive assurance to all
+present that their efforts were unnecessary, that what was merely an
+accidental bonfire had been taken for a beacon.
+
+The Antiquary found his arm pressed by Lord Glenallan, who dragged him
+aside. "For God's sake, who is that young gentleman who is so strikingly
+like----"
+
+"Like the unfortunate Eveline," interrupted Oldbuck. "I felt my heart
+warm to him from the first. Formerly I would have called him Lovel, but
+now he turns out to be Major Neville."
+
+"Whom my brother brought up as his natural son--whom he made his
+heir--the child of my Eveline!"
+
+Mr. Oldbuck at once determined to make further investigation, and
+returned to Major Neville, who was now arranging for the dispersion of
+the force which had been assembled.
+
+"Pray, Major Neville, leave this business for a moment to Captain
+Wardour and to Hector, with whom, I hope, you are thoroughly
+reconciled"--Neville laughed, and shook hands with Hector across the
+table--"and grant me a moment's audience."
+
+"You have every claim on me," said Neville, "for having passed myself
+upon you under a false name. But I am so unfortunate as to have no
+better right to the name of Neville, than that of Lovel."
+
+"I believe I know more of your birth than you do yourself, and to
+convince you of it, you were educated and known as a natural son of
+Geraldin Neville, of Neville's-burg, in Yorkshire."
+
+"I did believe Mr. Geraldin Neville was my father, but during the war in
+French Flanders, I found in a convent near where we were quartered, a
+woman who spoke good English--a Spaniard. She discovered who I was, and
+made herself known to me as the person who had charge of me in my
+infancy, and intimated that Mr. Geraldin Neville was not my father. The
+convent was burned by the enemy, and several nuns perished, among others
+this woman. I wrote to Mr. Neville, and on my return implored him to
+complete the disclosure. He refused, and, on my importunity, indignantly
+upbraided me with the favours he had already conferred. We parted in
+mutual displeasure. I renounced the name of Neville, and assumed that of
+Lovel. It was at this time, when residing with a friend in the north of
+England, that I became acquainted with Miss Wardour, and was romantic
+enough to follow her to Scotland. When I was at Fairport, I received
+news of Mr. Neville's death. He had made me his heir, but the possession
+of considerable wealth did not prevent me from remembering Sir Arthur's
+strong prejudices against illegitimacy. Then came my quarrel with
+Captain M'Intyre, and my compelled departure from Fairport."
+
+"Well, Major Neville, you must, I believe, exchange both of your aliases
+for the style and title of the Honourable William Geraldin, commonly
+called Lord Geraldin."
+
+The Antiquary then went through the strange and melancholy circumstances
+concerning his mother's death. "And now, my dear sir," said he, in
+conclusion, "let me have the pleasure of introducing a son to a father."
+
+We will not attempt to describe such a meeting. The proof on all sides
+was found to be complete, for Mr. Neville had left a distinct account of
+the whole transaction with his confidential steward in a small packet,
+which was not to be opened until the death of the old countess.
+
+In the evening of that day, the yeomanry and volunteers of Glenallan
+drank prosperity to their young master; and a month afterwards, Lord
+Glenallan was married to Miss Wardour.
+
+Hector is rising rapidly in the army, and rises proportionally high in
+his uncle's favour.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Guy Mannering
+
+
+     "Guy Mannering, or, the Astrologer," the second of the
+     Waverley series, represents the labour of six weeks. Although
+     the novel was completed in so short a period, neither
+     story--if one or two instances of evidences of haste is
+     ignored--nor characterisation has suffered. For the main theme
+     Scott was indebted to an old legend of the horoscope of a
+     new-born infant. In common with nearly all his tales, several
+     of the characters in "Guy Mannering" were founded on real
+     persons; Meg Merrilies was the prototype of a gipsy named
+     Jennie Gordon, and many of the personal features of Dominie
+     Sampson were obtained from a clergyman who once acted as tutor
+     at Abbotsford. The hero was at once recognised by Hogg, the
+     Ettrick shepherd, as a portrait of Scott himself.
+
+
+_I.--The Astrologer_
+
+
+It was in the month of November, 17--, when a young English gentleman,
+who had just left the University of Oxford, being benighted while
+sightseeing in Dumfriesshire, sought shelter at Ellangowan, on the very
+night the heir was born. Our hero, Guy Mannering, entering into the
+simple humour of Mr. Bertram, his host, agreed to calculate the infant's
+horoscope by the stars, having in early youth studied with an old
+clergyman who had a firm belief in astrology.
+
+Mannering had once before tried a similar piece of foolery, at the
+instance of the young lady to whom he was betrothed, and now found that
+the result of the scheme in both cases presaged misfortune in the same
+year to the infant as to her. To the baby, three periods would be
+particularly hazardous--his fifth, his tenth, his twenty-first year.
+
+He mentally relinquished his art for ever, and to prevent the child
+being supposed to be the object of evil prediction, he gave the paper
+into Mr. Bertram's hand, and requested him to keep it for five years
+with the seal unbroken, after which period he left him at liberty,
+trusting that the first fatal year being safely overpast, no credit
+would be paid to its farther contents.
+
+When Mrs. Bertram was able to work again, her first employment was to
+make a small velvet bag for the scheme of nativity; and though her
+fingers itched to break the seal, she had the firmness to enclose it in
+two slips of parchment, and put it in the bag aforesaid, and hang it
+round the neck of the infant.
+
+It was again in the month of November, more than twenty years after the
+above incident, that a loud rapping was heard at the door of the Gordon
+Arms at Kippletringan.
+
+"I wish, madam," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, where several
+neighbours were assembled, "you would give me leave to warm myself here,
+for the night is very cold."
+
+His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous effect in
+his favour. The landlady installed her guest comfortably by the
+fireside, and offered what refreshment her house afforded.
+
+"A cup of tea, ma'am, if you will favour me." Mrs. MacCandlish bustled
+about, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace, explaining that
+she had a very nice parlour, and everything agreeable for gentlefolks;
+but it was bespoke to-night for a gentleman and his daughter, that were
+going to leave this part of the country.
+
+The sound of wheels was now heard, and the postilion entered. "No, they
+canna' come at no rate, the laird's sae ill."
+
+"But God help them," said the landlady. "The morn's the term--the very
+last day they can bide in the house--a' things to be roupit."
+
+"Weel, I tell you, Mr. Bertram canna be moved."
+
+"What Mr. Bertram?" said the stranger. "Not Mr. Bertram of Ellangowan, I
+hope?"
+
+"Just e'en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye've come at a
+time when he's sair bested."
+
+"I have been abroad for many years. Is his health so much deranged?"
+
+"Ay, and his affairs an' a'. The creditors have entered into possession
+o' the estate, and it's for sale. And some that made the maist o' him,
+they're sairest on him now. I've a sma' matter due mysell, but I'd
+rather have lost it than gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and
+him just dying."
+
+"Ay, but," said the parish clerk, "Factor Glossin wants to get rid of
+the auld laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the heir-male should
+cast up; for if there's an heir-male, they canna sell the estate for
+auld Ellangowan's debt."
+
+"He had a son born a good many years ago," said the stranger. "He is
+dead, I suppose?"
+
+"Dead! I'se warrant him dead lang syne. He hasna' been heard o' these
+twenty years."
+
+"I wat weel it's no twenty years," said the landlady. "It's no abune
+seventeen in this very month. It made an unco noise ower a' this
+country. The bairn disappeared the very day that Supervisor Kennedy came
+by his end. He was a daft dog! Oh, an' he could ha' handen' off the
+smugglers! Ye see, sir, there was a king's sloop down in Wigton Bay, and
+Frank Kennedy, he behoved to have her up to chase Dirk Hatteraick's
+lugger. He was a daring cheild, and fought his ship till she blew up
+like peelings of ingans."
+
+"And Mr. Bertram's child," said the stranger, "what is all this to him?"
+
+"Ou, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi' the supervisor, and it was
+generally thought he went on board the vessel with him."
+
+"No, no; you're clean out there, Luckie! The young laird was stown awa'
+by a randy gipsy woman they ca'd Meg Merrilies," said the deacon.
+
+But the presenter would not have this version, and told a tale of how an
+astrologer, an ancient man, had appeared at the time of the heir's
+birth, and told the laird that the Evil One would have power over the
+knave bairn, and he charged him that the bairn should be brought up in
+the ways of piety, and should aye hae a godly minister at his elbow; and
+the aged man vanished away, and so they engaged Dominie Sampson to be
+with him morn and night. But even that godly minister had failed to
+protect the child, who was last seen being carried off by Frank Kennedy
+on his horse to see a king's ship chase a smuggler. The excise-man's
+body was found at the foot of the crags at Warroch Point, but no one
+knew what had become of the child.
+
+A smart servant entered with a note for the stranger, saying, "The
+family at Ellangowan are in great distress, sir, and unable to receive
+any visits."
+
+"I know it," said his master. "And now, madam, if you will have the
+goodness to allow me to occupy the parlour----"
+
+"Certainly, sir," said Mrs. MacCandlish, and hastened to light the way.
+
+"And wha' may your master be, friend?"
+
+"What! That's the famous Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East Indies."
+
+"What, him we read of in the papers?"
+
+"Lord safe us!" said the landlady. "I must go and see what he would have
+for supper--that I should set him down here."
+
+When the landlady re-entered, Colonel Mannering asked her if Mr. Bertram
+lost his son in his fifth year.
+
+"O ay, sir, there's nae doubt of that; though there are many idle
+clashes about the way and manner. And the news being rashly told to the
+leddy cost her her life that saym night; and the laird never throve from
+that day, was just careless of everything. Though when Miss Lucy grew up
+she tried to keep order. But what could she do, poor thing? So now
+they're out of house and hauld."
+
+
+_II.--Vanbeest Brown's Reappearance_
+
+
+Early next morning, Mannering took the road to Ellangowan. He had no
+need to inquire the way; people of all descriptions streamed to the sale
+from all quarters.
+
+When the old towers of the ruin rose upon his view, thoughts thronged
+upon the mind of the traveller. How changed his feelings since he lost
+sight of them so many years before! Then life and love were new, and all
+the prospect was gilded by their rays. And now, disappointed in
+affection, sated with fame, goaded by bitter and repentant
+recollections, his best hope was to find a retirement in which to nurse
+the melancholy which was to accompany him to his grave. About a year
+before, in India, he had returned from a distant expedition to find a
+young cadet named Brown established as the habitual attendant on his
+wife and daughter, an arrangement which displeased him greatly, owing to
+the suggestions of another cadet, though no objection could be made to
+the youth's character or manners. Brown made some efforts to overcome
+his colonel's prejudice, but feeling himself repulsed, and with scorn,
+desisted, and continued his attentions in defiance. At last some trifle
+occurred which occasioned high words and a challenge. They met on the
+frontiers of the settlement, and Brown fell at the first shot. A horde
+of Looties, a species of banditti, poured in upon them, and Colonel
+Mannering and his second escaped with some difficulty. His wife's death
+shortly after, and his daughter's severe illness, made him throw up his
+command and come home. She was now staying with some old friends in
+Westmoreland, almost restored to her wonted health and gaiety.
+
+When Colonel Mannering reached the house he found his old acquaintance
+paralysed, helpless, waiting for the postchaise to take him away.
+Mannering's evident emotion at once attained him the confidence of Lucy
+Bertram. The laird showed no signs of recognising Mannering; but when
+the man, Gilbert Glossin, who had brought him to this pass, had the
+effrontery to make his appearance, he started up, violently reproaching
+him, sank into his chair again, and died almost without a groan.
+
+A torrent of sympathy now poured forth, the sale was postponed, and
+Mannering decided on making a short tour till it should take place, but
+he was called back to Westmoreland, and, owing to the delay of his
+messenger, the estate passed into the hands of Glossin. Lucy and Dominie
+Sampson, who would not be separated from his pupil, found a temporary
+home in the house of Mr. MacMorlan, the sheriff-substitute, a good
+friend of the family.
+
+Colonel Mannering lost no time in hiring for a season a large and
+comfortable mansion not far from Ellangowan, having some hopes of
+ultimately buying that estate. Besides a sincere desire to serve the
+distressed, he saw the advantage his daughter Julia might receive from
+the company of Lucy Bertram, whose prudence and good sense might be
+relied on, and therefore induced her to become the visitor of a season,
+and the dominie thereupon required no pressing to accept the office of
+librarian. The household was soon settled in its new quarters, and the
+young ladies followed their studies and amusements together.
+
+Society was quickly formed, most of the families in the neighbourhood
+visited Colonel Mannering, and Charles Hazlewood soon held a
+distinguished place in his favour and was a frequent visitor, his
+parents quite forgetting their old fear of his boyish attachment to
+penniless Lucy Bertram in the thought that the beautiful Miss Mannering,
+of high family, with a great fortune, was a prize worth looking after.
+They did not know that the colonel's journey to Westmoreland was in
+consequence of a letter from his friend there expressing uneasiness
+about serenades from the lake beside the house. However, he had returned
+without making any discovery or any advance in his daughter's
+confidence, who might have told him that Brown still lived, had not her
+natural good sense and feeling been warped by the folly of a misjudging,
+romantic mother, who had called her husband a tyrant until she feared
+him as such.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Vanbeest Brown had escaped from captivity and attained the rank of
+captain after Mannering left India, and his regiment having been
+recalled home, was determined to persevere in his addresses to Julia
+while she left him a ray of hope, believing that the injuries he had
+received from her father might dispense with his using much ceremony
+towards him.
+
+So, soon after the Mannerings' settlement in Scotland, he was staying in
+the inn at Kippletringan; and, as the landlady said, "a' the hoose was
+ta'en wi' him, he was such a frank, pleasant young man." There had been
+a good deal of trouble with the smugglers of late, and one day Brown met
+the young ladies with Charles Hazlewood. Julia's alarm at his appearance
+misled that young man, and he spoke roughly to Brown, even threatening
+him with his gun. In the confusion the gun went off, wounding Hazlewood.
+
+
+_III.--Glossin's Villainy_
+
+
+Gilbert Glossin, Esq., now Laird of Ellangowan, and justice of the
+peace, saw an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the country
+gentry, and exerted himself to discover the person by whom young Charles
+Hazlewood had been wounded. So it was with great pleasure he heard his
+servants announce that MacGuffog, the thief-taker, had a man waiting his
+honour, handcuffed and fettered.
+
+The worthy judge and the captive looked at each other steadily. At
+length Glossin said:
+
+"So, captain, this is you? You've been a stranger on these coasts for
+some years."
+
+"Stranger!" replied the other. "Strange enough, I should think, for hold
+me der teyvil, if I have ever been here before."
+
+Glossin took a pair of pistols, and loaded them.
+
+"You may retire," said he to his clerk, "and carry the people with you,
+but wait within call." Then: "You are Dirk Hatteraick, are you not?"
+
+"Tousand teyvils! And if you know that, why ask me?"
+
+"Captain, bullying won't do. You'll hardly get out of this country
+without accounting for a little accident at Warroch Point a few years
+ago."
+
+Hatteraick's looks grew black as midnight.
+
+"For my part," continued Glossin. "I have no wish to be hard on an old
+acquaintance, but I must send you off to Edinburgh this very day."
+
+"Poz donner! you would not do that?" said the prisoner. "Why, you had
+the matter of half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vanbruggen!"
+
+"It was an affair in the way of business," said Glossin, "and I have
+retired from business for some time."
+
+"Ay, but I have a notion I could make you go steady about, and try the
+old course again," said Dirk Hatteraick. "I had something to tell you."
+
+"Of the boy?" said Glossin eagerly.
+
+"Yaw, mynheer," replied the captain coolly.
+
+"He does not live, does he?"
+
+"As lifelich as you or me," said Hatteraick.
+
+"Good God! But in India?" exclaimed Glossin.
+
+"No, tousand teyvils, here--on this dirty coast of yours!" rejoined the
+prisoner.
+
+"But, Hatteraick, this--that is, if it be true, will ruin us both, for
+he cannot but remember."
+
+"I tell you," said the seaman, "it will ruin none but you, for I am done
+up already, and if I must strap for it, all shall out."
+
+Glossin paused--the sweat broke upon his brow; while the hard-featured
+miscreant sat opposite coolly rolling his tobacco in his cheek.
+
+"It would be ruin," said Glossin to himself, "absolute ruin, if the heir
+should reappear--and then what might be the consequences of conniving
+with these men?"
+
+"Hark you, Hatteraick, I can't set you at liberty, but I can put you
+where you can set yourself at liberty. I always like to assist an old
+friend."
+
+So he gave him a file.
+
+"There's a friend for you, and you know the way to the sea, and you must
+remain snug at the point of Warroch till I see you."
+
+"The point of Warroch?" Hatteraick's countenance fell. "What--in the
+cave? I would rather it was anywhere else. They say he walks. But donner
+and blitzen! I never shunned him alive, and I won't shun him dead!"
+
+The justice dismissed the party to keep guard for the night in the old
+castle with a large allowance of food and liquor, with the full hope and
+belief that they would spend the night neither in watching nor prayer.
+Next morning great was the alarm when the escape of the prisoner was
+discovered. When the officers had been sent off in all directions
+(except the right one), Glossin went to Hatteraick in the cave. A light
+soon broke upon his confusion of ideas. This missing heir was Vanbeest
+Brown who had wounded young Hazlewood. He hastily explained to Dick
+Hatteraick that his goods which had been seized were lying in the
+Custom-house at Portanferry, and there to the Bridewell beside it be
+would send this younker, when he had caught him; would take care that
+the soldiers were dispersed, and he, Dick Hatteraick, could land with
+his crew, receive his own goods, and carry the younker Brown back to
+Flushing.
+
+"Ay, carry him to Flushing," said the captain, "or to America, or--to
+Jericho?"
+
+"Psha! Wherever you have a mind."
+
+"Ay, or pitch him overboard?"
+
+"Nay, I advise no violence."
+
+"Nein, nein! You leave that to me Sturm-wetter; I know you of old. But,
+hark ye, what am I, Dirk Hatteraick, to be the better for this?"
+
+Glossin made him understand it would not be safe for either of them if
+young Ellangowan settled in the country, and their plans were soon
+arranged. None of the old crew were alive but the gipsy who had sent the
+news of Brown's whereabouts and identity.
+
+Brown, or, as we may now call him, Harry Bertram, had retreated into
+England, but now, hearing that Hazlewood's wound was trifling, returned
+and landed at Ellangowan Bay; he approached the castle, unconscious as
+the most absolute stranger, where his ancestors had exercised all but
+regal dominion.
+
+Confused memories thronged his mind, and he paused by a curious
+coincidence on nearly the same spot on which his father had died, just
+as Glossin came up the bank with an architect, to whom he was talking of
+alterations; Bertram turned short round upon him, and said:
+
+"Would you destroy this fine old castle, sir?"
+
+He was so exactly like his father in his best days that Glossin thought
+the grave had given up its dead. He staggered back, but instantly
+recovered, and whispered a few words in the ear of his companion, who
+immediately went towards the house, while Glossin talked civilly to
+Bertram. By the next evening he was safely locked up in the Bridewell at
+Portanferry, until Sir Charles Hazlewood, the injured youth's father, to
+whom Glossin had conducted him, could make inquiries as to the truth of
+his story.
+
+
+_IV.--Bertram's Restoration_
+
+
+Bertram, unable to sleep, gazing out of the window of his prison, saw a
+long boat making for the quay. About twenty men landed and disappeared,
+and soon a miscellaneous crowd came back, some carrying torches, some
+bearing packages and barrels, and a red glare illuminated land and sea,
+and shone full on them, as with ferocious activity they loaded their
+boats. A fierce attack was made on the prison gates; they were soon
+forced, and three or four smugglers hurried to Bertram's apartment. "Der
+teyvil," said the leader, "here's our mark!" And two of them seized on
+Bertram, and one whispered, "Make no resistance till you are in the
+street."
+
+They dragged him along, and in the confusion outside the gang got
+separated. A noise as of a body of horse advancing seemed to add to the
+disturbance, the press became furiously agitated, shots were fired, and
+the glittering swords of dragoons began to appear. Now came the warning
+whisper: "Shake off that fellow, and follow me!"
+
+Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly, easily burst from the other
+man's grasp, and dived through a narrow lane after his guide, at the end
+of which stood a postchaise with four horses.
+
+"Get into it," said the guide. "You will soon be in a place of safety."
+
+They were driven at a rapid rate through the dark lanes, and suddenly
+stopped at the door of a large house. Brown, dizzied by the sudden glare
+of light, almost unconsciously entered the open door, and confronted
+Colonel Mannering; interpreting his fixed and motionless astonishment
+into displeasure at his intrusion, hastened to say it was involuntary.
+
+"Mr. Brown, I believe?" said Colonel Mannering.
+
+"Yes, sir," said the young man modestly but firmly. "The same you knew
+in India, and who ventures to hope that you would favour him with your
+attestation to his character as a gentleman and man of honour."
+
+At this critical moment appeared Mr. Pleydell, the lawyer who had
+conducted the inquiry as to the disappearance of Harry Bertram, who
+happened to be staying with Colonel Mannering, and he instantly saw the
+likeness to the late laird.
+
+Bertram was as much confounded at the appearance of those to whom he so
+unexpectedly presented himself as they were at the sight of him. Mr.
+Pleydell alone was in his element, and at once took upon himself the
+whole explanation. His catechism had not proceeded far before Dominie
+Sampson rose hastily, with trembling hands and streaming eyes, and
+called aloud:
+
+"Harry Bertram, look at me!"
+
+"Yes," said Bertram, starting from his seat--"yes, that was my name, and
+that is my kind old master."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When they parted for the night Colonel Mannering walked up to Bertram,
+gave him joy of his prospects, and hoped unkindness would be forgotten
+between them. It was he who had sent the postchaise to Portanferry in
+consequence of a letter he had received from Meg Merrilies; it was she
+who had sent back the soldiers so opportunely, and through her the next
+day Dirk Hatteraick was captured; but, unhappily, she was killed by that
+ruffian at the moment of the fulfilment of her hopes for the family of
+Ellangowan.
+
+Glossin also met the fate he deserved at the hands of Hatteraick, who
+had claims to no virtue but fidelity to his shipowners.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Pleydell carried through his law business successfully, and we leave
+him and the colonel examining plans for a new house for Julia and
+Bertram on the estate of Ellangowan. Another house on the estate was to
+be repaired for the other young couple, Lucy and Hazlewood, and called
+Mount Hazlewood.
+
+"And see," said the colonel, "here's the plan of my bungalow, with all
+convenience for being separate and sulky when I please."
+
+"And you will repair the tower for the nocturnal contemplation of the
+heavenly bodies. Bravo, colonel!"
+
+"No, no, my dear Pleydell! Here ends the astrologer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+The Heart of Midlothian
+
+
+     John Ruskin coupled "Rob Roy" and "The Heart of Midlothian" as
+     the best of all the "Waverley Novels." The latter,
+     constituting the second series in the "Tales of My Landlord,"
+     was published in 1818, and was composed during a period of
+     recurrent fits of intense bodily pain. The romance gets its
+     name from Midlothian, or Middle Lothian, an Edinburgh prison
+     which in days gone by used to mark the centre of the district
+     of Lothian, between the Tweed and the Forth, now the County of
+     Edinburgh. According to Scott himself, the story of the
+     heroism of Jeannie Deans was founded on fact. Her prototype
+     was one Helen Walker, the daughter of a small Dumfriesshire
+     farmer, who in order to get the Duke of Argyle to intercede to
+     save her sister's life got up a petition and actually walked
+     to London barefoot to present it to his grace. Helen Walker
+     died in 1791, and on the tombstone of this unassuming heroine
+     is an inscription by Scott himself.
+
+
+_I.--In the Tolbooth_
+
+
+In former times England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims of
+justice were conducted in solemn procession; and in Edinburgh, a large
+oblong square, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same purpose.
+This place was crowded to suffocation on the day when John Porteous,
+captain of the City Guard, was to be hanged, sentenced to death for
+firing on the crowd on the occasion of the execution of a popular
+smuggler.
+
+The grim appearance of the populace conveyed the impression of men who
+had come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. When the news that
+Porteous was respited for six weeks was announced, a roar of rage and
+mortification arose, but speedily subsided into stifled mutterings as
+the people slowly dispersed.
+
+That night the mob broke into the Tolbooth, the prison, commonly called
+the Heart of Midlothian, dragged the wretched Porteous from the chimney
+in which he had concealed himself, and carried him off to the
+Grassmarket, where, as the leader of the rioters, a tall man dressed in
+woman's clothes said he had spilled the blood of so many innocents.
+
+"Let no man hurt him," continued the speaker. "Let him make his peace
+with God, if he can; we will not kill both soul and body."
+
+A young minister named Butler, whom the rioters had met and compelled to
+come with them, was brought to the prisoner's side, to prepare him for
+instant death. With a generous disregard of his own safety, Butler
+besought the crowd to consider what they did. But in vain. The unhappy
+man was forced to his fate with remorseless rapidity, and Butler,
+separated from him by the press, and unnoticed by those who had hitherto
+kept him prisoner, escaped the last horror, and fled from the fatal
+spot.
+
+His first purpose was instantly to take the road homewards, but other
+fears and cares, connected with news he had that day heard, induced him
+to linger till daybreak.
+
+Reuben Butler was the grandson of a trooper in Monk's army, and had been
+brought up by a grandmother, a widow, a cotter who struggled with
+poverty and the hard and sterile soil on the land of the Laird of
+Dumbiedikes. She was helped by the advice of another tenant, David
+Deans, a staunch Presbyterian, and Jeannie, his little daughter, and
+Reuben herded together the handful of sheep and the two or three cows,
+and went together to the school; where Reuben, as much superior to
+Jeannie Deans in acuteness of intellect as inferior to her in firmness
+of constitution, was able to requite in full the kindness and
+countenance with which, in other circumstances, she used to regard him.
+
+While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the university the knowledge
+necessary for a clergyman, David Deans, by shrewdness and skill, gained
+a footing in the world and the possession of some wealth. He had married
+again, and another daughter had been born to him. But now his wife was
+dead, and he had left his old home, and become a dairy farmer about half
+a mile from Edinburgh, and the unceasing industry and activity of
+Jeannie was exerted in making the most of the produce of their cows.
+
+Effie, his youngest daughter, under the tend guileless purity of
+thought, speech, and action, as by her uncommon loveliness of person.
+The news that this girl was in prison on suspicion of the murder of her
+child was what kept Reuben Butler lingering on the hills outside
+Edinburgh, until a fitting time should arrive to wait upon Jeannie and
+her father. Effie denied all guilt of infanticide; but she had concealed
+the birth of a child, and the child had disappeared, so that by the law
+she was judged guilty.
+
+His limbs exhausted with fatigue, Butler dragged himself up to St.
+Leonard's crags, and presented himself at the door of Deans' habitation,
+with feelings much akin to the miserable fears of its inhabitants.
+
+"Come in," answered the low, sweet-toned voice he loved best to hear, as
+he tapped at the door. The old man was seated by the fire with his
+well-worn pocket Bible in his hands, and turned his face away as Butler
+entered and clasped the extended hand which had supported his orphan
+infancy, wept over it, and in vain endeavoured to say more than "God
+comfort you! God comfort you!"
+
+"He will--He doth, my friend," said Deans. "He doth now, and He will yet
+more in His own gude time. I have been ower proud of my sufferings in a
+gude cause, Reuben, and now I am to be tried with those whilk will turn
+my pride and glory into a reproach and a hissing."
+
+Butler had too much humanity to do anything but encourage the good old
+man as he reckoned up with conscious pride the constancy of his
+testimony and his sufferings, but seized the opportunity as soon as
+possible of some private conversation with Jeannie. He gave her the
+message he had received from a stranger he had met an hour or two
+before, to the effect that she must meet him that night alone at
+Muschat's cairn at moonrise.
+
+"Tell him," said Jeannie hastily, "I will certainly come"; and to all
+Butler's entreaties and expostulations would give no explanation. They
+were recalled--"ben the house," to use the language of the country--by
+the loud tones of David Deans, and found the poor old man half frantic
+between grief and zealous ire against proposals to employ a lawyer on
+Effie's behalf, they being, all, in his opinion, carnal, crafty
+self-seekers.
+
+But when the poor old man, fatigued with the arguments and presence of
+his guests, retired to his sleeping apartment, the Laird of Dumbiedikes
+said he would employ his own man of business, and Butler set off
+instantly to see Effie herself, and try to get her to give him the
+information that she had refused to everyone.
+
+"Farewell, Jeannie," said he. "Take no _rash steps_ till you hear from
+me."
+
+Butler was at once recognised by the turnkey when he presented himself
+at the Tolbooth, and detained as having been connected with the riots
+the night before. One of the prisoners had recognised Robertson, the
+leader of the rioters, and seen him trying to persuade Effie Deans to
+escape and to save himself from the gallows, being a well-known thief
+and prison-breaker, gave information, hoping, as he candidly said, to
+obtain the post of gaoler himself.
+
+It became obvious that the father of Effie's child and the slayer of
+Porteous were one and the same person, and on hearing from Butler, who
+had no reason to conceal his movements, of the stranger he had met on
+the hill, the procurator fiscal, otherwise the superintendent of police,
+with a strong body-guard, interrupted Jeannie's meeting with the
+stranger that night; but he had made her understand that her sister's
+life was in her hands before, hearing men approaching, he plunged into
+the darkness and was lost to sight.
+
+
+_II.--Effie's Trial_
+
+
+Soon afterwards, Ratcliffe, the prisoner who had recognised Robertson,
+received a full pardon, and becoming gaoler, was repeatedly applied to,
+to procure an interview between the sisters; but the magistrates had
+given strict orders to the contrary, hoping that they might, by keeping
+them apart, obtain some information respecting the fugitive. But Jeannie
+knew nothing of Robertson, except having met him that night by
+appointment to give her some advice respecting her sister's concern, the
+which, she said, was betwixt God and her conscience. And Effie was
+equally silent. In vain they offered, even a free pardon, if she would
+confess what she knew of her lover.
+
+At length the day was fixed for Effie's trial, and on the preceding
+evening Jeannie was allowed to see her sister. Even the hard-hearted
+turnkey could not witness the scene without a touch of human sympathy.
+
+"Ye are ill, Effie," were the first words Jeannie could utter. "Ye are
+very ill."
+
+"O, what wad I gie to be ten times waur, Jeannie!" was the reply. "O
+that I were lying dead at my mother's side!"
+
+"Hout, lassie!" said Ratcliffe. "Dinna be sae dooms downhearted as a'
+that. There's mony a tod hunted that's no killed. They are weel aff has
+such a counsel and agent as ye have; ane's aye sure of fair play."
+
+But the mourners had become unconscious of his presence. "O Effie," said
+her elder sister, "how could you conceal your situation from me? O
+woman, had I deserved this at your hand? Had ye but spoke ae word----"
+
+"What gude wad that hae dune?" said the prisoner. "Na, na, Jeannie; a'
+was ower whan once I forgot what I promised when I turned down the leaf
+of my Bible. See, the Book aye opens at the place itsell. O see,
+Jeannie, what a fearfu' Scripture!"
+
+"O if ye had spoken ae word again!" sobbed Jeannie. "If I were free to
+swear that ye had said but ae word of how it stude wi' you, they couldna
+hae touched your life this day!"
+
+"Could they na?" said Effie, with something like awakened interest.
+"Wha' tauld ye that, Jeannie?"
+
+"It was ane that kenned what he was saying weel eneugh," said Jeannie.
+
+"Hout!" said Ratcliffe. "What signifies keeping the poor lassie in a
+swither? I'se uphand it's been Robertson that learned ye that doctrine."
+
+"Was it him?" cried Effie. "Was it him, indeed? O I see it was him, poor
+lad! And I was thinking his heart was as hard as the nether millstane,
+and him in sic danger on his ain part. Poor George! O, Jeannie, tell me
+every word he said, and if he was sorry for poor Effie!"
+
+"What needs I tell ye onything about 't?" said Jeannie. "Ye may be sure
+he had ower muckle about onybody beside."
+
+"That's no' true, Jeannie, though a saint had said it," replied Effie.
+"But ye dinna ken, though I do, how far he put his life in venture to
+save mine." And looking at Ratcliffe, checked herself and was silent.
+
+"I fancy," said he, "the lassie thinks naebody has een but hersell.
+Didna I see Gentle Geordie trying to get other folk out of the Tolbooth
+forbye Jock Porteous? Ye needna look sae amazed. I ken mair things than
+that, maybe."
+
+"O my God, my God!" said she, throwing herself on her knees before him.
+"D'ye ken where they hae putten my bairn? O my bairn, my bairn! Tell me
+wha has taen't away, or what they hae dune wi't!"
+
+As his answer destroyed the wild hope that had suddenly dawned upon her,
+the unhappy prisoner fell on the floor in a strong convulsion fit.
+
+Jeannie instantly applied herself to her sister's relief, and Ratcliffe
+had even the delicacy to withdraw to the other end of the room to render
+his official attendance as little intrusive as possible; while Jeannie
+commenced her narrative of all that had passed between her and
+Robertson. After a long pause:
+
+"And he wanted you to say something to you folks that wad save my young
+life?" said Effie.
+
+"He wanted," said Jeannie, "that I shuld be mansworn!"
+
+"And you tauld him," said Effie, "that ye wadna hear o' coming between
+me and death, and me no aughteen year auld yet?"
+
+"I dinna deserve this frae ye, Effie," said her sister, feeling the
+injustice of the reproach and compassion for the state of mind which
+dictated it.
+
+"Maybe no, sister," said Effie. "But ye are angry because I love
+Robertson. Sure am I, if it had stude wi' him as it stands wi' you----"
+
+"O if it stude wi' me to save ye wi' the risk of _my_ life!" said
+Jeannie.
+
+"Ay, lass," said her sister, "that's lightly said, but no sae lightly
+credited frae ane that winna ware a word for me; and if it be a wrang
+word, ye'll hae time enough to repent o' 't."
+
+"But that word is a grievous sin."
+
+"Well, weel, Jeannie, never speak mair o' 't," said the prisoner. "It's
+as weel as it is. And gude-day, sister. Ye keep Mr. Ratcliffe waiting
+on. Ye'll come back and see me, I reckon, before----"
+
+"And are we to part in this way," said Jeannie, "and you in sic deadly
+peril? O, Effie, look but up and say what ye wad hae me do, and I could
+find it in my heart amaist to say I wad do 't."
+
+"No, Jeannie," said her sister, with an effort. "I'm better minded now.
+God knows, in my sober mind, I wadna' wuss any living creature to do a
+wrang thing to save my life!"
+
+But when Jeannie was called to give her evidence next day, Effie, her
+whole expression altered to imploring, almost ecstatic earnestness of
+entreaty, exclaimed, in a tone that went through all hearts:
+
+"O Jeannie, Jeannie, save me, save me!"
+
+Jeannie suddenly extended her hand to her sister, who covered it with
+kisses and bathed it with tears; while Jeannie wept bitterly.
+
+It was some time before the judge himself could subdue his own emotion
+and administer the oath: "The truth to tell, and no truth to conceal, in
+the name of God, and as the witness should answer to God at the great
+Day of Judgement." Jeannie, educated in devout reverence for the name of
+the Deity, was awed, but at the same time elevated above all
+considerations save those to which she could, with a clear conscience,
+call him to witness. Therefore, though she turned deadly pale, and
+though the counsel took every means to make it easy for her to bear
+false witness, she replied to his question as to what Effie had said
+when questioned as to what ailed her, "Alack! alack! she never breathed
+a word to me about it."
+
+A deep groan passed through the court, and the unfortunate father fell
+forward, senseless. The secret hope to which he had clung had now
+dissolved. The prisoner with impotent passion, strove with her guard.
+"Let me gang to my father! He is dead! I hae killed him!" she repeated
+in frenzied tones.
+
+Even in that moment of agony Jeannie did not lose that superiority that
+a deep and firm mind assures to its possessor. She stooped, and began
+assiduously to chafe her father's temples.
+
+The judge, after repeatedly wiping his eyes, gave directions that they
+should be removed and carefully attended. The prisoner pursued them with
+her eyes, and when they were no longer visible, seemed to find courage
+in her despair.
+
+"The bitterness of 't is now past," she said. "My lords, if it is your
+pleasure to gang on wi' this matter, the weariest day will have its end
+at last."
+
+
+_III.--Jeannie's Pilgrimage_
+
+
+David Deans and his eldest daughter found in the house of a cousin the
+nearest place of friendly refuge. When he recovered from his long swoon,
+he was too feeble to speak when their hostess came in.
+
+"Is all over?" said Jeannie, with lips pale as ashes. "And is there no
+hope for her?"
+
+"Nane, or next to nane," said her cousin, Mrs. Saddletree; but added
+that the foreman of the jury had wished her to get the king's mercy, and
+"nae ma about it."
+
+"But can the king gie her mercy?" said Jeannie.
+
+"I well he wot he can, when he likes," said her cousin and gave
+instances, finishing with Porteous.
+
+"Porteous," said Jeannie, "very true. I forgot a' that I culd mind
+maist. Fare ye well, Mrs. Saddletree. May ye never want a friend in the
+hour o' distress."
+
+To Mrs. Saddletree's protests she replied there was much to be done and
+little time to do it in; then, kneeling by her father's bed, begged his
+blessing. Instinctively the old man murmured a prayer, and his daughter
+saying, "He has blessed mine errand; it is borne in on my mind that I
+shall prosper," left the room. Mrs. Saddletree looked after her, and
+shook her head. "I wish she binna roving, poor thing. There's something
+queer about a' thae Deanes. I dinna like folk to be sae muckle better
+than ither folk; seldom comes gude o't."
+
+But she took good care of "the honest auld man," until he was able to go
+to his own home.
+
+Effie was roused from her state of stupefied horror by the entrance of
+Jeannie who, rushing into the cell, threw her arms round her neck.
+
+"What signifies coming to greet ower me," said poor Effie, "when you
+have killed me? Killed me, when a word from your mouth would have saved
+me."
+
+"You shall not die," said Jeannie, with enthusiastic firmness. "Say what
+you like o' me, only promise, for I doubt your proud heart, that you
+winna' harm yourself? I will go to London and beg your pardon from the
+king and queen. They _shall_ pardon you, and they will win a thousand
+hearts by it!"
+
+She soon tore herself from her sister's arms and left the cell.
+Ratcliffe followed her, so impressed was he by her "spunk," he advised
+her as to her proceedings, to find a friend to speak for her to the
+king--the Duke of Argyle, if possible--and wrote her a line or two on a
+dirty piece of paper, which would be useful if she fell among thieves.
+Jeannie then hastened home to St. Leonard's Crags, and gave full
+instructions to her usual assistant, concerning the management of
+domestic affairs and arrangements for her father's comfort in her
+absence. She got a loan of money from the Laird of Dumbiedikes, and set
+off without losing a moment on her walk to London. On her way she
+stopped to bid adieu to her old friend Reuben Butler, whom she had
+expected to see at the court yesterday. She knew, of course, that he was
+still under some degree of restraint--he had been obliged to find bail
+not to quit his usual residence, in case he were wanted as a witness--
+but she had hoped he would have found means to be with his old friend on
+such a day.
+
+She found him quite seriously ill, as she had feared, but yet most
+unwilling to let her go on this errand alone; she must give him a
+husband's right to protect her. But she, pointing out the fact that he
+was scarcely able to stand, said this was no time to speak of marrying
+or giving in marriage, asked him if his grandfather had not done some
+good to the forebear of MacCallumore. It was so, and Reuben gave her the
+papers to prove it, and a letter to the Duke of Argyle; and she, begging
+him to do what he could for her father and sister, left the room
+hastily.
+
+With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, Jeannie Deans,
+travelling at the rate of twenty miles and more a day, traversed the
+southern part of Scotland, where her bare feet attracted no attention.
+She had to conform to the national extravagance in England, and
+confessed afterwards "that besides the wastrife, it was lang or she
+could walk as comfortably with the shoes as without them"; but found the
+people very hospitable on the whole, and sometimes got a cast in a
+waggon.
+
+At last London was reached, and an audience obtained with the Duke of
+Argyie. His Grace's heart warmed to the tartan when Jeannie appeared
+before him in the dress of a Scottish maiden of her class. His
+grandfather's letter, too, was a strong injunction to assist Stephen
+Butler, his friends or family, and he exerted himself to such good
+purpose, that he brought her into the presence of the queen to plead her
+cause for herself. Her majesty smiled at Jeannie's awestruck manner and
+broad Northern accent, and listened kindly, but said:
+
+"If the king were to pardon your sister, it would in all probability do
+her little good, for I suppose the people of Edinburgh would hang her
+out of spite." But Jeannie said: "She was confident that baith town and
+country would rejoice to see his majesty taking compassion on a poor
+unfriended creature." The queen was not convinced of the propriety of
+showing any marked favour to Edinburgh so soon--"the whole nation must
+be in a league to screen the murderers of Porteous"--but Jeannie pleaded
+her sister's cause with a pathos at once simple and solemn, and her
+majesty ended by giving her a housewife case to remind her of her
+interview with Queen Caroline, and promised her warm intercession with
+the king.
+
+The Duke of Argyie came to Jeannie's cousin's, where she was staying, in
+a few days to say that a pardon had been dispatched to Effie Deans, on
+condition of her banishing herself forth of Scotland for fourteen
+years--a qualification which greatly grieved the affectionate
+disposition of her sister.
+
+
+_IV.--In After Years_
+
+
+When Jeannie set out from London on her homeward journey, it was not to
+travel on foot, but in the Duke of Argyle's carriage, and the end of the
+journey was not Edinburgh, but the isle of Roseneath, in the Firth of
+Clyde. When the landing-place was reached, it was in the arms of her
+father that Jeannie was received.
+
+It was too wonderful to be believed--but the form was indisputable.
+Douce David Deans himself, in his best light-blue Sunday coat, with
+broad metal buttons, and waistcoat and breeches of the same.
+
+"Jeannie--my ain Jeannie--my best--my maist dutiful bairn! The Lord of
+Israel be thy father, for I am hardly worthy of thee! Thou hast redeemed
+our captivity, brought back the honour of our house!"
+
+These words broke from him not without tears, though David was of no
+melting mood.
+
+"And Effie--and Effie, dear father?" was Jeannie's eager question.
+
+"You will never see her mair, my bairn," answered Deans, in solemn
+tones.
+
+"She is dead! It has come ower late!" exclaimed Jeannie, wringing her
+hands.
+
+"No, Jeannie, she lives in the flesh, and is at freedom from earthly
+restraint. But she has left her auld father, that has wept and prayed
+for her. She has left her sister, that travailed and toiled for her like
+a mother. She has made a moonlight flitting of it."
+
+"And wi' that man--that fearfu' man?" said Jeannie.
+
+"It is ower truly spoken," said Deans. "But never, Jeannie never more
+let her name be spoken between you and me."
+
+The next surprise for Jeannie Deans was the appearance of Reuben Butler,
+who had been appointed by the Duke of Argyle to the kirk of
+Knocktarlitie, at Roseneath; and within a reasonable time after the new
+minister had been comfortably settled in his living, the banns were
+called, and long wooing of Reuben and Jeannie was ended by their union
+in the holy bands of matrimony.
+
+Effie, married to Robertson, whose real name was Staunton, paid a
+furtive visit to her sister, and many years later, when her husband was
+no longer a desperate outlaw, but Sir George Staunton, and beyond
+anxiety of recognition, the two sisters corresponded freely, and Lady
+Staunton even came to stay with Mrs. Butler, after old Deans was dead.
+
+A famous woman in society was Lady Staunton, but she was childless, for
+the child of her shame, carried off by gypsies, she saw no more.
+
+Jeannie and Reuben, happy in each other, in the prosperity of their
+family, and the love and honour of all by gypsies, she saw no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Ivanhoe
+
+
+     "Ivanhoe," in common with "The Legend of Montrose" and "The
+     Bride of Lammermoor," was written, or rather dictated to
+     amanuenses, during a period of great physical suffering;
+     "through fits of suffering," says one of Scott's biographers,
+     "so great that he could not suppress cries of agony."
+     "Ivanhoe" made its appearance towards the end of 1819.
+     Although the book lacks much of that vivid portraiture that
+     distinguishes Scott's other novels, the intense vigour of the
+     narrative, and the striking presentation of mediaeval life,
+     more than atone for the former lapse. From the first,
+     "Ivanhoe" has been singularly successful, and it is, and has
+     been, more popular among English readers than any of the
+     so-called "Scottish novels." According to Sir Leslie Stephen,
+     it was Scott's culminating success in the book-selling sense.
+
+
+_I.--The Hall of Cedric the Saxon_
+
+
+In the hall of Rotherwood at the centre of the upper table sat Cedric
+the Saxon, irritable at the delay of his evening meal, and impatient for
+the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, and the return of his
+swineherd Gurth. "They have been carried off to serve the Norman lords,"
+he exclaimed. "But I will be avenged. Haply they think me old, but they
+shall find the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric. Ah, Wilfred,
+Wilfred!" he went on in a lower tone, "couldst thou have ruled thine
+unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the
+solitary oak that throws out its shattered branches against the full
+sweep of the tempest!"
+
+From his melancholy reflections, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the
+blast of a horn.
+
+"To the gate, knaves!" said the Saxon, hastily. "See what tidings that
+horn tells us of."
+
+Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced "that the Prior
+Aymer of Jorvank, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Commander
+of the Order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested
+hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a
+tournament to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche."
+
+"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but, Norman or Saxon, the hospitality
+of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome since they have
+chosen to halt; in the quality of guests, even Normans must suppress
+their insolence."
+
+The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded
+by the major domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing blazing
+torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment, followed by
+their attendants, and, at a more humble distance, by a pilgrim, wearing
+the sandals and broad hat of the palmer.
+
+No sooner were the guests seated, and the repast about to commence, than
+the major domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said
+aloud--"Forbear!--Place for the Lady Rowena." A side door at the upper
+end of the hall now opened, and Cedric's ward, Rowena, a Saxon lady of
+rare beauty and lofty character, entered. All stood up to receive her,
+and, as she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board,
+the Knight Templar's eyes bent on her with an ardour that made Rowena
+draw with dignity the veil around her face.
+
+Cedric and the Prior discoursed on hunting for a time, the Lady Rowena
+seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendants; while the
+haughty Templar's eye wandered from the Saxon beauty to the rest of the
+company.
+
+"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill
+another to the Abbot. To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race
+or language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the
+champions of the Cross!"
+
+"To whom, besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre, whose badge
+I wear, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?" said
+Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
+
+"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena,
+"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple?"
+
+"Forgive me, lady," replied de Bois-Guilbert, "the English monarch did,
+indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to
+those whose breasts have been the bulwark of that blessed land."
+
+"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, and all turned towards the spot from
+whence the declaration came. "I say that the English chivalry were
+second to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I saw it
+when King Richard himself and five of his knights held a tournament
+after the taking of Sir John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers.
+On that day each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three
+antagonists. Seven of these assailants were Knights of the Temple--and
+Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell you."
+
+A bitter smile of rage darkened the countenance of the Templar. At
+Cedric's request the Pilgrim told out the names of the English knights,
+only pausing at the sixth to say--"he was a young knight--his name
+dwells not in my memory."
+
+"Sir Palmer," said the Templar, scornfully, "I will myself tell the name
+of the knight before whose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned
+my falling--it was the Knight of Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six
+that for his years had more renown in arms. Yet this I will say, and
+loudly--that were he in England, and durst repeat, in this week's
+tournament, the challenge of St. John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I
+now am, would give him every advantage of weapons and abide the result."
+
+"Your challenge would be soon answered," replied the Palmer, "were your
+antagonist near you. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be
+his surety that he meet you. And for pledge I proffer this reliquary,"
+taking a small ivory box from his bosom, "containing a portion of the
+true cross, brought from the Monastery of Mount Carmel."
+
+The Templar took from his neck a gold chain, which he flung on the
+board, saying, "Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge, and that of this
+nameless vagrant, in token that when the Knight of Ivanhoe comes within
+the four seas of Britain, he underlies the challenge of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, which, if he answers not, I will proclaim him as a coward
+on the walls of every Temple Court in Europe."
+
+"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "my voice
+shall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised on behalf of the
+absent Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge,
+and I would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud knight
+the meeting he desires."
+
+"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I
+myself, justly offended as I am, would yet gage my honour for the honour
+of Ivanhoe."
+
+The grace-cup was shortly after served round, and the guests marshalled
+to their sleeping apartment.
+
+
+_II.--The Disinherited Knight_
+
+
+The Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby,
+attracted universal attention, as champions of the first renown were to
+take the field in the presence of Prince John himself.
+
+The laws of the tournament, proclaimed by the heralds, were briefly:
+
+First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
+
+Secondly, the general tournament in which all knights present might take
+part; and being divided into two bands of equal numbers, might fight it
+out manfully, until the signal was given by Prince John to cease the
+combat.
+
+The challengers, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were all Normans, and
+Cedric saw, with keen feeling of dissatisfaction, the advantage they
+gained. No less than four parties of knights had gone down before the
+challengers, and Prince John began to talk about adjudging the prize to
+Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and
+foiled a third.
+
+But a new champion had entered the lists. His suit of armour was of
+steel, and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by
+the roots, with the Spanish word _Desdichado_, signifying Disinherited.
+To the astonishment of all present he struck with the sharp end of his
+spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. Amazed
+at his presumption was the redoubted knight, whom he had thus defied to
+mortal combat.
+
+"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "that you
+peril your life so frankly?"
+
+"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited
+Knight.
+
+"Then look your last upon the sun," said Bois-Guilbert; "for this night
+thou shalt sleep in paradise."
+
+The champions closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a
+thunderbolt. The Templar aimed at the centre of his antagonist's shield,
+and struck it so fair that his spear went to shivers, and the
+Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that
+champion addressed his lance to his antagonist's helmet, and hit the
+Norman on the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. The
+girths of the Templar's saddle burst, and saddle, horse, and man rolled
+on the ground under a cloud of dust.
+
+To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the
+Templar scarce the work of a moment; and stung with madness, he drew his
+sword, and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited
+Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The
+marshals of the field, however, intervened, for the laws of the
+tournament did not permit this species of encounter, and Bois-Guilbert
+returned to his tent in an agony of rage and despair.
+
+The Disinherited Knight then sounded a defiance to each of the
+challengers, and the four Normans each in his turn retired discomfited.
+
+The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
+Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited
+Knight.
+
+To Prince John's annoyance the champion declined either to raise his
+visor or to attend the evening banquet, pleading fatigue and the
+necessity of preparing for the morrow. As victor it was his privilege to
+name the lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love, was to preside over
+the next day's festival; and Prince John, having placed upon his lance a
+coronet of green satin, the Disinherited Knight rode slowly around the
+lists and paused beneath the balcony where Cedric and the Lady Rowena
+were placed. Then he deposited the coronet at the feet of the fair
+Rowena, while the populace shouted "Long live the Lady Rowena, the
+chosen and lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!"
+
+On the following morning the general tournament was proclaimed, and
+about fifty knights were ready upon each side, the Disinherited Knight
+leading one body, and Brian de Bois-Guilbert the other.
+
+Prince John escorted Rowena to the seat of honour opposite his own,
+while the fairest ladies present crowded after her to obtain places as
+near as possible to their temporary sovereign.
+
+It was not until the field became thin by the numbers on either side who
+had yielded themselves vanquished that the Templar and the Disinherited
+Knight at length encountered hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal
+animosity and rivalry of honour could inspire. Bois-Guilbert, however,
+was soon joined by two more knights, the gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, and
+the ponderous Athelstane, who, though a Saxon, had enlisted under the
+Norman--to Cedric's disgust. The masterly horsemanship of the
+Disinherited Knight enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's
+point his three antagonists, but it was evident that he must at last be
+overpowered.
+
+An unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day. Among the ranks
+of the Disinherited Knight was a champion in black armour, who bore on
+his shield no device of any kind, and who, beyond beating off with
+seeming ease those who attacked him, evinced little interest in the
+combat.
+
+On discovering the leader of his party so hard beset, this knight threw
+aside his apathy and came to his assistance like a thunderbolt,
+exclaiming in trumpet tones, "_Desdichado_, to the rescue!" It was high
+time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the Templar,
+Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but ere the
+blow could descend, the Black Knight dealt a blow on the head--and
+Front-de-Boeuf rolled to the ground, both horse and man equally stunned.
+The Black Knight then turned upon Athelstane, wrenched from the hand of
+the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and bestowed him such a
+blow on the crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field.
+Having achieved this double feat he retired calmly to the extremity of
+the lists, leaving his leader to cope as best he could with Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty. The
+Templar's horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the
+Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the
+field, and his antagonist, springing from horseback, waved his fatal
+sword over the Templar's head, and commanded him to yield. But Prince
+John saved him that mortification by putting an end to the conflict.
+
+Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. The Knight of the
+Black Armour having disappeared, the Disinherited Knight was named the
+champion of the day, and was conducted to the foot of that throne of
+honour which was occupied by Lady Rowena. His helmet having been
+removed, by order of the marshals, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt
+features of a young man of twenty-five were seen, and no sooner had
+Rowena beheld him than she uttered a faint shriek. Trembling with the
+violence of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the
+victor the splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day.
+
+The Knight stooped his head, and then, sinking down, lay prostrate at
+the feet of his lovely sovereign.
+
+There was general consternation. Cedric, struck mute by the sudden
+appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward. The marshals
+hastened to undo Ivanhoe's armour, and finding that the head of a lance
+had penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side, he was
+quickly removed from the lists.
+
+
+_III.--The Burning of Torquilstone_
+
+
+Cedric, Rowena, and Athelstane, returning home with their retinue from
+Ashby, were waylaid by Bois-Guilbert and his followers, and boldly
+carried off as prisoners to Torquilstone, Front-de-Boeuf's castle. In
+those lawless times these Norman nobles trusted thus to obtain a good
+ransom for Cedric and Athelstane, and to win Rowena for a bride.
+Ivanhoe, who, enfeebled by his wound, lay concealed in a litter, unknown
+to his father, was also taken.
+
+But Gurth rallied the Saxon outlaws and yeomen of the neighbourhood to
+the rescue, the Black Knight of the tournament led the attacking party,
+and in spite of a ferocious defence Torquilstone was stormed. The Black
+Knight bore the wounded Ivanhoe in his arms from the burning castle,
+Rowena was saved by Cedric and Gurth, just as she had abandoned all
+hopes of life.
+
+One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from
+window and shot hole. But, in other parts, the great thickness of the
+walls resisted the progress of the flames, and there the rage of man
+still triumphed. The besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from
+chamber to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which
+animated them against the soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of
+the garrison resisted to the uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none
+received it.
+
+The courtyard of the castle was soon the last scene of the contest. Here
+sat the fierce Templar mounted on horseback, with a remnant of the
+defenders, who fought with the utmost valour. Athelstane who, on the
+flight of the guard, had made his way into the ante-room and thence into
+the court, snatched a mace from the pavement, and rushed on the
+Templar's band striking in quick succession to the right and left: he
+was soon within two yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his
+loudest tone.
+
+But Athelstane was without armour, and a silken bonnet keeps out no
+steel blade. So trenchant was the Templar's weapon that it levelled the
+ill-fated Saxon to the earth.
+
+Taking advantage of the dismay which was spread by the fall of
+Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who would save themselves, follow
+me!" the Templar pushed across the drawbridge, and then galloped off
+with his followers.
+
+And now the towering flames surmounted every obstruction, and rose to
+the evening skies one huge and burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed
+down, with blazing roof and rafter, and the combatants were driven from
+the courtyard.
+
+When the last turret gave way, the voice of Robin Hood was heard,
+"Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil
+to our chosen place of rendezvous, and there at break of day will be
+made just partition among our own bands, together with our allies in
+this great deed of vengeance."
+
+Cedric, ere he departed, earnestly entreated the Black Knight to
+accompany him to Rotherwood, "not as a guest, but as a son or brother."
+
+"To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon," said the Knight, "and that
+speedily. Peradventure, when I come, I will ask such a boon as will put
+even thy generosity to the test."
+
+"It is granted already," said Cedric, "were it to affect half my
+fortune. But my heart is oppressed with sadness, for the noble
+Athelstane is no more. I have but to say," he added, "that during the
+funeral rites I shall inhabit his castle of Coningsburgh--which will be
+open to all who choose to partake of the funeral banqueting."
+
+Rowena waved a graceful adieu to the Black Knight, the Saxon bade God
+speed him, and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.
+
+
+_IV.--Ivanhoe's Wedding_
+
+
+At the castle of Coningsburgh all was a scene of busy commotion when the
+Black Knight, attended by Ivanhoe, who had muffled his face in his
+mantle, entered and was welcomed gravely by Cedric--by common consent
+the chief of the distinguished Saxon families present.
+
+"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we
+last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render
+you, to grant me a boon."
+
+"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad
+moment----"
+
+"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me--but my time is
+brief--neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the noble
+Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."
+
+"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour
+of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."
+
+"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will
+admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black
+Knight--know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to
+my boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive
+to thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."
+
+"My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's
+feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."
+
+"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of
+Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a
+Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena
+must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost
+of Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to
+his memory were it otherwise."
+
+Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane,
+arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard,
+and like something arisen from the dead!
+
+"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal,
+speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"
+
+"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected
+breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed
+on bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's
+sword, stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me
+flatlings, being averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow.
+Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so
+that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin--an
+open one, by good luck--placed before the altar in church. But that
+villain Abbot has kept me a prisoner for three days and he shall hang on
+the top of this castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole. I will be
+king in my own domains, and nowhere else. Cedric, I rise from the tomb a
+wiser man than I descended."
+
+"My ward, Rowena," said Cedric--"you do not intend to desert her?"
+
+"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares
+not for me--she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glove
+better than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it--nay, blush
+not, kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than
+a country thane,--and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes
+and a thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment. Nay, as thou
+wilt needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest--Give me thy hand, or,
+rather, lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. Here,
+cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure--Hey! our
+cousin Wilfred hath vanished!"
+
+Ivanhoe had disappeared, and King Richard had gone also.
+
+Ivanhoe hastened away at a secret message to fight once more with Brian
+de Bois-Guilbert, who had abducted a Jewish maiden named Rebecca, and
+spurned by Rebecca, Bois-Guilbert only escaped condemnation by the Grand
+Master of the Templars for his offence by admitting Rebecca to be a
+sorceress, and by challenging to mortal combat all who should dare to
+champion the high-souled and hapless Hebrew maid.
+
+Bois-Guilbert fell in the lists as Ivanhoe approached, and, unscathed by
+the lance of his enemy, died a victim to the violence of his own
+contending passions.
+
+Ivanhoe and King Richard (who had followed Wilfred) hastened back to
+Coningsburgh, and Cedric, finding his project for the union of Rowena
+and Athelstane at an end by the mutual dissent of both parties, soon
+gave his consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred
+of Ivanhoe.
+
+The nuptials thus formally approved were celebrated in the noble Minster
+of York. The King himself attended, and the presence of high-born
+Normans, as well as Saxons, joined with the universal rejoicing of the
+lower orders, marked the marriage as a pledge of the future peace and
+harmony betwixt the two races.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Kenilworth
+
+
+     Scott's success in portraying the character of Mary Stuart in
+     "The Abbot" fired him with the desire of doing likewise with
+     her great rival Elizabeth; and although history has modified
+     his picture of the English Queen, the portrait still remains a
+     vivid and in many respects a faithful likeness. In his preface
+     to the first edition of "Kenilworth," which was published in
+     January, 1821, Scott, referring to his delineation of
+     Elizabeth, admits that he is a "Scottishman," and therefore
+     may be pardoned for looking at his subject with certain
+     prejudices. Another source of inspiration that led him to
+     write the romance was the old ballad of "Cumnor Hall," in
+     which the tale of Amy Robsart is told. Scott's genius for
+     depicting the life and manners and customs of the Middle Ages,
+     of visualising scenes of long-gone chivalry, is exhibited in
+     "Kenilworth" as in none other of his works. In common also
+     with all his historical novels, "Kenilworth" bears witness to
+     its author's passion for historical truth.
+
+
+_I.--At Cumnor_
+
+
+The village of Cumnor, within three or four miles of Oxford, boasted in
+the eighteenth of Queen Elizabeth an excellent inn, conducted by Giles
+Gosling, whom no one excelled in his power of pleasing his guests of
+every description.
+
+A traveller in the close of the evening was ushered, with much semblance
+of welcome, into a large, low chamber, where several persons were seated
+in different parties, some drinking, some playing cards, some
+conversing.
+
+The host soon recognised, without satisfaction, his graceless nephew,
+Michael Lambourne, who had not been heard of for long years; but, saying
+his sister's son should be called to no reckoning in his house, he
+heartily invited all who would to join them at supper in honour of his
+nephew's return. Many present remembered him as a school companion, and
+so forth, and, encouraged by the precept and example of Michael
+Lambourne, they soon passed the limits of temperance, as was evident
+from the bursts of laughter with which his inquiries after old
+acquaintances were answered. Giles Gosling made some sort of apology to
+a solitary guest who had sat apart for their license; they would be
+to-morrow a set of painstaking mechanics, and so forth, though to-night
+they were such would-be rufflers, and prevailed on him to join them.
+
+Most of Michael's old friends seemed to have come to some sad end, but
+one, Tony Foster, for whom he inquired had married, and become a good
+Protestant, and held his head high, and scorned his old companions. He
+now dwelt at Cumnor Place, an old mansion house, and had nothing to do
+with anybody in Cumnor, not entirely from pride; it was said there was a
+fair lady in the case.
+
+Here Tressilian, the guest, who had sat apart, intervened in the
+conversation, and was informed that Foster had a beautiful lady closely
+mewed up at Cumnor Place, and would scarcely let her look upon the light
+of day.
+
+Michael Lambourne at once wagered that he would force Tony Foster to
+introduce him to his fair guest, and Tressilian asked permission to
+accompany him, to mark the skill end valour with which he should conduct
+himself, and, in spite of the host's warnings, the next morning they set
+off together to Anthony Foster's dwelling.
+
+Michael Lambourne soon let Tressilian know that he suspected other
+motives than simple curiosity had led him, a gentleman of birth and
+breeding, into the company of such a scant-of-grace as himself, and
+owned that he expected both pleasure and profit from his visit.
+
+They found the gate open, and passed up an avenue overshadowed by old
+trees, untrimmed for many years. Everything was in a dilapidated
+condition. After some delay, they were introduced into a stone-paved
+parlour, where they had to wait some time before the present master of
+the mansion made his appearance. He looked to Tressilian for an
+explanation of this visit, so true was Lambourne's observation that the
+superior air of breeding and dignity shone through the disguise of an
+inferior dress. But it was Michael who replied to him, with the easy
+familiarity of an old friend, and though Foster at first made it obvious
+that he had no wish to renew the acquaintance, in a few minutes he
+requested him to follow him to another apartment, and the two worthies
+left the room, leaving Tressilian alone.
+
+His dark eyes followed them with a glance of contempt, some of which was
+for himself for having stooped for a moment to be their familiar
+companion. A slight noise interrupted his reverie. He looked round, and
+in the beautiful and richly attired female who entered he recognised the
+object of his search. His first impulse urged him to conceal his face in
+the cloak, but the young lady (she was not above eighteen years old) ran
+joyfully towards him, and, pulling him by the cloak, said playfully:
+
+"Nay, my sweet friend, after I have waited for you so long, you come not
+to my bower to play the masquer."
+
+"Alas, Amy," said Tressilian, in a low and melancholy voice. Then, as
+she turned pale as death, he added: "Amy, fear me not."
+
+"Why should I fear you?" said the lady; "or wherefore have you intruded
+yourself into my dwelling, uninvited, sir, and unwished for?"
+
+"Your dwelling, Amy?" said Tressilian. "Alas! is a prison your dwelling?
+A prison, guarded by the most sordid of men, but not a greater wretch
+than his employer?"
+
+"This house is mine," said Amy, "mine while I choose to inhabit it. If
+it is my pleasure to live in seclusion, who shall gainsay me?"
+
+"Your father, maiden," answered Tressilian, "your broken-hearted father,
+who dispatched me in quest of you with that authority which he cannot
+exert in person."
+
+"Tressilian," said the lady, "I cannot--I must not--I dare not leave
+this place! Go back to my father. Tell him I will obtain leave to see
+him within twelve hours from hence. Tell him I am well--I am happy. Go,
+carry him the news. I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is,
+when I obtain permission."
+
+"Permission? Permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhaps on
+his death-bed?" repeated Tressilian impatiently. "And permission from
+whom? Amy, in the name of thy broken-hearted father, I command thee to
+follow me!"
+
+As he spoke, he advanced and extended his arm, as with the purpose of
+laying hold upon her. But she shrunk back from his grasp, and uttered a
+scream which brought into the apartment Lambourne and Foster.
+
+"Madam, fare you well!" said Tressilian. "What life lingers in your
+father's bosom will leave him at the news I have to tell."
+
+He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room:
+
+"Tressilian, be not rash. Say no scandal of me."
+
+Tressilian pursued the first path through the wild and overgrown park in
+which the mansion of Foster was situated. At the postern, a cavalier,
+muffled in his riding cloak, entered, and stood at once within four
+yards of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed, in tons of
+resentment and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other, "Tressilian!"
+
+"What takes you here?" said Tressilian. "Are you come to triumph over
+the innocence you have destroyed? Draw, dog, and defend thyself!"
+
+Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only replied:
+
+"Thou art mad, Tressilian! I own appearances are against me, but by
+every oath Mistress Amy Robsart hath no injury from me!"
+
+Tressilian forced him to draw, and Varney received a fall so sudden and
+violent that his sword flew several paces from his hand. Lambourne came
+up just in time to save the life of Varney, and Tressilian perceived it
+was madness to press the quarrel further against such odds.
+
+"Varney, we shall meet where there are none to come betwixt us!"
+
+So saying, he turned round, and departed through the postern door.
+
+Varney, left alone, gave vent to his meditations in broken words. "She
+loves me not--I would it were as true that I loved not her! But she must
+not leave this retreat until I am assured on what terms we are to stand.
+My lord's interest--and so far it is mine own, for if he sinks I fall in
+his train--demands concealment of this obscure marriage."
+
+
+_II.--The Earl and the Countess_
+
+
+At first, when the Earl of Leicester paid frequent visits to Cumnor, the
+Countess was reconciled to the solitude to which she was condemned. But
+when these visits became rarer and more rare, the brief letters of
+excuse did not keep out discontent and suspicion from the splendid
+apartments which love had once fitted up for beauty. Her answers to
+Leicester conveyed these feelings too bluntly, and pressed more
+naturally than prudently that she might be relieved from the obscure and
+secluded residence, by the Earl's acknowledgement of their marriage.
+
+"I have made her Countess," Leicester said to his henchman Varney;
+"surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she
+should put on the coronet?"
+
+The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.
+
+"What signifies," she said, "that I have rank and honour in reality, if
+I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance,
+and suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced
+reputation?"
+
+Leicester, high in Elizabeth's favour, dared not avow his marriage, and
+Varney was always at hand to paint the full and utter disgrace that
+would overwhelm him at the Court were the marriage known, and to spur
+his ambition to avoid the ruin of his fortunes.
+
+Varney even prompted Leicester to invite the Countess to pass as
+Varney's wife, lest Elizabeth's jealousy should be aroused, and this
+suggestion and the knowledge that Varney desired her for himself (for he
+made no secret of his passion), drove the Countess to escape from Cumnor
+and to seek her husband at Kenilworth, Janet Foster, her faithful
+attendant, at first suggested that the Countess should return home to
+her father, Sir Hugh Robsart, at Lidcote Hall, in Devonshire.
+
+"No, Janet," said the lady mournfully; "I left Lidcote Hall while my
+heart was light and my name was honourable, and I will not return
+thither till my lord's public acknowledgement of our marriage restore me
+to my native home with all the rank and honour which he has bestowed on
+me. I will go to Kenilworth, girl. I will see these revels--these
+princely revels--the preparation for which makes the land ring from side
+to side. Methinks, when the Queen of England feasts within my husband's
+halls, the Countess of Leicester should be no unbeseeming guest."
+
+"Dearest madam," said the maiden, "have you forgotten that the noble
+Earl has given such strict charges to keep your marriage secret, that he
+may preserve his Court favour? And can you think that your sudden
+appearance at his castle, at such a juncture, and in such a presence,
+will be acceptable to him?"
+
+"I will appeal to my husband alone, Janet. I will be protected by him
+alone. I will see him, and receive from his own lips the directions for
+my future conduct. Do not argue against my resolution. And to own the
+truth, I am resolved to know my fate at once, and from my husband's own
+mouth; and to seek him at Kenilworth is the surest way to attain my
+purpose."
+
+"May the blessing of God wend with you, madam," said Janet, kissing her
+mistress's hand.
+
+
+_III.--At Kenilworth_
+
+
+With pomp and magnificence, Leicester entertained the Queen at the
+Castle of Kenilworth. Of the Countess he saw nothing for some days, and
+Varney let it be thought that the unhappy lady who had made her way into
+the castle was his wife, while Amy, mindful of the alarm which Leicester
+had expressed at the Queen's knowing aught of their union, kept out of
+the way of her sovereign.
+
+Then, on one memorable morning, when a hunt had been arranged, Leicester
+escorted the Queen to the castle garden, with another chase in view.
+Without premeditation, but urged on by vanity and ambition, his
+importunity became the language of love itself.
+
+"No, Dudley," said Elizabeth, yet with broken accents. "No, I must be
+the mother of my people. Urge it no more, Leicester. Were I, as others,
+free to seek my own happiness, then indeed--but it cannot be. It is
+madness, and must not be repeated. Leave me. Go, but go not far from
+hence; and meantime let no one intrude on my privacy."
+
+The Queen turned into a grotto in which her hapless, and yet but too
+successful, rival lay concealed, and presently became aware of a female
+figure beside an alabaster column.
+
+The unfortunate countess dropped on her knee before the queen, and
+looked up in the queen's face with such a mixed agony of fear and
+supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected.
+
+"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou
+have with us?"
+
+"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I
+request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one
+Varney!"
+
+"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What
+are you to him, or he to you?"
+
+"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"
+
+Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save
+her from Varney without endangering her husband.
+
+"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou
+art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee
+by inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master
+Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."
+
+Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No,
+madam, no! As there is a God above us, I am not the wife of that
+contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife
+of Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"
+
+The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, God, ha' mercy,
+woman! Tell me, for I _will_ know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art
+thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness
+than with Elizabeth!"
+
+Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of
+Leicester knows it all!"
+
+"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of
+Leicester! Come with me instantly!"
+
+As Amy shrunk back with terror, Elizabeth seized on her arm, and dragged
+the terrified countess to where Leicester stood--the centre of a
+splendid group of lords and ladies.
+
+"Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!" cried the queen.
+
+Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended
+Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before
+the queen, exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one
+can lay aught to the charge of noble Leicester!"
+
+"Why, minion," answered the queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the
+Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"
+
+At that moment Varney rushed into the presence, with every mark of
+disorder.
+
+"What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.
+
+Varney could only prostrate himself before her feet, exclaiming:
+"Pardon, my Liege, pardon! Or let your justice avenge itself on me; but
+spare my noble, my generous, my innocent patron and master!"
+
+Amy started up at the sight of the man she deemed most odious so near
+her, and besought the queen to save her from "that most shameless
+villain!" "I shall go mad if I look longer on him."
+
+"Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already," answered the
+queen. Then she bade Lord Hunsdon, a blunt, warm-hearted old noble,
+"Look to this poor distressed young woman, and let her be safely
+bestowed, till we require her to be forthcoming."
+
+"By our Lady," said Hunsdon, taking in his strong arms the swooning form
+of Amy, "she is a lovely child! And though a rough nurse, your Grace
+hath given her a kind one. She is safe with me as one of my own
+ladybirds of daughters."
+
+So saying he carried her off, and the queen followed him with her eye,
+and then turned angrily to Varney, for Leicester stared gloomily on the
+ground.
+
+"Speak, Sir Richard, and explain these riddles."
+
+"Your Majesty's piercing eye," said Varney, "has already detected the
+cruel malady of my beloved lady. It is the nature of persons in her
+disorder, so please your Grace, to be ever most inveterate in their
+spleen against those whom, in their better moments, they hold nearest
+and dearest. May your Grace then be pleased to command my unfortunate
+wife to be delivered into the custody of my friends?"
+
+Leicester partly started, but making a stronger effort, he subdued his
+emotion, while Elizabeth answered sharply, that her own physician should
+report on the lady's health.
+
+That night Leicester sought the countess in her apartment, and would
+have avowed his marriage to the queen, but for Varney's influence.
+Finding all other argument vain, Varney finally urged that the countess
+was in love with Tressilian, and mentioned that he had seen him at
+Cumnor. Leicester allowed his mind to be poisoned, and was silent when,
+on the Queen's physician declaring Lady Varney to be sullen and the
+victim of fancies, Elizabeth answered, "Nay, then away with her all
+speed. Let Varney care for her with fitting humanity, but let them rid
+the castle of her forthwith."
+
+
+_IV.--The Death of the Countess_
+
+
+Armed with the authority of Leicester's signet-ring Varney induced the
+countess to leave Kenilworth for Cumnor, declaring that the earl had
+ordered it for his own safety. But no sooner was the lady gone than
+Leicester repented of the consent Varney had wrested from him. An
+interview with Tressilian and the recovery of a letter written by Amy at
+Cumnor revealed all Varney's villainy. Too late he acknowledged his
+marriage to the queen, and when the fury of Elizabeth's anger had
+somewhat subsided, she ordered Tressilian and Sir Walter Raleigh to
+repair at once to Cumnor, bring the countess to Kenilworth, and secure
+the body of Richard Varney, dead or alive.
+
+But Varney's fell purpose had already decided that the countess must be
+got rid of. A part of the wooden gallery immediately outside her door
+was really a trap-door, and beneath it was an abyss dark as pitch. This
+trap-door remained secure in appearance even when the supports were
+withdrawn beneath it.
+
+"Were the lady to attempt an escape over it," said Varney, to his
+accomplice Foster, who held the house by Varney's favour, "her weight
+would carry her down."
+
+"A mouse's weight would do it," Foster answered.
+
+"Why, then, she die in attempting her escape, and what could you or I
+help it? Let us, to bed; we will adjust our project to-morrow."
+
+On the next day, when evening approached, Varney summoned Foster to the
+execution of their plan. Foster himself, as if anxious to see that the
+countess suffered no want of accommodations, visited her place of
+confinement. He was so much staggered at her mildness and patience, that
+he could not help earnestly recommending to her not to cross the
+threshold on any account until Lord Leicester should come. Amy promised
+that she would resign herself to her fate, and Foster returned to his
+hardened companion with his conscience half-eased of the perilous load
+that weighed on it. "I have warned her," he said; "surely in vain is the
+snare set in the sight of any bird!"
+
+He left the countess's door unsecured on the outside, and, under the eye
+of Varney, withdrew the supports which sustained the falling trap,
+which, therefore, kept its level position merely by a slight adhesion.
+They withdrew to wait the issue on the ground floor adjoining; but they
+waited long in vain.
+
+"Perhaps she is resolved," said Foster, "to await her husband's return."
+
+"True! Most true!" said Varney, rushing out; "I had not thought of that
+before."
+
+In less than two minutes, Foster, who remained behind, heard the tread
+of a horse in the courtyard, and then a whistle similar to that which
+was the earl's usual signal. The instant after the door to the
+countess's chamber opened, and in the same moment the trap-door gave
+way. There was a rushing sound--a heavy fall--a faint groan, and all was
+over.
+
+At the same instant Varney called in at the window, "Is the bird caught?
+Is the deed done?"
+
+"O God, forgive us!" replied Foster.
+
+"Why, thou fool," said Varney, "thy toil is ended, and thy reward
+secure. Look down into the vault--what seest thou?"
+
+"I see only a heap of clothes, like a snowdrift," said Foster. "O God,
+she moves her arm!"
+
+"Hurl something down on her."
+
+"Varney, thou art an incarnate fiend!" replied Foster. "There needs
+nothing more--she is gone!"
+
+"So pass our troubles," said Varney; "I dreamed not I could have
+mimicked the earl's call so well."
+
+While they were at this consultation Tressilian and Raleigh broke in
+upon them. Foster fled at their entrance, and escaped all search. He
+perished miserably in a secret passage, behind an iron door, forgetting
+the key of the spring-clock, and years later his skeleton was
+discovered.
+
+But Varney was taken on the spot. He made very little mystery either of
+the crime or of its motives--alleging that there was sufficient against
+him to deprive him of Leicester's confidence, and to destroy all his
+towering plans of ambition. "I was not born," he said, "to drag on the
+remainder of life a degraded outcast; nor will I so die that my fate
+shall make a holiday to the vulgar herd."
+
+That night he swallowed a small quantity of strong poison, which he
+carried about his person, and next morning was found dead in his cell.
+
+The news of the countess's dreadful fate put a sudden stop to the
+pleasures of Kenilworth. Leicester retired from court, and for a
+considerable time abandoned himself to his remorse. But as Varney in his
+last declaration had been studious to spare the character of his patron,
+the earl was the object rather of compassion than resentment. The queen
+at length recalled him to court; he was once more distinguished as a
+statesman and favourite; and the rest of his career is well known to
+history. But there was something retributive in his death, for it is
+believed he died by swallowing a draught of poison, designed by him for
+another person.
+
+Tressilian at length embarked with his friend, Sir Walter Raleigh, for
+the Virginia expedition, and young in years, but old in grief, died
+before his day in that foreign land.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Old Mortality
+
+
+     "Old Mortality" and the "Black Dwarf" were published together
+     as the first series of the "Tales of My Landlord" on December
+     1, 1816. The first is certainly one of the best of Scott's
+     historical romances. It was the fourth of the "Waverley
+     Novels," and the authorship was still unavowed; though Mr.
+     Murray, the publisher, at once declared it "must be written
+     either by Walter Scott or the Devil." On the other hand, there
+     were critics who did not believe the book was Sir Walter's
+     because it lacked his "tedious descriptions." Some said openly
+     it was the work of several hands. The study of the fierce,
+     fanatical Covenanters in "Old Mortality" is done not only with
+     all the author's literary genius, but a wonderful fidelity to
+     historical truth; and while the accuracy of the portrait of
+     Claverhouse--"Bonny Dundee"--will always be disputed, no lover
+     of romance will question its brilliant charm. The immediate
+     popularity of "Old Mortality" was less than many of the
+     "Waverley Novels," only two editions, amounting to 4,000
+     copies, being sold in six weeks.
+
+
+_I.--Tillietudlem Castle_
+
+
+"Most readers," says the manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, "must have
+witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of
+the village school. The buoyant spirit of childhood may then be seen to
+explode, as it were, in shout and song and frolic; but there is one
+individual who partakes of the relief, whose feelings are not so
+obvious, or so apt to receive sympathy--the teacher himself."
+
+The reader may form some conception of the relief which a solitary walk,
+on a fine summer evening, affords to the head which has ached, and the
+nerves which have been shattered for so many hours in plying the irksome
+task of public instruction.
+
+To me these evening strolls have been the happiest hours of an unhappy
+life; and it was in one of them that I met, for the first time, the
+religious itinerant known in various parts of Scotland by the title of
+"Old Mortality." He was busily engaged in deepening with his chisel the
+letters of the inscription upon the monument of the slaughtered
+Presbyterians--those champions of the Covenant whose deeds and
+sufferings were his favourite theme.
+
+For nearly thirty years this pious enthusiast visited annually the
+graves of those who suffered for the cause during the reigns of the last
+two Stuarts, most numerous in the districts of Ayr, Galloway, and
+Dumfries. To talk of their exploits was the delight, as to repair their
+monuments was the business of his life.
+
+My readers will understand that in embodying into one narrative many of
+the anecdotes I derived from Old Mortality, I have endeavoured to
+correct and verify them from the most authentic sources of tradition
+afforded by the representatives of either party. Peace to their memory!
+
+    "Implacable resentment was their crime,
+    And grievous has the expiation been."
+
+Under the reign of the last Stuarts, frequent musters of the people,
+both for military exercise and for sports and pastimes, were appointed
+by authority, and the Sheriff of Lanark was holding the wappen-schaw of
+a wild district, on the day our narrative commences, May 5, 1679.
+
+The lord-lieutenant of the country alone, who was of ducal rank,
+pretended to the magnificence of a wheel-carriage, but near it might be
+seen the erect form of Lady Margaret Bellenden on her sober palfrey, and
+her granddaughter; the fair-haired Edith appeared beside her aged
+relative like Spring, close to Winter.
+
+Many civilities passed between her ladyship and the representatives of
+sundry ancient royal families, and not a young man of rank passed by
+them in the course of the muster, but carried himself more erect in the
+saddle and displayed his horsemanship to the best advantage in the eyes
+of Miss Edith Bellenden.
+
+When the military evolutions were over, a loud shout announced that the
+competitors were about to step forth for the shooting of the popinjay--
+the figure of a bird suspended to a pole. When a slender young man,
+dressed with great simplicity, yet with an air of elegance, his
+dark-green cloak thrown back over his shoulder, approached the station
+with his fusee in his hand, there was a murmur among the spectators.
+
+"Ewhow, sirs, to see his father's son at the like o' thae fearless
+follies!" said some of the more rigid, but the generality were content
+to wish success to the son of a deceased Presbyterian leader. Their
+wishes were gratified. The green adventurer made the first palpable hit
+of the day, and two only of those who followed succeeded--the first, a
+young man of low rank, who kept his face muffled in a grey cloak; and
+the second, a gallant young cavalier, remarkably handsome, who had been
+in close attendance on Lady Margaret and Miss Bellenden.
+
+But the applause, even of those whose wishes had favoured Lord Evandale,
+were at the third trial transferred to his triumphant rival, who was led
+by four of the duke's friends to his presence, passing in front of Lady
+Margaret and her granddaughter. The captain of the popinjay (as the
+victor was called) and Miss Bellenden coloured like crimson, as the
+latter returned the low inclination he made, even to the saddlebow, in
+passing her.
+
+"Do you know that young person?" said Lady Margaret.
+
+"I--I--have seen him, madam, at my uncle's, and--and--elsewhere,
+occasionally," stammered Edith.
+
+"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark
+is the nephew of old Milnwood."
+
+"The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a
+regiment of horse with great courage at Dunbar and Inverkeithing," said
+a gentleman beside Lady Margaret.
+
+"Ay, and before that, who fought for the Covenanters, both at Marston
+Moor and Philipshaugh," said Lady Margaret, sighing. "His son ought to
+dispense with intruding himself into the company of those to whom his
+name must bring unpleasing recollections."
+
+"You forget, my dear lady, he comes here to discharge suit and service
+in name for his uncle. He is an old miser, and although probably against
+the grain, sends the young gentleman to save pecuniary pains and
+penalties. The youngster is, I suppose, happy enough to escape for the
+day from the dullness of the old home at Milnwood."
+
+The company now dispersed, excepting such as, having tried their
+dexterity at the popinjay, were, by ancient custom, obliged to partake
+of a grace-cup with their captain, who, though he spared the cup
+himself, took care it should go round with due celerity among the rest.
+
+On leaving the alehouse, a stranger observed to Morton that he was
+riding towards Milnwood, and asked for the advantage of his company.
+
+"Certainly," said Morton, though there was a gloomy and relentless
+severity in the man's manner from which he recoiled, and they rode off
+together.
+
+They had not long left, when Cornet Grahame, a kinsman of Claverhouse,
+entered with the news that the Archbishop of St. Andrews had been
+murdered by a body of the rebel Whigs.
+
+He read their descriptions, and it was clear that the stern stranger who
+had just left with Henry Morton, was Balfour of Burley, the actual
+commander of the band of assassins, though Morton himself knew nothing
+of Burley's terrible deed.
+
+"Horse, horse, and pursue, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame. "The
+murdering dog's head is worth its weight in gold."
+
+
+_II.--Henry Morton's Escape_
+
+
+The dragoons soon arrived at Milnwood, and carried off Henry Morton
+prisoner for having given a night's shelter to Balfour of Burley, an old
+military comrade of his father's. Morton acknowledged he had done this,
+but refused to give any other information. Hitherto he had meddled with
+no party in the state. They decided to bring him before Colonel Grahame
+of Claverhouse, who was expected next day at the Castle of Tillietudlem,
+the residence of Lady Margaret Bellenden.
+
+Although Henry Morton had prevailed upon the sergeant to let him be
+muffled up in one of the soldier's cloaks, Miss Edith Bellenden found it
+impossible to withdraw her eyes from him, and her waiting maid soon
+discovered his identity, and found means for the lovers (for such they
+were) to meet in secret in the room where the prisoner was confined.
+
+"You are lost, you are lost, if you are to plead your cause with
+Claverhouse!" sighed Edith. "The primate was his intimate friend and
+early patron. 'No excuse, no subterfuge,' he wrote to my grandmother,
+'shall save either those connected with the deed, or such as have given
+them countenance and shelter.'"
+
+They were interrupted by the guard, and Morton, assuming a firmness he
+was far from feeling, whispered, "Farewell, Edith; leave me to my fate;
+it cannot be beyond endurance, since you are interested in it. Good
+night, good night! Do not remain here till you are discovered."
+
+"Everyone has his taste, to be sure," said the sentinel; "but, d---- me
+if I would vex so sweet a girl for all the Whigs that ever swore a
+covenant!"
+
+After breakfast next day, Major Bellenden, Edith's grand-uncle, to whom
+she had written, approached Claverhouse, to plead for the life of the
+son of his old friend, but she heard the reply.
+
+"It cannot be, Major Bellenden; lenity in his case is altogether beyond
+the bounds of my commission. And here comes Evandale with news, as I
+think. What tidings do you bring us, Evandale?" addressing the young
+lord, who now entered in complete uniform but with dress disordered, and
+boots bespattered.
+
+"Unpleasant news, sir," was the reply. "A large body of Whigs are in
+arms among the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion."
+
+Claverhouse immediately bid them sound to horse, saying, "There are
+rogues enough in the country to make the rebels five times their
+strength, if they are not checked at once."
+
+"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they expect a
+strong body of the indulged Presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, the
+son of the famous old Roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton."
+
+"It's a lie!" said the major hastily, and begged that Henry Morton might
+at once be heard himself. Evandale drew near to Miss Bellenden, and
+addressed her in a manner, expressing a feeling much deeper and more
+agitating than was conveyed in his phrases.
+
+"I will but dispose of this young fellow," said Claverhouse, "and then
+Lord Evandale--I am sorry to interrupt your conversation--but then we
+must mount. Why do you not bring up your prisoner? And hark ye, let two
+files load their carbines."
+
+Edith broke through the restraint that had hitherto kept her silent, and
+entreated Lord Evandale to use his interest with his colonel, becoming
+bolder and more urgent as the soldiers entered with the prisoner, whom
+they had just informed that Lady Margaret's niece was interceding for
+his life with Lord Evandale, to whom she was about to be married.
+
+The unfortunate prisoner heard enough, as he passed behind Edith's seat,
+of the broken expressions which passed between her and Lord Evandale, to
+confirm all that the soldiers had told him.
+
+That moment made a singular and instantaneous change in his character.
+Desperate himself, he determined to support the rights of his country,
+insulted in his person. So he declined to answer any questions, and
+assured Claverhouse that there were yet Scotsmen who could assert the
+liberties of Scotland.
+
+"Make you peace then, with Heaven, in five minutes space. Bothwell, lead
+him down to the courtyard, and draw up your party!"
+
+A silence of horror fell on all but the speaker at these words. Edith
+sprang up, but her strength gave way, and she would have fallen had she
+not been caught by her attendant.
+
+Evandale at once addressed Claverhouse, and calling him aside reminded
+him of services rendered by his family in an affair of the privy
+council.
+
+"Certainly, my dear Evandale," answered Claverhouse; "I am not a man who
+forgets such debts. How can I evince my gratitude?"
+
+"I will hold the debt cancelled," said Lord Evandale, "if you will spare
+this young man's life."
+
+"Evandale," replied Claverhouse in great surprise, "you are
+mad--absolutely mad. You see him? He is tottering on the verge between
+time and eternity; yet his is the only cheek unblanched, the only heart
+that keeps its usual time. Look at him well. If that man should ever
+come to head an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for."
+
+He then said aloud, "Young man, your life is for the present safe, owing
+to the interference of your friends." So Morton was hurried down to the
+courtyard, where three other prisoners remained under an escort of
+dragoons; soon they were all pressing forward to overtake the main body,
+as it was supposed they would come in sight of the enemy in less than
+two hours. It was obvious, when they did so that there were old soldiers
+with the rebels from the choice of the ground, and the order of battle
+in which they waited the assault. Cornet Grahame was sent with a flag of
+truce to offer a free pardon to all but the murderers of the archbishop
+if they would disperse themselves. On his persisting in addressing the
+people themselves in spite of the warning of their spokesman, Balfour of
+Burley, whom he recognised. "Then the Lord grant grace to thy
+soul--amen!" said Burley, and fired, and Cornet Grahame dropped from his
+horse, mortally wounded.
+
+"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.
+
+"My duty," said Balfour firmly. "Is it not written 'Thou shalt be
+zealous even to slaying?' Let those who dare now venture to talk of
+truce or pardon!"
+
+Claverhouse saw his nephew fall; with a glance of indescribable emotion
+he looked at Evandale. "I will avenge him, or die," exclaimed Evandale,
+and rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and that of
+the deceased cornet, each striving to be first in revenge. They soon
+fell into confusion in the broken ground. In vain Claverhouse shouted,
+"Halt! halt! This rashness will undo us." The enemy set upon them with
+the utmost fury, crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines!
+Down with the Dagon and all his adherents!" Though the young nobleman
+fought like a lion, he was forced to retreat, and soon Claverhouse was
+compelled to follow his troops in their flight; as he passed Henry
+Morton and the other prisoners just released from their bonds,
+Evandale's horse was shot, and Morton rushed forward just in time to
+prevent his being killed by Balfour himself in hot pursuit.
+
+
+_III.--The Presbyterian Insurgents_
+
+
+John Balfour of Burley, a man of some fortune and good family, a soldier
+from his youth upwards, aspired to place himself at the head of the
+Presbyterian forces then in arms against the English government. On this
+account he was particularly anxious to secure the accession of young
+Henry Morton to the cause of the insurgents, for the memory of Morton's
+father was esteemed among the Presbyterians, and few persons of decent
+quality had so far joined the rising.
+
+Morton, on his side, was willing to join in any insurrection which
+promised freedom to the country though he abhorred the murder of Sharpe,
+and the tenets of the wilder set of Cameronians, by whom the seeds of
+disunion were already thickly sown in the ill-fated party.
+
+At the nomination of the council of the Presbyterian army Morton was
+sent with the main body to march against Glasgow, while Burley, with a
+chosen body of five hundred men, remained behind to blockade the castle
+of Tillietudlem. A command to surrender had been scorned with
+indignation by Major Bellenden and Lord Evandale.
+
+A few weeks later a pause in the hostilities enabled Morton, anxious for
+the fate of Tillietudlem, to return to Burley's camp, where he learnt
+that Evandale had been taken prisoner, and was to be hanged at daybreak
+unless the castle surrendered.
+
+Burley sullenly yielded his prisoner into Morton's hands, and Evandale,
+released on parole by the man whose life he had previously saved,
+undertook to set out for Edinburgh, with a list of the grievances of the
+insurgents. A mutiny within the castle drove Major Bellenden to evacuate
+Tillietudlem; the ladies acquiesced in the decision, and when the
+scarlet and blue colours of the Scottish Covenant floated from the keep
+of Tillietudlem, the cavalcade led by the major was on the road towards
+Edinburgh.
+
+Lord Evandale's good word saved Morton a second time when Claverhouse
+routed the Presbyterian army at Bothwell Bridge. Morton was taken
+prisoner, but his life was spared, and at Leith he was put on board a
+vessel bound for Rotterdam with letters of recommendation to the Prince
+of Orange.
+
+
+_IV.--Henry Morton Returns in Time_
+
+
+By the prudent tolerance of King William Scotland narrowly escaped the
+horrors of a protracted civil war. The triumphant Whigs re-established
+Presbytery as the national religion, and only the extreme sect of
+Cameronians on the one side, and the Highlanders, who were for the
+deposed Stuart king, on the other, disturbed the peace of the land.
+Balfour of Burley refused to sheathe his sword, and Evandale followed
+his old commander Claverhouse (now Viscount Dundee) in joining the rebel
+Jacobites. Major Bellenden was dead.
+
+No news had ever come of Henry Morton, and it was believed with good
+reason he was lost when the vessel in which he sailed went down with
+crew and passengers. But Morton was already back in Scotland, in the
+service of King William.
+
+In the belief of her Morton's death, Edith Bellenden had become
+betrothed to Lord Evandale, though she postponed marriage, and her
+prayers went out to him that he would refrain from joining Claverhouse,
+when he came to bid her farewell.
+
+"Oh, my lord, remain!" said Edith. "Do not rush on death and ruin!
+Remain to be our prop and stay, and hope everything from time."
+
+"It is too late, Edith," answered Lord Evandale. "I know you cannot love
+me, that your heart is dead or absent. But were it otherwise, the die is
+now cast."
+
+As he spoke thus an old servant rushed in to say a party of horse headed
+by one Basil Olifant, a rascal who was anxious to take Evandale for the
+sake of reward, had beset the outlets of the house.
+
+"Oh, hide yourself, my lord!" cried Edith, in an agony of terror.
+
+"I will not, by Heaven!" answered Lord Evandale. "What right has the
+villain to assail me or stop my passage? I will make my way, were he
+backed by a regiment. And now, farewell, Edith!"
+
+He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then rushed out and
+mounted his horse, and with his servants rode composedly down the
+avenue.
+
+As soon as Lord Evandale appeared, Olifant's party spread themselves a
+little, as if preparing to enclose him. Their leader stood fast,
+supported by three men, two of whom were dragoons, the third in dress
+and appearance a countryman, all well-armed. Whoever had before seen the
+strong figure, stern features, and resolved manner of the third
+attendant could have no difficulty in recognising Balfour of Burley.
+
+"Follow me," said Lord Evandale to his servants, "and if we are forcibly
+opposed, do as I do."
+
+He advanced at a hand gallop; Olifant called out, "Shoot the traitor!"
+and four carbines were fired upon the unfortunate nobleman. He reeled in
+the saddle, and fell from his horse mortally wounded. His servants fired
+and Basil Olifant and a dragoon were stretched lifeless on the ground.
+
+Burley, whose blood was up, exclaimed, "Down with the Midianites!" and
+advanced, sword in hand. At this instant the clatter of horses' hoofs
+was heard, and a party of horse appeared on the fatal field. They were
+foreign dragoons led by a Dutch commander, accompanied by Morton and a
+civil magistrate.
+
+Only the belief that Evandale was to marry Edith had kept Morton
+hitherto from revealing his return.
+
+A hasty call to surrender, in the name of God and King William, was
+obeyed by all except Burley, who turned his horse and attempted to
+escape. Pursued by soldiers he made for the river, but was shot in the
+middle of the stream, and felt himself dangerously wounded. He returned
+towards the bank he had left, waving his hand as if in token of
+surrender. The troopers ceased firing, and as he approached a dragoon
+laid hands on him. Burley, in requital, grasped his throat, and both
+came headlong into the river, and were swept down the stream. They were
+twice seen to rise, the trooper trying to swim, and Burley clinging to
+him in a manner that showed his desire that both should perish. Their
+corpses were taken out about a quarter of a mile down the river.
+
+While the soul of this stern enthusiast flitted to its account, that of
+the brave and generous Lord Evandale was also released. Morton had flung
+himself from his horse, to render his dying friend all the aid in his
+power. Evandale knew him, for he pressed his hand, and intimated by
+signs his wish to be conveyed to the house. This was done with all the
+care possible, and the clamorous grief of the lamenting household was
+far exceeded in intensity by the silent agony of Edith. Unconscious even
+of the presence of Morton, she was not aware that fate, who was removing
+one faithful lover, had restored another as if from the grave, until
+Lord Evandale taking their hands in his, united them together, raised
+his face as if to pray for a blessing on them, and sunk back and expired
+in the next moment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The marriage of Morton and Miss Bellenden was delayed for several months
+on account of Lord Evandale's death. Lady Margaret was prevailed on to
+countenance Morton, who now stood high in the reputation of the world,
+and Edith was her only hope, and she wished to see her happy. So Lady
+Margaret put her prejudice aside, for Morton's being an old Covenanter
+stuck sorely with her for some time, and consoled herself with the
+recollection that his most sacred majesty Charles the Second had once
+observed to her that marriage went by destiny.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Peveril of the Peak
+
+
+     "Peveril of the Peak," the longest of all the Waverley novels,
+     was published in 1823. For the main idea of the tale Sir
+     Walter was indebted to some papers found by his younger
+     brother, Thomas Scott, in the Isle of Man. These papers gave
+     the story of William Christian, who took the side of the
+     Roundheads against the high-spirited Countess of Derby, and
+     was subsequently tried and executed, according to the laws of
+     the island, by that lady, for having dethroned his august
+     mistress and imprisoned her and her family. "Peveril" is one
+     of the most complicated, in respect of characters and
+     incidents, of Scott's works. The canvas is crowded with
+     personages, good, bad, and indifferent, yet all full of
+     vitality and responding to the actual forces which their
+     creator set in motion.
+
+
+_I.--Cavalier and Roundhead_
+
+
+In Charles the Second's time, the representative of an ancient family in
+the county of Derbyshire, long distinguished by the proud title of
+Peverils of the Peak, was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man with the
+attributes of an old-fashioned country gentleman.
+
+When the civil wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak raised a regiment for
+the king, and performed his part with sufficient gallantry for several
+rough years. He witnessed also the final defeat at Worcester, where, for
+the second time, he was made prisoner, and being regarded as an
+obstinate malignant, was in great danger of execution. But Sir
+Geoffrey's life was preserved by the interest of a friend, who possessed
+influence in the councils of Cromwell. This was a Major Bridgenorth, a
+gentleman of middling quality, who had inherited from his father a
+considerable sum of money, and to whom Sir Geoffrey was under pecuniary
+obligations.
+
+Moultrassie Hall, the residence of Mr. Bridgenorth, was but two miles
+distant from Martindale Castle, the ancient seat of the Peverils; and
+while, as Bridgenorth was a decided Roundhead, all friendly
+communication which had grown up betwixt Sir Geoffrey and his neighbour
+was abruptly broken asunder at the outbreak of hostilities, on the trial
+and execution of Charles I., Bridgenorth was so shocked, fearing the
+domination of the military, that his politics on many points became
+those of the Peverils, and he favoured the return of Charles II.
+
+Another bond of intimacy, stronger than the same political opinions, now
+united the families of the castle and the hall.
+
+In the beginning of the year 1658 Major Bridgenorth--who had lost
+successively a family of six young children--was childless; ere it
+ended, he had a daughter, but her birth was purchased by the death of an
+affectionate wife. The same voice which told Bridgenorth that he was a
+father of a living child--it was the friendly voice of Lady Peveril--
+told him that he was no longer a husband.
+
+Lady Peveril placed in Bridgenorth's arms the infant whose birth had
+cost him so dear, and conjured him to remember that his Alice was not
+yet dead, since she survived in the helpless child.
+
+"Take her away--take her away!" said the unhappy man. "Let me not look
+on her! It is but another blossom that has bloomed to fade."
+
+"I will take the child for a season," said Lady Peveril, "since the
+sight of her is so painful to you; and the little Alice shall share the
+nursery of our Julian until it shall be pleasure, and not pain, for you
+to look on her."
+
+"That hour will never come," said the unhappy father; "she will follow
+the rest--God's will be done! Lady, I thank you--I trust her to your
+care."
+
+It is enough to say that the Lady Peveril did undertake the duties of a
+mother to the little orphan, and the puny infant gradually improved in
+strength and in loveliness.
+
+Sir Geoffrey was naturally fond of children, and so much compassionated
+the sorrows of his neighbour, that morning after morning he made
+Moultrassie Hall the termination of his walk or ride, and said a single
+word of kindness as he passed. "How is it with you, Master Bridgenorth?"
+the knight would say, halting his horse by the latticed window. "I just
+looked in to bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that Julian
+is well, and little Alice is well, and all are well at Martindale
+Castle."
+
+"I thank you, Sir Geoffrey; my grateful duty waits on Lady Peveril," was
+generally Bridgenorth's only answer.
+
+The voice of Peveril suddenly assumed a new and different tone in the
+month of April, 1660. He rushed into the apartment of the astonished
+major with his eyes sparkling and called out, "Up, up, neighbour! No
+time now to mope in the chimney-corner! Where is your buff coat and
+broadsword, man? Take the true side once in your life, and mend past
+mistakes. Monk has declared at London--for the king. Fairfax is up in
+Yorkshire--for the king, for the king, man! I have a letter from Fairfax
+to secure Derby and Chesterfield with all the men I can make. All are
+friends now, and you and I, good neighbour, will charge abreast as good
+neighbours should!" The sturdy cavalier's heart became too full, and
+exclaiming, "Did ever I think to live to see this happy day!" he wept,
+to his own surprise as much as to that of Bridgenorth.
+
+The neighbours were both at Chesterfield when news arrived that the king
+had landed in England, and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his purpose
+of waiting upon his majesty, while the major desired nothing better than
+to find all well at Martindale on his return.
+
+Accordingly, on the subsequent morning, Bridgenorth went to Martindale
+Castle, and gave Lady Peveril the welcome assurances of her husband's
+safety.
+
+"May Almighty God be praised!" said the Lady Peveril. The door of the
+apartment opened as she spoke, and two lovely children entered. The
+eldest, Julian Peveril, a fine boy betwixt four and five years old, led
+in his hand a little girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered
+along.
+
+Bridgenorth cast a hasty glance upon his daughter, and then caught her
+in his arms and pressed her to his heart. The child, though at first
+alarmed at the vehemence of his caresses, presently smiled in reply to
+them.
+
+"Julian must lose his playfellow now, I suppose?" said Lady Peveril.
+"But the hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often."
+
+"God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie," said Major
+Bridgenorth hastily; "it has been the grave of her race. The air of the
+low grounds suited them not. I will seek for her some other place of
+abode."
+
+"Major Bridgenorth," answered the lady, "if she goes not to her father's
+house, she shall not quit mine. I will keep the little lady as a pledge
+of her safety and my own skill; and since you are afraid of the damp of
+the low grounds, I hope you will come here frequently to visit her."
+
+This was a proposal which went to the heart of Major Bridgenorth. He
+expressed his grateful duty to Lady Peveril, and having solemnly blessed
+his little girl, took his departure for Moultrassie Hall.
+
+
+_II.--Separation_
+
+
+The friendly relations between the inhabitants of Martindale and
+Moultrassie came to an end with the common rejoicing over the
+restoration of Charles II.
+
+The Countess of Derby, queen in the Isle of Man, whose husband had
+perished for the crown, took refuge at the castle, fleeing from a
+warrant for her arrest, and told her story to Lady Peveril in the
+presence of Major Bridgenorth.
+
+The countess had kept the royal standard flying in Man until her vassal,
+William Christian, turned against her. Then for seven years she had
+endured strict captivity, until the tide turned, and she was once more
+in possession of the sovereignty of the island. "I was no sooner placed
+in possession of my rightful power," said the countess, "than I ordered
+the dempster to hold a high court of justice upon the traitor Christian,
+according to all the formalities of the isle. He was fully convicted of
+his crime, and without delay was shot to death by a file of musketeers."
+
+At hearing this, Bridgenorth clasped his hands together and groaned
+bitterly. "O Christian--worthy, well worthy of the name thou didst bear!
+My friend, my brother--the brother of my blessed wife Alice, art thou,
+then, cruelly murdered!"
+
+Then, drawing himself up with resolution, he demanded the arrest of the
+countess.
+
+This Lady Peveril would not permit, and Bridgenorth left the castle. The
+arrival of Sir Geoffrey from London with news that the council had sent
+a herald with the king's warrant for the Countess of Derby's arrest,
+made flight to the Isle of Man imperative. Bridgenorth, with a number of
+the old Roundheads, attempted to prevent the escape, but were beaten off
+by Sir Geoffrey and his men, and the countess embarked safely for her
+son's hereditary dominions, until the accusation against her for breach
+of the royal indemnity by the execution of Christian could be brought to
+some compromise.
+
+Before leaving Martindale, the countess called Julian to her, and
+kissing his forehead said: "When I am safely established and have my
+present affairs arranged, you must let me have this little Julian of
+yours some time hence, to be nurtured in my house, held as my page, and
+the playfellow of the little Derby."
+
+Five years passed.
+
+Major Bridgenorth left his seat of Moultrassie Hall in the care of his
+old housekeeper and departed to no one knew whither, having in company
+with him his daughter, Alice, and Mrs. Deborah Debbitch, the child's
+early nurse at the castle.
+
+Lady Peveril, with many tears, took a temporary leave of her son,
+Julian, who was sent as had been long intended for the purpose of
+sharing the education of the young Earl of Derby. The plan seemed to be
+in every respect successful, and when, from time to time, Julian visited
+the house of his father, Lady Peveril had the satisfaction to see him
+improved in person and in manner. In process of time he became a gallant
+and accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the Continent
+with the young earl.
+
+
+_III.--The Island Lovers_
+
+
+Julian, leaving the earl to go on a sailing voyage, assumed the dress of
+one who means to amuse himself with angling. Then, mounted upon a Manx
+pony, he rode briskly over the country, and halted at one of the
+mountain streams, and followed along the bank until he reached a house
+where once a fastness had stood, called the Black Fort.
+
+He received no answer to his knocks, and impatience getting the upper
+hand, Julian opened the door, and passed through the hall into a summer
+parlour.
+
+"How now--how is this?" said a woman's voice. "You here, Master Peveril,
+in spite of all the warnings you have had!"
+
+"Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril. "I am here once more, against
+every prohibition. Where is Alice?"
+
+"Where you will never see her, Master Julian--you may satisfy yourself
+of that," answered Mistress Deborah. "For if Dame Christian should learn
+that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you we
+should soon be obliged to find other quarters."
+
+"Come now, Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured," said Julian. "Consider,
+was not all this intimacy of ours of your own making? Did you not make
+yourself known to me the very first time I strolled up this glen with my
+fishing-rod, and tell me that you were my former keeper, and that Alice
+had been my little playfellow?"
+
+"Yes," said Dame Deborah; "but I did not bid you fall in love with us,
+though, or propose such a matter as marriage either to Alice or myself.
+Why, there is the knight your father, and my lady your mother; and there
+is her father that is half crazy with his religion, and her aunt that
+wears eternal black grogram for that unlucky Colonel Christian; and
+there is the Countess of Derby that would serve us all with the same
+sauce if we were thinking of anything that would displease her. Though I
+may indeed have said your estates were born to be united, and sure
+enough they might be were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth."
+
+The good nature of Dame Debbitch could not, however, resist the appeal
+of Julian, and she left the apartment and ran upstairs.
+
+The visits of Julian to the Black Fort had hitherto been only
+occasional, but his affections were fixed, and his ardent character had
+already declared his love. To-day, on her entrance to the room, Alice
+reproached him for again coming there against her earnest request. "It
+were better that we should part for a long time," she said softly, "and
+for heaven's sake let it be as soon as possible--perhaps it is even now
+too late to prevent some unpleasant accident. Spare yourself, Julian--
+spare me--and in mercy to us both depart, and return not again till you
+can be more reasonable."
+
+"Reasonable?" replied Julian. "Did you not say that if our parents could
+be brought to consent to our union, you would no longer oppose my suit?"
+
+"Indeed, indeed, Julian," said the almost weeping girl, "you ought not
+to press me thus. It is ungenerous, it is cruel. You dared not to
+mention the subject to your own father--how should you venture to
+mention it to mine?"
+
+"Major Bridgenorth," replied Julian, "by my mother's account, is an
+estimable man. I will remind him that to my mother's care he owes the
+dearest treasure and comfort of his life. Let me but know where to find
+him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead my cause
+with him."
+
+"Do not attempt it," said Alice. "He is already a man of sorrows.
+Besides, I could not tell you if I would where he is now to be found. My
+letters reach him from time to time by means of my Aunt Christian, but
+of his address I am entirely ignorant."
+
+"Then, by heaven," answered Julian, "I will watch his arrival in this
+island, and he shall answer me on the subject of my suit."
+
+"Then demand that answer now," said a voice, as the door opened, "for
+here stands Ralph Bridgenorth." As he spoke, he entered the apartment
+with slow and sedate step, and eyed alternately his daughter and Julian
+Peveril with a penetrating glance.
+
+Bidding his daughter learn to rule her passions and retire to her
+chamber, Bridgenorth turned to Julian and told him he had long known of
+this attachment, and went on to point out calmly the differences which
+made the union seem impossible. "But heaven hath at times opened a door
+where man beholds no means of issue," continued Bridgenorth. "Julian,
+your mother is, after the fashion of the world, one of the best and one
+of the wisest of women, with a mind as pure as the original frailty of
+our vile nature will permit. Of your father I say nothing--he is what
+the times and examples of others have made him. I have power over him,
+which ere now he might have felt, but there is one within his chambers
+who might have suffered in his suffering. Enough, however, of this, for
+to-day this is thy habitation."
+
+So saying, he stretched out his thin, bony hand and grasped that of
+Julian Peveril.
+
+Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a pleasant dream from
+which he fears to awake, and whose delight is mingled with wonder and
+with uncertainty, Julian found himself seated between Alice Bridgenorth
+and her father--the being he most loved on earth and the person whom he
+had ever considered as the great obstacle to their intercourse.
+
+It was evening when he departed. "You have not, after all," said
+Bridgenorth, bidding Julian farewell, "told me the cause of your coming
+hither. Will you find no words to ask of me the great boon which you
+seek? Nay, reply not to me now, but go, and peace be with you."
+
+
+_IV.--The Popish Plot_
+
+
+Julian Peveril set out for London when the fictitious "popish plot" of
+Titus Oates had set England "stark staring mad," promising the countess
+that he would apprise her should any danger menace the Earl of Derby or
+herself. He had learnt that Bridgenorth was on the island with secret
+and severe orders, and that the countess in return was issuing warrants
+on her own authority for the apprehension of Bridgenorth, and before
+leaving he obtained one more interview with Alice, who was alive to the
+dangers on all sides.
+
+"Break off all intercourse with our family," said Alice. "Return to your
+parents--or, what will be much safer, visit the Continent, and abide
+till God sends better days to England, for these are black with many a
+storm. Placed as we are, with open war about to break out betwixt our
+parents and friends, we must part on this spot, and at this hour, never
+to meet again."
+
+"No, by heaven!" said Peveril, venturing to throw his arm around her;
+"we part not, Alice. If I am to leave my native land you shall be my
+companion in my exile. Fear not for my parents; they love me, and they
+will soon learn to love, in Alice, the only being on earth who could
+have rendered their son happy. And for your own father, when state and
+church intrigues allow him to bestow a thought upon you, will he not
+think your happiness is cared for when you are my wife? What could his
+pride desire better for you than the establishment which will one day be
+mine?"
+
+"It cannot--it cannot be," said Alice, faltering. "Think what I, the
+cause of all, should feel when your father frowns, your mother weeps,
+your noble friends stand aloof, and you--even you--shall have made the
+painful discovery that you have incurred the resentment of all to
+satisfy a boyish passion. Farewell, then, Julian; but first take the
+solemn advice which I impart to you: shun my father--you cannot walk in
+his paths; leave this island, which will soon be agitated by strange
+incidents; while you stay be on your guard, distrust everything----"
+
+Alice broke off suddenly, and with a faint shriek. Once more her father
+stood unexpectedly before them.
+
+"I thank you, Alice," he said solemnly to his daughter, "for the hints
+you have thrown out; and now retire, and let me complete the conference
+which you have commenced."
+
+"I go, sir," said Alice. "Julian, to you my last words are: Farewell and
+caution!"
+
+She turned from them, and was seen no more.
+
+Bridgenorth turned to Peveril. "You are willing to lead my only child
+into exile from her native country, to give her a claim to the kindness
+and protection from your family, which you know will be disregarded, on
+condition I consent to bestow her hand on you, with a fortune sufficient
+to have matched that of your ancestors when they had most reason to
+boast of their wealth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet,
+so little do I value the goods of this world, that it might not be
+utterly beyond thy power to reconcile me to the match which you have
+proposed."
+
+"Show me but the means, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril, "and you shall
+see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to your
+conditions."
+
+"This is a critical period," cried the major; "it becomes the duty of
+all men to step forward. You, Julian Peveril, yourself know the secret
+but rapid strides which Rome has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry
+within our Protestant land."
+
+"I trust to live and die in the faith of the reformed Church of
+England," said Peveril. "I have seen popery too closely to be friendly
+to its tenets."
+
+"Enough," said Bridgenorth, "that I find thee not as yet enlightened
+with the purer doctrine, but willing to uplift thy testimony against the
+errors and arts of the Church of Rome. At present thy prejudices occupy
+thy mind like the strong keeper of the house mentioned in Scripture.
+But, remember, thou wilt soon be called upon to justify what thou hast
+said, and I trust to see thy name rank high amongst those by whom the
+prey shall be rent from the mighty."
+
+"You have spoken to me in riddles, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril;
+"and I have asked for no explanation. But we do not part in anger?"
+
+"Not in anger, my son," answered Bridgenorth, "but in love and strong
+affection. I accept not thy suit, neither do I reject it; only he that
+would be my son must first show himself the true and loving child of his
+oppressed and deluded country. Farewell; thou shalt hear of me sooner
+than thou thinkest for."
+
+He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, leaving him with confused
+impressions of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Surprised to find himself so
+far in the good graces of Alice's father, he could not help suspecting
+that Bridgenorth was desirous, as the price of his favour, that he
+should adopt some line of conduct inconsistent with the principles of
+his education.
+
+Arrived in England, Julian first hastened to Martindale, only to find
+the castle in the hands of officers of the House of Commons and his
+mother and Sir Geoffrey prisoners on suspicion of conspiring in the
+popish plot, and about to be escorted to London by a strong guard. On
+their departure the property of the castle was taken possession of by an
+attorney in the name of Major Bridgenorth, a large creditor of the
+unfortunate knight.
+
+Julian himself was soon seized and put to trial with his father. But the
+fury of the people had, however, now begun to pass away, and men's minds
+were beginning to cool. The character of the witnesses was more closely
+sifted--their testimonies did not in all cases tally. Chief Justice
+Scroggs, sagacious in the signs of the times, saw that court favour, and
+probably popular opinion also, were about to declare against the
+witnesses and in favour of the accused.
+
+Sir Geoffrey and. Julian were both declared "not guilty" of the
+monstrous and absurd charges brought against them and the accusation
+against Lady Peveril was dropped.
+
+No sooner had the Peverils, father and son, escaped to Lady Peveril's
+lodgings, and the first rapturous meeting over, than Alice Bridgenorth
+was presented by Julian's mother as the pretended daughter of an old
+cavalier, and Sir Geoffrey embraced her warmly. Julian, to whom his
+mother whispered that Alice was there by her father's authority, was as
+one enchanted, when a gentleman arrived from Whitehall bidding Sir
+Geoffrey and his son instantly attend upon the king's presence.
+
+The Countess of Derby had come openly to court, braving all danger, when
+she heard of the arrest of the Peverils, resolved to save their lives.
+From the king's own lips she heard of the acquittal, and Charles II.,
+for the moment anxious to reward the fidelity of his old follower,
+invited them forthwith to Whitehall.
+
+Sir Geoffrey, with every feeling of his early life afloat in his memory,
+threw himself on his knees before the king, and Charles said, with
+feeling, "My good Sir Geoffrey, you have had some hard measure; we owe
+you amends, and will find time to pay our debt."
+
+Later in the evening the Countess of Derby, who had had much private
+conversation with Julian, said, "Your majesty, there is a certain Major
+Bridgenorth, who designs, as we are informed, to leave England for ever.
+By dint of the law he hath acquired strong possession over the domains
+of Peveril, which he desires to restore to the ancient owners with much
+fair land besides, conditionally that our young Julian will receive them
+as the dowry of his only child."
+
+"By my faith!" said the king, "she must be a foul-mouthed wench if
+Julian requires to be pressed to accept her on such fair conditions."
+
+"They love each other like lovers of the last age," said the countess;
+"but the stout old knight likes not the roundheaded alliance."
+
+"Our royal word shall put that to rights," said the king. "Sir Geoffrey
+Peveril has not suffered hardship so often at our command that he will
+refuse our recommendation when it comes to make amends for all losses."
+
+The king did not speak without being fully aware of the ascendancy which
+he possessed over the spirit of the old Tory; and within four weeks
+afterwards the bells of Martindale-Moultrassie were ringing for the
+union of the two families, and the beacon-light of the castle blazed
+high over hill and dale.
+
+
+
+
+
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+
+Project Gutenberg's The World's Greatest Books, Vol VII, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books, Vol VII
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: March 9, 2004 [EBook #11527]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, V7 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>THE WORLD'S</h1> <h1>GREATEST</h1> <h1>BOOKS</h1>
+
+<h2>JOINT EDITORS</h2>
+
+<h3>ARTHUR MEE</h3> <h4>Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge</h4>
+
+<h3>J.A. HAMMERTON</h3> <h4>Editor of Harmsworth's Universal
+Encyclopaedia</h4>
+
+<h3>VOL. VII</h3> <h3>FICTION</h3>
+
+
+<h4>MCMX</h4>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<h2><i>Table of Contents</i></h2><br />
+<a href="#THOMAS_LOVE_PEACOCK">PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Headlong_Hall">Headlong Hall</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Nightmare_Abbey">Nightmare Abbey</a><br
+/><br />
+<a href="#JANE_PORTER">PORTER, JANE</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#The_Scottish_Chiefs">Scottish
+Chiefs</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#ALEXANDER_SERGEYEVITCH_PUSHKIN">PUSHKIN</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#The_Captains_Daughter">The Captain's
+Daughter</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#FRANCOIS_RABELAIS">RABELAIS</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Gargantua_and_Pantagruel">Gargantua and
+Pantagruel</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#CHARLES_READE">READE, CHARLES</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Hard_Cash">Hard Cash</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#It_Is_Never_Too_Late_to_Mend">Never Too
+Late to Mend</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#The_Cloister_and_the_Hearth">The Cloister
+and the Hearth</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#SAMUEL_RICHARDSON">RICHARDSON, SAMUEL</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Pamela">Pamela</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Clarissa_Harlowe">Clarissa Harlowe</a><br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Sir_Charles_Grandison">Sir Charles
+Grandison</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#JEAN_PAUL_FRIEDRICH_RICHTER">RICHTER, JEAN PAUL</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Hesperus">Hesperus</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Titan">Titan</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#PETER_ROSEGGER">ROSEGGER, PETER</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a
+href="#The_Papers_of_the_Forest_Schoolmaster">Papers of the Forest
+Schoolmaster</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#JEAN_JACQUES_ROUSSEAU">ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#The_New_Heloise">New Heloise</a><br /><br
+/>
+<a href="#BERNARDIN_DE_ST_PIERRE">SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Paul_and_Virginia">Paul and
+Virginia</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#GEORGE_SAND">SAND, GEORGE</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Consuelo">Consuelo</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Mauprat">Mauprat</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#MICHAEL_SCOTT">SCOTT, MICHAEL</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Tom_Cringles_Log">Tom Cringle's
+Log</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#SIR_WALTER_SCOTT">SCOTT, SIR WALTER</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#The_Antiquary">Antiquary</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Guy_Mannering">Guy Mannering</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#The_Heart_of_Midlothian">Heart of
+Midlothian</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Ivanhoe">Ivanhoe</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Kenilworth">Kenilworth</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Old_Mortality">Old Mortality</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#Peveril_of_the_Peak">Peveril of the
+Peak</a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(SCOTT: <i>Continued in Vol. VIII</i>.)<br />
+
+<p>Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of
+Volume XX</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="THOMAS_LOVE_PEACOCK"></a>THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Headlong_Hall"></a>Headlong Hall</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> The novels of Thomas Love Peacock still find admirers among
+cultured readers, but his extravagant satire and a certain bookish
+awkwardness will never appeal to the great novel-reading public. The son of
+a London glass merchant, Peacock was born at Weymouth on October 18, 1785.
+Early in life he was engaged in some mercantile occupation, which, however,
+he did not follow up for long. Then came a period of study, and he became
+an excellent classical scholar. His first ambition was to become a poet,
+and between 1804 and 1806 he published two slender volumes of verse, which
+attracted little or no attention. Yet Peacock was a poet of considerable
+merit, his best work in this direction being scattered at random throughout
+his novels. In 1812 he contracted a friendship with Shelley, whose executor
+he became with Lord Byron. Peacock's first novel, "Headlong Hall," appeared
+in 1816, and is interesting not so much as a story pure and simple, but as
+a study of the author's own temperament. His personalities are seldom real
+live characters; they are, rather, mouthpieces created for the purposes of
+discussion. Peacock died on January 23, 1866. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Philosophers</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The ambiguous light of a December morning, peeping through the windows
+of the Holyhead mail, dispelled the soft visions of the four insides, who
+had slept, or seemed to sleep, through the first seventy miles of the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>A lively remark that the day was none of the finest having elicited a
+repartee of "quite the contrary," the various knotty points of meteorology
+were successively discussed and exhausted; and, the ice being thus broken,
+in the course of conversation it appeared that all four, though perfect
+strangers to each other, were actually bound to the same point, namely,
+Headlong Hall, the seat of the ancient family of the Headlongs, of the vale
+of Llanberris, in Carnarvonshire.</p>
+
+<p>The present representative of the house, Harry Headlong, Esquire, was,
+like all other Welsh squires, fond of shooting, hunting, racing, drinking,
+and other such innocent amusements. But, unlike other Welsh squires, he had
+actually suffered books to find their way into his house; and, by dint of
+lounging over them after dinner, he became seized with a violent passion to
+be thought a philosopher and a man of taste, and had formed in London as
+extensive an acquaintance with philosophers and dilettanti as his utmost
+ambition could desire. It now became his chief wish to have them all
+together in Headlong Hall, arguing over his old Port and Burgundy the
+various knotty points which puzzled him. He had, therefore, sent them
+invitations in due form to pass their Christmas at Headlong Hall, and four
+of the chosen guests were now on their way in the four corners of the
+Holyhead mail.</p>
+
+<p>These four persons were Mr. Foster, the optimist, who believed in the
+improvement of mankind; Mr. Escot, the pessimist, who saw mankind
+constantly deteriorating; Mr. Jenkison, who thought things were very well
+as they were; and the Reverend Doctor Gaster, who, though neither a
+philosopher nor a man of taste, had won the squire's fancy by a learned
+dissertation on the art of stuffing a turkey.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of an animated conversation the coach stopped, and the
+coachman, opening the door, vociferated: "Breakfast, gentlemen," a sound
+which so gladdened the ears of the divine, that the alacrity with which he
+sprang from the vehicle distorted his ankle, and he was obliged to limp
+into the inn between Mr. Escot and Mr. Jenkison, the former observing that
+he ought to look for nothing but evil and, therefore, should not be
+surprised at this little accident; the latter remarking that the comfort of
+a good breakfast and the pain of a sprained ankle pretty exactly balanced
+each other.</p>
+
+<p>The morning being extremely cold, the doctor contrived to be seated as
+near the fire as was consistent with his other object of having a perfect
+command of the table and its apparatus, which consisted not only of the
+ordinary comforts of tea and toast, but of a delicious supply of new-laid
+eggs and a magnificent round of beef; against which Mr. Escot immediately
+pointed all the artillery of his eloquence, declaring the use of animal
+food, conjointly with that of fire, to be one of the principal causes of
+the present degeneracy of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>"The natural and original man," said he, "lived in the woods; the roots
+and fruits of the earth supplied his simple nutriment; he had few desires,
+and no diseases. But, when he began to sacrifice victims on the altar of
+superstition, to pursue the goat and the deer, and, by the pernicious
+invention of fire, to pervert their flesh into food, luxury, disease, and
+premature death were let loose upon the world. From that period the stature
+of mankind has been in a state of gradual diminution, and I have not the
+least doubt that it will continue to grow <i>small by degrees, and
+lamentably less</i>, till the whole race will vanish imperceptibly from the
+face of the earth."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot agree," said Mr. Foster, "in the consequences being so very
+disastrous, though I admit that in some respects the use of animal food
+retards the perfectibility of the species."</p>
+
+<p>"In the controversy concerning animal and vegetable food," said Mr.
+Jenkison, "there is much to be said on both sides. I content myself with a
+mixed diet, and make a point of eating whatever is placed before me,
+provided it be good in its kind."</p>
+
+<p>In this opinion his two brother philosophers practically coincided,
+though they both ran down the theory as highly detrimental to the best
+interests of man.</p>
+
+<p>The discussion raged for some time on the question whether man was a
+carnivorous or frugivorous animal.</p>
+
+<p>"I am no anatomist," said Mr. Jenkison, "and cannot decide where doctors
+disagree; in the meantime, I conclude that man is omnivorous, and on that
+conclusion I act."</p>
+
+<p>"Your conclusion is truly orthodox," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster;
+"indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the
+practise of the church in all ages shows----"</p>
+
+<p>"That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes," said Mr.
+Escot.</p>
+
+<p>"It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine," said the reverend
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed.</p>
+
+<p>"You will allow," said Mr. Foster, as soon as they were again in motion,
+"that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two
+hundred miles of forest with as much facility as one of these vehicles
+transports you and me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am certain," said Mr. Escot, "that a wild man can travel an immense
+distance without fatigue; but what is the advantage of locomotion? The wild
+man is happy in one spot, and there he remains; the civilised man is
+wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates himself
+on being accommodated with a machine that will whirl him to another, where
+he will be just as miserable as ever."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Squire and his Guests</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Squire Headlong, in the meanwhile, was superintending operations in four
+scenes of action at the Hall--the cellar, the library, the picture-gallery,
+and the dining-room-preparing for the reception of his philosophical
+visitors. His myrmidon on this occasion was a little, red-nosed butler, who
+waddled about the house after his master, while the latter bounced from
+room to room like a cracker. Multitudes of packages had arrived by land and
+water, from London, and Liverpool, and Chester, and Manchester, and various
+parts of the mountains; books, wine, cheese, mathematical instruments,
+turkeys, figs, soda-water, fiddles, flutes, tea, sugar, eggs, French horns,
+sofas, chairs, tables, carpets, beds, fruits, looking-glasses, nuts,
+drawing-books, bottled ale, pickles, and fish sauce, patent lamps, barrels
+of oysters, lemons, and jars of Portugal grapes. These, arriving in
+succession, and with infinite rapidity, had been deposited at random--as
+the convenience of the moment dictated--sofas in the cellar, hampers of ale
+in the drawing-room, and fiddles and fish-sauce in the library. The
+servants unpacking all these in furious haste, and flying with them from
+place to place, tumbled over one another upstairs and down. All was bustle,
+uproar, and confusion; yet nothing seemed to advance, while the rage and
+impetuosity of the squire continued fermenting to the highest degree of
+exasperation, which he signified, from time to time, by converting some
+newly-unpacked article, such as a book, a bottle, a ham, or a fiddle, into
+a missile against the head of some unfortunate servant.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this scene of confusion thrice confounded, arrived the
+lovely Caprioletta Headlong, the squire's sister, whom he had sent for to
+do the honours of his house, beaming like light on chaos, to arrange
+disorder and harmonise discord. The tempestuous spirit of her brother
+became as smooth as the surface of the lake of Llanberris, and in less than
+twenty-four hours after her arrival, everything was disposed in its proper
+station, and the squire began to be all impatience for the appearance of
+his promised guests.</p>
+
+<p>The first visitor was Marmaduke Milestone, Esq., a picturesque landscape
+gardener of the first celebrity, who promised himself the glorious
+achievement of polishing and trimming the rocks of Llanberris.</p>
+
+<p>A postchaise brought the Reverend Doctor Gaster, and then came the three
+philosophers.</p>
+
+<p>The next arrival was that of Mr. Cranium and his lovely daughter, Miss
+Cephalis Cranium, who flew to the arms of her dear friend Caprioletta. Miss
+Cephalis blushed like a carnation at the sight of Mr. Escot, and Mr. Escot
+glowed like a corn-poppy at the sight of Miss Cephalis.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Escot had formerly been the received lover of Miss Cephalis, till he
+incurred the indignation of her father by laughing at a very profound
+dissertation which the old gentleman delivered.</p>
+
+<p>Next arrived a postchaise containing four insides. These personages were
+two very profound critics, Mr. Gall and Mr. Treacle, and two very
+multitudinous versifiers, Mr. Nightshade and Mr. McLaurel.</p>
+
+<p>The last arrivals were Mr. Cornelius Chromatic, the most scientific of
+all amateurs of the fiddle, with his two blooming daughters, Miss Tenorina
+and Miss Graziosa; Sir Patrick O'Prism, a dilettante painter of high
+renown, and his maiden aunt, Miss Philomela Poppyseed, a compounder of
+novels written for the express purpose of supporting every species of
+superstition and prejudice; and Mr. Panscope, the chemical, botanical,
+geological, astronomical, critical philosopher, who had run through the
+whole circle of the sciences and understood them all equally well.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Milestone was impatient to take a walk round the grounds, that he
+might examine how far the system of clumping and levelling could be carried
+advantageously into effect; and several of the party supporting the
+proposition, with Squire Headlong and Mr. Milestone leading the van, they
+commenced their perambulation.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Tower and the Skull</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The result of Mr. Milestone's eloquence was that he and the squire set
+out again, immediately after breakfast next morning, to examine the
+capabilities of the scenery. The object that most attracted Mr. Milestone's
+admiration was a ruined tower on a projecting point of rock, almost totally
+overgrown with ivy. This ivy, Mr. Milestone observed, required trimming and
+clearing in various parts; a little pointing and polishing was necessary
+for the dilapidated walls; and the whole effect would be materially
+increased by a plantation of spruce fir, the present rugged and broken
+ascent being first converted into a beautiful slope, which might be easily
+effected by blowing up a part of the rock with gunpowder, laying on a
+quantity of fine mould, and covering the whole with an elegant stratum of
+turf.</p>
+
+<p>Squire Headlong caught with avidity at this suggestion, and as he had
+always a store of gunpowder in the house, he insisted on commencing
+operations immediately. Accordingly, he bounded back to the house and
+speedily returned, accompanied by the little butler and half a dozen
+servants and labourers with pickaxes and gunpowder, a hanging stove, and a
+poker, together with a basket of cold meat and two or three bottles of
+Madeira.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Milestone superintended the proceedings. The rock was excavated, the
+powder introduced, the apertures strongly blockaded with fragments of
+stone; a long train was laid to a spot sufficiently remote from the
+possibility of harm, and the squire seized the poker, and applied the end
+of it to the train.</p>
+
+<p>At this critical moment Mr. Cranium and Mr. Panscope appeared at the top
+of the tower, which, unseeing and unseen, they had ascended on the opposite
+side to that where the squire and Mr. Milestone were conducting their
+operations. Their sudden appearance a little dismayed the squire, who,
+however, comforted himself with the reflection that the tower was perfectly
+safe, and that his friends were in no probable danger but of a knock on the
+head from a flying fragment of stone.</p>
+
+<p>The explosion took place, and the shattered rock was hurled into the air
+in the midst of fire and smoke. The tower remained untouched, but the
+influence of sudden fear had so violent an effect on Mr. Cranium, that he
+lost his balance, and alighted in an ivy bush, which, giving way beneath
+him, transferred him to a tuft of hazel at its base, which consigned him to
+the boughs of an ash that had rooted itself in a fissure about halfway down
+the rock, which finally transmitted him to the waters of the lake.</p>
+
+<p>Squire Headlong anxiously watched the tower as the smoke rolled away;
+but when the shadowy curtain was withdrawn, and Mr. Panscope was
+discovered, alone, in a tragical attitude, his apprehensions became
+boundless, and he concluded that a flying fragment of rock had killed Mr.
+Cranium.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Escot arrived at the scene of the disaster just as Mr. Cranium,
+utterly destitute of the art of swimming, was in imminent danger of
+drowning. Mr. Escot immediately plunged in to his assistance, and brought
+him alive and in safety to a shelving part of the shore. Their landing was
+hailed with a shout from the delighted squire, who, shaking them both
+heartily by the hand, and making ten thousand lame apologies to Mr.
+Cranium, concluded by asking, in a pathetic tone, "How much water he had
+swallowed?" and without waiting for his answer, filled a large tumbler with
+Madeira, and insisted on his tossing it off, which was no sooner said than
+done. Mr. Panscope descended the tower, which he vowed never again to
+approach within a quarter of a mile.</p>
+
+<p>The squire took care that Mr. Cranium should be seated next to him at
+dinner, and plied him so hard with Madeira, to prevent him, as he said,
+from taking cold, that long before the ladies sent in their summons to
+coffee, the squire was under the necessity of ringing for three or four
+servants to carry him to bed, observing, with a smile of great
+satisfaction, that he was in a very excellent way for escaping any ill
+consequences that might have resulted from his accident.</p>
+
+<p>The beautiful Cephalis, being thus freed from his surveillance, was
+enabled, during the course of the evening, to develop to his preserver the
+full extent of her gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Escot passed a sleepless night, the ordinary effect of love,
+according to some amatory poets, and arose with the first peep of day. He
+sallied forth to enjoy the balmy breeze of morning, which any but a lover
+might have thought too cool; for it was an intense frost, the sun had not
+risen, and the wind was rather fresh from the north-east. But a lover is
+supposed to have "a fire in his heart and a fire in his brain," and the
+philosopher walked on, careless of whither he went, till he found himself
+near the enclosure of a little mountain chapel. Passing through the wicket,
+and peeping through the chapel window, he could not refrain from reciting a
+verse in Greek aloud, to the great terror of the sexton, who was just
+entering the churchyard.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Escot at once decided that now was the time to get extensive and
+accurate information concerning his theory of the physical deterioration of
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been sexton here," said Mr. Escot, in the language of Hamlet,
+"man and boy, forty years."</p>
+
+<p>The sexton turned pale; the period named was so nearly the true.</p>
+
+<p>"During this period you have, of course, dug up many bones of the people
+of ancient times. Perhaps you can show me a few."</p>
+
+<p>The sexton grinned a ghastly smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you take your Bible oath you don't want them to raise the devil
+with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Willingly," said Mr. Escot. "I have an abstruse reason for the
+inquiry."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, if you have an <i>obtuse</i> reason," said the sexton, "that
+alters the case."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he led the way to the bone-house, from which he began to
+throw out various bones and skulls, and amongst them a skull of very
+extraordinary magnitude, which he swore by St. David was the skull of
+Cadwallader.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know this to be his skull?" said Mr. Escot.</p>
+
+<p>"He was the biggest man that ever lived, and he was buried here; and
+this is the biggest skull I ever found. You see now----"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing could be more logical," said Mr. Escot. "My good friend, will
+you allow me to take away this skull with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"St. Winifred bless us!" exclaimed the sexton. "Would you have me
+haunted by his ghost for taking his blessed bones out of consecrated
+ground? For, look you, his epitaph says:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+"'He that my bones shall ill bestow,<br />
+Leek in his ground shall never grow.'"<br />
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>"But you will well bestow them in giving them to me," said Mr. Escot. "I
+will have this illustrious skull bound with a silver rim and filled with
+wine, for when the wine is in the brain is out."</p>
+
+<p>Saying these words, he put a dollar into the hand of the sexton, who
+instantly stood spellbound, while Mr. Escot walked off in triumph with the
+skull of Cadwallader.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Proposals</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The Christmas ball, when relatives and friends assembled from far and
+wide, was the great entertainment given at Headlong Hall from time
+immemorial, and it was on the morning after the ball that Miss Brindle-Mew
+Tabitha Ap-Headlong, the squire's maiden aunt, took her nephew aside, and
+told him it was time he was married if the family was not to become
+extinct.</p>
+
+<p>"Egad!" said Squire Headlong. "That is very true. I'll marry directly. A
+good opportunity to fix on someone now they are all here, and I'll pop the
+question without further ceremony. I'll think of somebody presently. I
+should like to be married on the same day with Caprioletta. She is going to
+be married to my friend Mr. Foster, the philosopher."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said the maiden aunt, "that a daughter of our ancient family
+should marry a philosopher!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's Caprioletta's affair, not mine," said Squire Headlong. "I tell you
+the matter is settled, fixed, determined, and so am I, to be married on the
+same day. I don't know, now I think of it, whom I can choose better than
+one of the daughters of my friend Chromatic."</p>
+
+<p>With that the squire flew over to Mr. Chromatic, and, with a hearty slap
+on the shoulder, asked him "How he should like him for a son-in-law?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chromatic, rubbing his shoulder, and highly delighted with the
+proposal, answered, "Very much indeed"; but, proceeding to ascertain which
+of his daughters had captivated the squire, the squire was unable to
+satisfy his curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope," said Mr. Chromatic, "it may be Tenorina, for I imagine
+Graziosa has conceived a penchant for Sir Patrick O'Prism."</p>
+
+<p>"Tenorina, exactly!" said Squire Headlong; and became so impatient to
+bring the matter to a conclusion that Mr. Chromatic undertook to
+communicate with his daughter immediately. The young lady proved to be as
+ready as the squire, and the preliminaries were arranged in little more
+than five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chromatic's words concerning his daughter Graziosa and Sir Patrick
+O'Prism were not lost on the squire, who at once determined to have as many
+companions in the scrape as possible; and who, as soon as he could tear
+himself from Mrs. Headlong elect, took three flying bounds across the room
+to the baronet, and said, "So, Sir Patrick, I find you and I are going to
+be married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are we?" said Sir Patrick. "Then sure, won't I wish you joy, and myself
+too, for this is the first I have heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Squire Headlong, "I have made up my mind to it, and you
+must not disappoint me."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, I won't, if I can help it," said Sir Patrick. "And pray,
+now, who is that I am to be turning into Lady O'Prism?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Graziosa Chromatic," said the squire.</p>
+
+<p>"Och violet and vermilion!" said Sir Patrick; "though I never thought of
+it before, I dare say she will suit me as well as another; but then you
+must persuade the ould Orpheus to draw out a few notes of rather a more
+magical description than those he is so fond of scraping on his crazy
+violin."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, he shall," said the squire; and immediately returning to
+Mr. Chromatic, concluded the negotiation for Sir Patrick as expeditiously
+as he had done for himself.</p>
+
+<p>The squire next addressed himself to Mr. Escot: "Here are three couples
+of us going to throw off together, with the Reverend Doctor Gaster for
+whipper in. Now I think you cannot do better than to make the fourth with
+Miss Cephalis."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed?" said Mr. Escot. "Nothing would be more agreeable to both of us
+than such an arrangement; but the old gentleman since I first knew him has
+changed like the rest of the world, very lamentably for the worse.".</p>
+
+<p>"I'll settle him," said Squire Headlong; and immediately posted up to
+Mr. Cranium, informing him that four marriages were about to take place by
+way of a merry winding up of the Christmas festivities. "In the first
+place," said the squire, "my sister and Mr. Foster; in the second, Miss
+Graziosa Chromatic and Sir Patrick O'Prism; in the third, Miss Tenorina
+Chromatic and your humble servant; and in the fourth, to which, by the by,
+your consent is wanted, your daughter----"</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Panscope," said Mr. Cranium.</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Escot," said Squire Headlong. What would you have better? He
+has ten thousand virtues."</p>
+
+<p>"So has Mr. Panscope. He has ten thousand a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Virtues?" said Squire Headlong.</p>
+
+<p>"Pounds," said Mr. Cranium.</p>
+
+<p>"Who fished you out of the water?" said Squire Headlong..</p>
+
+<p>"What is that to the purpose?" said Mr. Cranium. "The whole process of
+the action was mechanical and necessary. He could no more help jumping into
+the water than I could help falling into it."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the squire. "Your daughter and Mr. Escot are
+necessitated to love one another."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cranium, after a profound reverie, said, "Do you think Mr. Escot
+would give me that skull?"</p>
+
+<p>"Skull?" said Squire Headlong.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Cranium. "The skull of Cadwallader."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure he will. How can you doubt it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I simply know," said Mr. Cranium, "that if it were once in my
+possession I would not part with it for any acquisition on earth, much less
+for a wife."</p>
+
+<p>The squire flew over to Mr. Escot. "I told you," said he, "I would
+settle him; but there is a very hard condition attached to his compliance.
+Nothing less than the absolute and unconditional surrender of the skull of
+Cadwallader."</p>
+
+<p>"I resign it," said Mr. Escot.</p>
+
+<p>"The skull is yours," said the squire, skipping over to Mr. Cranium.</p>
+
+<p>"I am perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Cranium.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady is yours," said the squire, skipping back to Mr. Escot.</p>
+
+<p>"I am the happiest man alive," said Mr. Escot, and he flew off as nimbly
+as Squire Headlong himself, to impart the happy intelligence to his
+beautiful Cephalis.</p>
+
+<p>The departure of the ball visitors then took place, and the squire did
+not suffer many days to elapse before the spiritual metamorphosis of eight
+into four was effected by the clerical dexterity of the Reverend Doctor
+Gaster.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Nightmare_Abbey"></a>Nightmare Abbey</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Nightmare Abbey" is perhaps the most extravagant of all
+Peacock's stories, and, with the exception of "Headlong Hall," it obtained
+more vogue on its publication in 1818 than any of his other works. It is
+eminently characteristic of its author--the eighteenth century Rabelaisian
+pagan who prided himself on his antagonism towards religion, yet whose
+likes and dislikes were invariably inspired by hatred of cant and
+enthusiasm for progress. The hero of the story is easily distinguishable as
+the poet Shelley. On the whole the characters are more life-like
+presentations of humanity than those of "Headlong Hall." Simple and weak
+though the plot is, the reader is carried along to the end through a
+brilliant maze of wit and satire; underneath which outward show of
+irresponsible fun there pervades a gloomy note of tragedy.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Mr. Glowry and His Son</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Nightmare Abbey, a venerable family mansion in a highly picturesque
+state of semi-dilapidation, in the county of, Lincoln, had the honour to be
+the seat of Christopher Glowry, Esquire, a gentleman much troubled with
+those phantoms of indigestion commonly called "blue devils."</p>
+
+<p>Disappointed both in love and friendship, he had come to the conclusion
+that there was but one good thing in the world, videlicet, a good dinner;
+and remained a widower, with one only son and heir, Scythrop.</p>
+
+<p>This son had been sent to a public-school, where a little learning was
+painfully beaten into him, and thence to the university, where it was
+carefully taken out of him, and he finished his education to the high
+satisfaction of the master and fellows of his college. He passed his
+vacations sometimes at Nightmare Abbey, and sometimes in London, at the
+house of his uncle, Mr. Hilary, a very cheerful and elastic gentleman. The
+company that frequented his house was the gayest of the gay. Scythrop
+danced with the ladies and drank with the gentlemen, and was pronounced by
+both a very accomplished, charming fellow.</p>
+
+<p>Here he first saw the beautiful Miss Emily Girouette, and fell in love;
+he was favourably received, but the respective fathers quarrelled about the
+terms of the bargain, and the two lovers were torn asunder, weeping and
+vowing eternal constancy; and in three weeks the lady was led a smiling
+bride to the altar, leaving Scythrop half distracted. His father, to
+comfort him, read him a commentary on Ecclesiastes, of his own composition;
+it was thrown away upon Scythrop, who retired to his tower as dismal and
+disconsolate as before.</p>
+
+<p>The tower which Scythrop inhabited stood at the south-eastern angle of
+the abbey; the south-western was ruinous and full of owls; the
+north-eastern contained the apartments of Mr. Glowry; the north-eastern
+tower was appropriated to the servants, whom Mr. Glowry always chose by one
+of two criterions--a long face or a dismal name. The main building was
+divided into room of state, spacious apartments for feasting, and numerous
+bedrooms for visitors, who, however, were few.</p>
+
+<p>Occasional visits were paid by Mr. and Mrs. Hilary, but another visitor,
+much more to Mr. dowry's taste, was Mr. Flosky, a very lachrymose and
+morbid gentleman, of some note in the literary world, with a very fine
+sense of the grim and the tearful.</p>
+
+<p>But the dearest friend of Mr. Glowry, and his most welcome guest, was
+Mr. Toobad, the Manichean Millenarian. The twelfth verse of the twelfth
+chapter of Revelations was always in his mouth: "Woe to the inhabitants of
+the earth and of the sea, for the devil is come among you, having great
+wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time." He maintained that
+this precise time was the point of the plenitude of the power of the Evil
+Principle; he used to add that by and by he would be cast down, and a happy
+order of things succeed, but never omitted to add "Not in our time," which
+last words were always echoed by Mr. Glowry, in doleful response.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after Scythrop's disappointment Mr. Glowry was involved in a
+lawsuit, which compelled his attendance in London, and Scythrop was left
+alone, to wander about, with the "Sorrows of Werter" in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>He now became troubled with the passion for reforming the world, and
+meditated on the practicability of reviving a confederacy of regenerators.
+He wrote and published a treatise in which his meanings were carefully
+wrapped up in the monk's hood of transcendental technology, but filled with
+hints of matters deep and dangerous, which he thought would set the whole
+nation in a ferment, and awaited the result in awful expectation; some
+months after he received a letter from his bookseller, informing him that
+only seven copies had been sold, and concluding with a polite request for
+the balance.</p>
+
+<p>"Seven copies!" he thought. "Seven is a mystical number, and the omen is
+good. Let me find the seven purchasers, and they shall be the seven golden
+candlesticks with which I shall illuminate the world."</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop had a certain portion of mechanical genius, and constructed
+models of cells and recesses, sliding panels and secret passages, which
+would have baffled the skill of the Parisian police. In his father's
+absence, he smuggled a dumb carpenter into his tower, and gave reality to
+one of these models. He foresaw that a great leader of regeneration would
+be involved in fearful dilemmas, and determined to adopt all possible
+precautions for his own preservation.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, he drank Madeira and laid deep schemes for a thorough
+repair of the crazy fabric of human nature.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Marionetta</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Glowry returned with the loss of his lawsuit, and found Scythrop in
+a mood most sympathetically tragic. His friends, whom we have mentioned,
+availed themselves of his return to pay him a simultaneous visit, and at
+the same time arrived Scythrop's friend and fellow-collegian, the Hon. Mr.
+Listless, a young gentleman devoured with a gloomy and misanthropical
+<i>nil curo</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Hilary brought with them an orphan niece, Miss Marionetta
+Celestina O'Carroll, a blooming and accomplished young lady, who exhibited
+in her own character all the diversities of an April sky. Her hair was
+light brown, her eyes hazel, her features regular, and her person
+surpassingly graceful. She had some coquetry, and more caprice, liking and
+disliking almost in the same moment, and had not been three days in the
+abbey before she threw out all the lures of her beauty and accomplishments
+to make a prize of her cousin Scythrop's heart.</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop's romantic dreams had given him many pure anticipated
+cognitions of combinations of beauty and intelligence, which, he had some
+misgivings, were not realised by Marionetta, but he soon became
+distractedly in love, which, when the lady perceived, she altered her
+tactics and assumed coldness and reserve. Scythrop was confounded, but,
+instead of falling at her feet begging explanation, he retreated to his
+tower, seated himself in the president's chair of his imaginary tribunal,
+summoned Marionetta with terrible formalities, frightened her out of her
+wits, disclosed himself, and clasped the beautiful penitent to his
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p>While he was acting this reverie, his study door opened, and the real
+Marionetta appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, Scythrop," said she, "what is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, indeed!" said Scythrop, "for your sake, Marionetta,
+and you are my heaven! Distraction is the matter. I adore you, and your
+cruelty drives me mad!" He threw himself at her feet, and breathed a
+thousand vows in the most passionate language of romance.</p>
+
+<p>With a very arch look, she said: "I prithee, deliver thyself like a man
+of the world." The levity of this quotation jarred so discordantly on the
+romantic inamorato that he sprang to his feet, and beat his forehead with
+his clenched fist. The young lady was terrified, and, taking his hand in
+hers, said in her tenderest tone: "What would you have, Scythrop?"</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop was in heaven again.</p>
+
+<p>"What but you, Marionetta! You, for the companion of my studies, the
+auxiliary of my great designs for mankind."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I should be but a poor auxiliary, Scythrop. What would you
+have me do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do as Rosalia does with Carlos, Marionetta. Let us each open a vein in
+the other's arm, mix our blood in a bowl, and drink it as a sacrament of
+love; then we shall see visions of transcendental illumination."</p>
+
+<p>Marionetta disengaged herself suddenly, and fled with precipitation.
+Scythrop pursued her, crying, "Stop, stop Marionetta--my life, my love!"
+and was gaining rapidly on her flight, when he came into sudden and violent
+contact with Mr. Toobad, and they both plunged together to the foot of the
+stairs, which gave the young lady time to escape and enclose herself in her
+chamber.</p>
+
+<p>This was witnessed by Mr. Glowry, and he determined on a full
+explanation. He therefore entered Scythrop Tower, and at once said:</p>
+
+<p>"So, sir, you are in love with your cousin."</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop, with as little hesitation, answered, "Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"That is candid, at least. It is very provoking, very disappointing. I
+could not have supposed that you could have been infatuated with such a
+dancing, laughing, singing, careless, merry hearted thing as
+Marionetta--and with no fortune. Besides, sir, I have made a choice for
+you. Such a lovely, serious creature, in a fine state of high
+dissatisfaction with the world! Sir, I have pledged my honour to the
+contract, and now, sir, what is to be done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir, I cannot say. I claim on this occasion that liberty of
+action which is the co-natal prerogative of every rational being."</p>
+
+<p>"Liberty of action, sir! There is no such thing, and if you do not
+comply with my wishes, I shall be under the necessity of disinheriting you,
+though I shall do so with tears in my eyes."</p>
+
+<p>He immediately sought Mrs. Hilary, and communicated his views to her.
+She straightway hinted to her niece, whom she loved as her own child, that
+dignity and decorum required them to leave the abbey at once. Marionetta
+listened in silent submission, but when Scythrop entered, and threw himself
+at her feet in a paroxysm of grief, she threw her arms round his neck, and
+burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop snatched from its repository his ancestor's skull, filled it
+with Madeira, and presenting himself before Mr. Glowry, threatened to drink
+off the contents, if he did not promise that Marionetta should not leave
+the abbey without her own consent. Mr. Glowry, who took the Madeira to be
+some deadly brewage, gave his promise in dismal panic. Scythrop returned to
+Marionetta with a joyful heart, and drank the Maderia by the way, leaving
+his father much disturbed, for he had set his heart on marrying his son to
+the daughter of his friend, Mr. Toobad.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Celinda</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Toobad, too much accustomed to the intermeddling of the devil in all
+his affairs to be astonished at this new trace of his cloven claw, yet
+determined to outwit him, for he was sure there could be no comparison
+between his daughter and Marionetta in the mind of anyone who had a proper
+perception of the fact that seriousness and solemnity are the
+characteristics of wisdom. Therefore he set off to meet her in London, that
+he might lose no time in bringing her to Nightmare Abbey. After the first
+joy of meeting was over, he told his daughter he had a husband ready for
+her. The young lady replied very gravely she should take the liberty of
+choosing for herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I not a fortune in my own right, sir?" said Celinda.</p>
+
+<p>"The more is the pity," said Mr. Toobad. "But I can find means, miss--I
+can find means."</p>
+
+<p>They parted for the night with the expression of opposite resolutions,
+and in the morning the young lady's chamber was empty, and what was become
+of her, Mr. Toobad had no clue to guess. He declared that when he should
+discover the fugitive, she should find "that the devil was come unto her,
+having great wrath," and continued to investigate town and country,
+visiting and revisiting Nightmare Abbey at intervals to consult Mr.
+Glowry.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the difficulties that surrounded her, Marionetta could
+not debar herself from the pleasure of tormenting her lover, whom she kept
+in a continual fever, sometimes meeting him with unqualified affection,
+sometimes with chilling indifference, softening him to love by eloquent
+tenderness, or inflaming him to jealousy by coquetting with the Hon. Mr.
+Listless. Scythrop's schemes for regenerating the world and detecting his
+seven golden candlesticks went on very slowly.</p>
+
+<p>On retiring to his tower one day Scythrop found it pre-occupied. A
+stranger, muffled to the eyes in a cloak, rose at his entrance, and looked
+at him intently for a few minutes in silence, then saying, "I see by your
+physiognomy you are to be trusted," dropped the cloak, and revealed to the
+astonished Scythrop a female form and countenance of dazzling grace and
+beauty, with long, flowing hair of raven blackness.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a philosopher," said the lady, "and a lover of liberty. You are
+the author of a treatise called 'Philosophical Gas?'"</p>
+
+<p>"I am," said Scythrop, delighted at this first blossom of his
+renown.</p>
+
+<p>She then informed him that she was under the necessity of finding a
+refuge from an atrocious persecution, and had determined to apply to him
+(on reading his pamphlet, and recognising a kindred mind) to find her a
+retreat where she could be concealed from the indefatigable search being
+made for her.</p>
+
+<p>Doubtless, thought Scythrop, this is one of my seven golden
+candlesticks, and at once offered her the asylum of his secret apartments,
+assuring her she might rely on the honour of a transcendental
+eleutherarch.</p>
+
+<p>"I rely on myself," said the lady. "I act as I please, and let the whole
+world say what it will. I am rich enough to set it at defiance. They alone
+are subject to blind authority who have no reliance on their own
+strength."</p>
+
+<p>Stella took possession of the recondite apartments. Scythrop intended to
+find another asylum; but from day to day postponed his intention, and by
+degrees forgot it. The young lady reminded him from day to day, till she
+also forgot it.</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop had now as much mystery about him as any romantic
+transcendentalist could desire. He had his esoterical and his exoterical
+love, and could not endure the thought of losing either of them. His
+father's suspicions were aroused by always finding the door locked on
+visiting Scythrop's study; and one day, hearing a female voice, and, on the
+door being opened, finding his son alone, he looked around and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the lady?"</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop invited him to search the tower, but Mr. Glowry was not to be
+deceived. Scythrop talked loudly, hoping to drown his father's voice, in
+vain.</p>
+
+<p>"I, say, sir, when you are so shortly to be married to your cousin
+Marionetta----"</p>
+
+<p>The bookcase opened in the middle, and the beautiful Stella appeared,
+exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>"Married! Is he going to be married? The profligate!"</p>
+
+<p>"Really, madam," said Mr. Glowry, "I do not know what he is going to do,
+or what anyone is going to do, for all this is incomprehensible."</p>
+
+<p>"I can explain it all," said Scythrop, "if you will have the goodness to
+leave us alone."</p>
+
+<p>Stella threw herself into a chair and burst into a passion of tears.
+Scythrop took her hand. She snatched it away, and turned her back upon him.
+Scythrop continued entreating Mr. Glowry to leave them alone, but he was
+obstinate, and would not go.</p>
+
+<p>A tap at the door, and Mr. Hilary entered. He stood a few minutes in
+silent surprise, then departed in search of Marionetta.</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop was now in a hopeless predicament.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hilary made a hue and cry, summoning his wife and Marionetta, and
+they hastened in consternation to Scythrop's apartments. Mr. Toobad saw
+them, and judging from their manner that the devil had manifested his wrath
+in some new shape, followed, and intercepted Stella's flight at the door by
+catching her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Celinda!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa!" said the young lady disconsolately.</p>
+
+<p>"The devil is come among you!" said Mr. Toobad. "How came my daughter
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>Marionetta, who had fainted, opened her eyes and fixed them on Celinda.
+Celinda, in turn, fixed hers on Marionetta. Scythrop was equi-distant
+between them, like Mahomet's coffin.</p>
+
+<p>"Celinda," said Mr. Toobad, "what does this mean? When I told you in
+London that I had chosen a husband for you, you thought proper to run away
+from him; and now, to all appearance, you have run away to him."</p>
+
+<p>"How, sir? Was that your choice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely; and if he is yours, too, we shall both be of a mind, for the
+first time in our lives."</p>
+
+<p>"He is not my choice, sir. This lady has a prior claim. I renounce
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"And I renounce him!" said Marionetta.</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop knew not what to do. He therefore retreated into his
+stronghold, mystery; maintained an impenetrable silence, and contented
+himself with deprecating glances at each of the objects of his
+idolatry.</p>
+
+<p>The Hon. Mr. Listless, Mr. Flosky, and other guests had been attracted
+by the tumult, multitudinous questions, and answers <i>en masse</i>,
+composed a <i>charivari</i>, which was only terminated by Mrs. Hilary and
+Mr. Toobad retreating with the captive damsels. The whole party followed,
+leaving Scythrop carefully arranged in a pensive attitude.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Scythrop's Fate</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>He was still in this position when the butler entered to announce that
+dinner was on the table. He refused food, and on being told that the party
+was much reduced, everybody had gone, requested the butler to bring him a
+pint of port and a pistol. He would make his exit like Werter, but finally
+took Raven's advice--to dine first, and be miserable afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>He was sipping his Madeira, immersed in melancholy musing, when his
+father entered and requested a rational solution of all this absurdity.</p>
+
+<p>"I will leave it in writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate
+is come. The world is a stage, and my direction is exit."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not talk so, sir; do not talk so, Scythrop! What would you
+have?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would have my love."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, sir, who is your love?"</p>
+
+<p>"Celinda--Marionetta--either--both."</p>
+
+<p>"Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy, but it will not do in
+Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And renounce Marionetta?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"But you must renounce one."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot."</p>
+
+<p>"And you cannot have both. What is to be done?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must shoot myself!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk so, Scythrop! Be rational, Scythrop! Consider, and make a
+cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself on your behalf."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I cannot
+choose either, and I have no resource but a pistol."</p>
+
+<p>"Scythrop--Scythrop, if one of them should come to you, what then? Have
+but a little patience, a week's patience, and it shall be."</p>
+
+<p>"A week, sir, is an age; but to oblige you, as a last act of filial
+duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening, twenty-five
+minutes past seven. At this hour next Thursday love and fate shall smile on
+me, or I will drink my last pint of port in this world."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the
+abbey.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>On the morning of the eventful Thursday, Scythrop ascended the turret
+with a telescope and spied anxiously along the road, till Raven summoned
+him to dinner at five, when he descended to his own funeral feast. He laid
+his pistol between his watch and his bottle. Scythrop rang the bell. Raven
+appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Raven," said he, "the clock is too fast."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," said Raven. "If anything it is too slow----"</p>
+
+<p>"Villain," said Scythrop, pointing the pistol at him, "it is too
+fast!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes--too fast, I meant!" said Raven, in fear.</p>
+
+<p>"Put back my watch!" said Scythrop.</p>
+
+<p>Raven, with trembling hand, was putting back the watch, when the rattle
+of wheels was heard; and Scythrop, springing down the stairs three steps
+together, was at the door in time to hand either of the young ladies from
+the carriage; but Mrs. Glowry was alone.</p>
+
+<p>"I rejoice to see you!" said he. "I was fearful of being too late, for I
+waited till the last moment in the hope of accomplishing my promise; but
+all my endeavours have been vain, as these letters will show."</p>
+
+<p>The first letter ended with the words: "I shall always cherish a
+grateful remembrance of Nightmare Abbey, for having been the means of
+introducing me to a true transcendentalist, and shall soon have the
+pleasure of subscribing myself</p>
+
+<p class="date">"CELINDA FLOSKY."</p>
+
+<p>The other, from Marionetta, wished him much happiness with Miss Toobad,
+and finished with: "I shall always be happy to see you in Berkely Square,
+when, to the unalterable designation of your affectionate cousin, I shall
+subjoin the signature of</p>
+
+<p class="date">"MARIONETTA LISTLESS."</p>
+
+<p>Scythrop tore both the letters to atoms, and railed in good, set terms
+against the fickleness of women.</p>
+
+<p>"Calm yourself, my dear Scythrop," said Mr. Glowry. "There are yet
+maidens in England; and besides, the fatal time is past, for it is now
+almost eight."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that villain Raven deceived me when he said the clock was too
+fast; but I have just reflected these repeated crosses in love qualify me
+to take a very advanced degree in misanthropy. There is therefore, good
+hope that I may make a figure in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Raven appeared. Scythrop looked at him very fiercely, and said, "Bring
+some Madeira!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="JANE_PORTER"></a>JANE PORTER</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_Scottish_Chiefs"></a>The Scottish Chiefs</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Jane Porter was born at Durham in 1776, but at the age of
+four she went to Edinburgh with her family, was brought up in Scotland, and
+had the privilege of knowing Sir Walter Scott. Her first romance, "Thaddeus
+of Warsaw," was published in 1803, soon after she had removed from
+Edinburgh to London. Her next romance, "The Scottish Chiefs," did not
+appear until 1810. It won an immediate popularity, which survived even the
+formidable rivalry of the "Waverley Novels," and the book remained a
+favourite, especially in Scotland, during most of the last century. The
+story abounds in historical inaccuracies, and the characters are addicted
+to conversing in the dialect of melodrama-but these blemishes did not abate
+the vogue of this exciting and spirited work with the reading public. Miss
+Porter remained a prominent figure in London literary society until her
+death on May 24, 1850. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Lady Marion</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Sir William Wallace made his way swiftly along the crags and across the
+river to the cliffs which overlooked the garden of Ellerslie. As he
+approached he saw his newly-wedded wife, the Lady Marion, leaning over the
+couch of a wounded man. She looked up, and, with a cry of joy, threw
+herself into his arms. Blood dropped from his forehead upon her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>"O my Wallace, my Wallace!" cried she in agony.</p>
+
+<p>"Fear not, my love, it is a mere scratch. How is the wounded
+stranger?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Wallace who had saved the stranger's life. That day he had been
+summoned to Douglas Castle, where he had received in secret from Sir John
+Monteith an iron box entrusted to him by Lord Douglas, then imprisoned in
+England; he had been charged to cherish the box in strictness, and not to
+suffer it to be opened until Scotland was again free. Returning with his
+treasure through Lanark, he had seen a fellow countryman wounded, and in
+deadly peril at the hands of a party of English. Telling two of his
+attendants to carry the injured man to Ellerslie, he had beaten off the
+English and slain their leader--Arthur Heselrigge, nephew of the Governor
+of Lanark.</p>
+
+<p>"Gallant Wallace!" said the stranger, "it is Donald, Earl of Mar, who
+owes you his life."</p>
+
+<p>"Then blest be my arm," exclaimed Wallace, "that has preserved a life so
+precious to my country!"</p>
+
+<p>"Armed men are approaching!" cried Lady Marion. "Wallace, you must fly.
+But oh! whither?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not far, my love; I must seek the recesses of the Cartlane Crags. But
+the Earl of Mar--we must conceal him."</p>
+
+<p>They found a hiding-place for the wounded earl, and Wallace went away,
+promising to be near at hand. Hardly had he gone when the door was burst
+open by a band of soldiers, and Lady Wallace was confronted by the governor
+of Lanark.</p>
+
+<p>"Woman!" cried he, "on your allegiance to King Edward, answer me--where
+is Sir William Wallace, the murderer of my nephew?"</p>
+
+<p>She was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I can reward you richly," he went on, "if you speak the truth. Refuse,
+and you die!"</p>
+
+<p>She stretched her hands to heaven.</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed Virgin, to thee I commit myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak!" cried the governor, drawing his sword. She sank to the ground.
+"Kneel not to me for mercy!"</p>
+
+<p>"I kneel to heaven alone," she said firmly, "and may it ever preserve my
+Wallace!"</p>
+
+<p>"Blasphemous wretch!" cried the governor, and he plunged the sword
+through her heart.</p>
+
+<p>A shudder of horror ran through the English soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>"My friends," said Heselrigge, "I reward your services with the plunder
+of Ellerslie."</p>
+
+<p>"Cursed be he who first carries a stick from its walls!" exclaimed a
+veteran.</p>
+
+<p>"Amen!" murmured all the soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>But next day the governor, with a body of soldiers who had not witnessed
+his infamous deed, plundered Ellerslie and burnt it to the ground. During
+the day Lord Mar was brought from his hiding-place, and taken to Bothwell
+Castle; but the English seized him and his wife, and they were placed in
+strict confinement among the English garrison on the Rock of Dumbarton.</p>
+
+<p>An aged retainer carried the awful news of the murder to Wallace in his
+concealment. For long he was overpowered with agony. Then a desperate
+determination arose in his mind. "The sun must not again rise upon
+Heselrigge!" was his thought. He called his followers, and told them of the
+deed. "From this hour," he cried, "may Scotland date her liberty, or
+Wallace return no more!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vengeance! vengeance!" was the cry.</p>
+
+<p>That night the English garrison of Lanark was surprised, and Wallace's
+sword was buried in the body of his wife's murderer.</p>
+
+<p>"So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!" shouted his men
+exultantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he. "Henceforth Wallace
+has neither love nor resentment but for her. From now onwards I devote
+myself to the winning of my country's freedom, or to death in her
+cause."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Wallace the Liberator</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Band after band of Scottish patriots flocked to the banner of
+Wallace--the banner that bore the legend "God armeth the patriot," and in
+which was embroidered a tress of Lady Marion's hair. The making of it had
+been the labour of Lady Helen Mar, daughter of the earl; admiration for
+Wallace's prowess, and sympathy with his misfortune had aroused in
+her--although she had never seen him--an eager devotion to him as the man
+who had dared to strike at tyranny and fight for his country's freedom.</p>
+
+<p>When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St.
+Fillans. But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the
+traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her hand
+had the secret approval of Lady Mar. When the ruffian laid hold upon her,
+he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis and his band
+were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell suddenly upon
+them. Soulis was forced to relinquish his prey, and was carried away by his
+men covered with wounds; while Helen found herself in the presence of a
+gentle and courteous Scottish warrior, who conveyed her to a hermit's cell
+near at hand. Without revealing his name he passed on his way, declaring
+that he went to arouse a few brave spirits to arms. Brief as the interview
+had been, Helen knew when it was ended that she had given her heart to the
+unknown knight.</p>
+
+<p>As her father and mother lay one dark night in Dumbarton Castle, a
+fearful uproar arose without their prison--the clashing of swords, the thud
+of falling bodies, the groans of wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"There is an attack," cried the earl.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, who would venture to attack such a fortress as this?" answered
+Lady Mar.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark! it is the slogan of Sir William Wallace. Oh, for a sword!"
+exclaimed the earl.</p>
+
+<p>A voice was heard begging for mercy--the voice of De Valence, the
+governor.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall die!" was the stern answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, Kirkpatrick, I give him life." The accents were Wallace's.</p>
+
+<p>A battering-ram broke down the prison-door. There stood Wallace and his
+men, their weapons and armour covered with blood. De Valence, evading the
+clutch of Kirkpatrick, thrust his dagger into Wallace's side and fled.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nothing," said Wallace, as he staunched the wound with his
+scarf.</p>
+
+<p>"So is your mercy rewarded," muttered the grim Kirkpatrick.</p>
+
+<p>"So am I true to my duty," returned Wallace, "though De Valence is a
+traitor to his."</p>
+
+<p>The Countess of Mar looked for the first time upon Wallace's
+countenance. He was the enemy of her kinsmen of the house of Cummin;
+unknown to her husband, she had sought to betray him to one of these
+kinsmen; and now, as this beautiful woman beheld the man she had tried to
+injure, a sense of shame, accompanied by a strange fascination, entered her
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p>"How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man!" she said to
+herself. "Hardly have I seen this William Wallace, and yet my very being is
+lost in his!"</p>
+
+<p>Love mingled with ambition in her uneasy mind. Her husband was old and
+wounded; his life would not be long. Wallace had the genius of a conqueror.
+Might he not be proclaimed king of Scotland? She threw herself assiduously
+into his company during the days that followed. At last, with tears in
+eyes, she confessed her love, thinking, in her folly, that she could move
+the heart of one who had consecrated himself to the service of Scotland and
+the memory of Marion.</p>
+
+<p>"Your husband, Lady Mar," he said with gentleness, "is my friend; had I
+even a heart to give to women, not one sigh should arise in it to his
+dishonour. But I am deaf to women, and the voice of love sounds like the
+funeral knell of her who will never breathe it to me more."</p>
+
+<p>He rose, and ere the countess could reply, a messenger entered with news
+from Ayr. Eighteen Scottish chiefs had been treacherously put to death, and
+others were imprisoned and awaiting execution. Wallace and his men marched
+straight to the castle of Ayr, surprised it while the English lords were
+feasting within, and set it afire. Those who escaped the flames either fell
+by Scottish steel, or yielded themselves prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>Castle and fortalice opened their gates before Wallace as he marched
+from Ayr to Berwick; but at Berwick he encountered stout resistance from a
+noble foeman, the Earl of Gloucester, who with his garrison yielded only to
+starvation. Wallace, touched with their valour, permitted them to march out
+with all the honours of war, and with the chivalrous earl he formed a
+friendship that was never dimmed by the enmity of the nations to which they
+belonged.</p>
+
+<p>Soon there came a summons to Stirling. By a dishonourable stratagem of
+De Valence's, Lord and Lady Mar and Helen had been seized and carried to
+Stirling Castle, where Lord Mar was in danger of immediate death. Helen was
+in the power of De Valence, who pressed his hateful suit upon her. Wallace
+and his men marched hastily, and captured the town; once more De Valence
+begged Wallace's mercy, and once more, unworthy as he was, obtained it. But
+the ruthless Cressingham, commanding the castle, placed Lord Mar on the
+battlements with a rope round his neck, and declared that unless the attack
+ceased the earl and his whole family would instantly die. Wallace's reply
+was to bring forward De Valence, pale and trembling. "The moment Lord Mar
+dies, De Valence shall instantly perish," he declared.</p>
+
+<p>Cressingham agreed to an armistice, hoping to gain time until De
+Warenne, with the mighty English host then advancing from the border, had
+reached Stirling. Next morning this great army in its pride poured across
+the bridge of the Forth; but the Scottish warriors, rushing down from the
+hillsides, with Wallace at their head, swept all before them. It was rather
+a carnage than a battle. Those who escaped the steel of Wallace's men were
+thrust into the river, and land and water were burdened with English
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Stirling Castle surrendered, the Scottish prisoners were
+released, and their places were taken by the commanders of the enemy's
+host.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Wallace the Regent</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>When the victorious chiefs were gathering in the hall of the castle,
+Helen looked upon each one with anxious eyes. Would the gentle knight who
+rescued her be in Wallace's train? Lady Mar turned a restless glance upon
+her step-daughter. "Wallace will behold these charms," she cried to
+herself, "and then, where am I?"</p>
+
+<p>Amid a crowd of knights in armour the conqueror entered; and as Helen
+raised her eyes she saw that the knight of her dream, the man who had saved
+her from worse than death, was Wallace himself!</p>
+
+<p>"Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!" cried the patriot Bishop of
+Dunkeld, drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, and pouring
+it upon Wallace's head.</p>
+
+<p>Every knee was bent, and every voice cried "Long live King William!"</p>
+
+<p>"Rise, lords!" exclaimed Wallace. "Kneel not to me--I am but your fellow
+soldier. Bruce lives; God has yet preserved to you a lawful monarch."</p>
+
+<p>Eagerly they sought to persuade him, but in vain. He consented to hold
+the kingdom for the rightful sovereign, under the name of regent, but the
+crown he would not accept. He found a nation waiting on his nod--the hearts
+of half a million people offered to his hand.</p>
+
+<p>On the night before the English prisoners were to start on their journey
+southwards to be exchanged with Scottish nobles--an exchange after which,
+by England's will, the war was to continue--Lady Mar, whose husband was now
+governor of Stirling Castle, gave a banquet in honour of the departing
+knights. The entertainment was conducted with that chivalric courtesy which
+a noble conqueror always pays to the vanquished.</p>
+
+<p>But the spirit of Wallace was sad amid the gaiety; seeking quiet, he
+wandered along a darkened passage that led to the chapel, unobserved save
+by his watchful enemy De Valence--whose hatred had been intensified by the
+knowledge that Helen, whose hand he had again demanded in vain, loved the
+regent. He had guessed her secret, and she had guessed his--the design he
+had of murdering the foe who had twice spared his life.</p>
+
+<p>As Wallace entered the chapel and advanced towards the altar, he saw a
+woman kneeling in prayer. "Defend him, Heavenly Father!" she cried. "Guard
+his unshielded breast from treachery!" It was Helen's voice.</p>
+
+<p>Wallace stepped from the shadow; Helen was transfixed and silent.
+"Continue to offer up these prayers for me," he said gently, "and I shall
+yet think, holy maid, that I have a Marion to pray for me on earth, as well
+as in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"They are for your life," she said in agitation, "for it is
+menaced."</p>
+
+<p>"I will inquire by whom," answered he, "when I have first paid my duty
+at this altar. Pray with me, Lady Helen, for the liberty of Scotland."</p>
+
+<p>As they were praying together, Helen rose with a shriek and flung her
+arms around Wallace. He felt an assassin's steel in his back, and she fell
+senseless on his breast. Her arm was bleeding; she had partly warded off
+the blow aimed at him, and had saved his life. He took her up in his arms,
+and bore her from the chapel to the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Who has done this?" cried Mar, in anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"I know not," replied Wallace, "but I believe some villain who aimed at
+my life." With a gasp he sank back unconscious on the bench.</p>
+
+<p>Helen was the first to recover, and while they were staunching the blood
+that flowed from Wallace's wound, Lady Mar turned to her step-daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you satisfy this anxious company," said she sneeringly, "how it
+happened that you should be alone with the regent? May I ask our noble
+friends to withdraw, and leave this delicate investigation to my own
+family?"</p>
+
+<p>Wallace, recovering his senses, rose hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not leave this place, my lords, till I explain how I came to disturb
+the devotions of Lady Helen;" Straightforwardly and with dignity, he told
+the story of what had happened, and the jealous Lady Mar was silenced.</p>
+
+<p>"But who was the assassin?" they asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall name him to Sir William Wallace alone," said Helen.</p>
+
+<p>But the dagger, found in the chapel, revealed the truth. The chiefs
+clamoured for De Valence's death, Wallace again granted him life. Next
+morning, as the cavalcade of southern knights was starting, Wallace rode up
+and handed the dagger to De Valence.</p>
+
+<p>"The next time that you draw this dagger," said he, "let it be with a
+more knightly aim than assassination."</p>
+
+<p>De Valence, careless of the looks of horror and contempt cast upon him
+by his fellow countrymen, broke it asunder, and, throwing the fragments in
+the air, said to the shivered weapon, "You shall not betray me again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nor you betray our honours, Lord de Valence," said De Warenne sternly.
+"As lord warden of this realm, I order you under arrest until we pass the
+Scottish lines."</p>
+
+<p>After the exchange of prisoners had been effected, Wallace invaded the
+enemy's country, and brought rich stores from the barns of Northumberland
+to the starving people of desolated Scotland. The reduction followed of all
+the fortresses held by the English in Northern Scotland. King Edward
+himself was now advancing; but a greater peril menaced the regent than that
+of the invader.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the nobles, headed by the Earls of Athol, Buchan, and March,
+were bitterly jealous of the ascendancy of a low-born usurper--for so they
+called Scotland's deliverer--and conspired to restore the sovereignty of
+Edward. Their chance of treachery came when Wallace faced the English host
+at Falkirk. When the battle was joined, Athol, Buchan, and all the Cummins,
+crying, "Long live King Edward!" joined the English, and flung themselves
+upon their fellow-countrymen. Grievous was the havoc of Scot on Scot; and
+beside the English king throughout the battle stood Bruce, the rightful
+monarch, aiding in the destruction of his nation's liberties.</p>
+
+<p>But on the night of that disastrous day, a young stranger in splendid
+armour came secretly to Wallace. It was Robert Bruce, seeking to offer his
+services to his country and to wipe out the stigma that his father had cast
+upon his name.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Traitors</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>None fought more fiercely than Robert Bruce in the attack made by
+Wallace's men upon the English on the banks of the Carron, and the traitor,
+Earl of March, fell by the young warrior's own hand. But treason, smitten
+on the field of battle, was rampant at Stirling; and when Wallace returned
+there, bowed with grief at the death of Lord Mar, he found the Cummin
+faction--Lady Mar's kinsmen--in furious revolt against the "upstart." His
+resolution was quickly made; he would not be a cause of civil strife to his
+country.</p>
+
+<p>"Should I remain your regent," said he to the assembled people, "the
+country would be involved in ruinous dissensions. I therefore quit the
+regency; and I bequeath your liberty to the care of the chieftains. But
+should it be again in danger, remember that, while life breathes in this
+heart, the spirit of Wallace will be with you still!" With these words he
+mounted his horse, and rode away, amidst the cries and tears of the
+populace.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mar, whose secret hopes had been stirred afresh by the death of her
+husband, heard with consternation of Wallace's departure. But he went away
+without a thought of her; his mission was the rescue of Helen, to which he
+had pledged himself by the death-bed of Lord Mar. Helen had been kidnapped
+by De Valence, and carried off by him to his castle in Guienne.</p>
+
+<p>Wallace disguised himself as a minstrel, and travelled to Durham, where
+King Edward held his court, and where young Bruce, taken captive, was now
+confined. By making himself known to the Earl of Gloucester, Wallace was
+able to gain access to Bruce, whose father was now dead, and to lay his
+plans before him. These were that Bruce should escape from Durham, that the
+two should travel to Guienne and rescue Helen, and that they should then,
+as unknown strangers, offer their services to Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>The plans were fulfilled. Bruce escaped, De Valence was once more
+deprived of his prey--he did not suspect the identity of the two knights
+until after Helen had been delivered from his clutches--and the pair fought
+as Frenchmen in the wars of Scotland. To few was the truth revealed, and
+only one discovered it--a knight wearing a green plume, who refused to
+divulge his name until Wallace proclaimed his own on the day of
+victory.</p>
+
+<p>But the secret could not be kept for ever, and it was Wallace himself
+who cast off the disguise. At the battle of Rosslyn the day seemed lost; an
+overwhelming mass of English bore down the Scots; men were turning to fly.
+The fate of Wallace's country hung on an instant. Taking off his helmet, he
+waved it in the air with a shout, and, having thus drawn all eyes upon him,
+exclaimed: "Scots, follow William Wallace to victory!" The cry of
+"Wallace!" turned the fugitives; new courage was diffused in every breast;
+defeat was straightway changed into triumph.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this declaration the knight of the green plume came to
+Wallace, tore off the disguise of knighthood, and stood before him the bold
+and unblushing Countess of Mar. It was unconquerable love, she said, that
+had induced her to act thus. Wallace told her once more that his love was
+buried in the grave, and entreated her to refrain from guilty passion.
+Angered, she thrust a dagger at his breast; he wrenched the weapon from her
+hand, and bade her go in peace.</p>
+
+<p>Ere sunset next evening he heard that he had been accused of treason to
+Scotland, and that his accuser was the Countess of Mar.</p>
+
+<p>He faced the false charge, and repudiated it. But such was the hatred of
+the Cummins and their supporters that it was plainly impossible for him to
+serve Scotland, now that his name was known, without causing distraction in
+the country's ranks. He wandered forth, alone save for his ever-faithful
+follower, Edwin Ruthven, a price set upon his head by the relentless
+Edward, leaving his enemies to rejoice, and his friends to despair of
+Scotland's liberty.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>V.--Tragedy and Triumph</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>As Wallace journeyed in the regions made sacred to him by Marion's
+memory, he was met by Sir John Monteith, who offered to conduct him to
+Newark-on-the-Clyde, where he might embark on a vessel about to sail.
+Wallace gladly accepted the offer, little guessing that his old and trusted
+friend Monteith was in the pay of England.</p>
+
+<p>As he and Edwin reposed in a barn near Newark, a force of savages from
+the Irish island of Rathlin burst in upon them. Wallace, with a giant's
+strength, dispersed them as they advanced. But a shout was heard from the
+door. Monteith himself appeared, and an arrow pierced Edwin's heart.
+Wallace threw himself on his knees beside the dying boy. They sprang upon
+him, and bound him. Wallace was Edward's prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>As he lay in the Tower of London awaiting death, a page-boy entered
+nervously, and turned pale when he cast his eyes upon him. He started; he
+recognised the features of her who alone had ever shared his meditations
+with Marion.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Helen," he cried, "has God sent you hither to be His harbinger of
+consolation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not abhor me for this act of madness?" said Helen, in deep
+agitation. "And yet, where should I live or die but at the feet of my
+benefactor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Helen," exclaimed Wallace, "thy soul and Marion's are indeed one;
+and as one I love ye!"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the Earl of Gloucester entered, and to this true friend
+Wallace expressed his wish that he and Helen should be united by the sacred
+rites of the church. Gloucester retired, and returned with a priest; the
+pair were joined as man and wife.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later Wallace stood on the scaffold. The executioner approached
+to throw the rope over the neck of his victim. Helen, with a cry, rushed to
+his bosom. Clasping her to him, he exclaimed in a low voice: "Helen, we
+shall next meet to part no more. May God preserve my country, and--" He
+stopped--he fell. Gloucester bent to his friend and spoke, but all was
+silent. He had died unsullied by the rope of Edward.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said Gloucester, in deepest grief, "there broke the noblest
+heart that ever beat in the breast of man."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>It was the evening after Bannockburn. The English hosts were in
+panic-stricken flight; Scotland at last was free. Robert Bruce, king and
+conquerer, entered the Abbey of Cambuskenneth with his betrothed, Isabella,
+and stood before the bier of Wallace.</p>
+
+<p>Helen, wan and fragile, was borne on a litter from the adjoining
+nunnery. In her presence Bruce and Isabella were wedded; her trembling
+hands were held over them in blessing; then she threw herself prostrate on
+the coffin.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of Wallace's bier stood the iron box that the dead chieftain
+had so faithfully cherished. "Let this mysterious coffer be opened," said
+the Abbot of Inchaffray, "to reward the deliverer of Scotland according to
+its intent" Bruce unclasped the lock, and the regalia of Scotland was
+discovered!</p>
+
+<p>"And thus Wallace crowns thee!" said the Bishop of Dunkeld, taking the
+diadem from its coffer and setting it on Brace's head.</p>
+
+<p>But Helen lay motionless. They raised her, and looked upon a clay-cold
+face. Her soul had fled.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_SERGEYEVITCH_PUSHKIN"></a>ALEXANDER SERGEYEVITCH
+PUSHKIN</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_Captains_Daughter"></a>The Captain's Daughter</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Alexander Sergeyevitch Pushkin was born at Moscow on June
+7, 1799. He came of an ancient family, a strange ancestor being a favourite
+negro ennobled by Peter the Great, who bequeathed to him a mass of curly
+hair and a somewhat darker skin than usually falls to the lot of the
+ordinary Russian. Early in life a daring "Ode to Liberty" brought him the
+displeasure of the court, and the young poet narrowly escaped a journey to
+Siberia by accepting an official post at Kishineff, in Southern Russia. But
+on the accession of Tsar Nicholas in 182s, Pushkin was recalled and
+appointed imperial historiographer. His death, which occurred on February
+10, 1837, was the result of a duel fought with his brother-in-law.
+Pushkin's career was one of almost unparallelled brilliancy. As a poet, he
+still remains the greatest Russia has produced; and although his prose
+works do not rise to the high standard of his verse, yet they are of no
+inconsiderable merit. "The Captain's Daughter, a Russian Romance," was
+written about 1831, and published under the <i>nom de plume</i> of Ivan
+Byelkin. It is a story of the times of Catherine II., and is not only told
+with interest and charm, but with great simplicity and reality, and with a
+due sense of drama. Others of his novels are "The Pistol Shot," "The Queen
+of Spades," and "The Undertaker," the last-named a grim story in a style
+that has been familiarised to English readers by Edgar Allan Poe.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--I Join the Army</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>My father, after serving in the army, had retired with the rank of
+senior major. Since that time he had always lived on his estate, where he
+married the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the neighbourhood. All
+my brothers and sisters died young, and it was decided that I should enter
+the army.</p>
+
+<p>When I was nearly seventeen, instead of being sent to join the guards'
+regiment at Petersburg, my father told me I was going to Orenburg. "You
+will learn nothing at Petersburg but to spend money and commit follies," he
+said. "No, you shall smell powder and become a soldier, not an idler."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed horrible to me to be doomed to the dullness of a savage and
+distant province, and to lose the gaiety I had been looking forward to; but
+there was nothing for it but to submit.</p>
+
+<p>The morning arrived for my departure, the travelling carriage was at the
+door, and our old servant Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch was in attendance to
+accompany me.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later, when we were nearing our destination, a snowstorm
+overtook us. We might have perished in the snow, for all traces of the road
+were lost, but for a stranger who guided us to a small and lonely inn,
+where we passed the night. In the morning, to the sorrow of
+Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch, I insisted on giving our guide, who was but thinly
+clad, one of my cloaks--a hare-skin <i>touloup</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, your excellency," said the vagrant, "and may heaven reward you.
+As long as I live I shall never forget your kindness."</p>
+
+<p>I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hare-skin <i>touloup</i>,
+and on arrival at Orenburg hasted to wait on the general, an old
+comrade-in-arms of my father's. The general received me kindly, examined my
+commission, told me there was nothing for me to do in Orenburg, and sent me
+on to Fort B&eacute;logorsk to serve under Commander Mironoff.
+B&eacute;logorsk lay about thirty miles beyond Orenburg, on the frontier of
+the Kirghiz Kaisak Steppes, and it was to this outlandish place I was
+banished.</p>
+
+<p>I expected to see high bastions, a wall and a ditch, but there was
+nothing at B&eacute;logorsk but a little village, surrounded by a wooden
+palisade. An old iron cannon was near the gateway, the streets were narrow
+and crooked, and the commandant's house to which I had been driven was a
+wooden erection.</p>
+
+<p>Vassilissa Ignorofna, the commandant's wife, received me with simple
+kindness, and treated me at once as one of the family. An old army
+pensioner and Palashka, the one servant, laid the cloth for dinner; while
+in the square, near the house, the commandant, a tall and hale old man,
+wearing a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap, was busy drilling some
+twenty elderly men--all pensioners.</p>
+
+<p>Chvabrine, an officer who had been dismissed from the guards for
+fighting a duel, and Marya, a young girl of sixteen, with a fresh, round
+face, the commandant's daughter, were also at dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Mironoff pleaded in excuse for being late for dinner that he had been
+busy drilling his little soldiers, but his wife cut him short
+ruthlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," she said, "you're only boasting; they are past service, and
+you don't remember much about the drill. Far better for you to stay at home
+and say your prayers." Vassilissa Ignorofna never seemed to stop talking,
+and overwhelmed me with questions.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of a few weeks I found that she not only led her husband
+completely, but also directed all military affairs, and ruled the fort as
+completely as she did the household. This really suited Ivan Mironoff very
+well, for he was a good-hearted, uneducated man, staunch and true, who had
+been raised from the ranks, and was now grown lazy. Both husband and wife
+were excellent people, and I soon became attached to them, and to the
+daughter Marya, an affectionate and sensible girl.</p>
+
+<p>As for Chvabrine, he at first professed great friendship for me; but
+being in love with Marya, who detested him, he began to hate me when he saw
+a growing friendliness between Marya and myself.</p>
+
+<p>I was now an officer, but there was little work for me to do. There was
+no drill, no mounting guard, no reviewing of troops. Sometimes Captain
+Mironoff tried to drill his soldiers, but he never succeeded in making them
+know the right hand from the left.</p>
+
+<p>All seemed peace, in spite of my quarrels with Chvabrine. Every day I
+was more and more in love with Marya, and the notion that we might be
+disturbed at Fort B&eacute;logorsk by any repetition of the riots and
+revolts which had taken place in the province of Orenburg the previous year
+was not entertained. Danger was nearer than we had imagined. The Cossacks
+and half-savage tribes of the frontier were again already in revolt.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Rebel Chief</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>One evening early in October, 1773, Captain Mironoff called Chvabrine
+and me to his house. He had received a letter from the general at Orenburg
+with information that a fugitive Cossack named Pugatch&eacute;f had taken
+the name of the late Czar, Peter III., and, with an army of robbers, was
+rousing the country, destroying forts and committing murder and theft. The
+news spread quickly, and then came a disquieting report that a neighbouring
+fort some sixteen miles away had been taken by Pugatch&eacute;f, and its
+officers hanged.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Mironoff nor Vassilissa showed any fear, and the latter declined
+to leave B&eacute;logorsk, though willing that Marya should be sent to
+Orenburg for safety. An insolent proclamation from Pugatch&eacute;f,
+inviting us to surrender on peril of death, and the treachery of our
+Cossacks and of Chvabrine, who went over at once to the rebels, only made
+the commandant and his wife more resolute.</p>
+
+<p>"The scoundrel!" cried Vassilissa. "He has the impudence to invite us to
+lay our flag at his feet, and he doesn't know we have been forty years in
+the service!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the same when Pugatch&eacute;f was actually at our door, and the
+assault had actually begun. Old Ivan Mironoff blessed his daughter, and
+embraced his wife, and then faced death. There was no fight in the poor old
+pensioners who made up our garrison, and both Mironoff and myself were soon
+captured, bound with ropes, and led before Pugatch&eacute;f.</p>
+
+<p>The commandant indignantly refused to swear fidelity to the robber
+chief, and was hanged there and then in the market square; an old one-eyed
+lieutenant was soon swinging by his side. Then came my turn, and I gave the
+same answer as my captain had done. The rope was round my neck, when
+Pugatch&eacute;f shouted out "Stop!" and ordered my release. A few minutes
+later, and poor old Vassilissa, who had come in search of her husband, was
+lying dead in the market square, cut down by a Cossack's sword.
+Pugatch&eacute;f's arrival had prevented Marya's escape to Orenburg, and
+she was now lying too ill to be moved, in the house of Father Garassim, the
+parish priest.</p>
+
+<p>Pugatch&eacute;f gave me leave to depart in safety, but before
+Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch and I left the fort, the rebel bade me come and see
+him. He laughed aloud when I presented myself.</p>
+
+<p>"Who would have thought," he said, "that the man who guided you to a
+lodging on that night of the snowstorm was the great tzar himself? But you
+shall see better things; I will load you with favours when I have recovered
+my empire."</p>
+
+<p>Then he invited me again and again to enter his service, but I told him
+I had sworn fidelity to the crown; and finally he let me go, saying:
+"Either entirely punish or entirely pardon. Tell the officers at Orenburg
+they may expect me in a week."</p>
+
+<p>It hurt me to leave Marya behind, especially as Pugatch&eacute;f had
+made Chvabrine commandant of the fort, but there was no help for it. Father
+Garassim and his wife bade me good-bye. "Except you, poor Marya has no
+longer any protector or comforter," said the priest's wife.</p>
+
+<p>At Orenburg I was in safety, but the town was soon besieged, and I could
+not persuade the general to sally out and attack the rebels. All through
+those dreary weeks of the siege I was wondering anxiously about Marya, and
+then one day when we had been driving off a party of cossacks, one of the
+rebels, whom I recognised a former soldier at B&eacute;logorsk, lingered to
+give me a letter. It was from Marya, and she told me that she was now in
+the house of Chvabrine, who threatened to kill her or hand her over to the
+robber camp if she did not marry him, and that she had but three days left
+before her fate would be sealed. Death would be easier, she said, than to
+be the wife of a man like Chvabrine.</p>
+
+<p>I rushed off at once to the general, and implored him to give me a
+battalion of soldiers, and let me march on B&eacute;logorsk; but the
+general only shook his head, and said the expedition was unreasonable.</p>
+
+<p>I decided to go alone and appeal to Pugatch&eacute;f, but the faithful
+Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch insisted on accompanying me, and together we arrived
+at the rebel camp.</p>
+
+<p>Pugatch&eacute;f received me quite cordially, and I told him the truth,
+that I was in love with Marya, and that Chvabrine was persecuting her. He
+flared up indignantly at Chvabrine's presumption, and declared he would
+take me at once to B&eacute;logorsk, and attend my wedding. But on our
+arrival Chvabrine mentioned that Marya was the daughter of Mironoff, and
+immediately the countenance of the robber chief clouded over.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," I said, knowing Pugatch&eacute;f was well disposed towards me.
+"Do not ask of me anything against my honour or my conscience. Let me go
+with this unhappy orphan whither God shall direct, and whatever befall we
+will pray every day to God to watch over you."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if Pugatch&eacute;f's fierce heart was touched. "Be it as
+you wish," he answered. "Either entirely punish or entirely pardon is my
+motto. Take your pretty one where you like, and may God give you love and
+wisdom."</p>
+
+<p>A safe-conduct pass was given us, and I made up my mind to take Marya to
+my parents' house. I knew my father would think it a duty and an honour to
+shelter the daughter of a veteran who had died for his country. But Marya
+said she would never be my wife unless my parents approved of the marriage.
+We set off, and as we started I saw Chvabrine standing at the commandant's
+window, with a face of dark hatred.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Arrest</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>I parted from Marya two days later, and entrusted her to
+Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch, who promised me to escort her faithfully to my
+parents. My reason for this was that we had fallen in with a detachment of
+the army, and the officer in charge persuaded me to join him, and it seemed
+to me I was bound in honour to serve the tzarina.</p>
+
+<p>So all that winter, and right on till the spring came, we pursued the
+rebels; and still Pugatch&eacute;f remained untaken; and this war with the
+robbers went on to the destruction of the countryside.</p>
+
+<p>At last Pugatch&eacute;f was taken, and the war was at an end. A few
+days later I should have been in the bosom of my family, when an unforeseen
+thunderbolt struck me. I was ordered to be arrested and sent to Khasan, to
+the commission of inquiry appointed to try Pugatch&eacute;f and his
+accomplices.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had I arrived in Khasan than I was lodged in prison, and irons
+were placed on my ankles. It was a bad beginning, but I was full of hope
+and courage, and believed that I could easily explain my dealings with
+Pugatch&eacute;f.</p>
+
+<p>The next day I was summoned to appear before the commission, and asked
+how long I had been in Pugatch&eacute;f's service.</p>
+
+<p>I replied indignantly that I had never been in his service; and then
+when I was asked how it was he had spared my life and given me a
+safe-conduct pass I told the story of the guide in the snowstorm and the
+hair-skin <i>touloup</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the question how was it I had left Orenburg, and gone straight
+to the rebel camp?</p>
+
+<p>I felt I could not bring in Marya's name, and expose her as a witness to
+the cross-examination of the commission, and so I stammered and became
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>The officer of the guard then requested that I should be confronted with
+my principal accuser, and Chvabrine was brought into court. A great change
+had come over him. He was pale and thin, and his hair had already turned
+grey. In a feeble but clear voice Chvabrine went through his story against
+me; that I had been Pugatch&eacute;f's spy in Orenburg, and that after
+leaving that town I had done all I could to aid the rebels. I was glad of
+one thing, some spark of feeling kept him from mentioning Marya's name.</p>
+
+<p>I told the judges I could only repeat my former statement that I was
+entirely innocent of any part in the rebellion; and then I was taken back
+to prison, and underwent no further examination.</p>
+
+<p>Several weeks passed, and then my father was informed that the tzarina
+had condescended to pardon his criminal son, and remit the capital
+punishment, condemning him instead to exile for life in the heart of
+Siberia.</p>
+
+<p>The unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He had heard of my arrest,
+and both Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch and Marya had assured him of my complete
+innocence. Now he broke out into bitter lament.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" he kept on saying. "What! My son mixed up in the plots of
+Pugatch&eacute;f! Just God! What have I lived to see! The tzarina grants
+him life, but does that make it easier for me to bear? It is not the
+execution which is horrible. My ancestors have perished on the scaffold for
+conscience sake; but that an officer should join with robbers and felons!
+Shame on our race for ever!"</p>
+
+<p>In vain my mother endeavoured to comfort him by talking of the injustice
+of the verdict. My father was inconsolable.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Captain's Daughter to the Rescue</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>From the first Marya had been received with the warm-hearted hospitality
+that belonged to old-fashioned country people. The opportunity of giving a
+home to a poor orphan seemed to them a favour from God. In a very short
+time they were sincerely attached to her, for no one could know Marya
+without loving her, and both my father and my mother looked forward to the
+union of their son Peter with the captain's daughter.</p>
+
+<p>My trial and condemnation plunged all three into misery; and Marya,
+believing that I could have justified myself had I chosen, and suspecting
+the motive which had kept me silent, and holding herself the sole cause of
+my misfortune, determined to save me.</p>
+
+<p>All at once she informed my parents that she was obliged to start for
+Petersburg, and begged them to give her the means to do so.</p>
+
+<p>"Why must you go to Petersburg?" said my mother, in distress. "You,
+too--are you also going to forsake us?"</p>
+
+<p>Marya answered that she was going to seek help from people in high
+position for the daughter of a man who had fallen a victim to his
+fidelity.</p>
+
+<p>My father could only bow his head. "Go," he said. "I do not wish to cast
+any obstacles between you and your happiness. May God grant you an honest
+man, and not a convicted traitor, for husband."</p>
+
+<p>To my mother alone Marya confided her plans, and then, with her maid
+Palashka and the faithful Sav&eacute;l&uuml;tch--who, parted from me,
+consoled himself by remembering he was serving my betrothed--set out for
+the capital.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at Sofia, Marya learnt that the court was at the summer palace
+of Tzarskoe-Selo, and at once resolved to stop there. She was able to get a
+lodging at the post-house, and the postmaster's wife, who was a regular
+gossip, began to tell her all the routine of the palace, at what hour the
+tzarina rose, had her coffee, and walked in the gardens.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the imperial
+gardens. She saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench near the large
+lake, and went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The lady
+wore a cap and a white morning gown, and a light cloak. She appeared to be
+about fifty years old, and the repose and gravity of her face, and the
+sweetness of her blue eyes and her smile, all attracted Marya and inspired
+confidence. The lady was the first to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not belong to this place?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, madame. I only arrived yesterday from the country."</p>
+
+<p>"You came with your parents?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, madame, alone. I have neither father nor mother."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very young to travel by yourself. You have come on
+business?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, madame. I have come to present a petition to the tzarina."</p>
+
+<p>"You are an orphan. It is some injustice or wrong you complain of? What
+is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff, and it is for mercy I have come
+to ask."</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Mironoff? He commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg
+district?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, madame."</p>
+
+<p>The lady seemed moved.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," she said, speaking even more gently, "if I meddle in your
+affairs; but I am going to court. Perhaps if you explain to me what it is
+you want, I may be able to help you."</p>
+
+<p>Marya rose and curtsied; then she took from her pocket a folded paper,
+and handed it to her protectress, who read it over. Suddenly the gentleness
+turned to hardness in the face of the unknown lady.</p>
+
+<p>"You plead for Peter Grineff!" she said coldly. "The tzarina cannot
+grant him mercy. He passed over to this rebel not in ignorance, but because
+he is depraved."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not true!" cried Marya. "Before God it is not true! I know all; I
+will tell you everything. It was only on my account that he exposed himself
+to the misfortunes which have overtaken him. And if he did not vindicate
+himself before the judges, it was because he did not wish me to be mixed up
+in the affair."</p>
+
+<p>And Marya went on to relate all that had taken place at
+B&eacute;logorsk.</p>
+
+<p>When she had finished, the lady asked her where she lodged, and told her
+she would not have to wait long for an answer to the letter.</p>
+
+<p>Marya went back to the post-house full of hope, and presently, to the
+consternation of her hostess, a lackey in the imperial livery entered and
+announced that the tzarina condescended to summon to her presence the
+daughter of Captain Mironoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens!" cried the postmaster's wife. "The tzarina summons you to
+court! And I'm sure you don't even know how to walk in court fashion. Shall
+I send for a dressmaker I know who will lend you her yellow gown with
+flounces? I think I ought to take you."</p>
+
+<p>But the lackey explained that the tzarina wanted Marya to come alone,
+and in the dress she should happen to be wearing. There was nothing for it
+but to obey, and, with a beating heart, Marya got into the carriage and was
+driven to the palace. Presently she was ushered into the boudoir of the
+tzarina, and recognised the lady of the garden.</p>
+
+<p>The tzarina spoke graciously to her, telling Marya that it was a
+happiness to grant her prayer.</p>
+
+<p>"I have had it all looked into, and I am convinced of the innocence of
+your betrothed. Here is a letter for your father-in-law. Do not be uneasy
+about the future. I know you are not rich, but I owe a debt to the daughter
+of Captain Mironoff."</p>
+
+<p>Marya, all in tears, fell at the feet of the tzarina, who raised her and
+kissed her forehead. The tzarina almost overwhelmed the orphan before she
+dismissed her.</p>
+
+<p>That same day Marya hastened back to my father's house in the country,
+without even having the curiosity to see the sights of Petersburg.</p>
+
+<p>I was released from captivity at the end of the year 1774, and, as it
+happened, I was present in Moscow when Pugatch&eacute;f was executed in the
+following year. The famous robber chief recognised me as I stood in the
+crowd, and bade me farewell with a silent movement of his head. A few
+moments later and the executioner held up the lifeless head for all the
+people to look upon.</p>
+
+<p>Chvabrine I never saw again after the day I was confronted with him at
+my trial.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after Pugatch&eacute;f's death, Marya and I were married from my
+father's house.</p>
+
+<p>An autograph letter from the tzarina, Catherine II., framed and glazed,
+is carefully preserved. It is addressed to the father of Peter Grineff, and
+contains, with the acquittal of his son, many praises of the intelligence
+and good heart of the daughter of Captain Mironoff.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="FRANCOIS_RABELAIS"></a>FRANCOIS RABELAIS</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Gargantua_and_Pantagruel"></a>Gargantua and Pantagruel</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Francois Rabelais was born at Seuill&eacute; in Touraine,
+France, about 1483. Brought up in a Franciscan convent, he was made a
+priest in 1520. During his monastic career he conceived a deep and lasting
+contempt for monkish life, and he obtained permission from the Pope to
+become a secular priest. He then studied medicine, and became a physician.
+After wandering about France for many years, he was appointed parish priest
+of Meudon in 1551, and he died at Paris in 1553. "The Great and Inestimable
+Chronicles of the Grand and Enormous Giant Gargantua" ("Les Grandes et
+Inestimables Chroniques du Grande et Enorme G&eacute;ant Gargantua"), and
+its sequel, "Pantagruel," appeared between 1533 and 1564. Had these
+appeared during Rabelais' life, his career would probably have been shorter
+than it was, for the work is, with all its humour, a very bitter satire
+against both the Roman Church and the Calvinistic. Rabelais is one of the
+very great French writers and humourists whose work is closely connected
+with English literature. But what he borrowed from Sir Thomas More, he
+generously repaid to Shakespeare, Swift, and Sterne. The famous Abbey of
+Thelema is inspired by More's "Utopia"; on the other hand, Shakespeare's
+praise of debt is taken from the speech of Panurge--the most humorous
+character in French literature, and worthy to stand beside Falstaff.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Very Horrific Life of the Great Gargantua</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Grangousier was a right merry fellow in his time, and he had as great a
+love as any man living in the world for neat wine and salt meat. When he
+came to man's estate he married Gargamelle, daughter to the king of the
+Parpaillons, a jolly wench and good looking, who died in giving birth to a
+son.</p>
+
+<p>They had gone out with their neighbours in a hurl to Willow Grove, and
+there on the thick grass they danced so gallantly that it was a heavenly
+sport to see them so frolic. Then began flagons to go, gammons to trot,
+goblets to fly, and glasses to rattle. "Draw, reach, fill, mix. Give it to
+me--without water; so my friend. Whip me off this bowl gallantly. Bring me
+some claret, a full glass running over. A truce to thirst! By my faith,
+gossip, I cannot get in a drinking humour! Have you caught a cold, gammer?
+Let's talk of drinking. Which was first, thirst or drinking? Thirst, for
+who would have drunk without thirst in the time of innocence? I do, as I am
+a sinner. I drink to prevent thirst. I drink for the thirst to come. Let's
+have a song, a catch; let us sing a round. Drink for ever, and you shall
+never die! When I am not drinking I am as good as dead. Drink, or I'll--The
+appetite comes with eating and the thirst goes with drinking. Nature abhors
+a vacuum. Swallow it down, it is wholesome medicine!"</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that Gargantua was born. He did not whimper as the
+other babes used to do, but with a high, sturdy, and big voice, he shouted
+out, "Drink, drink, drink!" The sound was so extremely great that it rang
+over two counties. I am afraid that you do not thoroughly believe in the
+truth of this strange nativity. Believe it or not, I do not care. But an
+honest man, a man of good sense, always believes what is told him, and what
+he finds written.</p>
+
+<p>When the good man Grangousier, who was then merrily drinking with his
+guests, heard his son roar out for drink, he said to him in French, "Que
+Grand Tu As et souple le gousier!" That is to say, "How great and nimble a
+throat thou hast." Hearing this, the company said that the child verily
+ought to be called Gargantua, because it was the first word uttered by his
+father at his birth. Which the father graciously permitted, and to calm the
+child they gave him enough drink to crack his throat, and then carried him
+to the font where he was christened according to the manner of good
+Christians.</p>
+
+<p>So great was Gargantua, even when a babe of a day old, that seventeen
+thousand nine hundred and thirteen cows were required to furnish him with
+milk. By the ancient records to be seen in the chamber of accounts at
+Montsoreau, I find that nine thousand six hundred ells of blue velvet were
+used for his gown, four hundred and six ells of crimson velvet were taken
+up for his shoes, which were soled with the hides of eleven hundred brown
+cows; and the rest of his costume was in proportion. By the commandment of
+his father, Gargantua was brought up and instructed in all convenient
+discipline, and he spent his time like the other children of the
+country--that is, in drinking, eating, and sleeping; in eating, sleeping,
+and drinking; and in sleeping, drinking, and eating.</p>
+
+<p>In his youth he studied hard under a very learned man, called Master
+Tubal Holofermes, and, after studying with him for five years and three
+months, he learnt so much that he was able to say the alphabet backwards.
+About this time, the king of Numidia sent out of the country of Africa to
+Grangousier, the hugest and most enormous mare that was ever seen. She was
+as large as six elephants, and of a burnt sorrel colour with dapple grey
+spots; but, above all, she had a horrible tail. For it was little more or
+less as great as the pillar of St. Mars, which, as you know, is eighty-six
+feet in height.</p>
+
+<p>When Grangousier saw her, he said, "Here is the very thing to carry my
+son to Paris. He shall go there and learn what the study of the young men
+of France is, and in time to come he shall be a great scholar!"</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, after, of course, drinking, Gargantua set out on his
+journey. He passed his time merrily along the highway, until he came a
+little above Orleans, in which place there was a forest five-and-thirty
+leagues long and seventeen wide. This forest was most horribly fertile and
+abundant in gadflies and hornets, so that it was a very purgatory for asses
+and horses. But Gargantua's mare handsomely avenged all the outrages
+committed upon beasts of her kind. For as soon as she entered the forest,
+and the hornets gave the attack, she drew out her tail and swished it
+about, and swept down all the trees with as much ease as a mower cuts
+grass. And since then there has been neither a forest nor a hornet's nest
+in that place, for all the country was thereby reduced to pasture land.</p>
+
+<p>At last Gargantua came to Paris, and inquired what wine they drank
+there, and what learning was to be had. Everybody in Paris looked upon him
+with great admiration. For the people of this city are by nature so
+sottish, idle, and good-for-nothing, that a mountebank, a pardoner come
+from Rome to sell indulgences, or a fiddler in the crossways, will attract
+together more of them than a good preacher of the Gospel. So troublesome
+were they in pursuing Gargantua, that he was compelled to seek a
+resting-place on the towers of Notre Dame. There he amused himself by
+ringing the great bells, and it came into his mind that they would serve as
+cowbells to hang on the neck of his mare, so he carried them off to his
+lodging.</p>
+
+<p>At this all the people of Paris rose up in sedition. They are, as you
+know, so ready to uproars and insurrections, that foreign nations wonder at
+the stupidity of the kings of France at not restraining them from such
+tumultuous courses, seeing the manifold inconveniences which thence arise
+from day to day. Believe for a truth, that the place where the people
+gathered together was called Nesle; there, after the case was proposed and
+argued, they resolved to send the oldest and most able of their learned men
+unto Gargantua to explain to him the great and horrible prejudice they
+sustained by the want of their bells. Thereupon Gargantua put up the bells
+again in their place, and in acknowledgement of his courtesy, the citizens
+offered to maintain and feed his mare as long as he pleased. And they sent
+her to graze in the forest of Bi&eacute;re, but I do not think she is there
+now.</p>
+
+<p>For some years Gargantua studied at Paris under a wise and able master,
+and grew expert in manly sports of all kinds, as well as in learning of
+every sort. Then he was called upon to return to his country to take part
+in a great and horrible war.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Marvellous Deeds of Friar John</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The war began in this way: At the time of the vintage, the shepherds of
+Grangousier's country were set to guard the vines and hinder the starlings
+from eating the grapes. Seeing some cake-bakers of Lern&eacute; passing
+down the highway with ten or twelve loads of cakes, the shepherds
+courteously asked them to sell some of their wares at the market price. The
+cake-bakers, however, were in no way inclinable to the request of the
+shepherds; and, what is worse, they insulted them hugely, calling them
+babblers, broken-mouths, carrot-pates, tunbellies, fly-catchers, sneakbies,
+joltheads, slabberdegullion druggels, and other defamatory epithets. And
+when one honest shepherd came forward with the money to buy some of the
+cakes, a rude cake-baker struck him a rude lash with a whip. Thereupon some
+farmers and their men, who were watching their walnuts close by, ran up
+with their great poles and long staves, and thrashed the cake-bakers as if
+they had been green rye.</p>
+
+<p>When they were returned to Lern&eacute;, the cake-makers complained to
+their king, Picrochole, saying that all the mischief was done by the
+shepherds of Grangousier. Picrochole incontinently grew angry and furious,
+and without making any further question, he had it cried throughout his
+country that every man, under pain of hanging, should assemble in arms at
+noon before his castle. Thereupon, without order or measure, his men took
+the field, ravaging and wasting everything wherever they passed through.
+All that they said to any man that cried them mercy, was: "We will teach
+you to eat cakes!"</p>
+
+<p>Having pillaged the town of Seuill&eacute;, they went on with the
+horrible tumult to an abbey. Finding it well barred and made fast, seven
+companies of foot and two hundred lances broke down the walls of the close,
+and began to lay waste the vineyard. The poor devils of monks did not know
+to what saint to pray in their extremity, and they made processions and
+said litanies against their foes. But in the abbey at that time was a
+cloister-monk named Friar John of the Trenchermen, young, gallant, frisky,
+lusty, nimble, quick, active, bold, resolute, tall, wide-mouthed, and
+long-nosed; a fine mumbler of matins, a fair runner through masses, and a
+great scourer of vigils--to put it short, a true monk, if ever there was
+one since the monking world monked a monkery. This monk, hearing the noise
+that the enemy made in the vineyard, went to see what they were doing, and
+perceiving that they were gathering the grapes out of which next year's
+drink of the abbey ought to be made, he grew mighty angry. "The devil take
+me," he cried, "if they have not already chopped our vines so that we shall
+have no drink for years to come! Did not St. Thomas of England die for the
+goods of the church? If I died in the same cause should I not be a saint
+likewise? However, I shall not die for them, but make other men to do
+so."</p>
+
+<p>Throwing off his monk's habit, he took up a cross made out of a sour
+apple-tree, which was as long as a lance, and with it he laid on lustily
+upon his enemies. He scattered the brains of some, and the legs and arms of
+others. He broke their necks; he had off their heads; he smashed their
+bones; he caved in their ribs; he impaled them, and he transfixed them.
+Believe me, it was a most horrible spectacle that ever man saw. Some died
+without speaking, others spoke without dying; some died while they were
+speaking, others spoke while they were dying. So great was the cry of the
+wounded, that the prior and all his monks came forth, and seeing the poor
+wretches hurt to death, began to confess them. But when those who had been
+shriven tried to depart, Friar John felled them with a terrible blow,
+saying, "These men have had confession and are repentant, so straight they
+go into Paradise!"</p>
+
+<p>Thus by his prowess and valour were discomfited all those of the army,
+under the number of thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-two, that
+entered the abbey close. Gargantua, who had come from Paris to help his
+father against Picrochole, heard of the marvellous feats of Friar John, and
+sought his aid, and by means of it utterly defeated the enemy. What became
+of Picrochole after his defeat I cannot say with certainty, but I was told
+that he is now a porter at Lyons. He always inquires of all strangers on
+the coming of the Cocquecigrues, for an old woman has prophesied that at
+their coming he shall be re-established in his kingdom.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Abbey of Thelema</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Gargantua was mightily pleased with Friar John, and he wanted to make
+him abbot of several abbeys in his country. But the monk said he would
+never take upon him the government of monks. "Give me leave," he said, "to
+found an abbey after my own fancy." The notion pleased Gargantua, who
+thereupon offered him all the country of Thelema by the river of Loire.
+Friar John then asked Gargantua to institute his religious order contrary
+to all others. At that time they placed no women into nunneries save those
+who were ugly, ill-made, foolish, humpbacked, or corrupt; nor put any men
+into monasteries save those that were sickly, ill-born, simple-witted, and
+a burden to their family. Therefore, it was ordained that into this abbey
+of Thelema should be admitted no women that were not beautiful and of a
+sweet disposition, and no men that were not handsome, well-made, and
+well-conditioned. And because both men and women that are received into
+religious orders are constrained to stay there all the days of their lives,
+it was therefore laid down that all men and women admitted to Thelema
+should have leave to depart whenever it seemed good to them. And because
+monks and nuns made three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, it was
+appointed that those who entered into the new order might be rich and
+honourably married and live at liberty.</p>
+
+<p>For the building of the abbey Gargantua gave twenty-seven hundred
+thousand eight hundred and thirty-one long-wooled sheep; and for the
+maintenance thereof he gave an annual fee-farm rent of twenty-three hundred
+and sixty-nine thousand five hundred and fourteen rose nobles. In the
+building were nine thousand three hundred and thirty-two apartments, each
+furnished with an inner chamber, a cabinet, a wardrobe, a chapel, and an
+opening into a great hall. The abbey also contained fine great libraries
+and spacious picture galleries.</p>
+
+<p>All the life of the Thelemites was laid out, not by laws and rules, but
+according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose from their beds
+when it seemed good to them; they drank, worked, ate, slept, when the wish
+came upon them. No one constrained them in anything, for so had Gargantua
+established it. Their rule consisted of this one clause:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+DO WHAT THOU WILT<br />
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Because men are free, well-born, well-bred, conversant in honest
+company, have by nature an instinct and a spur that always prompt them to
+virtuous actions and withdraw them from vice; and this they style honour.
+When the time was come that any man wished to leave the abbey, he carried
+with him one of the ladies who had taken him for her faithful servant, and
+they were married together; and if they had formerly lived together in
+Thelema in devotion and friendship, still more did they so continue in
+wedlock; insomuch that they loved one another to the end of their lives, as
+on the first day of their marriage.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Pantagruel and Panurge</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>At the age of four hundred four score and forty-four years, Gargantua
+had a son by his wife, Badebec, daughter of one of the kings of Utopia. And
+because in the year that his son was born there was a great drought,
+Gargantua gave him the name of Pantagruel; for panta in Greek is as much as
+to say all, and gruel in the Arabic language has the same meaning as
+thirsty. Moreover, Gargantua foresaw, in the spirit of prophesy, that
+Pantagruel would one day be the ruler of the thirsty race, and that if he
+lived very long he would arrive at a goodly age.</p>
+
+<p>Like his father, Pantagruel went to Paris to study. There his spirit
+among his books was like fire among heather, so indefatigable was it and
+ardent. One day as Pantagruel was taking a walk without the city he met a
+man of a comely stature and elegant in all the lineaments of his body, but
+most pitifully wounded, and clad in tatters and rags.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you, my friend?" said Pantagruel. "What do you want, and what
+is your name?" The man answered him in German, gibberish, Italian, English,
+Basque, Lantern-language, Dutch, Spanish, Danish, Hebrew, Greek, Breton,
+and Latin.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, my friend," replied Pantagruel, when the man had come to an
+end, "can you speak French?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I can very well, sir," he replied, "for my name is Panurge, and I
+was bred and born in Touraine, which is the garden of France. I have just
+come from Turkey, where I was taken prisoner, and my throat is so parched
+and my stomach so empty that if you will only put a meal before me, it will
+be a fine sight for you to see me walk into it."</p>
+
+<p>Pantagruel had conceived a great affection for the wandering scholar,
+and he took him home and set a great store of food before him. Panurge ate
+right on until the evening, went to bed as soon as he finished, slept till
+dinner time next day, so that he only made three steps and a jump from bed
+to table. Panurge was of a middle height, and had a nose like that of the
+handle of a razor. He was a very gallant and proper man in his person, and
+the greatest thief, drinker, roysterer, and rake in Paris. With all that,
+he was the best fellow in the world, and he was always contriving some
+mischief or other. Pantagruel, being pleased with him, gave him the
+castellany of Salmigondin, which was yearly worth 6,789,106,789 royals of
+certain rent; besides the uncertain revenue of cockchafers and snails,
+amounting one year with another to the value of 2,435,768, or 2,435,769
+French crowns of Berry. Sometimes it amounted to 1,234,554,321 seraphs,
+when it was a good season, and cockchafers and snails in request; but that
+was not every year.</p>
+
+<p>The new castellan conducted himself so well and prudently than in less
+than fourteen days he wasted all the revenue of his castellany for three
+whole years. Yet he did not throw it away in building churches and founding
+monasteries, but spent it in a thousand little banquets and joyful
+festivals, keeping open house for all good fellows and pretty girls who
+came that way.</p>
+
+<p>Pantagruel being advertised of the affair was in no wise offended. He
+only took Panurge aside, and sweetly represented to him that if he
+continued to live in this manner it would be difficult at any time to make
+him rich.</p>
+
+<p>"Rich?" answered Panurge. "Have you undertaken the impossible task to
+make me rich? Be prudent, like me, and borrow money beforehand, for you
+never know how things will turn out."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Pantagruel, "when will you be out of debt?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Lord forbid I should ever be out of debt," replied Panurge. "Are
+you indebted to somebody? He will pray night and morning that your life may
+be blessed, long and prosperous. Fearing to lose his debt, he will always
+speak good of you in every company; moreover, he will continually get new
+creditors for you, in the hope, that, through them, you will be able to pay
+him."</p>
+
+<p>To this Pantagruel answering nothing. Panurge went on with his
+discourse, saying: "To think that you should run full tilt at me and twit
+me with my debts and creditors! In this one thing only do I esteem myself
+worshipful, reverend, and formidable. I have created something out of
+nothing--a line of fair and jolly creditors! Imagine how glad I am when I
+see myself, every morning, surrounded by them, humble, fawning, and full of
+reverence. You ask me when I will be out of debt. May the good Saint
+Babolin snatch me, if I have not always held that debt was the connection
+and tie between the heavens and the earth; the only bond of union of the
+human race; without it the whole progeny of Adam would soon perish. A world
+without debts! Everything would be in disorder. The planets, reckoning they
+were not indebted to each other, would thrust themselves out of their
+sphere. The sun would not lend any light to the earth. No rain would
+descend on it, no wind blow there, and there would be no summer or harvest.
+Faith, hope, and charity will be quite banished from such a world; and what
+would happen to our bodies? The head would not lend the sight of its eyes
+to guide the hands and the feet; the feet would refuse to carry the head,
+and the hands would leave off working for it. Life would go out of the
+body, and the chafing soul would take its flight after my money.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, I shall be pleased to represent unto your fancy
+another world, in which everyone lends and everyone owes. Oh, how great
+will be the harmony among mankind! I lose myself in this contemplation.
+There will be peace among men; love, affection, fidelity, feastings, joy,
+and gladness; gold, silver, and merchandise will trot from hand to hand.
+There will be no suits of law, no wars, no strife. All will be good, all
+will be fair, all will be just. Believe me, it is a divine thing to lend,
+and an heroic virtue to owe. Yet this is not all. We owe something to
+posterity."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" said Pantagruel.</p>
+
+<p>"The task of creating it," said Panurge. "I have a mind to marry and get
+children."</p>
+
+<p>"We must consult the Oracle of the Divine Bottle," exclaimed Pantagruel,
+"before you enter on so dangerous an undertaking. Come, let us prepare for
+the voyage."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>V.--The Divine Bottle</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Pantagruel knew that the Oracle of the Divine Bottle could only be
+reached by a perilous voyage in unknown seas and strange islands. But,
+undismayed by this knowledge, he fitted out a great fleet at St. Malo, and
+sailed beyond the Cape of Good Hope to Lantern Land. As they were voyaging
+along, beyond the desolate land of the Popefigs and the blessed island of
+the Papemanes, Pantagruel heard voices in the air, and the pilot said: "Be
+not afraid, my lord! We are on the confines of the frozen sea, where there
+was a great fight last winter between the Arimaspians and the
+Nepheliabetes. The cries of the men, the neighing of the horses, and all
+the din of battle froze in the air, and now that the warm season is come,
+they are melting into sound."</p>
+
+<p>"Look," said Pantagruel, "here are some that are not yet thawed." And he
+threw on deck great handfuls of frozen words, seeming like sugar-plums of
+many colours. Panurge warmed some of them in his hands, and they melted
+like snow into a barbarous gibberish. Panurge prayed Pantagruel to give him
+some more, but Pantagruel told him that to give words was the part of a
+lover.</p>
+
+<p>"Sell me some, then," cried Panurge.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the part of a lawyer," said Pantagruel. But he threw three or
+four more handfuls of them on the deck, and as they melted all the noises
+of the battle rang about the ship.</p>
+
+<p>From this point Pantagruel sailed straight for Lantern Land, and came to
+the desired island in which was the Oracle of the Bottle. On the front of
+the Doric portal was engraved in fine gold the sentence: "In Wine, Truth."
+The noble priestess, Bachuc, led Panurge to the fountain in the temple,
+within which was placed the Divine Bottle. After he had danced round it
+three Bacchic dances, she threw a magic powder into the fountain, and its
+water began to boil violently and Panurge sat upon the ground and waited
+for the oracle. First of all a noise like that made by bees at their birth
+came from the Divine Bottle, and immediately after this was heard the word,
+"Drink!"</p>
+
+<p>The priestess then filled some small leather vessels with this fantastic
+water, and gave them to Panurge and Pantagruel, saying: "If you have
+observed what is written above the temple gates, you at last know that
+truth is hidden in wine. Be yourselves the expounders of your undertaking,
+and now go, friends, in the protection of that intellectual sphere, the
+centre of which is in all places and the circumference nowhere, which we
+call God. What has become of the art of calling down from heaven, thunder
+and celestial fire, once invented by the wise Prometheus? You have
+certainly lost it. Your philosophers who complain that all things were
+written by the ancients, and that nothing is left for them to invent, are
+evidently wrong. When they shall give their labour and study to search out,
+with prayer to the sovereign God (whom the Egyptians named the Hidden and
+Concealed, and invoking Him by that name, besought Him to manifest and
+discover Himself to them), He will grant to them, partly guided by good
+Lanterns, knowledge of Himself and His creatures. For all philosophers and
+ancient sages have considered two things necessary for the sure and
+pleasant pursuit of the way of divine knowledge and choice of wisdom--the
+goodness of God, and the company of men.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go, in the name of God, and may He guide you."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="CHARLES_READE"></a>CHARLES READE</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Hard_Cash"></a>Hard Cash</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Charles Reade made his first appearance as an author
+comparatively late in life. He was the son of an English squire, born at
+Ipsden on June 8, 1814, and was educated for the Bar, being entered at
+Lincoln's Inn in 1843. His literary career began as dramatist, and it is
+significant that it was his own wish that the word "dramatist" should stand
+first in the description of his works on his tombstone. His maiden effort
+in stage literature, "The Ladies' Battle," was produced in 1851; but it was
+not until November, 1852, with the appearance of "Masks and Faces"--the
+story which he afterwards adapted into prose under the title of "Peg
+Woffington"--that Reade became famous as a playwright. From 1852 until his
+death, which occurred on April 11, 1884, Reade's life is mainly a catalogue
+of novels and dramas. Like many of Charles Reade's works, "Hard Cash, a
+Matter-of-Fact Romance," is a novel with a purpose, and was written with
+the object of exposing abuses connected with the lunacy laws and the
+management of private lunatic asylums. Entitled "Very Hard Cash," it first
+appeared serially in the pages of "All the Year Round," then under the
+editorship of Charles Dickens, and although its success in that form was by
+no means extraordinary, its popularity on its publication in book form in
+1863 was well deserved and emphatic. The appearance of "Hard Cash," which
+is a sequel to a comparatively trivial tale, "Love me Little, Love me
+Long," provoked much hostile criticism from certain medical
+quarters--criticism to which Reade replied with vehemence and
+characteristic vigour. His activity in the campaign against the abuses of
+lunacy law did not end with the publication of this story, since he
+conducted personal investigations in many individual cases of false
+imprisonment under pretence of lunacy. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Dodd and Hardie Families</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>In a snowy-villa, just outside the great commercial seaport, Barkington,
+there lived, a few years ago, a happy family. A lady, middle-aged, but
+still charming; two young friends of hers, and an occasional visitor.</p>
+
+<p>The lady was Mrs. Dodd; her periodical visitor her husband, the captain
+of an East Indiaman; her friends were her son Edward, aged twenty, and her
+daughter, Julia, nineteen.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dodd was the favourite companion and bosom friend of both her
+children. They were remarkably dissimilar. Edward was comely and manly, no
+more; could walk up to a five-barred gate and clear it; could row all day,
+and then dance all night; and could not learn his lessons to save his
+life.</p>
+
+<p>In his sister Julia modesty, intelligence, and, above all, enthusiasm
+shone, and made her an incarnate sunbeam.</p>
+
+<p>This one could learn her lessons with unreasonable rapidity, and Mrs.
+Dodd educated her herself, from first to last; but Edward she sent to Eton,
+where he made good progress--in aquatics and cricket.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his solemn advice--"you know, mamma, I've got no
+headpiece"--he was also sent to Oxford, and soon found he could not have
+carried his wares to a better market. Advancing steadily in that line of
+study towards which his genius lay, he was soon as much talked about in the
+university as any man in his college, except one. Singularly enough, that
+one was his townsman--much Edward's senior in standing, though not in age.
+Young Alfred Hardie was doge of a studious clique, and careful to make it
+understood that he was a reading man who boated and cricketed to avoid the
+fatigue of lounging.</p>
+
+<p>To this young Apollo, crowned with variegated laurel, Edward looked up
+from a distance, praised him and recorded his triumphs in all his letters;
+but he, thinking nothing human worthy of reverence but intellect, was not
+attracted by Edward, till at Henley he saw Julia, and lo! true life had
+dawned. He passed the rest of the term in a soft ecstasy, called often on
+Edward, and took a prodigious interest in him, and counted the days till he
+should be for four months in the same town as his enchantress. Within a
+month of his arrival in Barkington he obtained Mrs. Dodd's permission to
+ask his father's consent to propose an engagement to Julia, which was
+promptly refused; and inquiry, petulance, tenderness, and logic were alike
+wasted on Mr. Hardie by his son in vain. He would give no reason. But Mrs.
+Dodd, knowing him of old, had little doubt, and watched her daughter day
+and night to find whether love or pride was the stronger, all the mother in
+arms to secure her daughter's happiness. Finding this really at stake, she
+explained that she knew the nature of Mr. Hardie's objections, and they
+were objections that her husband, on his return, would remove. "My
+darling," she said, "pray for your father's safe return, for on him, and on
+him alone, your happiness depends, as mine does."</p>
+
+<p>Next day Mrs. Dodd walked two hours with Alfred, and his hopes revived
+under her magic, as Julia's had. The wise woman quietly made terms. He was
+not to come to the house except on her invitation, unless indeed he had
+news of the Agra to communicate; but he might write once a week, and
+enclose a few lines to Julia. On this he proceeded to call her his best,
+dearest, loveliest friend--his mother. That touched her. Hitherto he had
+been to her but a thing her daughter loved. Her eyes filled.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor, warm-hearted, motherless boy," she said, "pray for my
+husband's safe return."</p>
+
+<p>So now two more bright eyes looked longingly seaward for the Agra,
+homeward bound.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Richard Hardie's Villainy</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Richard Hardie was at that moment the unlikeliest man in Barkington to
+decline Julia Dodd, with hard cash in five figures, for his
+daughter-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>The great banker stood, a colossus of wealth and stability to the eye,
+though ready to crumble at a touch, and, indeed, self-doomed; for
+bankruptcy was now his game. This was a miserable man, far more so than his
+son, whose happiness he was thwarting; and of all things that gnawed him,
+none was more bitter than to have borrowed &pound;5,000 of his children's
+trust money, and sunk it. His son's marriage would expose him; lawyers
+would peer into trusts, etc.</p>
+
+<p>When his son announced his attachment to a young lady living in a
+suburban villa it was a terrible blow, but if Alfred had told him hard cash
+in five figures could be settled by the bride's family on the young couple,
+he would have welcomed the wedding with a secret gush of joy, for he could
+then have thrown himself on Alfred's generosity, and been released from
+that one corroding debt.</p>
+
+<p>He had for months spent his days poring over the books, fabricating and
+maturing a false balance-sheet. Suspecting that the cashier was watching
+him, he one day handed him his dismissal, polite but peremptory, and went
+on cooking his accounts with surpassing dignity. Rage supplying the place
+of courage, the cashier let him know that he--poor, despised Noah
+Skinner--had kept genuine books while he had been preparing false ones.</p>
+
+<p>He was at the mercy of his servant, and bowed his pride to flatter
+Skinner, and soon saw this was the way to make him a clerk of wax. He
+became his accomplice, and on this his master told him everything it was
+impossible to keep from him. At this moment Captain Dodd was announced. Mr.
+Hardie explained to his new ally the danger that threatened him from Miss
+Julia Dodd.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said he, "the women have sent the father to soften me. I
+shall be told his girl will die if she can't have my boy."</p>
+
+<p>But, instead of the heartbroken father he expected, in came the gallant
+sailor, with a brown cheek reddened with triumph and excitement, who held
+out his hand cordially, almost shouting in a jovial voice, "Well, sir, here
+I am, just come ashore, and visiting you before my very wife; what d'ye
+think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>Hardie stared, and remained on his guard, puzzled; while David Dodd
+showed his pocket-book, and in the pride of his heart, and the fever in his
+blood--for there were two red spots on his cheeks all the time--told the
+cold pair its adventures in a few glowing words; the Calcutta firm--the two
+pirates--the hurricane--the wrecks, the land-sharks he had saved it from.
+"And here it is safe, in spite of them all, and you must be good enough to
+take care of it for me."</p>
+
+<p>He then opened the pocket-book, and Mr. Hardie ran over the notes and
+bills, and said the amount was &pound;14,010 12s. 6d.</p>
+
+<p>Dodd asked for a receipt, and while it was written poor Dodd's heart
+overflowed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my children's fortune, you see; I don't look on a sixpence of it
+as mine. It belongs to my little Julia, bless her, she's a rosebud if ever
+there was one; and my boy Edward, he's the honestest young chap you ever
+saw; but how could they miss either good looks or good hearts, and her
+children? Here's a Simple Simon vaunting his own flesh and blood, but you
+know how it is with us fathers; our hearts are so full of the little
+darlings, out it must come. You can imagine how joyful I feel at saving
+their fortune from land-sharks, and landing it safe in an honest man's
+hands."</p>
+
+<p>Skinner gave him the receipt.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, little gentleman; now my heart is relieved of such a weight.
+Good-bye, shake hands. God bless you! God bless you both!" And with this he
+was out and making ardently for Albion Villa.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>Ten minutes later the door burst open, and David Dodd stood on the
+threshold, looking terrible. He seemed black and white with anger and
+anxiety. Making a great effort to control his agitation, he said, "I have
+changed my mind, sir; I want my money back."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hardie said faintly, "Certainly; may I ask----"</p>
+
+<p>"No matter," cried Dodd. "Come! My money! I must and will have it."</p>
+
+<p>Hardie drew himself up majestically; and Dodd said, "Well, I beg your
+pardon, but I can't help it!"</p>
+
+<p>The banker's mind went into a whirl. It was death to part with this
+money and get nothing by it. He made excuses. Dodd eyed him sternly, and
+said quietly, "So you can't give me my money because your cashier has
+carried it away. It is not in this room, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"What, not in that safe there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not," said Hardie stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"My money! My money!" cried David fiercely. "No more words. I know you
+now. I <i>saw</i> you put it in that safe. You want to steal my children's
+money. My money, ye pirate, or I'll strangle you!"</p>
+
+<p>While Hardie unlocked the safe with trembling hands, Dodd stood like a
+man petrified; the next moment his teeth gnashed loudly together, and he
+fell headlong on the floor in a fit. So the &pound;14,000 remained with the
+banker.</p>
+
+<p>Not many days after this a crowd stood in front of the old bank, looking
+at the shutters, and a piece of paper announcing a suspension, only for a
+month or so.</p>
+
+<p>Many things now came to Alfred Hardie's knowledge till he began to
+shudder at his own father, and was troubled with dark, mysterious surmises,
+and wandered alone, or sat brooding and dejected. Richard Hardie's anxiety
+to know whether David Dodd was to live or die increased. He was now
+resolved to fly to the United States with his booty, and cheat his son with
+the rest. On his putting a smooth inquiry to Alfred, his face flushed with
+shame or anger, and he gave a very short, obscure reply. So he invited the
+doctor to dinner, and elicited the information that David's life indeed was
+saved, but he was a maniac; and his sister, a sensible, resolute woman, had
+signed the certificate, and he was now in a private asylum.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hardie smiled, and sipped his tea luxuriously; he would not have to
+go to a foreign land after all. Who would believe a lunatic? He said, "I
+presume, Alfred, you are not so far gone as to insist on propagating
+insanity by a marriage with Captain Dodd's daughter now?"</p>
+
+<p>Alfred ground his teeth, and replied that his father should be the last
+man to congratulate himself on the affliction that had fallen on that
+family he aspired to enter, all the more now they had calamities for him to
+share.</p>
+
+<p>"More fool you," put in Mr. Hardie calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"For I much fear you are the cause of that calamity."</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't know what you allude to."</p>
+
+<p>The son fixed his eyes on his father, and said, "The fourteen thousand
+pounds, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>One unguarded look confirmed Alfred's suspicions; he could not bear to
+go on exposing his father, and wandered out, sore perplexed and nobly
+wretched, into the night.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Alfred in Confinement</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>At last Alfred decided that justice <i>must</i> be done, and confided
+his suspicions to the Dodds. Edward's good commonsense at once settled
+that, as the man who married Julia would be the greatest sufferer by Hardie
+senior's fraud, Hardie junior should settle his own &pound;10,000 on her,
+and marry her as soon as he came of age. Alfred joyfully agreed, privately
+arranging that the money should be settled on Julia's parents, and
+preparations went on apace.</p>
+
+<p>But on the wedding-day the bridal party waited in vain for the
+bridegroom, and Edward ran to his lodgings to fetch him.</p>
+
+<p>He came back alone, white with wrath, hurried the insulted bride and her
+mother into the carriage, and they went home as if from a funeral. Aye, and
+a funeral it was; for the sweetest girl in England buried her hopes, her
+laugh, her May of youth that day.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as possible this heartbroken trio removed to London, where Mrs.
+Dodd became a dressmaker, and Edward a fireman.</p>
+
+<p>It was true Alfred <i>had</i> received a letter in a female hand, but it
+was from a discharged servant of his father's, offering information about
+the &pound;14,000 if he would come to a house about ten miles off the next
+morning. He calculated he could do so, and still be in the church in time,
+and drove there with all his luggage, only to find himself shut up in a
+lunatic asylum.</p>
+
+<p>He made a desperate resistance, but was soon overpowered and left
+handcuffed, hobbled, and strapped down, more helpless than a swaddled
+infant. He lay mute as death in his gloomy cell; deeper horror grew and
+grew, gusts of rage swept over him, gusts of despair. What would his Julia
+think? He shouted, he screamed, he prayed. He saw her, lovelier than ever,
+all in white, waiting for him, with sweet concern in her peerless face.
+Half-past ten struck. He struggled, he writhed, he made the very room
+shake, and lacerated his flesh, but that was all. No answer, no help, no
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by his good wit told him his only chance was calmness; they could
+not long confine him as a madman, being sane. But all his efforts to
+convince his keepers that he was sane were useless; his letters seemed to
+go, but he got no answers; his appeals to visiting justices were in vain.
+The responsibility rested with the people who signed the certificates, and
+he could not even find out who they were. After months of softening hearts
+and buying consciences, he was on the point of escape, when he was moved to
+another asylum. Here there was no brutality, but constant watchfulness; and
+he had almost prevailed on the doctor to declare him cured when he was
+again moved to a still more brutal place, if possible, than the first.</p>
+
+<p>One day he found himself locked in his room. This was unusual, for
+though they called him a lunatic in words, they called him sane by all
+their acts. He thought the commissioners must be in the house; had he known
+who really was in the house he would have beaten himself to pieces against
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner there was a new patient, very mild and silent, with a
+beautiful mild brown eye like some gentle animal's. Alfred contrived to say
+some kind word to him; and the newcomer handled his forelock, and announced
+himself as William Thompson, adding, with simple pride, "Able seaman, just
+come aboard, your honour."</p>
+
+<p>At night Alfred dreamed he heard Julia's sweet, mellow voice speaking to
+him; and lo, it was the able seaman. He slept no more, but lay sighing.</p>
+
+<p>The matron told him this was David Dodd, Alfred redoubled his efforts to
+escape, and at last one of the keepers consented to help him off. He was
+sitting on his bed full dressed, full of hope, his money in his pocket,
+waiting for his liberator. Every moment he expected to hear the key in the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a smell of burning, and feet ran up and down. "Fire!" rang
+from men's voices. Fire cracked above his head; he sprang up at the window,
+and dashed his hand through it, and fell back. He sprang again, and caught
+the woodwork; it gave way, and he fell back, nearly stunning himself. The
+flames roared fearfully now, and David, thinking it was a tempest, shouted
+appropriate orders. Alfred implored him, and got him to kneel down with
+him, and prayed. He gave up all hope, and prepared to die.</p>
+
+<p>Crash! As if discharged from a cannon, came bursting through the window
+a helmeted figure, rope in hand, and alighted erect and commanding on the
+floor. All three faces came together, and Edward recognised his father and
+Alfred Hardie. Edward clawed his rope to the bed, and hauled up a rope
+ladder, crying, "Now, men, quick for your lives!" But poor David called
+that deserting the ship, and demurred, till Alfred assured him the captain
+had ordered it. He then touched his forelock to Edward, and went down the
+ladder. Alfred followed.</p>
+
+<p>They were at once overpowered with curiosity and sympathy, and had to
+shake a hundred hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Gently, good friends; don't part us," said Alfred.</p>
+
+<p>"He's the keeper," said one of the crowd, and all helped them to the
+back door.</p>
+
+<p>Alfred ran off across country for bare life. To his horror, David
+followed him, shouting cheerily, "Go ahead, messmate, I smell blue
+water."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, then!" cried Alfred, half mad himself; and the pair ran
+furiously the livelong night. Free!</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Into Smooth Waters</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Exhilarated by freedom, Alfred began to nurse aspiring projects; he
+would indict his own father and the doctor, and wipe off the stigma they
+had cast on him. Meantime, he would cure David and restore him to his
+family. They bowled along towards blue water with a perfect sense of
+security. But at Folkestone, David disappeared, and Alfred, hearing as he
+ran wildly all over the place that there was "another party on the same
+lay"--the mad gentleman's wife--took the first train to London, dispirited
+and mortified. David was in good hands, however, and Alfred had glorious
+work on hand--love and justice.</p>
+
+<p>He at once put his affairs into a lawyer's hands, and thought of love
+alone. After a violent encounter with his late keepers and a narrow escape
+from capture, in the midst of Elysium with Julia, her mother returned in
+despair. David had completely disappeared. Again these lovers were
+separated, and again Edward's commonsense came to the rescue. Alfred went
+back to Oxford to read for his first class, and Julia to her district
+visiting, while the terrible delays of the law went on. Alfred had begun to
+believe trial by jury would never be allowed him, and when at last, after
+many postponements, the trial did come on, he was being examined in the
+schools, and refused to come till his counsel had actually opened the case.
+Mr. Thomas Hardie, Alfred's uncle, was the defendant, for it was proved he
+had authorised Alfred's arrest.</p>
+
+<p>A detective had been employed to find Mr. Barkington, a little man in
+Julia's district, whom the lawyers suspected might be useful; and when the
+trial was half over, he led them all in great excitement to the back slums
+of Westminster. Mr. Barkington, <i>alias</i> Noah Skinner, was wanted by
+another client of his.</p>
+
+<p>The room was full of an acrid vapour, and a mummified figure sat at the
+table, dead this many a day of charcoal fumes; in his hand a banker's
+receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for &pound;14,000. The lawyer was handing it
+to Julia, having just found a will bequeathing all Skinner had in the world
+to her, with his blessing, when a solemn voice said: "No; it is mine."</p>
+
+<p>A keen cry from Julia's heart, and in an instant she was clinging round
+her father's neck. Edward could only get at his hand. Instinct told them
+Heaven had given them back their father, mind and all.</p>
+
+<p>Alfred Hardie slipped out, and ran like a deer to tell Mrs. Dodd.</p>
+
+<p>Husband and wife met alone in Mrs. Dodd's room. No eyes ventured to
+witness a scene so strange, so sacred.</p>
+
+<p>They all thought in their innocence that Hardie <i>v</i>. Hardie was now
+at an end, with Captain Dodd ready to prove Alfred's sanity; but the lawyer
+advised them not to put the captain to the agitation of the
+witness-box.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thomas Hardie, the defendant, won the case for Alfred by admitting
+in the witness-box that his brother Richard had declared that "if you don't
+put Alfred in a madhouse, I will put you in one."</p>
+
+<p>The jury found for the plaintiff, Alfred Hardie, and gave the damages at
+&pound;3,000. The verdict was received with acclamation by the people, and
+in the midst of this Alfred's lawyer announced that the plaintiff had just
+gained his first class at Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Richard Hardie restored the &pound;14,000, and a few years later
+died a monomaniac, believing himself penniless when he possessed
+&pound;60,000.</p>
+
+<p>Alfred married Julia, and, with the consent of his wife, took his father
+to live with them. Then Alfred determined to pay in full all who had been
+ruined by the bank failure, and in time the old bank was reopened with
+Edward Dodd as managing partner. In the end, no creditor of Richard Hardie
+was left unpaid. Alfred went in for politics and became an M.P. for
+Barkington; whence to dislodge him I pity anyone who tries.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="It_Is_Never_Too_Late_to_Mend"></a>It Is Never Too Late to
+Mend</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "It is Never Too Late to Mend, a Matter-of-Fact Romance,"
+published in 1856, is, like "Hard Cash," a story with a purpose, the object
+in this instance being to illustrate the abuses of prison discipline in
+England and Australia. Many of the passages describing Australian life are
+exceptionally vivid and imaginative, and exhibit Charles Reade, if not in
+the front rank of novelists of his day, at least occupying a high position.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--In Berkshire</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>George Fielding, assisted by his brother William, tilled The Grove--as
+nasty a little farm as any in Berkshire. It was four hundred acres, all
+arable, and most of it poor, sour land. A bad bargain, and the farmer being
+sober, intelligent, proud, sensitive, and unlucky, is the more to be
+pitied.</p>
+
+<p>Susanna Merton was beautiful and good; George Fielding and she were
+acknowledged lovers, but latterly old Merton had seemed cool whenever his
+daughter mentioned the young man's name.</p>
+
+<p>William Fielding, George's brother, was in love with his brother's
+sweetheart, but he never looked at her except by stealth; he knew he had no
+business to love her.</p>
+
+<p>While George Fielding had been going steadily down-hill, till even the
+bank declined to give him credit, Mr. Meadows, who had been a carter, was,
+at forty years of age, a rich corn-factor and land surveyor.</p>
+
+<p>This John Meadows was not a common man. He had a cool head, and an iron
+will; and he had the soul of business--method.</p>
+
+<p>Meadows was generally respected; by none more than by old Merton. In
+fact, it seemed to Merton that John Meadows would make a better son-in-law
+than George Fielding.</p>
+
+<p>The day came when a distress was issued against Fielding's farm for the
+rent, and as it happened on that very day Susan and her father had come to
+dinner at The Grove. Old Merton, knowing how things stood, spoke his mind
+to George.</p>
+
+<p>"You are too much of a man, I hope, to eat a woman's bread; and if you
+are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it. If Susan marries you she
+will have to keep you instead of you her."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this from Susanna, as well as you?" said George, with a trembling
+lip.</p>
+
+<p>"Susan is an obedient daughter. What I say she'll stand to."</p>
+
+<p>This was blow number two for George Fielding. The third stroke on that
+day was the arrest of Mr. Robinson who had been staying at The Grove as a
+lodger. Mr. Robinson dressed well, too well, perhaps, but somehow the
+rustics wouldn't accept him for a gentleman. George had taken a great
+liking to his lodger, and Mr. Robinson was equally sincere in his
+friendship for Fielding. And now it turned out that the fools who had
+disparaged Robinson were right, and he, George Fielding, wrong. Before his
+eyes, and amidst the grins of a score of gaping yokels, Thomas Robinson,
+alias Scott, a professional thief, was handcuffed and carried off to the
+county gaol.</p>
+
+<p>This finished George. An invitation to go out to Australia with the
+younger son of a neighbouring landowner, hitherto disregarded, was now
+accepted.</p>
+
+<p>Old Merton approved the decision, and when his daughter implored him not
+to let George go, he replied plainly, to both of them:</p>
+
+<p>"Susan! Mayhap the lad thinks me his enemy, but I'm not. My daughter
+shall not marry a bankrupt farmer, but you bring home a thousand
+pounds--just one thousand pounds--to show me you are not a fool, and you
+shall have my daughter, and she shall have my blessing." And the old farmer
+gave George his hand upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Meadows exulted, thinking, with George in Australia, he could secure his
+own way with Susan and old Merton. He had forgotten one man; old Isaac
+Levi, of whom he had made an implacable enemy, by insisting on his turning
+out of the house where he lived. Meadows, having bought the house, intended
+to live in it himself, and treated the prayers and entreaties of the old
+Jew with contempt. Only the interference of George Fielding, on the day of
+his own ruin, had saved old Levi from personal violence at the hands of
+Meadows; and so while George was sinking under the blows of fortune, he had
+made a friend in Isaac Levi.</p>
+
+<p>Before George sailed William promised that he would think no more of
+Susan as a sweetheart.</p>
+
+<p>"She's my sister from this hour--no more, no less," he declared. "And
+may the red blight fall on my arm and my heart if I or any man takes her
+from you--any man! Sooner than a hundred men should take her from you while
+I am here I'd die at their feet a hundred times."</p>
+
+<p>William kept his eye on Meadows, but Meadows soon had William in his
+clutches. For John Meadows lent money upon ricks, waggons, leases, and such
+things, to farmers in difficulties, employing as his agent in these
+transactions a middle-aged, disreputable lawyer named Peter Crawley--a
+cunning fool and a sot.</p>
+
+<p>First William Fielding, and then old Merton were heavy debtors to Peter
+Crawley, that is to John Meadows; for Merton, a solid enough farmer, was
+beguiled into rash and ruinous speculations by a friend of Meadows'.</p>
+
+<p>And now George Fielding is gone to Australia to make a thousand pounds
+by farming and cattle-feeding, so that he may marry Susan. Susan, at home,
+is often pensive and always anxious, but not despondent. Meadows is falling
+deeper and deeper in love, but keeping it jealously secret; on his guard
+against Isaac Levi, and on his guard against William; hoping everything
+from time and accidents, and from George's incapacity to make money; and
+watching with keen eye and working with subtle threads to draw everybody
+into his power who could assist or thwart him in his object. William
+Fielding is going down the hill, Meadows was mounting; getting the better
+of his passion, and gradually substituting a brother-in-law's regard.
+Within eighteen months William was happily married to another farmer's
+daughter in the neighbourhood.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--In Gaol</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Under Governor Hawes the separate and silent system flourished in ----
+gaol, and the local justices entirely approved the system. In the view of
+Hawes and the justices severe punishment of mind and body was the essential
+object of a gaol.</p>
+
+<p>Now Tom Robinson had not been in gaol these four years, and though he
+had heard much of the changes in gaol treatment, they had not yet come home
+to him. When, therefore, instead of being greeted with the boisterous
+acclamations of other spirits as bad as himself, he was ushered into a cell
+white as driven snow, and his duties explained to him, the heavy penalty he
+was under should a speck of dirt ever be discovered on the walls or floor,
+Thomas looked blank and had a misgiving. To his dismay he found that the
+silent cellular system was even carried out in the chapel, where each
+prisoner had a sort of sentry-box to himself, and that the hour's promenade
+for exercise conversation was equally impossible.</p>
+
+<p>The turnkeys were surly and forbidding, and the hours dragged wearily to
+this active-minded prisoner. Robinson was driven to appeal to the governor
+to put him on hard labour.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll choose the time for that," said the governor, with a knowing
+smile. "You'll be worse before you are better, my man."</p>
+
+<p>On the tenth day Robinson tried to exchange a word with a prisoner in
+chapel, and for this he was taken to the black-hole.</p>
+
+<p>Now Robinson was a man of rare capacity, full of talent and the courage
+and energy that show in action, but not rich in the fortitude that bears
+much. When they took him out of the black-hole, after six hours'
+confinement, he was observed to be white as a sheet, and to tremble
+violently all over.</p>
+
+<p>The day after this the doctor reported No. 19--this was Robinson--to be
+sinking, and on this Hawes put him to garden work. The man's life and
+reason were saved by that little bit of labour. Then for a day or two he
+was employed in washing the corridors, and in making brushes; after that,
+came the crank. This was a machine consisting of a vertical post with an
+iron handle, and it was worked as villagers draw a bucket up from a
+well.</p>
+
+<p>"Eighteen hundred revolutions per hour, and two hours before dinner,"
+was the order given to No. 19, a touch of fever a few days later made it
+impossible for him to get through his task, and Hawes brutally had the
+unfortunate prisoner placed in the jacket.</p>
+
+<p>This horrible form of torture consisted of a stout waistcoat, with a
+rough-edged collar. Robinson knew resistance was useless. He was jammed in
+the jacket, pinned tight to the collar, and throttled in the collar.
+Weakened by fever, he succumbed sooner than the torturers had calculated
+upon, and a few minutes later No. 19 would have been a corpse if he had not
+been released.</p>
+
+<p>Water was dashed over him, and then Hawes shouted: "I never was beat by
+a prisoner yet, and I never will be," and had him put back again. Every
+time he fainted, water was thrown over him.</p>
+
+<p>The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so
+that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket. "He will
+break out before long," said Hawes to himself, "and then--"</p>
+
+<p>Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side
+of his prudence. This bitter struggle in the thief's heart harmed his soul
+more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny. All the vices of the
+old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical effect of
+solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs. He made a desperate appeal
+to the chaplain: "We have no friends here, sir, but you--not one. Have pity
+on us."</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man--unequal to the task of
+standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and
+governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.</p>
+
+<p>Robinson now became a far worse man. He hated the human race, and said
+to himself, "From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!"</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office,
+and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the
+punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners, and
+in the end triumphed handsomely. Hawes, in the face of an official inquiry
+by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane regime was
+instituted in the gaol.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but
+when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the
+darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson's sanity
+preserved,--the man's heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn to
+honesty.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the
+promise of an early ticket-of-leave. Mr. Eden, anxious for the man's
+future, thought of George Fielding. Taking Sunday duty in the parish where
+Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted with Susan,
+and had learnt her story. He now wrote to her: "Thomas Robinson goes to
+Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave almost immediately. I
+have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that poor Robinson with such a
+companion would be as honest as the day, and a useful friend, for he is
+full of resources. So I want you to do a Christian act, and write a note to
+Mr. Fielding, and let this poor fellow take it to him."</p>
+
+<p>Susan's letter came by return of post. Robinson sailed in the convict
+ship for Australia, and in due time was released. He found George Fielding
+at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan, and his own
+readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between the two
+men.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Between Australia and Berkshire</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Meadows, having the postmaster at Farnborough under his thumb, read all
+George's letters to Susan before they were delivered. As long as George was
+in difficulties--and the thousand pounds seemed as far off as ever until
+Tom Robinson struck gold and shared the luck with his partner--the letters
+gave Meadows no uneasiness. With the discovery of gold he decided Susan
+must hear no more from her lover, and that Fielding must not return. By
+this time, old Merton was heavily in debt to Meadows, and saw escape from
+bankruptcy only in Meadows becoming his son-in-law, while Susan was kindly
+disposed to Meadows because he said nothing of love, and was willing to
+talk about Australia.</p>
+
+<p>Meadows confided his plan to Peter Crawley.</p>
+
+<p>"My plan has two hands; I must be one, you the other. <i>I</i> work
+thus: I stop all letters from him to her. Presently comes a letter from
+Australia telling how George Fielding has made his fortune and married a
+girl out there. She won't believe it at first, perhaps, but when she gets
+no more letters from him she will. Of course, I shall never mention his
+name, but I make one of my tools hang gaol over old Merton. Susan thinks
+George married. I strike upon her pique and her father's distress. I ask
+him for his daughter; offer to pay my father-in-law's debts and start him
+afresh. Susan likes me already. She will say no, perhaps, three or four
+times, but the fifth she will say yes. Crawley, the day that John and Susan
+Meadows walk out of church man and wife I put a thousand pounds into your
+hand and set you up in any business you like; in any honest business, that
+is. But suppose, Crawley, while I am working, this George Fielding were to
+come home with money in both pockets?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would kick it all down in a moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Crawley, George Fielding must not come back this year with a thousand
+pounds. That paper will prevent him; it is a paper of instructions. My very
+brains lie in that paper; put it in your pocket. You are going a journey,
+and you will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month."</p>
+
+<p>"When am I to start, sir? Where am I to go to?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow morning. To Australia."</p>
+
+<p>A dead silence on both sides followed these words, as the two colourless
+faces looked into one another's eyes across the table.</p>
+
+<p>To Australia Peter Crawley went, and with half-a-dozen of the most
+villainous ruffians on earth in his pay, it seemed impossible for Fielding
+and Robinson to escape. But here the ex-thief's alertness came to George
+Fielding's aid, and the two men managed to get the better of all the
+robbers and assassins who attacked their tent. Robinson, in fact, not only
+saved his own and his partner's lives, by common consent he was elected
+captain at the gold-diggings, and by his authority some sort of law and
+order were established throughout the camp, and all thefts were heavily
+punished.</p>
+
+<p>The finding of a large nugget by Robinson ended gold-digging for these
+two men. The nugget was taken to Sydney and fetched &pound;3,800, and when
+Crawley, who had pursued them from the camp, reached the city, he found
+they had already sailed for England.</p>
+
+<p>George Fielding went to Australia to make &pound;1,000, and by industry,
+sobriety, and cattle, he did not make &pound;1,000; but, with the help of a
+converted thief, he did by gold-digging, industry, and sobriety, make
+several thousand pounds, and take them safe away home, spite of many wicked
+devices and wicked men.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Meadows flung out Peter Crawley, his left hand, into Australia to
+keep George from coming back to Susan with &pound;1,000, and his left hand
+failed, and failed completely. But his right hand?</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--George Fielding's Return</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>One market day a whisper passed through Farnborough that George Fielding
+had met with wonderful luck. That he had made his fortune by gold, and was
+going to marry a young lady out in Australia. Farmer Merton brought the
+whisper home; Meadows was sure he would.</p>
+
+<p>When eight months had elapsed without a letter from George, Susan could
+no longer deceive herself with hopes. George was either false to her or
+dead. She said as much to Meadows, and this inspired him with the idea of
+setting about a report that George was dead. Susan's mind had long been
+prepared for bitter tidings, and when old Merton tried in a clumsy way to
+prepare her for sad news, she fixed her eyes on him, and said, "Father,
+George is dead."</p>
+
+<p>Old Merton hung his head, and made no reply. Susan crept from the room
+pale as ashes.</p>
+
+<p>Then Meadows contradicted this report, and showed a letter he had
+received, saying that "George Fielding was married yesterday to one of the
+prettiest girls in Sydney. I met them walking in the street to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"He is alive!" Susan said. "Thank God he is alive. I will not cry for
+another woman's husband."</p>
+
+<p>It was not pique that made Susan accept John Meadows, it was to save her
+father from ruin. She said plainly that she could not pretend affection,
+and that it was only her indifference that made her consent. She tried to
+give happiness, and to avoid giving pain, but her heart of hearts was
+inaccessible.</p>
+
+<p>The return of Crawley with the news that Fielding and Robinson were at
+hand, drove Meadows to persuade Susan to hasten the marriage. The following
+Monday had been fixed, Susan agreed to let it take place the preceding
+Thursday.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing was Meadows himself recognised Fielding and Robinson;
+they were staying the night at the King's Head, in Farnborough, where
+Meadows was taking a glass of ale. He promptly decided on his game. The
+travellers called for hot brandy-and-water, and while the waiter left it
+for a moment, Meadows dropped the contents of a certain white paper into
+the liquor. In the dead of night he left his bedroom, and crept to the room
+where Robinson slept. The drug had done its work. Meadows found
+&pound;7,000 under the sleeper's pillow, and carried the notes off
+undetected.</p>
+
+<p>He returned in the early morning to his own house, he explained to
+Crawley why he had done this. "Don't you see that I have made George
+Fielding penniless, and that now old Merton won't let him have his
+daughter. He can't marry her at all now, and when the writ is served on old
+Merton he will be as strong as fire for me and against George Fielding. I
+am not a thief, and the day I marry Susan &pound;7,000 will be put in
+George Fielding's hand; he won't know by whom, but you and I shall know. I
+am a sinner, but not a villain."</p>
+
+<p>He lit a candle and placed it in the grate. "Come now," Meadows said
+coolly, "burn them; then they will tell no tale."</p>
+
+<p>Crawley shrieked: "No, no, sir! Don't think of it, give them to me, and
+in twelve hours I will be in France!"</p>
+
+<p>Meadows hesitated, and then agreed to give him the notes on condition
+Crawley went to France that very day.</p>
+
+<p>Crawley kept faith. He hugged his treasure to his bosom, and sat down at
+the railway-station waiting for the train.</p>
+
+<p>Old Isaac Levi was there, and a police officer whom Crawley knew.</p>
+
+<p>"You have &pound;7,000 about you, Mr. Crawley," whispered Isaac in his
+ear. "Stolen! Give it up to the police officer. Stolen by him, received by
+you. Give it up unless you prefer a public search. Here is a search warrant
+from the mayor."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't without Mr. Meadows' authority. Send for Mr. Meadows, if you
+dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we will take you to Mr. Meadows. Keep the money till you see him,
+but we must secure you. Let us go in a carriage."</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, Mr. Meadows had gone to the bank, and had made over the sum of
+&pound;7,000 to George Fielding and Thomas Robinson. Then he hastened to
+the church, for it was his wedding-day, and every delay was dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>The parson was late, and while Meadows stood waiting outside the church,
+along with old Merton and his daughter, and a crowd of neighbours, George
+Fielding and Robinson came up.</p>
+
+<p>"Susan!" cried a well-known voice behind her. The bride turned, and
+forgot everything at the sight of George's handsome, honest face, and threw
+herself into his arms. George kissed the bride.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done?" cried Susan. "You are false to me! You never wrote
+me a letter for twelve months, and you are married to a lady in Bathurst!
+Oh, George!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who has been telling her I have ever had a thought of any girl but
+her?" said George sternly. "Here is the ring you gave me, Susan."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Merton and I are to be married to-day," said Meadows.</p>
+
+<p>"I was there before you, Mr. Meadows, but I won't stand upon that, and I
+wouldn't give a snap of the finger to have her if her will was toward
+another. So please yourself, Susan, my lass; only this must end. Choose
+between John Meadows and George Fielding."</p>
+
+<p>Susan looked up in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"What choice can there be? The moment I saw your face I forgot there was
+a John Meadows in the world!" With that she bolted off home.</p>
+
+<p>George turned to old Merton.</p>
+
+<p>"I crossed the seas on the faith of your promise, and I have brought
+back the thousand pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"John," said old Merton, "I must stand to my word, and I will--it is
+justice."</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Robinson, producing his pocket-book, found they had
+been robbed. Despair fell upon George. But Meadows was promptly hindered
+from pursuing any advantage by the arrival of Isaac Levi, with a magistrate
+and police officers. Presently Crawley was produced. The game was up. Levi
+had overheard all that had passed between Meadows and Crawley. Crawley
+turned upon Meadows, and the magistrate had no choice but to commit Meadows
+for trial, while the notes were returned to their rightful owners.</p>
+
+<p>A month later George and Susan were married, and Farmer Merton's debts
+paid.</p>
+
+<p>Robinson wisely went back to Australia, and more wisely married an
+honest serving-maid. He is respected for his intelligence and good nature,
+and is industrious and punctilious in business.</p>
+
+<p>When the assizes came on neither Robinson nor George was present to
+prosecute, and their recognisances were forfeited. Meadows and Crawley were
+released, and Meadows went to Australia. His mother, who hated her son's
+sins, left her native land at seventy to comfort him and win him to
+repentance.</p>
+
+<p>"Even now his heart is softening," she said to herself. "Three times he
+has said to me 'That George Fielding is a better man than I am.' He will
+repent; he bears no malice, he blames none but himself. It is never too
+late to mend."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_Cloister_and_the_Hearth"></a>The Cloister and the
+Hearth</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "The Cloister and the Hearth" a Tale of the Middle Ages, is
+by common consent the greatest of all Charles Reade's stories. A portion of
+it originally appeared in 1859 in "Once a Week," under the title of "A Good
+Fight," and such was its success in this guise that it increased the
+circulation of that periodical by twenty thousand. During the next two
+years Reade, recognising its romantic possibilities, expanded it to its
+present length. As a picture of the manners and customs of the times it is
+almost unsurpassable; yet pervading the whole is the strong, clear
+atmosphere of romantic drama never allowing the somewhat ample descriptions
+to predominate the thrilling interest with which the story is charged. Sir
+Walter Besant regarded it as the "greatest historical novel in the
+language." Swinburne remarked of it that "a story better conceived, better
+constructed, or better related, it would be difficult to find anywhere."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Gerard Falls in Love</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>It was past the middle of the fifteenth century when our tale
+begins.</p>
+
+<p>Elias, and Catherine his wife, lived in the little town of Tergon in
+Holland. He traded, wholesale and retail, in cloth and curried leather, and
+the couple were well to do. Nine children were born to them; four of these
+were set up in trade, one, Giles, was a dwarf, another, little Catherine,
+was a cripple. Cornelis, the eldest, and Sybrandt, the youngest, lived at
+home, too lazy to work, waiting for dead men's shoes.</p>
+
+<p>There remained young Gerard, a son apart and distinct, destined for the
+Church. The monks taught him penmanship, and continued to teach him, until
+one day, in the middle of a lesson, they discovered he was teaching them.
+Then Gerard took to illuminating on vellum, and in this he was helped by an
+old lady, Margaret Van Eyck, sister of the famous brothers Van Eyck, who
+had come to end her days near Tergon. When Philip the Good, Count of
+Flanders, for the encouragement of the arts, offered prizes for the best
+specimens of painting on glass and illumination on vellum, Gerard decided
+to compete. He sent in his specimens, and his mother furnished him with a
+crown to go to Rotterdam and see the work of his competitors and the prize
+distribution. Gerard would soon be a priest, she argued; it seemed hard if
+he might not enjoy the world a little before separating himself from it for
+life.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the road to Rotterdam, within a league of the city, that
+Gerard found an old man sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a
+comely young woman holding his hand. The old man wore a gown, and a fur
+tippet, and a velvet cap--sure signs of dignity; but the gown was rusty,
+and the fur old--sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed in
+plain russet cloth, yet snow-white lawn covered her neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I fear you are tired," said Gerard bashfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man; "and faint for lack of
+food."</p>
+
+<p>The girl whispered, "Father, a stranger--a young man!" But Gerard, with
+simplicity, and as a matter of course, was already gathering sticks for a
+fire. This done, he took down his wallet, and brought his tinder-box and an
+iron flask his careful mother had put in.</p>
+
+<p>Ghysbrecht Van Swikten, the burgomaster of Tergon, an old man redolent
+of wealth, came riding by while Gerard was preparing a meal of soup and
+bread by the roadside. He reined in his steed and spoke uneasily: "Why,
+Peter--Margaret--what mummery is this?" Then, seeing Gerard, he cast a look
+of suspicion on Margaret, and rode on. The wayfarers did not know that more
+than half the wealth of the burgomaster belonged to old Peter Brandt, now
+dependent on Gerard for his soup; but Ghysbrecht knew it, and carried it in
+his heart, a scorpion of remorse that was not penitence.</p>
+
+<p>From that hour Gerard was in love with Margaret, and now began a pretty
+trouble. For at Rotterdam, thanks to a letter from Margaret Van Eyck,
+Gerard won the favour of the Princess Marie, who, hearing that he was to be
+a priest, promised him a benefice. And yet no sooner was Gerard returned
+home to Tergon than he must needs go seeking Margaret, who lived alone with
+her father, old Peter Brandt, at Sevenbergen. Ghysbrecht's one fear was
+that if Gerard married Margaret the youth would sooner or later get to hear
+about certain documents in the burgomaster's possession, documents which
+established Brandt's right to lands held by the burgomaster, and which old
+Peter had long forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>So Ghysbrecht went to Eli and Catherine and showed them a picture Gerard
+had made of Margaret Brandt, and said that if Eli ordered it his son should
+be locked up until he came to his senses. Henceforth there was no longer
+any peace in the little house at Tergon, and at last Eli declared before
+the whole family that he had ordered the burgomaster to imprison his son
+Gerard in the Stadthouse rather than let him marry Margaret. Gerard turned
+pale at this, and his father went on to say, "and a priest you shall be
+before this year is out, willy-nilly."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it so?" cried Gerard. "Then hear me all. By God and St. Bavon, I
+swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives. Since force is to
+decide it, and not love and duty, try force, father. And the day I see the
+burgomaster come for me I leave Tergon for ever, and Holland too, and my
+father's house, where it seems I am valued only for what is to be got out
+of me."</p>
+
+<p>And he flung out of the room white with anger and desperation.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" cried Catherine. "That comes of driving young folk too hard.
+Now, heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or single."</p>
+
+<p>Gerard went to his good friend Margaret Van Eyck, who advised him to go
+to Italy, where painters were honoured like princes, and to take the girl
+he loved with him. Ten golden angels she gave him besides to take him to
+Rome.</p>
+
+<p>Gerard decided to marry Margaret Brandt at once, and a day or two later
+they stood before the altar of Sevenbergen Church. But the ceremony was
+never concluded, although Gerard got a certificate from the priest, for
+Ghysbrecht getting wind of what was afoot, sent his servants, who stopped
+the marriage, and carried Gerard off to the burgomaster's prison. In the
+room where he was confined were very various documents, which the prisoner
+got hold of.</p>
+
+<p>Gerard escaped from the prison, and vowing he had done with Tergon, bade
+farewell to Margaret, and set off for Italy. Once across the frontier in
+Germany he was safe from Ghysbrecht's malice. He also had in his keeping
+the piece of parchment which gave certain lands to Peter Brandt, and which
+Ghysbrecht had hitherto held.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--To Rome</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>It is likely Gerard would never have reached Rome but for his faithful
+comrade Denys, a soldier making his way home to Burgundy, whom he met early
+on the road. Gerard, at first, was for going on alone, but his companion
+would not be refused.</p>
+
+<p>"You will find me a dull companion, for my heart is very heavy," said
+Gerard, yielding.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll cheer you, mon gars."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you would," said Gerard sweetly; "and sore need have I of a
+kindly voice in mine ear this day."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no soul is sad alongside me. I lift up their poor little hearts
+with my consigne; 'Courage, tout le monde, le diable est mort.' Ha!
+Ha!"</p>
+
+<p>"So be it, then," said Gerard. "We will go together as far as Rhine, and
+God go with us both!"</p>
+
+<p>"Amen!" said Denys, and lifted up his cap.</p>
+
+<p>The pair trudged manfully on, and Denys enlivened the weary way. He
+chattered about battles and sieges, and things which were new to Gerard;
+and he was one of those who <i>make</i> little incidents wherever they go.
+He passed nobody without addressing him. "They don't understand it, but it
+wakes them up," said he. But, whenever they fell in with a monk or priest,
+he pulled a long face and sought the reverend father's blessing, and
+fearlessly poured out on him floods of German words in such order as not to
+produce a single German sentence. He doffed his cap to every woman, high or
+low, he caught sight of, and complimented her in his native tongue, well
+adapted to such matters; and at each carrion crow or magpie down came his
+crossbow, and he would go a furlong off the road to circumvent it; and
+indeed he did shoot one old crow with laudable neatness, and carried it to
+the nearest hen-roost, and there slipped in and sat it upon a nest. "The
+good-wife will say, 'Alack, here is Beelzebub a hatching of my eggs.'"</p>
+
+<p>But the time came for parting and Denys, with a letter from Gerard to
+Margaret Brandt, reached Tergon, and found Eli and Catherine and gave them
+news of their son. "Many a weary league we trode together," said Denys.
+"Never were truer comrades; never will be while earth shall last. First I
+left my route a bit to be with him, then he his to be with me. We talked of
+Sevenbergen and Tergon a thousand times, and of all in this house. We had
+our troubles on the road, but battling them together made them light. I
+saved his life from a bear, he mine in the Rhine; for he swims like a duck,
+and I like a hod o' bricks; and we saved one another's lives at an inn in
+Burgundy, where we two held a room for a good hour against seven
+cut-throats, and crippled one and slew two; and your son met the stoutest
+champion I ever countered, and spitted him like a sucking-pig, else I had
+not been here. And at our sad parting, soldier though I be, these eyes did
+rain salt, scalding tears, and so did his, poor soul. His last word to me
+was: 'Go, comfort Margaret!' So here I be. Mine to him was: 'Think no more
+of Rome. Make for Rhine, and down stream home.'"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret Brandt had removed to Rotterdam, and there was no love lost
+between her and Catherine; but Gerard's letter drew them to a
+reconciliation, and from that day Catherine treated Margaret as her own
+daughter, and made much of Gerard's child when it was born. Eli and his son
+Richart, now a wealthy merchant, decided that Gerard must be bidden return
+home on the instant, for they longed to see him, and since he was married
+to Margaret, it was useless for any further strife on the matter.</p>
+
+<p>But Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster, knew by this time that Gerard had
+obtained the parchment relating to Peter Brandt's lands, and was anxious
+that Gerard should not return. Cornelis and Sybrandt were also against
+their brother, and willing to aid the burgomaster in any diabolical
+adventure. So a letter was concocted and Margaret Van Eyck's signature
+forged to it, and in this letter it was said that Margaret Brandt was
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Gerard had reached Rome. The ship he sailed in was
+wrecked off the coast between Naples and Rome, and here Gerard was nearly
+drowned. He and a Dominican friar clung to a mast when the ship had
+struck.</p>
+
+<p>It was a terrible situation; one moment they saw nothing, and seemed
+down in a mere basin of watery hills; the next they caught glimpses of the
+shore speckled bright with people, who kept throwing up their arms to
+encourage them.</p>
+
+<p>When they had tumbled along thus a long time, suddenly the friar said
+quietly: "I touched the ground."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible, father," said Gerard. "We are more than a hundred yards
+from shore. Prythee, leave not our faithful mast."</p>
+
+<p>"My son," said the friar, "you speak prudently. But know that I have
+business of Holy Church on hand, and may not waste time floating, when I
+can walk in her service. There, I felt it with my toes again! Thy stature
+is less than mine; keep to the mast; I walk." He left the mast accordingly,
+and extending his powerful arms, rushed through the water. Gerard soon
+followed him. At each overpowering wave the monk stood like a tower, and,
+closing his mouth, threw his head back to encounter it, then emerged and
+ploughed lustily on. At last they came close to the shore, and then the
+natives sent stout fishermen into the sea, holding by long spears, and so
+dragged them ashore.</p>
+
+<p>The friar shook himself, bestowed a short paternal benediction on the
+natives, and went on to Rome, without pausing.</p>
+
+<p>Gerard grasped every hand upon the beach. They brought him to an
+enormous fire, left him to dry himself, and fetched clothes for him to
+wear.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, towards afternoon, Gerard--twice as old as last year, thrice
+as learned in human ways, a boy no more, but a man who had shed blood in
+self-defence, and grazed the grave by land and sea--reached the Eternal
+City.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Cloister</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Gerard stayed in Rome, worked hard, and got money for his illuminations.
+He put by money of all he earned, and Margaret seemed nearer and nearer.
+Then came the day when the forged letter reached him. "Know that Margaret
+Brandt died in these arms on Thursday night last. The last words on her
+lips was 'Gerard!' She said: 'Tell him I prayed for him at my last hour,
+and bid him pray for me.'" The letter was signed with Margaret Van Eyck's
+signature, sure enough.</p>
+
+<p>Gerard staggered against the window sill and groaned when he read this.
+His senses failed him; he ran furiously about the streets for hours.
+Despair followed.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day he was raving with fever on the brain, and on his
+recovery from the fever a dark cloud fell on Gerard's noble mind.</p>
+
+<p>His friend Fra Jerome, the same Dominican friar who had escaped from the
+wreck with him, exhorted him to turn and consecrate his gifts to the
+Church.</p>
+
+<p>"Malediction on the Church!" cried Gerard. "But for the Church I should
+not lie broken here, and she lie cold in Holland." Fra Jerome left him at
+this.</p>
+
+<p>Gerard's pure and unrivalled love for Margaret had been his polar star.
+It was quenched, and he drifted on the gloomy sea of no hope. He rushed
+fiercely into pleasure, and in those days, more than now, pleasure was
+vice. The large sums he had put by for Margaret gave him ample means for
+debauchery, and he sought for a moment's oblivion in the excitements of the
+hour. "Ghysbrecht lives; Margaret dies!" he would try out. "Curse life,
+curse death, and whosoever made them what they are!"</p>
+
+<p>His heart deteriorated along with his morals, and he no longer had
+patience for his art, as the habits of pleasure grew on him.</p>
+
+<p>Then life itself became intolerable to Gerard, and one night, in
+resolute despair, he flung himself into the river. But he was not allowed
+to drown, and was carried, all unconscious, to the Dominican convent.
+Gerard awoke to find Father Jerome by his bedside.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Father Jerome, how came I hither?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"By the hand of Heaven! You flung away God's gift. He bestowed it on you
+again. Think of it! Hast tried the world and found its gall. Now try the
+Church! The Church is peace. Pax vobiscum!"</p>
+
+<p>Gerard learnt that the man who had saved him from drowning was a
+professional assassin.</p>
+
+<p>Saved from death by an assassin!</p>
+
+<p>Was not this the finger of Heaven--of that Heaven he had insulted,
+cursed, and defied?</p>
+
+<p>He shuddered at his blasphemies. He tried to pray, but found he could
+only utter prayers, and could not pray.</p>
+
+<p>"I am doomed eternally!" he cried. "Doomed, doomed!" Then rose the
+voices of the choir chanting a full service. Among them was one that seemed
+to hover above the others--a sweet boy's voice, full, pure, angelic.</p>
+
+<p>He closed his eyes and listened. The days of his own boyhood flowed back
+upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," he sighed, "the Church is peace of mind. Till I left her bosom I
+ne'er knew sorrow, nor sin."</p>
+
+<p>And the poor torn, worn creature wept; and soon was at the knees of a
+kind old friar, confessing his every sin with sighs and groans of
+penitence.</p>
+
+<p>And, lo! Gerard could pray now, and he prayed with all his heart.</p>
+
+<p>He turned with terror and aversion from the world, and begged
+passionately to remain in the convent. To him, convent nurtured, it was
+like a bird returning wounded, wearied, to its gentle nest.</p>
+
+<p>He passed his novitiate in prayer and mortification and pious reading
+and meditation.</p>
+
+<p>And Gerard, carried from the Tiber into that convent a suicide, now
+passed for a young saint within its walls.</p>
+
+<p>Upon a shorter probation than usual, he was admitted to priests' orders,
+and soon after took the monastic vows, and became a friar of St.
+Dominic.</p>
+
+<p>Dying to the world, the monk parted with the very name by which he had
+lived in it, and so broke the last link of association with earthly
+feelings. Here Gerard ended, and Brother Clement began.</p>
+
+<p>The zeal and accomplishments of Clement, especially his rare mastery of
+language, soon transpired, and he was destined to travel and preach in
+England, corresponding with the Roman centre.</p>
+
+<p>It was rather more than twelve months later when Clement and Jerome set
+out for England. They reached Rotterdam, and here Jerome, impatient because
+his companion lingered on the way, took ship alone, and advised Clement to
+stop awhile and preach to his own countrymen.</p>
+
+<p>Clement was shocked and mortified at this contemptuous desertion. He
+promised to sleep at the convent and preach whenever the prior should
+appoint, and then withdrew abruptly. Shipwrecked with Jerome, and saved on
+the same fragment of the wreck; his pupil, and for four hundred miles his
+fellow traveller in Christ; and to be shaken off like dirt, the first
+opportunity. "Why, worldly hearts are no colder nor less trusty than this,"
+said he. "The only one that ever really loved me lies in a grave hard by at
+Sevenbergen, and I will go and pray over it."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Cloister and Hearth</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Friar Clement, preaching in Rotterdam, saw Margaret in the church and
+recognised her. Within a day or two he learnt from the sexton, who had been
+in the burgomaster's service, the story of the trick that had been played
+upon him by his brothers, in league with Ghysbrecht.</p>
+
+<p>That same night a Dominican friar, livid with rage, burst into the room
+when Eli and Catherine were collected with their family round the table at
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>Standing in front of Cornelius and Sybrandt he cursed them by name, soul
+and body, in this world and the next. Then he tore a letter out of his
+bosom, and flung it down before his father.</p>
+
+<p>"Read that, thou hard old man, that didst imprison thy son, read, and
+see what monsters thou has brought into the world! The memory of my wrongs,
+and hers dwell with you all for ever! I will meet you again at the
+judgement day; on earth ye will never see me more!"</p>
+
+<p>And in a moment, as he had come, so he was gone, leaving them stiff and
+cold, and white as statues, round the smoking board.</p>
+
+<p>Eli drove Cornelis and Sybrandt out of doors at the point of a sword
+when he understood their infamy, and heavy silence reigned in his house
+that night.</p>
+
+<p>And where was Clement?</p>
+
+<p>Lying at full length upon the floor of the convent church, with his lips
+upon the lowest step of the altar, in an indescribable state of terror,
+misery, penitence, and self-abasement; through all of which struggled
+gleams of joy that Margaret was alive.</p>
+
+<p>Then he suddenly remembered that he had committed another sin besides
+intemperate rage. He had neglected a dying man. He rose instantly, and set
+out to repair the omission.</p>
+
+<p>The house he was called to was none other than the Stadthouse, and the
+dying man was his old enemy Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster.</p>
+
+<p>Clement trembled a little as he entered, and said in a low voice "Pax
+vobiscum." Ghysbrecht did not recognise Gerard in the Dominican friar, and
+promised in his sickness to make full restitution to Margaret Brandt for
+the withholding of her property from her.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he was quite sure Margaret had her own, and was a rich woman,
+Friar Clement disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The hermit of Gouda had recently died, and Clement found his cell amidst
+the rocks, and appropriated it. The news that he had been made vicar of
+Gouda never reached his ears to disturb him.</p>
+
+<p>It was Margaret who discovered Clement's hiding-place and sought him
+out, and begged him to leave the dismal hole he inhabited, and come to the
+vacant vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>"My beloved," said he, with a strange mixture of tenderness and dogged
+resolution, "I bless thee for giving me one more sight of thy sweet face,
+and may God forgive thee, and bless thee, for destroying in a minute the
+holy place it hath taken six months of solitude to build. I am a priest, a
+monk, and though my heart break I must be firm. My poor Margaret, I seem
+cruel; yet I am kind; 'tis best we part; ay, this moment."</p>
+
+<p>But Margaret went away, and, determined to drive Clement from his
+hermitage, returned again with their child, which she left in the cell in
+its owner's absence. Now, Clement was fond of children, and, thinking the
+infant had been deserted by some unfortunate mother, he at once set to work
+to comfort it.</p>
+
+<p>"Now bless thee, bless thee sweet innocent! I would not change thee for
+e'en a cherub in heaven," said Clement. Soon the child was nestling in the
+hermit's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"I ikes oo," said the little boy. "Ot is oo? Is oo a man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, little heart, and a great sinner to boot"</p>
+
+<p>"I ikes great tingers. Ting one a tory."</p>
+
+<p>Clement chanted a child's story in a sort of recitative. The boy
+listened with rapture, and presently succumbed to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Clement began to rock his new treasure in his arms, and to crone over
+him a little lullaby well known in Tergon, with which his own mother had
+often set him off.</p>
+
+<p>He sighed deeply, and could not help thinking what might have been but
+for a piece of paper with a lie in it.</p>
+
+<p>The next moment the moonlight burst into his cell, and with it, and in
+it, Margaret Brandt was down at his knee with a timorous hand upon his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Gerald, you do not reject us. You cannot."</p>
+
+<p>The hermit stared from the child to her in throbbing amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Us?" he gasped at last.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret was surprised in her turn.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" she cried. "Doth not a father know his own child? Fie, Gerard,
+to pretend! 'Tis thine own flesh and blood thou holdest to thine
+heart."</p>
+
+<p>Long they sat and talked that night, and the end of it was Clement
+promised to leave his cave for the manse at Gouda. But once the new vicar
+was installed Margaret kept away from the parsonage. She left little Gerard
+there to complete the conquest her maternal heart ascribed to him, and
+contented herself with stolen meetings with her child.</p>
+
+<p>Then the new vicar of Gouda, his beard close shaved, and in a grey frock
+and large felt hat, came to bring her to the vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>"My sweet Margaret!" he cried. "Why is this? Why hold you aloof from
+your own good deed? We have been waiting and waiting for you every day, and
+no Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>And Margaret went to the manse, and found Catherine, Clement's mother,
+there; and next day being Sunday the two women heard the Vicar of Gouda
+preach in his own church. It was crammed with persons, who came curious,
+but remained. Never was Clement's gift as a preacher displayed more
+powerfully. In a single sermon, which lasted two hours, and seemed to last
+but twenty minutes, he declared the whole scripture.</p>
+
+<p>The two women in a corner sat entranced, with streaming eyes.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they were by themselves, Margaret threw her arms round
+Catherine's neck and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother, I am not quite a happy woman, but oh! I am a proud
+one."</p>
+
+<p>And she vowed on her knees never by word or deed to let her love come
+between this young saint and heaven.</p>
+
+<p>The child, who lived to become the great Erasmus, was already winning a
+famous name at school, when Margaret was stricken with the plague and died.
+A fortnight later and Clement left his vicarage and entered the Dominican
+convent to end life as he began it. A few days later and he, too, was dead,
+and the convent counted him a saint.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="SAMUEL_RICHARDSON"></a>SAMUEL RICHARDSON</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Pamela"></a>Pamela</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Samuel Richardson, the son of a joiner, was born at some
+place not identified in Derbyshire, England, 1689. After serving an
+apprenticeship to a stationer, he entered a printing office as compositor
+and corrector of the press. In 1719 Richardson, whose career throughout was
+that of the industrious apprentice, took up his freedom, and began business
+as printer and stationer in Salisbury Court, London. Success attended his
+venture; he soon published a newspaper, and also obtained the printing of
+the journals of the House of Commons. "Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded," was
+written as the result of a suggestion by two booksellers that Richardson
+should compose a volume of familiar letters for illiterate country folk. It
+was published towards the end of 1740, and its vogue, in an age
+particularly coarse and robust, was extraordinary. Of the many who
+ridiculed his performance the most noteworthy was Fielding, who produced
+what Richardson and his friends regarded as the "lewd and ungenerous
+engraftment of 'Joseph Andrews.'" The story has many faults, but the
+portrayal of Pamela herself is accomplished with the success of a master
+hand. Richardson died July 4, 1761. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Pamela to her Parents</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I have great trouble, and some comfort, to
+acquaint you with. The trouble is that my good lady died of the illness I
+mention'd to you, and left us all griev'd for the loss of her; for she was
+a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants. Much I fear'd, that as I
+was taken by her ladyship to wait upon her person, I should be quite
+destitute again, and forc'd to return to you and my poor mother, who have
+enough to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my lady's goodness had put me
+to write and cast accounts, and made me a little expert at my needle, and
+otherwise qualify'd above my degree, it was not every family that could
+have found a place that your poor Pamela was fit for. But God, whose
+graciousness to us we have so often experienc'd, put it into my good lady's
+heart, on her death-bed, just an hour before she expir'd, to recommend to
+my young master all her servants, one by one; and when it came to my turn
+to be recommended (for I was sobbing and crying at her pillow) she could
+only say, "My dear son!" and so broke off a little; and then
+recovering--"remember my poor Pamela!" and those were some of her last
+words! O, how my eyes overflow! Don't wonder to see the paper so
+blotted!</p>
+
+<p>Well, but God's will must be done, and so comes the comfort, that I
+shall not be obliged to return back to be a burden to my dear parents! For
+my master said, "I will take care of you all, my good maidens; and for you,
+Pamela (and took me by the hand before them all), for my dear mother's sake
+I will be a friend to you, and you shall take care of my linen." God bless
+him! and pray with me, my dear father and mother, for a blessing upon him,
+for he has given mourning and a year's wages to all my lady's servants; and
+I, having no wages as yet, my lady having said she would do for me as I
+deserv'd, ordered the housekeeper to give me mourning with the rest, and
+gave me with his own hand four guineas and some silver, which were in my
+lady's pocket when she died; and said if I was a good girl, and faithful
+and diligent, he would be a friend to me, for his mother's sake. And so I
+send you these four guineas for your comfort. I send them by John, our
+footman, who goes your way; but he does not know what he carries; because I
+seal them up in one of the little pill-boxes which my lady had, wrapp'd
+close in paper, that they may not chink, and be sure don't open it before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be--</p>
+
+<p class="date">Your dutiful Daughter.</p>
+
+<p>I have been scared out of my senses, for just now, as I was folding up
+this letter in my lady's dressing-room, in comes my young master! Good
+sirs, how I was frightened! I went to hide the letter in my bosom, and he,
+seeing me tremble, said smiling, "To whom have you been writing, Pamela?" I
+said, in my confusion, "Pray your honour, forgive me! Only to my father and
+mother." "Well, then, let me see what a hand you write." He took it without
+saying more, and read it quite through, and then gave it me again. He was
+not angry, for he took me by the hand and said, "You are a good girl to be
+kind to your aged father and mother; tho' you ought to be wary what tales
+you send out of a family." And then he said, "Why, Pamela, you write a
+pretty hand, and <i>spell</i> very well, too. You may look into any of my
+mother's books to improve yourself, so you take care of them."</p>
+
+<p>But I am making another long letter, so will only add to it, that I
+shall ever be your dutiful daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="date">PAMELA ANDREWS</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Twelve Months Later</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>MY DEAR MOTHER,--You and my good father may wonder you have not had a
+letter from me in so many weeks; but a sad, sad scene has been the occasion
+of it. But yet, don't be frightened, I am honest, and I hope God, in his
+goodness, will keep me so.</p>
+
+<p>O this angel of a master! this fine gentleman! this gracious benefactor
+to your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the prayer of his good,
+dying mother! This very gentleman (yes, I <i>must</i> call him gentleman,
+though he has fallen from the merit of that title) has degraded himself to
+offer freedoms to his poor servant; he has now showed himself in his true
+colours, and, to me, nothing appears so black and so frightful.</p>
+
+<p>I have not been idle; but had writ from time to time, how he, by sly,
+mean degrees, exposed his wicked views, but somebody stole my letter, and I
+know not what is become of it. I am watched very narrowly; and he says to
+Mrs. Jervis, the housekeeper, "This girl is always scribbling; I think she
+may be better employed." And yet I work very hard with my needle upon his
+linen and the fine linen of the family; and am, besides, about flowering
+him a waistcoat. But, oh, my heart's almost broken; for what am I likely to
+have for any reward but shame and disgrace, or else ill words and hard
+treatment!</p>
+
+<p>As I can't find my letter, I'll try to recollect it all. All went well
+enough in the main, for some time. But one day he came to me as I was in
+the summer-house in the little garden at work with my needle, and Mrs.
+Jervis was just gone from me, and I would have gone out, but he said,
+"Don't go, Pamela, I have something to say to you, and you always fly me
+when I come near you, as if you were afraid of me."</p>
+
+<p>I was much out of countenance you may well think, and began to tremble,
+and the more when he took me by the hand, for no soul was near us.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a little fool," he said hastily, "and know not what's good for
+yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you if you are obliging,
+and don't stand in your own light." And so saying, he put his arm about me
+and kiss'd me.</p>
+
+<p>Now, you will say, all his wickedness appear'd plainly. I burst from
+him, and was getting out of the summer-house, but he held me back, and shut
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, "I'll do you no
+harm, Pamela; don't be afraid of me."</p>
+
+<p>I sobb'd and cry'd most sadly. "What a foolish hussy you are!" said he.
+"Have I done you any harm?" "Yes, sir," said I, "the greatest harm in the
+world; you have taught me to forget myself, and have lessen'd the distance
+that fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself to be so free to a
+poor servant. I am honest, though poor; and if you were a prince I would
+not be otherwise than honest."</p>
+
+<p>He was angry, and said, "Who, little fool, would have you otherwise?
+Cease your blubbering. I own I have undervalued myself; but it was only to
+try you. If you can keep this matter secret, you'll give me the better
+opinion of your prudence. And here's something," added he, putting some
+gold in my hand, "to make you amends for the fright I put you in. Go, take
+a walk in the garden, and don't go in till your blubbering is over."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't take the money, indeed, sir," said I, and so I put it upon the
+bench. And as he seemed vexed and confounded at what he had done, I took
+the opportunity to hurry out of the summer-house.</p>
+
+<p>He called to me, and said, "Be secret, I charge you, Pamela; and don't
+go in yet."</p>
+
+<p>O how poor and mean must those actions be, and how little they must make
+the best of gentlemen look, when they put it into the power of their
+inferiors to be greater than they!</p>
+
+<p>Pray for me, my dear father and mother; and don't be angry that I have
+not yet run away from this house, so late my comfort and delight, but now
+my terror and anguish. I am forc'd to break off hastily.</p>
+
+<p class="date">Your dutiful and honest DAUGHTER.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Pamela in Distress</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>O my dearest Father and Mother,--Let me write and bewail my miserable
+fate, though I have no hope that what I write can be convey'd to your
+hands! I have now nothing to do but write and weep and fear and pray! But I
+will tell you what has befallen me, and some way, perhaps, may be opened to
+send the melancholy scribble to you. Alas, the unhappy Pamela may be undone
+before you can know her hard lot!</p>
+
+<p>Last Thursday morning came, when I was to set out and return home to
+you, my dearest parents. I had taken my leave of my fellow-servants
+overnight, and a mournful leave it was to us all, for men, as well as women
+servants, wept to part with me; and for <i>my</i> part, I was overwhelmed
+with tears on the affecting instances of their love.</p>
+
+<p>My master was above stairs, and never ask'd to see me. False heart, he
+knew that I was not to be out of his reach! Preserve me, heaven, from his
+power, and from his wickedness!</p>
+
+<p>I look'd up when I got to the chariot, and I saw my master at the
+window, and I courtsy'd three times to him very low, and pray'd for him
+with my hands lifted up; for I could not speak. And he bow'd his head to
+me, which made me then very glad he would take such notice of me.</p>
+
+<p>Robin drove so fast that I said to myself, at this rate of driving I
+shall soon be with my father and mother. But, alas! by nightfall he had
+driven me to a farmhouse far from home; and the farmer and his wife, he
+being a tenant of Mr. B., my master, while they treated me kindly, would do
+nothing to aid me in flight. And next day he drove me still further, and
+when we stopped at an inn in a town strange to me, the mistress of the inn
+was <i>expecting</i> me, and immediately called out for her sister, Jewkes.
+Jewkes! thought I. That is the name of the housekeeper at my master's house
+in Lincolnshire.</p>
+
+<p>Then the wicked creature appear'd, and I was frighted out of my wits.
+The wretch would not trust me out of her sight, and soon I was forced to
+set out with her in the chariot. Now I gave over all thoughts of
+redemption.</p>
+
+<p>Here are strange pains, thought I, taken to ruin a poor, innocent,
+helpless young female. This plot is laid too deep to be baffled, I
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>About eight at night we enter'd the courtyard of this handsome, large,
+old, lonely mansion, that looked to me then as if built for solitude and
+mischief. And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the scene of my
+ruin, unless God protect me, Who is all-sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>I was very ill at entering it, partly from fatigue, and partly from
+dejection of spirits. Mrs. Jewkes seem'd mighty officious to welcome me,
+and call'd me <i>madam</i> at every word.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, Mrs. Jewkes," said I, "don't <i>madam</i> me so! I am but a
+silly, poor girl, set up by the gambol of fortune for a May-game. Let us,
+therefore, talk upon afoot together, and that will be a favour done me. I
+am now no more than a poor desolate creature, and no better than a
+prisoner."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay," says she, "I understand something of the matter. You have so
+great power over my master that you will soon be mistress of us all; and so
+I will oblige you, if I can. And I must and will call you madam, for such
+are the instructions of my master, and you may depend upon it I shall
+observe my orders."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not, I hope," replied I, "do an unlawful or wicked thing for
+any master in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Look ye!" said she. "He is my master, and if he bids me do a thing that
+I <i>can</i> do, I think I <i>ought</i> to do it; and let him, who has
+power to command me, look to the <i>lawfulness</i> of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose," said I, "he should resolve to ensnare a poor young creature
+and ruin her, would you assist him in such wickedness? And do you not think
+that to rob a person of her virtue is worse than cutting her throat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, now," said she, "how strangely you talk! Are not the two sexes
+made for each other? And is it not natural for a man to love a pretty
+woman?" And then the wretch fell a-laughing, and talk'd most impertinently,
+and show'd me that I had nothing to expect either from her virtue or
+compassion.</p>
+
+<p><i>I am now come to the twenty-seventh day of my imprisonment</i>. One
+stratagem I have just thought of, though attended with this discouraging
+circumstance that I have neither friends, nor money, nor know one step of
+the way were I actually out of the house. But let bulls and bears and lions
+and tigers and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful man stand in
+my way, I cannot be in more danger than I now think myself in.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jewkes has received a letter. She tells me, as a secret, that she
+has reason to think my master has found a way to satisfy my scruples. It is
+by marrying me to his dreadful Swiss servant, Colbrand, and buying me of
+him on the wedding-day for a sum of money! Was ever the like heard? She
+says it will be my duty to obey my husband, and that when my master has
+paid for me, and I am surrender'd up, the Swiss is to go home again, with
+the money, to his former wife and children; for, she says, it is the custom
+of these people to have a wife in every nation.</p>
+
+<p>But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing!</p>
+
+<p><i>Friday, the thirty-sixth day of imprisonment</i>. Mercy on me! What
+will become of me? Here is my master come in his fine chariot! What shall I
+do? Where shall I hide myself?</p>
+
+<p>He has entered and come up!</p>
+
+<p>He put on a stern and a haughty air. "Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful
+creature, you do well, don't you, to give me all this trouble and
+vexation?"</p>
+
+<p>I could not speak, but sobb'd and sigh'd, as if my heart would break.
+"Sir," I said, "permit me to return to my parents. That is all I have to
+ask."</p>
+
+<p>He flew into a violent passion. "Is it thus," said he, "I am to be
+answered? Begone from my sight!"</p>
+
+<p>The next day he sent me up by Mrs. Jewkes his proposals. They were seven
+in number, and included the promise of an estate of &pound;250 a year in
+Kent, to be settled on my father; and a number of suits of rich clothing
+and diamond rings were to be mine if I would consent to be his
+mistress.</p>
+
+<p>My answer was that my parents and their daughter would much rather
+choose to starve in a ditch or rot in a noisome dungeon, than accept of the
+fortune of a monarch upon such wicked terms.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jewkes now tells me he is exceedingly wroth, and that I must quit
+the house, and may go home to my father and mother.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sunday night</i>. Well, my dear parents, here I am at an inn in a
+little village. And Robin, the coachman, assures me he has orders to carry
+me to you. O, that he may say truth and not deceive me again!</p>
+
+<p>"I have proofs," said my master to Mrs. Jewkes, when I left the house,
+"that her virtue is all her pride. Shall I rob her of that? No, let her go,
+perverse and foolish as she is; but she deserves to go away virtuous, and
+she shall."</p>
+
+<p>I think I was loth to leave the house. Can you believe it? I felt
+something so strange and my heart was so heavy.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Virtue Triumphant--Pamela's Journal</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>Monday Morning, eleven o'clock.</i> We are just come in here, to the
+inn kept by Mr. Jewkes's relations.</p>
+
+<p>Just as I sat down, before setting out to pursue my journey, comes my
+master's groom, all in a foam, man and horse, with a letter for me, as
+follows:</p>
+
+<p>"I find it in vain, my Pamela, to struggle against my affection for you,
+and as I flatter myself you may be brought to <i>love</i> me, I begin to
+regret parting with you; but, God is my witness, from no dishonourable
+motives, but the very contrary.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot imagine the obligation your return will lay me under to your
+goodness, and if you are the generous Pamela I imagine you to be let me see
+by your compliance the further excellency of your disposition. Spare me, my
+dearest girl, the confusion of following you to your father's, which I must
+do if you go on--for I find I cannot live without you, and I must be--</p>
+
+<p class="date">"Yours, and only yours."</p>
+
+<p>What, my dear parents, will you say to this letter? I am resolved to
+return to my master, and am sending this to you by Thomas the coachman.</p>
+
+<p>It was one o'clock when we reach'd my master's gate. Everybody was gone
+to rest. But one of the helpers got the keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and open'd
+the gates. I was so tired when I went to get out of the chariot that I fell
+down, and two of the maids coming soon after helped me to get up
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p>It seems my master was very ill, and had been upon the bed most of the
+day; but being in a fine sleep, he heard not the chariot come in.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tuesday Morning</i>. Mrs. Jewkes, as soon as she got up, went to know
+how my master did, and he had had a good night. She told him he must not be
+surprised--that Pamela was come back. He raised himself up.</p>
+
+<p>"Can it be?" said he. "What, already? Ask her if she will be so good as
+to make me a visit. If she will not, I will rise and attend her."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jewkes came to tell me, and I went with her. As soon as he saw me,
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my Pamela, you have made me quite well!"</p>
+
+<p>How kind a dispensation is sickness sometimes! He was quite easy and
+pleased with me.</p>
+
+<p>The next day my master was so much better that he would take a turn
+after breakfast in the chariot, handing me in before all the servants, as
+if I had been a lady. At first setting out, he kissed me a little too
+often, that he did; but he was exceedingly kind to me in his words as
+well.</p>
+
+<p>At last, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"My sister, Lady Davers, threatens to renounce me, and I shall incur the
+censures of the world if I act up to my present intentions. For it will be
+said by everyone that Mr. B. has been drawn in by the eye, to marry his
+mother's waiting maid. Not knowing, perhaps, that to her mind, to her
+virtue, as well as to the beauties of her person, she owes her
+well-deserved conquest; and that there is not a lady in the kingdom who
+will better support the condition to which she will be raised if I should
+marry her." And added he, putting his arm round me: "I pity my dear girl,
+too, for her part in this censure, for here she will have to combat the
+pride and slights of the neighbouring gentry all around us. Lady Davers and
+the other ladies will not visit you; and you will, with a merit superior to
+them all, be treated as if unworthy their notice. Should I now marry my
+Pamela, how will my girl relish all this? Will not these be cutting things
+to my fair one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir," said I, "your poor servant has a much greater difficulty than
+this to overcome."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" said he a little impatiently. "I will not forgive your
+doubts now."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said I, "I cannot doubt; but it is, how I shall
+<i>support</i>, how I shall <i>deserve, your</i> goodness to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear girl!" said he, and press'd me to his bosom. "I was afraid you
+would again have given me reason to think you had doubts of my honour, and
+this at a time when I was pouring out my whole soul to you, I could not so
+easily have forgiven."</p>
+
+<p>"But, good sir," said I, "my greatest concern will be for the rude jests
+you will have yourself to encounter for thus stooping beneath yourself. For
+as to <i>me</i> I shall have the pride to place more than half the ill will
+of the ladies to their envying my happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very good, my dearest girl," said he. "But how will you bestow
+your <i>time</i>, when you will have no visits to receive or pay? No
+parties of pleasure to join in? No card-tables to employ your winter
+evenings?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place, sir, if you will give me leave, I will myself look
+into all such parts of the family management as may befit the mistress of
+it to inspect. Then I will assist your housekeeper, as I used to do, in the
+making of jellies, sweetmeats, marmalades, cordials; and to pot and candy
+and preserve, for the use of the family; and to make myself all the fine
+linen of it. Then, sir, if you will indulge me with your company, I will
+take an airing in your chariot now and then; and I have no doubt of so
+behaving as to engage you frequently to fill up some part of my time in
+your instructive conversation."</p>
+
+<p>"Proceed, my dear girl," said he. "I love to hear you talk !"</p>
+
+<p>"Music, which my good lady also had me instructed in, will also fill up
+some intervals if I should have any. Then, sir, you know, I love reading
+and scribbling, and tho' most of the latter will be employed in the family
+accounts, yet reading, in proper books, will be a pleasure to me, which I
+shall be unwilling to give up for the best company in the world when I
+cannot have yours."</p>
+
+<p>"What delight do you give me, my beloved Pamela, in this sweet foretaste
+of my happiness! I will now defy the saucy, busy censures of the
+world."</p>
+
+<p><i>Ten days later</i>. Your happy, thrice happy Pamela, is at last
+married, my dearest parents.</p>
+
+<p>This morning we entered the private chapel at this house, and my master
+took my hand and led me up to the altar. Mr. Peters, the good rector, gave
+me away, and the curate read the service. I trembled so, I could hardly
+stand.</p>
+
+<p>And thus the dear, once haughty, assailer of Pamela's innocence, by a
+blessed turn of Providence, is become the kind, the generous protector and
+rewarder of it.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Clarissa_Harlowe"></a>Clarissa Harlowe</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Clarissa Harlowe," written after "Pamela," brought
+Richardson a European reputation. The first four volumes of the novel
+appeared in 1747, the last four in 1748, and during the next few years
+translations were being executed in French and German. Like "Pamela," the
+story itself is thin and simple, but the characters are drawn with a bolder
+and surer touch. "No work had appeared before," says Scott, "perhaps none
+has appeared since, containing so many direct appeals to the passions." Yet
+opinions were singularly divided as to its merits. Dr. Johnson said that
+the novel "enlarged the knowledge of human nature." </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--At Harlowe Place</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>CLARISSA is persecuted by her family to marry Mr. Roger Solmes, but
+favours Richard Lovelace, who is in love with her. That her grandfather had
+left Clarissa a considerable estate accounts mainly for the hostility of
+the family to Clarissa's desire for independence.</p>
+
+<p>Clarissa writes to her friend, Miss Howe:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>January</i> 15. The moment, my dear, that Mr. Lovelace's visits were
+mentioned to my brother on his arrival from Scotland he expressed his
+disapprobation, declaring he had ever hated him since he had known him at
+college, and would never own me for a sister if I married him.</p>
+
+<p>"This antipathy I have heard accounted for in this manner:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lovelace was always noted for his vivacity and courage, and for the
+surprising progress he made in literature, while for diligence in study he
+had hardly his equal. This was his character at the university, and it
+gained him many friends, while those who did not love him, feared him, by
+reason of the offence his vivacity made him too ready to give, and of the
+courage he showed in supporting it. My brother's haughtiness could not bear
+a superiority; and those whom we fear more than love we are not far from
+hating. Having less command of his passions than the other, he was evermore
+the subject of his ridicule, so that they never met without quarrelling,
+and everybody siding with Lovelace, my brother had an uneasy time of it,
+while both continued in the same college.</p>
+
+<p>"Then on my brother's return he found my sister (to whom Lovelace had
+previously paid some attention) ready to join him in his resentment against
+the man he hated. She utterly disclaimed all manner of regard for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Their behaviour to him when they could not help seeing him was very
+disobliging, and at last they gave such loose rein to their passion that,
+instead of withdrawing when he came, they threw themselves in his way to
+affront him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lovelace, you may believe, ill brooked this, but contented himself
+by complaining to me, adding that, but for my sake, my brother's treatment
+of him was not to be borne.</p>
+
+<p>"After several excesses, which Mr. Lovelace returned with a haughtiness
+too much like that of the aggressor, my brother took upon himself to fill
+up the doorway once when he came, as if to oppose his entrance; and, upon
+his asking for me, demanded what his business was with his sister.</p>
+
+<p>"The other, with a challenging air, told him he would answer a gentleman
+<i>any</i> question. Just then the good Dr. Lewin, the clergyman, came to
+the door, and, hearing the words, interposed between, both gentlemen having
+their hands upon their swords, and, telling Mr. Lovelace where I was, the
+latter burst by my brother to come to me, leaving him chafing, he said,
+like a hunted boar at bay.</p>
+
+<p>"After this, my father was pleased to hint that Mr. Lovelace's visits
+should be discontinued, and I, by his command, spoke a great deal plainer;
+but no absolute prohibition having been given, things went on for a while
+as before, till my brother again took occasion to insult Mr. Lovelace, when
+an unhappy recontre followed, in which my brother was wounded and disarmed,
+and on being brought home and giving us ground to suppose he was worse hurt
+than he was, and a fever ensuing, everyone flamed out, and all was laid at
+my door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lovelace sent twice a day to inquire after my brother, and on the
+fourth day came in person, and received great incivilities from my two
+uncles, who happened to be there.</p>
+
+<p>"I fainted away with terror, seeing everyone so violent; hearing his
+voice swearing he could not depart without seeing me, my mamma struggling
+with my papa, and my sister insulting me. When he was told how ill I was,
+he departed, vowing vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>"He was ever a favourite with our domestics; and on this occasion they
+privately reported his behaviour in such favourable terms that those
+reports and my apprehensions of the consequences, induced me to 'read a
+letter' he sent me that night imploring me 'to answer' it some days
+after.</p>
+
+<p>"To this unhappy necessity is owing our correspondence; meantime I am
+extremely concerned to find that I am become the public talk."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>February</i> 20. Alas, my dear, I have sad prospects! My brother and
+sister have found another lover for me; he is encouraged by everybody. Who
+do you think it is? No other than that Solmes. They are all determined too,
+my mother with the rest.</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday, Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony
+presented him as a gentleman he had a particular friendship for. My father
+said, 'Mr. Solmes is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe.' My mother looked at him,
+and at me; and I at her, with eyes appealing for pity, while my brother and
+sister sir'd him at every word."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>February</i> 24. They drive on at a furious rate. The man lives
+here. Such terms, such settlements. That's the cry. I have already stood
+the shock of three of this man's visits.</p>
+
+<p>"What my brother and sister have said of me, I cannot tell. I am in
+heavy disgrace with my papa.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>March</i> 9. I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace, although I
+have not answered his former one. He knows all that passes here, and is
+excessively uneasy upon what he hears, and solicits me to engage my honour
+to him never to have Mr. Solmes. I think I can safely promise him that.</p>
+
+<p>"I am now confined to my room; my maid has been taken away from me. In
+answer to my sincere declaration, that I would gladly compound to live
+single, my father said angrily that my proposal was an artifice. Nothing
+but marrying Solmes should do."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>April</i> 5. I must keep nothing by me now; and when I write lock
+myself in that I may not be surprised now they think I have no pen and
+ink.</p>
+
+<p>"I found another letter from this diligent man, and he assures me they
+are more and more determined to subdue me.</p>
+
+<p>"He sends me the compliments of his family, and acquaints me with their
+earnest desire to see me amongst them. Vehemently does he press for my
+quitting this house while it is in my power to get away, and again craves
+leave to order his uncle's chariot-and-six to attend my commands at the
+stile leading to the coppice adjoining to the paddock.</p>
+
+<p>"Settlements he again offers; Lord M. and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty to
+be guarantees of his honour.</p>
+
+<p>"As to the disgrace a person of my character may be apprehensive of on
+quitting my father's house, he observes, too truly I doubt, that the
+treatment I meet with is in everybody's mouth, that all the disgrace I can
+receive they have given me. He says he will oppose my being sent away to my
+uncle's. He tells me my brother and sister and Mr. Solmes design to be
+there to meet me; that my father and mother will not come till the ceremony
+is over, and then to try to reconcile me to my odious husband.</p>
+
+<p>"How, my dear, am I driven!"</p>
+
+<p><i>April</i> 8. Whether you will blame me or not I cannot tell. I have
+deposited a letter to Mr. Lovelace confirming my resolution to leave this
+house on Monday next. I tell him I shall not bring any clothes than those I
+have on, lest I be suspected. That it will be best to go to a private
+lodging near Lady Betty Lawrance's that it may not appear to the world I
+have refuged myself with his family; that he shall instantly leave me nor
+come near me but by my leave, and that if I find myself in danger of being
+discovered and carried back by violence, I will throw myself into the
+protection of Lady Betty or Lady Sarah.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear, what a sad thing is the necessity forced upon me for all
+this contrivance!"</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--In London</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Clarissa, after staying in lodgings at St. Albans, is persuaded by
+Lovelace that she will be safer from her family in London. After refusing a
+proposal for an immediate marriage, she therefore moves to London to lodge
+in a house recommended as thoroughly respectable by Lovelace, but which in
+reality is kept by a widow, Mrs. Sinclair, of no good repute, who is in the
+pay of Lovelace.</p>
+
+<p>Clarissa to her friend, Miss Howe:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>April 26.</i> At length, my dear, I am in London. My lodgings are
+neatly furnished, and though I like not the old gentlewoman, yet she seems
+obliging, and her kinswomen are genteel young people.</p>
+
+<p>"I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace, and have great reason
+to be so. He began by letting me know that he had been to inquire the
+character of the widow. It was well enough, he said, but as she lived by
+letting lodgings and had other rooms in the houses which might be taken by
+the enemy, he knew no better way than to take them all, unless I would
+remove to others.</p>
+
+<p>"It was easy to see he spoke the slighter of the widow to have a
+pretence to lodge here himself, and he frankly owned that if I chose to
+stay here he could not think of leaving me for six hours together. He had
+prepared the widow to expect that we should be here only a few days, till
+we could fix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition.</p>
+
+<p>"'Fix <i>ourselves</i> in a house, Mr. Lovelace?' I said. 'Pray in what
+light?'</p>
+
+<p>"'My dearest life, hear me with patience. I am afraid I have been too
+forward, for my friends in town conclude me to be married.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Surely, sir, you have not presumed----'</p>
+
+<p>"'Hear me, dearest creature. You have received with favour my addresses,
+yet, by declining my fervent tender of myself you have given me
+apprehension of delay. Your brother's schemes are not given up. I have
+taken care to give Mrs. Sinclair a reason why two apartments are necessary
+for us in our retirement.'</p>
+
+<p>"I raved at him. I would have flung from him, yet where could I go?</p>
+
+<p>"Still, he insisted upon the propriety of appearing to be married. 'But
+since you dislike what I have said, let me implore you,' he added, 'to give
+a sanction to it by naming an early day--would to Heaven it were
+to-morrow!'</p>
+
+<p>"What could I say? I verily believe, had he urged me in a proper way, I
+should have consented to meet him at a more sacred place than the parlour
+below.</p>
+
+<p>"The widow now directs all her talk to me as 'Mrs. Lovelace,' and I,
+with a very ill-grace, bear it."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>April 28.</i> Mr. Lovelace has returned already. 'My dearest life,'
+said he. 'I cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I
+should. Spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your friends till
+we are married. When they know we are married, your brother's plots will be
+at an end, and they must all be reconciled to you. Why, then, would you
+banish me from you? Why will you not give the man who has brought you into
+difficulties, and who so honourably wishes to extricate you from them, the
+happiness of doing so?'</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear although the opportunity was so inviting, he urged not for
+the <i>day</i>. Which is the <i>more extraordinary</i>, as he was so
+pressing for marriage before we came to town."</p>
+
+<p>After some weeks, Clarissa succeeds in escaping from Mrs. Sinclair's
+house and takes lodgings at Hampstead. But Lovelace finds out her refuge,
+and sends two women, who pretend to be his relatives, Lady Betty and Lady
+Sarah, and Clarissa is beguiled back to Mrs. Sinclair's for an interview.
+Once inside the house, however, she is not allowed to leave it. Her health
+is now seriously injured, and her letters home have been answered by her
+father's curse.</p>
+
+<p>Lovelace to his friend, John Belford:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>June 18.</i> I went out early this morning, and returned just now,
+when I was informed that my beloved, in my absence, had taken it into her
+head to attempt to get away.</p>
+
+<p>"She tripped down, with a parcel tied up in a handkerchief, her hood on,
+and was actually in the entry, when Mrs. Sinclair saw her.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pray, madam,' whipping between her and the street-door, 'be pleased to
+let me know whither you are going?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Who has a right to control me?' was the word.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have, madam, by order of your spouse, and I desire you will be
+pleased to walk up again.'</p>
+
+<p>"She would have spoken, but could not; and, bursting into tears, turned
+back, and went to her chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"That she cannot fly me, that she must see me, are circumstances greatly
+in my favour. What can she do but rave and exclaim?</p>
+
+<p>"To-night, as I was sitting with my pen in my chamber, she entered the
+dining-room with such dignity in her manner as struck with me great awe,
+and prepared me for the poor figure I made in the subsequent conversation.
+But I will do her justice. She accosted me with an air I never saw
+equalled.</p>
+
+<p>"'You see before you, sir, the wretch whose preference of you to all
+your sex you have rewarded as it <i>deserved</i> to be rewarded. Too
+evident is it that it will not be your fault, villainous man, if the loss
+of my soul as well as my honour, which you have robbed me of, will not be
+completed. But, tell me--for no doubt thou hast <i>some</i> scheme to
+pursue,--since I am a prisoner in the vilest of houses, and have not a
+friend to protect me, what thou intendest shall become of the remnant of a
+life not worth keeping; tell me if there are more evils reserved for me,
+and whether thou hast entered into a compact with the grand deceiver, in
+the person of the horrid agent of this house, and if the ruin of my soul is
+to complete the triumphs of so vile a confederacy? Say, if thou hast
+courage to speak out to her whom thou hast ruined; tell me what further I
+am to suffer from thy barbarity.'</p>
+
+<p>"I had prepared myself for raving and execrations. But such a majestic
+composure--seeking me--whom yet, it is plain, by her attempt to get away,
+she would have avoided seeing. How could I avoid looking like a fool, and
+answering in confusion?</p>
+
+<p>"'I--I--I--cannot but say--must own--confess--truly sorry--upon my soul
+I am--and--and--will do all--do everything--all that--all that you require
+to make amends!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Amends, thou despicable wretch! And yet I hate thee not, base as thou
+art, half as much as I hate myself, that I saw thee not sooner in thy
+proper colours, that I hoped either morality, gratitude, or humanity from
+one who defies moral sanction. What amends hast <i>thou</i> to propose?
+What amends can such a one as thou make to a person of spirit or common
+sense for the evils thou hast made me suffer?'</p>
+
+<p>"'As soon, madam; as soon as----'</p>
+
+<p>"'I know what thou wouldst tell me. But thinkest thou that marriage will
+satisfy for a guilt like thine? Destitute as thou hast made me both of
+friends and fortune, I too much despise the wretch who could rob himself of
+his wife's honour, to endure the thoughts of thee in the light thou seemest
+to hope I will accept thee. Had I been able to account for myself and your
+proceedings, a whole week should not have gone over my head before I had
+told you what I now tell you, that the man who has been the villain to me
+you have been shall never make me his wife. All my prospects are shut in. I
+give myself up for a lost creature as to this world. Hinder me not from
+entering upon a life of penitence. Let me try to secure the only hope I
+have left. This is all the amends I ask of you. I repeat, am I now at
+liberty to dispose of myself as I please?'</p>
+
+<p>"Now comes the fool, the miscreant, hesitating in his broken answer. 'My
+dearest love, I am quite confounded. There is no withstanding your
+eloquence. If you can forgive a repentant villain, I vow by all that's
+sacred--and may a thunderbolt strike me dead at your feet if I am not
+sincere--that I will, by marriage, before to-morrow noon, without waiting
+for anybody, do you all the justice I can. And you shall ever after direct
+me as you please till you have made me more worthy of your angelic purity.
+Nor will I presume so much as to touch your garment till I can call so
+great a blessing lawfully mine.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, thou guileful betrayer! Hadst thou not seemed beyond the
+possibility of forgiveness, I might have been induced to think of taking a
+wretched chance with a man so profligate. But it would be criminal to bind
+my soul in covenant to a man allied to perdition.'</p>
+
+<p>"'<i>Allied to perdition</i>, madam?'</p>
+
+<p>"But she would not hear me, and insisted upon being at her own disposal
+for the remainder of her short life. She abhorred me in every light; and
+more particularly in that in which I offered myself to her acceptance.</p>
+
+<p>"And saying this she flung from me, leaving me shocked and confounded at
+her part of a conversation which she began with such severe composure, and
+concluded with such sincere and unaffected indignation. Now, Jack, to be
+thus hated and despised."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Death of Clarissa</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>In the absence of Lovelace from London Clarissa manages to escape from
+Mrs. Sinclair's, and takes refuge in the house of Mrs. Smith, who keeps a
+glove shop in King Street, Covent Garden. Her health is now ruined beyond
+recovery, and she is ready to die. Belford discovers her retreat, and
+protects her from Lovelace.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mowbray, a friend, to Robert Lovelace, Esq.:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>June 29.</i> Dear Lovelace,--I have plaguey news to acquaint thee
+with. Miss Harlowe is gone off. Here's the devil to pay. I heartily condole
+with thee. But it may turn out for the best. They tell me thou wouldst have
+married her had she staid. But I know thee better.</p>
+
+<p class="date">"Thine heartily,</p>
+
+<p class="date">"RICHARD MOWBRAY."</p>
+
+<p>Belford to Lovelace:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>June 29.</i> Thou hast heard the news. Bad or good I know not which
+thou wilt deem it.</p>
+
+<p>"How strong must be her resentment of the barbarous treatment she has
+received, that has made her <i>hate</i> the man she once <i>loved</i>, and
+rather than marry him to expose her disgrace to the world!"</p>
+
+<p>Lovelace to Belford:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>June 30.</i> I am ruined, undone, destroyed.</p>
+
+<p>"If thou canst find her out, and prevail upon her to consent, I will, in
+thy presence, marry her. She cannot be long concealed; I have set all
+engines at work to find her out, and if I do, who will care to embroil
+themselves with a man of my figure, fortune, and resolution?"</p>
+
+<p>Belford to Lovelace:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>August 31.</i> When I concluded my last, I hoped that my next
+attendance upon this surprising lady would furnish me with some particulars
+as agreeable as now could be hoped for from the declining way she is in;
+but I think I was never more shocked in my life than on the occasion I
+shall mention.</p>
+
+<p>"When I attended her about seven in the evening, she had hardly spoken
+to me, when she started, and a blush overspread her sweet face on hearing,
+as I also did, a sort of lumbering noise upon the stairs, as if a large
+trunk were bringing up between two people. 'Blunderers!' said she. 'They
+have brought in something two hours before the time. Don't be surprised,
+sir, it is all to save <i>you</i> trouble.'</p>
+
+<p>"Before I could speak in came Mrs. Smith. 'Oh, madam,' said she, 'what
+have you done?'</p>
+
+<p>"' Lord have mercy upon me, madam,' cried I, 'what have you done?' For
+she, stepping at the instant to the door, Mrs. Smith told me it was a
+coffin. Oh, Lovelace that thou hadst been there at the moment! Thou, the
+causer of all these shocking scenes! Surely thou couldst not have been less
+affected than I, who have no guilt as to <i>her</i> to answer for.</p>
+
+<p>"With an intrepidity of a piece with the preparation, having directed
+them to carry it into her bed-chamber, she returned to us. 'They were not
+to have brought it till after dark,' said she. 'Pray excuse me, Mr.
+Belford; and don't you be concerned, Mrs. Smith. Why should you? There is
+nothing more in it than the unusualness of the thing. Why may we not be as
+reasonably shocked at going to the church where are the monuments of our
+ancestors, as to be moved at such a sight as this.'</p>
+
+<p>"How reasonable was all this. But yet we could not help being shocked at
+the thoughts of the coffin thus brought in; the lovely person before our
+eyes who is in all likelihood so soon to fill it."</p>
+
+<p>Belford to Lovelace:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>September 7.</i> I may as well try to write, since were I to go to
+bed I should not sleep; and you may be glad to know the particulars of her
+happy exit. All is now hushed and still. At four o'clock yesterday I was
+sent for. Her cousin, Colonel Mordern, and Mrs. Smith were with her. She
+was silent for a few minutes. Her breath grew shorter. Her sweet voice and
+broken periods methinks still fill my ears, and never will be out of my
+memory. 'Do you, sir,' turning her head towards me, 'tell your friend that
+I forgive him, and I pray to God to forgive him. Let him know how happily I
+die, and that such as my own I wish to be his last hour.'</p>
+
+<p>"With a smile of charming serenity overspreading her face, she
+expired.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lovelace, but I can write no more."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Sir_Charles_Grandison"></a>Sir Charles Grandison</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Sir Charles Grandison, and the Honourable Miss Byron, in a
+Series of Letters," published in 1753, was the third and last of Samuel
+Richardson's novels. Like its predecessors, it is of enormous length (it
+first appeared in seven volumes) and is written in the form of a series of
+letters. The idea of the author was to "present to the public, in Sir
+Charles Grandison, the example of a man acting uniformly well through a
+variety of trying scenes, because all his actions are regulated by one
+steady principle--a man of religion and virtue, of liveliness and spirit,
+accomplished and agreeable, happy in himself and a blessing to others."
+Such a portrait of "a man of true honour" provoked the highest enthusiasm
+in the eighteenth century; but to-day we have little patience for the
+faultless diction and exemplary conduct of Sir Charles, and, of the two,
+Miss Byron, the heroine, is by far the more interesting. The
+"advertisement" to the edition of 1818 proclaimed the book "the most
+perfect work of its kind that ever appeared in this or any other language,"
+and we may accept that verdict without admiring "the kind."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Miss Lucy Selby to Her Cousin, Miss Harriet Byron</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>Ashby-Cannons, January 10.</i> Your resolution to accompany your
+cousin, Mrs. Reeves, to London, has greatly alarmed your three lovers, and
+two of them, at least, will let you know that it has. Such a lovely girl as
+my Harriet must expect to be more accountable for her steps than one less
+excellent and less attractive.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Greville, in his usual resolute way, threatens to follow you to
+London; and there, he says, he will watch the motions of every man who
+approaches you; and, if he finds reason for it, will <i>early</i> let such
+man know <i>his</i> pretensions, and the danger he may run into if he
+pretend to be his competitor. But let me not do him injustice; though he
+talks of a rival thus harshly, he speaks of you more highly than man ever
+spoke of woman.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fenwick, in less determined manner, declares that he will follow you
+to town, if you stay there above <i>one</i> fortnight.</p>
+
+<p>The gentle Orme sighs his apprehensions, and wishes you would change
+your purpose. Though hopeless, he says, it is some pleasure to him that he
+can think himself in the same county with you; and, much more, that he can
+tread in your footsteps to and from church every Sunday, and behold you
+there. He wonders how your grandmamma, your aunt, your uncle, can spare
+you. Your cousin Reeves's surely, he says, are very happy in their
+influences over us all.</p>
+
+<p>Each of the gentlemen is afraid that by increasing the number of your
+admirers, you will increase his difficulties; but what is that to them, I
+asked, when they already know that you are not inclined to favour any of
+the three?</p>
+
+<p>Adieu, my dearest Harriet. May angels protect and guide you withersoever
+you go!</p>
+
+<p class="date">LUCY SELBY.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Miss Byron to Miss Selby</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>Grosvenor Street, London, February 3.</i> We are returned from a
+party at Lady Betty's. She had company with her, to whom she introduced us,
+and presented me in a very advantageous character. But mutual civilities
+had hardly passed when Lady Betty, having been called out, returned,
+introducing as a gentleman who would be acceptable to everyone, Sir
+Hargrave Pollexfen. "He is," whispered she to me, as he saluted the rest of
+the company in a very gallant manner, "a young baronet of a very large
+estate; the greatest part of which has lately come to him by the death of
+relatives, all very rich." Let me give you a sketch of him, my Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Hargrave Pollexfen is handsome and genteel; pretty tall, about
+twenty-eight or thirty. He has remarkably bold eyes, rather approaching to
+what we would call goggling, and he gives himself airs with them, as if he
+wished to have them thought rakish; perhaps as a recommendation, in his
+opinion, to the ladies. With all his foibles he is said to be a man of
+enterprise and courage, and young women, it seems, must take care how they
+laugh with him, for he makes ungenerous constructions to the disadvantage
+of a woman whom he can bring to seem pleased with his jests.</p>
+
+<p>The taste of the present age seems to be dress; no wonder, therefore,
+that such a man as Sir Hargrave aims to excel in it. What can be
+misbestowed by a man on his person who values it more than his mind? But
+what a length I have run!</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Miss Byron: In Continuation</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>We found at home, waiting for Mr. Reeves's return, Sir John Allestree, a
+worthy, sensible man, of plain and unaffected manners, upwards of
+fifty.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Reeves mentioning to him our past entertainment and company, Sir
+John gave us such an account of Sir Hargrave as let me know that he is a
+very dangerous and enterprising man. He says that, laughing and light as he
+is in company, he is malicious, ill-natured, and designing, and sticks at
+nothing to carry a point on which he has once set his heart. He has ruined,
+Sir John says, three young creatures already, under vows of marriage.</p>
+
+<p>Could you have thought, my Lucy, that this laughing, fine-dressing man,
+could have been a man of malice, and of resentment, a cruel man, yet Sir
+John told two very bad stories of him.</p>
+
+<p>But I had no need of these stories to determine me against receiving his
+addresses. What I saw of him was sufficient.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Miss Byron: In Continuation</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>Wednesday, February 8.</i> Sir Hargrave came before six o'clock. He
+was richly dressed. He asked for my cousin Reeves, I was in my chamber,
+writing.</p>
+
+<p>He excused himself for coming so early on the score of his
+impatience.</p>
+
+<p>Shall I give you, from my cousins, an account of the conversation before
+I went down? You know Mrs. Reeves is a nice observer.</p>
+
+<p>He had had, he told my cousins, a most uneasy time of it, ever since he
+saw me. He never saw a woman before whom he could love as he loved me. By
+his soul, he had no view but what was strictly honourable. He gloried in
+the happy prospects before him, and hoped, as none of my little <i>army</i>
+of admirers had met encouragement from me, that <i>he</i> might be the
+happy man.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you, Mr. Reeves," said he, "that I will give you <i>carte
+blanche</i> as to settlements. I will lay before you, or before any of Miss
+Byron's friends, my rent-rolls. There never was a better conditioned
+estate. She shall live in town, or in the country, as she thinks fit."</p>
+
+<p>On a message that tea was near ready, I went down.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming Miss Byron," said he, addressing me with an air of kindness
+and freedom, "I hope you are all benignity and compassion." He then begged
+I would hear him relate the substance of what had passed between him and
+Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, referred to the declaration he had made, boasted of
+his violent passion, and besought my favour with the utmost
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>As I could not think of encouraging his addresses, I thought it best to
+answer him without reserve.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Hargrave, you may expect nothing from me but the simplest truth. I
+thank you, sir, for your good opinion of me, but I cannot encourage your
+addresses."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>cannot</i>, madam, <i>encourage my addresses!</i>" He stood
+silent a minute or two, looking upon me as if he said, "Foolish girl! Knows
+she whom she refuses?" "I have been assured, madam, that your affections
+are not engaged. But surely, it must be a mistake; some happy man----"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it," I interrupted, "a necessary consequence that the woman who
+cannot receive the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen must be
+engaged?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, madam, as to that, I know not what to say, but a man of my
+fortune----" He paused. "What, madam, can be your objection? Be so good as
+to name it, that I may know whether I can be so happy as to get over
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"We do not, we <i>cannot</i>, all like the same person. There is
+<i>something</i> that attracts or disgusts us."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Disgusts!</i> Madam--disgusts! Miss Byron!"</p>
+
+<p>"I spoke in general, sir; I dare say, nineteen women out of twenty would
+think themselves favoured in the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>you</i>, madam, are the twentieth that I must love; and be so
+good as to let me know----"</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, sir, ask me not a reason for a <i>peculiarity</i>. You may have
+more merit, perhaps, than the man I may happen to approve of better;
+but--<i>shall</i> I say?--you do not--you do not hit my fancy, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Not hit your fancy</i>, madam! Give me leave to say" (and he
+reddened with anger) "that my fortune, my descent, and my ardent affection
+for you ought to avail with me. Perhaps, madam, you think me too airy a
+man. You have doubts of my sincerity. You question my honour."</p>
+
+<p>"That, sir, would be to injure myself," and making a low courtesy, I
+withdrew in haste.</p>
+
+<p>My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin another letter.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>V.--Miss Byron: In Continuation</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Hargrave again called, and renewed
+his addresses, making vehement professions of love, and offering me large
+settlements. To all of which I answered as before; and when he insisted
+upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly told him that I had not the
+opinion of his morals that I must have of those of the man to whom I gave
+my hand in marriage.</p>
+
+<p>"Of my <i>morals</i>, madam!" (and his colour went and came). "My
+<i>morals</i>, madam!" He arose from his seat and walked about the room
+muttering. "You have no opinion of my morals? By heaven, madam! But I will
+bear it all--yet, 'No opinion of my morals!' I cannot bear that."</p>
+
+<p>He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his head; and, snatching up
+his hat, bowed to the ground, his face crimsoned over, and he withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Reeves attended him to the door. "Not like my morals!" said he. "I
+have <i>enemies</i>, Mr. Reeves. Miss Byron treats politely everybody but
+me, sir. Her scorn may be repaid--would to God I could say, with scorn, Mr.
+Reeves! Adieu!"</p>
+
+<p>And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the glasses with violence; and
+rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swelling. And away it
+drove.</p>
+
+<p>A fine husband for your Harriet would this half madman make! Drawn in by
+his professions of love, and by &pound;8,000 a year, I might have married
+him; and when too late found myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and
+madman for the remainder of my life.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>VI.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq.</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>Friday, February 17</i>. No one, at present, but yourself, must see
+the contents of what I am going to write.</p>
+
+<p>You must not be too much surprised. But how shall I tell you the news;
+the dreadful news!</p>
+
+<p>O, my cousin Selby! We know not what has become of our dearest Miss
+Byron.</p>
+
+<p>We were last night at the masked ball in the Hay-market.</p>
+
+<p>Between two and three we all agreed to go home. The dear creature was
+fatigued with the notice everybody took of her. Everybody admired her.</p>
+
+<p>I waited on her to her chair, and saw her in it, before I attended Lady
+Betty and my wife to theirs.</p>
+
+<p>I saw that neither the chair, nor the chairmen were those who brought
+her. I asked the meaning and was told that the chairmen we had engaged had
+been inveigled away to drink somewhere. She hurried into it because of her
+dress, and being warm; no less than four gentlemen followed her to the very
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>I ordered Wilson, my, cousin's servant, to bid the chairmen stop, when
+they had got out of the crowd till Lady Betty's chair and mine, and my
+wife's joined them.</p>
+
+<p>I saw her chair move, and Wilson, with his lighted flambeaux, before it,
+and the four masks who followed her to the chair return into the house.</p>
+
+<p>When our servants could not find that her chair had stopped, we supposed
+that, in the hurry, the fellow heard not my orders; and directed our
+chairmen to proceed, not doubting but that we should find her got home
+before us.</p>
+
+<p>But what was our consternation at finding her not arrived, and that Lady
+Betty (to whose house we thought she might have been carried) had not
+either seen or heard of her!</p>
+
+<p>I had half a suspicion of Sir Hargrave, as well from the character given
+us of him by a friend, as because of his impolite behaviour to the dear
+creature on her rejecting him; and sent to his house in Cavendish Square to
+know if he were at home: and if he were, at what time he returned from the
+ball.</p>
+
+<p>Answer was brought that he was in bed, and they supposed would not be
+stirring till dinner-time; and that he returned from the ball between four
+and five this morning.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>O, my dear Mr. Selby! We <i>have</i> tidings! The dear creature is
+living and in honourable hands. Read the enclosed letter, directed to
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir,--Miss Byron is in safe hands. She has been cruelly treated, and
+was many hours speechless. But don't frighten yourselves; her fits, though
+not less frequent, are weaker and weaker. The bearer will acquaint you who
+my brother is; to whom you owe the preservation and safety of the loveliest
+woman in England, and he will direct you to a house where you will be
+welcome, with your lady (for Miss Byron cannot be removed) to convince
+yourself that all possible care is taken of her by <i>your humble
+servant</i>,</p>
+
+<p class="date">"CHARLOTTE GRANDISON."</p>
+
+<p>What we learnt from the honest man who brought the letter is, briefly,
+as follows:</p>
+
+<p>His master is Sir Charles Grandison; a gentleman who has not been long
+in England.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Charles was going to town in his chariot and six when he met our
+distressed cousin.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Hargrave is the villain.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Charles had earnest business in town, and he proceeded thither,
+after he had rescued the dear creature and committed her to the care of his
+sister. God forever bless him!</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>VII.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq.: In Continuation</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>February</i> 18. I am just returned from visiting my beloved cousin,
+who is still weak, but is more composed than she has hitherto been, the
+amiable lady, Miss Grandison tells me.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Charles Grandison is, indeed, a fine figure. He is the bloom of
+youth. I don't know that I have ever seen a handsomer or genteeler man.
+Well might his sister say that if he married he would break a score of
+hearts.</p>
+
+<p>I will relate all he said in the first person, as nearly in his own
+words as possible.</p>
+
+<p>"About two miles on this side Hounslow," said he, "I saw a chariot and
+six driving at a great rate.</p>
+
+<p>"The coachman seemed inclined to dispute the way with mine. This
+occasioned a few moments' stop to both. I ordered my coachman to break the
+way. I don't love to stand on trifles. My horses were fresh and I had not
+come far.</p>
+
+<p>"The curtain of the chariot we met was pulled down. I knew by the arms
+it was Sir Hargrave Pollexfen's.</p>
+
+<p>"There was in it a gentleman who immediately pulled up the canvas.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw, however, before he drew it up another person wrapped up in a
+man's scarlet cloak.</p>
+
+<p>"'For God's sake, help--help!' cried out the person. 'For God's sake,
+help!'</p>
+
+<p>"I ordered my coachman to stop.</p>
+
+<p>"'Drive on!' said the gentleman, cursing his coachman. 'Drive on when I
+bid you I'</p>
+
+<p>"'Help!' again cried she, but with a voice as if her mouth was half
+stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"I called to my servants on horseback to stop the postilion of the other
+chariot; and I bid Sir Hargrave's coachman proceed at his peril. Then I
+alighted, and went round to the other side of the chariot.</p>
+
+<p>"Again the lady endeavoured to cry out. I saw Sir Hargrave struggle to
+pull over her mouth a handkerchief, which was tied around her head. He
+swore outrageously.</p>
+
+<p>"The moment she beheld me, she spread out both her hands--'For God's
+sake!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Sir Hargrave Pollexfen,' said I, 'by the arms. You are engaged, I
+doubt, in a very bad affair.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I <i>am</i> Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, and am carrying a fugitive
+wife.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Your <i>own</i> wife, Sir Hargrave?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, by heaven!' said he. 'And she was going to elope from me at a
+damned masquerade!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, no, no, no!' said the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let me ask the lady a question, Sir Hargrave. Are you, madam, Lady
+Pollexfen?' said I.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, no, no, no!' was all she could say.</p>
+
+<p>"Two of my servants came about me; a third held the head of the horse on
+which the postilion sat. Three of Sir Hargrave's approached on their
+horses, but seemed as if afraid to come too near, and parleyed
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"'Have an eye to those fellows,' said I. 'Some base work is on foot.
+Sirrah!'--to the coachman--'proceed at your peril!'</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Hargrave then, with violent curses and threatenings, ordered him to
+drive over everyone that opposed him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, sir--sir,' cried the lady, 'help me, for I am in a villain's
+hands! Trick'd--vilely trick'd!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you,' said I to my servants, 'cut the traces if you cannot
+otherwise stop this chariot! Leave Sir Hargrave to me!'</p>
+
+<p>"The lady continued screaming, and crying out for help. Sir Hargrave
+drew his sword, and then called upon his servants to fire at all that
+opposed his progress.</p>
+
+<p>"'My servants, Sir Hargrave, have firearms as well as yours. They will
+not dispute my orders. Don't provoke me to give the word.' Then, addressing
+the lady: 'Will you, madam, put yourself into my protection?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, yes, yes, with my whole heart! Dear, good sir, protect me!'</p>
+
+<p>"I opened the chariot door. Sir Hargrave made a pass at me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Take <i>that</i> for your insolence, scoundrel!' said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I was aware of his thrust, and put it by; but his sword a little raked
+my shoulder. My sword was in my hand, but undrawn.</p>
+
+<p>"The chariot door remaining open. I seized him by the collar before he
+could recover himself from the pass he had made at me, and with a jerk and
+a kind of twist, laid him under the hind wheel of his chariot. I wrenched
+his sword from him, and snapped it, and flung the two pieces over my
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"His coachman cried out for his master. Mine threatened <i>his</i> if he
+stirred. The postilion was a boy. My servant had made him dismount before
+he joined the other two. The wretches, knowing the badness of their cause,
+were becoming terrified.</p>
+
+<p>"One of Sir Hargraves's legs, in his sprawling, had got between the
+spokes of his chariot-wheel. I thought this was fortunate for preventing
+farther mischief. I believe he was bruised with the fall; the jerk was
+violent.</p>
+
+<p>"I had not drawn my sword. I hope I never shall be provoked to do it in
+a private quarrel. I should not, however, have scrupled to draw it on such
+an occasion as this had there been an absolute necessity for it.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady, though greatly terrified, had disengaged herself from the
+man's cloak. I offered my hand, and your lovely cousin threw herself into
+my arms, as a frighted bird pursued by a hawk has flown into the bosom of a
+man passing by. She was ready to faint. She could not, I believe, have
+stood. I carried the lovely creature round, and seated her in my
+chariot.</p>
+
+<p>"'Be assured, madam,' said I, 'that you are in honourable hands. I will
+convey you to my sister, who is a young lady of honour and virtue.'</p>
+
+<p>"I shut the chariot door. Sir Hargrave was now on his legs, supported by
+his coachman; his other servants had fled.</p>
+
+<p>"I bid one of my servants tell him who I was. He cursed me, and
+threatened vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>"I then stepped back to my chariot, and reassured Miss Byron, who had
+sunk down at the bottom of it. What followed, I suppose, Charlotte"--bowing
+to his sister--"you told Mr. Reeves?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can only say, my brother," said Miss Grandison, "that you have
+rescued an angel of a woman, and you have made me as happy by it as
+yourself."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>VIII.--Mr. Deane to Sir Charles Grandison</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>Selby House, October</i> 3. An alliance more acceptable, were it with
+a prince, could not be proposed, than that which Sir Charles Grandison, in
+a manner so worthy of himself, has proposed with a family who have thought
+themselves under obligation to him ever since he delivered the darling of
+it from the lawless attempts of a savage libertine. I know to whom I write;
+and will own that it has been <i>my</i> wish in a most particular manner.
+As to the young lady, I say nothing of her, yet how shall I forbear? Oh,
+sir, believe me, she will dignify your choice. Her duty and her inclination
+through every relation of life were never divided.</p>
+
+<p>Excuse me, sir. No parent was ever more fond of his child than I have
+been from her infancy of this my daughter by adoption.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IX.--Miss Byron to Lady G. (Formerly Charlotte Grandison)</i></h4>
+
+
+<p><i>October</i> 14. Sir Charles came a little after eleven. He addressed
+us severally with his usual politeness, and my grandmother particularly,
+with such an air of reverence as did himself credit, because of her years
+and wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Presently my aunt led me away to another chamber, and then went away,
+but soon returned, and with her the man of men.</p>
+
+<p>She but turned round, and saw him take my hand, which he did with a
+compliment that made me proud, and left us together.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, my dear, your brother looked the humble, modest lover, yet the man
+of sense, of dignity, in love. I could not but be assured of his
+affection.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>On one knee he dropped, and taking my passive hand between his, and
+kissing it, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Miss Byron, you are goodness itself. I approached you with
+diffidence and with apprehension. May blessings attend my future life, as
+my grateful heart shall acknowledge this goodness!"</p>
+
+<p>Again he kissed my hand, rising with dignity. I could have received his
+vows on my knees, but I was motionless; yet how was I delighted to be the
+cause of joy to him! Joy to your brother--to Sir Charles Grandison!</p>
+
+<p>He saw me greatly affected, and considerately said:</p>
+
+<p>"I will leave you, my dear Miss Byron, to entitle myself to the
+congratulations of all our friends below. From this moment I date my
+happiness!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="JEAN_PAUL_FRIEDRICH_RICHTER"></a>JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH
+RICHTER</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Hesperus"></a>Hesperus</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, who was born at Wunsiedel, in
+Bavaria, on March 21, 1763, and died on November 14, 1825, was the son of a
+poor but highly accomplished schoolmaster, who early in his career became a
+Lutheran pastor at Schwarzenbach, on the Saale. Young Richter entered
+Leipzig University in 1780, specially to study theology, but became one of
+the most eccentric and erratic of students, a veritable literary gypsy,
+roaming over vast fields of literature, collating and noting immense stores
+of scientific, artistic, historic, and philosophic facts. Driven to writing
+for subsistence, he only won a reputation by slow degrees, but so great at
+last was the esteem in which his countrymen held him that he is typically
+styled "Der Einzige" ("The Unique"). The turning point proved to be the
+issue of "The Invisible Lodge" ("Die Unsichtbare Loge") in 1793, a romance
+founded on some of his academic experiences. Then followed a brilliant
+series of works which have made Richter's name famous. Among these was
+"Hesperus," published in 1794, which made him one of the most famous of
+German writers. Fanciful and extravagant as the work is, and written
+without any regard to the laws of composition, it is nevertheless stamped
+with genius. In all Richter's stories the plot goes for nothing; it is on
+the thoughts that he strikes out by the way that his fame depends.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Friendship</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>"Victor," said Flamin, to the young Englishman, "give me this night thy
+friendship for ever, and swear to me that thou wilt never disturb me in my
+love to thee. Swear thou wilt never plunge me in misfortune and
+despair!"</p>
+
+<p>The two friends were standing at midnight in the mild, sweet air of May,
+alone on the watch-tower of the little watering place of St. Luna. It was
+their first meeting for eight years. Flamin was the son of Chaplain Eymann,
+who had retired from the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen; Victor was
+the heir of Lord Horion, a noble Englishman who lived at Flachsenfingen and
+directed all the affairs of the prince. The two boys had been sent in their
+infancy to London and brought up together there for twelve years; then for
+six years they had lived with Chaplain Eymann at St. Luna, and Victor had
+naturally conceived a great affection for the old clergyman and a deep love
+for his son. When, however, Victor was eighteen years of age, Lord Horion
+had sent him to G&ouml;ttingen to study medicine, and he had remained at
+that university for eight years. Everybody wondered why a great English
+nobleman should want to bring his son up as a physician; but Horion was a
+politician and his ways were dark and secret. Neither Chaplain Eymann nor
+the wife of that worthy pastor ever understood why his lordship should have
+been so anxious that Flamin and Victor should be brought up together and
+united by the closest ties of friendship; but being good, simple souls,
+they accepted the favours showered upon their son without seeking to
+discover if there were any reason for them. Eight years' absence had not
+diminished Victor's affection for them, but the young English nobleman was
+alarmed by the strange, wild passion which Flamin displayed as soon as they
+were alone together.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I love you, Flamin, more than I love myself," he said,
+clasping his friend in his arms, and leading him to a seat on the
+watch-tower. "Of course, I swear never to overwhelm you in misfortune, or
+desert you or hate you. What is it that brings such gloomy thoughts into
+your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell thee everything now, Victor!" exclaimed his friend. "I will
+open all my heart to thee."</p>
+
+<p>At first he was too much overcome by his feelings to speak. For a long
+time the two young men remained silent, gazing into the dark blue depths of
+the night The Milky Way ran, like the ring of eternity, around the
+immensity of space; below it glided the sharp sickle of the moon, cutting
+across the brief days and the brief joys of men. But clear among the stars
+shone the Twins, those ever-burning, intertwined symbols of friendship;
+westward they rose, and on the right of them blazed the heart of the Lion.
+The two friends had studied astronomy together, and when Victor pointed out
+the happy sign in the midnight sky, Flamin began to tell him his troubles.
+He, a poor clergyman's son, had fallen wildly in love with Clotilda, the
+beautiful daughter of Prince January, of Flachsenfingen. She was living at
+the country seat of the Lord Chamberlain Le Baut, at St. Luna; so poor
+Flamin was able to see her every day. Knowing that he could neither forget
+her nor win her, he was tortured by a strange, hopeless jealousy, and he
+now confessed that, instead of looking forward with joy to Victor's return
+to his home, he had been consumed with fear lest his brilliant, noble,
+handsome friend should utterly eclipse him in the sight of his beloved
+lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot I do anything to help you?" said Victor, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father has immense influence over Prince January," said Flamin,
+"could you beg him to get me some court position at Flachsenfingen? If only
+I could make my way in the world, perhaps I might be able to hope to win at
+last the hand of my lady."</p>
+
+<p>Victor at once promised to do all in his power; and the two friends,
+newly reattached to each other, came down from the watch-tower, and, with
+their arms lovingly entwined, they returned to the parsonage.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Love</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The next day Chamberlain Le Baut gave a garden party in honour of the
+son of the great English minister.</p>
+
+<p>"Take good care!" said the chaplain's wife as Victor set off; "she is
+very beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>Victor had no need to ask who "she" was.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall take care not to take care," he replied, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>Victor was too much of a man of the world to fall in love at first
+sight. But when he entered the garden, and a sweet, tall, and lovely figure
+came forward to greet him from behind the foliage, he felt as if all his
+blood had been driven in his face. It was Clotilda. She spoke to him, but
+he listened to the melody of her voice, instead of to her words, so that he
+did not understand what she was saying. Her quiet, reserved eyes, however,
+brought him to his senses; but still he could not help feeling glad that,
+as Flamin's friend, he had some claim upon her attention and her society.
+It seemed to him as if everything that she did was done by her for the
+first time in life; and he would no doubt have shown a strange
+embarrassment in her company if the Lord Chamberlain and his wife and a
+throng of guests had not come into the garden and surrounded him and
+distracted him by their compliments. Recovering his self-possession, he
+concealed his real feelings by giving full play to his faculty for
+malicious and witty sayings. But though he succeeded in amusing the
+company, he displeased Clotilda; for the talk fell on the topic of
+women.</p>
+
+<p>"The thing which a girl most easily forgets," said the Lord Chamberlain,
+"is how she looks; that is why she is always gazing into a mirror."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps that is also the reason," said Victor, "why no woman regards
+another as more beautiful than she is. The most that a woman will admit is
+that her rival is younger than herself."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing fell upon Clotilda--and this is always found in the best of her
+sex--more keenly than satire upon womankind, and though she concealed the
+fact that she both endured and despised this sort of wit, she began to
+distrust the lips and the heart of the young Englishman, and treated him
+during this time with such cold civility, that he had to exaggerate his
+wild gaiety in order to conceal the grief that he felt.</p>
+
+<p>But as she was walking at evening in the garden, a loose leaf blew out
+of a book that she was holding, and Victor picked it up and read: "On this
+earth man has only two and a half minutes--one to smile, one to sigh, and a
+half a one to love; for in the midst of it he dies."</p>
+
+<p>"Dahore! This is a saying of Dahore!" exclaimed Victor. "Clotilda, do
+you know my beloved master Dahore?" Clotilda turned towards him, her face
+transfigured with a lovely radiance. Their two noble souls discovered at
+last their affinity in their common love for the wise and gracious spirit
+who had nourished their young souls. For some strange reason Lord Horion,
+as they found out as soon as they began to converse together in a sweet and
+sincere intimacy, had had them brought up by the same master; and Dahore,
+an eccentric, lovable man with a profound wisdom, had made them, in both
+mind and soul, comrades to each other, though he educated one in London and
+the other at St. Luna.</p>
+
+<p>"He taught Flamin and me at the same time," said Victor, looking to see
+what effect the name of his friend had on Clotilda. She smiled sweetly, but
+mysteriously, when he went on to speak of his loving friendship for the son
+of Chaplain Eymann.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he knew why her smile was so mysterious. Lord Horion
+arrived from Flachsenfingen with some extraordinary news. Flamin had been
+appointed a counsellor to Prince January. Never had Victor in his wildest
+dreams of his friend's advancement, imagined that he would obtain at a leap
+so high an important position as this. The young Englishman himself had
+been sent to study at G&ouml;ttingen in order that he might be qualified to
+act as the prince's physician; but Flamin, without any labour, had suddenly
+obtained a place of authority almost equal to that occupied by Lord
+Horion.</p>
+
+<p>Late that evening, however, Lord Horion revealed to his son a strange
+secret, in the light of which everything was explained. The Prince of
+Flachsenfingen was a man of a rather weak and evil character, over whom
+Horion ruled by sheer force of will. Prince January had had two children, a
+boy and a girl, and the English lord had had them brought up far away from
+the malicious influences of the court. In order that January might not
+interfere in the education of the heir, Horion had told him that the boy
+had perished in infancy in London. As a matter of fact, the child had been
+brought up with Victor.</p>
+
+<p>"So Flamin is the heir to the throne of Flachsenfingen!" exclaimed
+Victor.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Horion, "and I have trained you to guide and direct him in
+the same way as I guide and direct his father. For the present, however, I
+must have complete control of the matter. Swear that you will not divulge
+the secret of Flamin's birth to him or to any one else, before I give you
+permission."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Victor hesitated. He remembered the promise that Flamin had
+wrung from him on the watch-tower, and this, he was beginning to see, might
+involve him in a perilous misunderstanding.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Clotilda know?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I revealed the secret to her when she came to St. Luna," said Horion,
+"under the same conditions that I am now revealing it to you. She swore to
+reveal it under no circumstances whatever, and you must do the same before
+you leave this spot."</p>
+
+<p>So Victor took the oath with a strange mixture of misgiving and joy. As
+he walked back, slowly and thoughtfully, to the chaplain's house, he at
+last admitted to himself that he was deeply in love with Clotilda. Instead
+of returning to England and leaving Flamin in possession of the field, as
+he had resolved on doing, he was now at liberty to try and win the
+beautiful, noble girl. On the other hand, Flamin would misunderstand his
+actions, and this would bring both of them into great danger.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Victor received his appointment as physician to the Prince
+of Flachsenfingen, and he was summoned to the court, together with
+Clotilda. He now divined what his father's intentions were in regard to him
+and the lovely young girl. Instead, however, of going with her to
+Flachsenfingen, he dressed himself in poor attire and set out on an aimless
+journey through Europe, without telling anyone where he was going.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Enmity</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Victor had a profound aversion from the wild and yet vacant kind of life
+that men pursued at the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen. He was
+comforted in his separation by the thought that so long as it lasted he was
+spared from disturbing the delusions of her jealous brother. But when he at
+last came to Flachsenfingen, he was grieved to find that his beautiful lady
+had grown pale and sorrowful. Like a sweet flower taken from the clear
+fresh air of the forest and placed in a hot, closed room, she was pining in
+the close, heavy atmosphere of the court, which was so crowded and yet so
+lonely. At the sight of her distress, Victor forgot his promise to Flamin.
+Meeting her at evening in the forest near the palace, he sank on his knees
+before her in the dewy grass, and told her all his love for her, and of the
+promise he had made to Flamin. Clotilda stooped and clasped his hand, and
+drew him up, and he folded her to his breast.</p>
+
+<p>"We must part, dearest," he said, "until my father sees fit to reveal to
+your brother the secret of his birth."</p>
+
+<p>A nightingale broke out into a passion of song as Victor gathered up his
+courage to bid her farewell. The call of the nightingale was suddenly
+answered by another nightingale. It kept flying as it sang, and, with its
+voice muffled by the thick blossoms on the trees, it sent a languishing
+melody flowing out of a dim, flowering dell a hundred paces away. The two
+lovers, who dreaded and delayed to part, wandered confusedly after the
+receding nightingale into the hollow of the forest; they knew not that they
+were alone, for in their hearts was God. At last Clotilda recovered
+herself, and as the nightingale ceased, she turned round to say good-bye.
+But Victor lingered, and took both of her hands, though for very grief he
+could not bear to look upon her. With tears in his eyes he murmured,
+"Good-bye, my dearest. My heart is too heavy. I can say no more. Do not
+sorrow, darling. Nothing can part us now--neither life nor death."</p>
+
+<p>Like a transfigured spirit bending down to an angel, he stooped and
+touched her sweet mouth. In a gentle kiss, in which their hovering souls
+only glided tremorously from afar to meet each other with fluttering wings,
+he took from her yielding lips the seal of her pure love. As he did so,
+there came a crashing sound from the dark trees around them.</p>
+
+<p>"You scoundrel!" cried Flamin, rushing down into the hollow, his eyes
+gleaming in the moonlight, and his face white with anger. "Take it, take
+it! I will have your blood for this!"</p>
+
+<p>He had two pistols in his hand, and he thrust one fiercely towards
+Victor. The Englishman drew Clotilda aside, and then went up to his friend,
+saying, "I have not wronged you. Believe me, Flamin, I remember the oath I
+gave you, and I swear that I have been faithful to you. Only wait until I
+see my father, and everything will be explained."</p>
+
+<p>"I want no explanation, you faithless scoundrel," shouted Flamin, "Take
+it, or I will kill you where you stand."</p>
+
+<p>In his blind fury he was pointing the muzzle of the pistol at the
+trembling form of Clotilda, and Victor snatched the weapon from him in
+order to save her.</p>
+
+<p>"I will have blood for this--blood, blood!" Flamin kept saying, reeling
+about the floor of the dell like a drunken man.</p>
+
+<p>"You are my brother, my brother!" cried Clotilda. "Don't you hear? You
+are my brother!"</p>
+
+<p>She ran up to Flamin to take the pistol from him, but reeled and fell to
+the ground in a swoon. Victor looked at her wildly, and thinking that she
+was dead, turned upon Flamin.</p>
+
+<p>"If you want blood," he said sternly, "take mine."</p>
+
+<p>"You fire first," exclaimed Flamin.</p>
+
+<p>Victor lifted his pistol up into the air and shot at the top of a tree;
+then he stood calm and silent waiting for Flamin to fire. His old friend
+pointed the pistol straight at his heart, but hesitated; and Clotilda
+recovered her senses and staggered to her feet, and threw herself before
+her lover. Flamin looked at them in gloomy wonder without lowering his
+pistol. He would have liked to kill them both with one shot, but the
+instinct of a life-long friendship unnerved him. He hurled his pistol away,
+saying, "It isn't worth troubling to kill a scoundrel like you," and then
+turned and strode fiercely through the forest.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>Some weeks afterwards Victor was standing on the watch-tower at St. Luna
+alone, with a letter from Lord Horion in his hand. He looked down from the
+height, and he was tempted to throw himself over. He had regained the
+friendship of Flamin, but it seemed to him that he had now lost all hope of
+winning Clotilda. For Lord Horion had explained the whole of the strange,
+tortuous policy which he had used in regard to Prince January. He informed
+Victor that he had introduced Flamin to the prince, and had proved to him
+that the young man was his heir. "They asked me, my dear Victor," Horion
+went on to say in his letter, "a question which I was surprised at your not
+asking. If Flamin is the son of the prince, where is the son of Chaplain
+Eymann whom I took to London to be educated with him? My dear boy, I have
+no son, and you really are the child of Eymann and his good wife. This
+secret I felt bound to reveal to the prince at the same time that I was
+forced to reveal the secret of Flamin's birth. It was because I wished to
+postpone the revelations until you were established in the prince's good
+graces that I made you take the oath that you took so unwillingly."</p>
+
+<p>Victor felt that what the heir to a great English nobleman might aspire
+to, the son of a poor country clergyman could never hope to attain. By a
+strange vicissitude of fortune he now found himself in the same position as
+that in which Flamin had been when they met on the watch-tower after their
+long separation. His mournful meditations were suddenly interrupted by two
+figures who had silently crept up the stairs of the tower. They were Flamin
+and Clotilda, and each of them put an arm around Victor and led him to the
+parsonage. On the way he learnt that Clotilda had known all along that he
+was the son of Chaplain Eymann.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Titan"></a>Titan</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> The climax of Jean Paul Richter's inspiration, and of his
+obscurity, was reached in "Titan," published during 1801-3. He meant it to
+be his greatest romance, and posterity has confirmed his judgement. Of all
+his works, it is the most characteristic of its author. It has all the
+peculiarities of his style, peculiarities that are reflected in the prose
+of Thomas Carlyle, his most eminent British admirer and interpreter. The
+book itself took ten years to write, and according to his correspondence,
+Richter intended to call it "Anti-Titan," having in view his attacks on the
+material selfishness of the age which, to gain its own ends, would move
+mountains. The motive--a comparison between a man of moral grandeur and one
+of grandiose immorality--came to Richter while he was engaged on
+"Hesperus," a fact that explains why certain characters from the earlier
+romance reappear in "Titan." </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Liana</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>For many years Albano, the young Spanish Count Cesara, had lived within
+sight of the capital city of the state of Hohenfliess; yet he had never
+entered it--his mother, so his father told him, had shut it against him,
+desiring that he should be reared in the Carthusian monastery of rural
+life, not sullied in his youth by mingling with courtiers and men of the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>And now the gates of Pestitz were open to him. Contemplate the heated
+face of my hero, who at last is riding into the streets, built up in his
+fancy of temples of the sun, where who knows but that at every long window,
+on every balcony, his beloved Liana may be standing?</p>
+
+<p>Gaspard, Count Cesara, Knight of the Fleece, had met his son, for the
+first time in Albano's memory, at Lake Maggiore, and Albano had come away
+from the meeting with a feeling of chill that poisoned his heart, eager as
+it was to love and be loved, and a vague, discomposing sense that in his
+birth there was a mystery. But the thought of his father's coldness, all
+thoughts that troubled and confused, were forgotten on his entry into
+Pestitz, in the eager hope of seeing Liana, his beloved, and his friend,
+her brother, Charles Roquairol; for neither his beloved nor her brother had
+he ever yet in his life beheld.</p>
+
+<p>The love and the friendship were of the imagination, and the imagination
+was begotten of the accounts given by Von Falterle, the
+accomplishments-master of Albano in the village of Bl&uuml;menbuhl, and of
+his former pupil Liana, daughter of the Minister von Froulay. It was his
+wont to paste up long altar-pieces of Liana's charms, charms which her
+father had sought to enhance by means of delicate and almost meagre fare,
+by shutting up his orangery, whose window he seldom lifted off from this
+flower of a milder clime--until she had become a tender creature of
+pastil-dust, which the gusts of fate and monsoons of climate could almost
+blow to pieces. In Albano's silent heart, therefore, there was to be seen a
+saintly image of Liana, the ascending Raphael's Mary, but, like the
+pictures of the saints in Passion-week, hanging behind a veil.</p>
+
+<p>And as for her brother, the madcap Roquairol, who in his thirteenth year
+had shot at himself with suicidal intent because the little Countess Linda
+de Romeiro, Albano's father's ward, had turned her back upon him, could our
+hero's admiration be withheld from a youth of his own age who already
+possessed all the accomplishments and had tasted all the passions?</p>
+
+<p>When Albano entered Pestitz, eager that his dreams of love and
+friendship should be realised, the aged Prince of Hohenfliess had just
+departed this life, and Liana, intimate friend of the Princess Julienne,
+daughter of the dead prince, was smitten with temporary blindness, due to
+emotion and consequent headache. Albano first beheld her in the garden of
+her father, the minister, standing in the glimmer of the moon. The blest
+youth saw irradiated the young, open, still Mary's-brow, and the delicate
+proportions, which, like the white attire, seemed to exalt the form. Thou
+too fortunate man!--to whom the only visible goddess, Beauty, appears so
+suddenly, in her omnipotence!</p>
+
+<p>Ah, why must a deep, cold cloud steal through this pure and lofty
+heaven?</p>
+
+<p>The inauguration of the new prince was held--of the enfeebled Prince
+Luigi--upon whose expected speedy decease the neighbouring princely house
+of Haarkaar founded its hopes of acquiring the dominions of Hohenfliess. It
+was on the night of an inauguration ball that Albano, having poured out his
+heart to Roquairol in a letter, met his long-hoped-for friend, and sealed
+their affections by declaring that he would never wed Linda de Romeiro,
+whom it was thought Count Gaspard had designed for his son's bride, and for
+whom Roquairol's youthful passion had not been extinguished.</p>
+
+<p>When Liana recovered her sight, she was sent to Bl&uuml;menbuhl for
+restoration of health--to the home of Albano's foster-father, the
+provincial-director Wehrfritz. Thither often came Albano; thither also came
+Roquairol, to bask in the wondering admiration that Rabette, Albano's
+foster-sister, bestowed on him with all the fervour of her innocent rural
+mind. Albano's dream was fulfilled; he loved Liana in realty as he had
+loved her in imagination. Roquairol thought he loved Rabette; in truth, her
+simplicity was to this experienced conqueror of feminine hearts but a new
+and, for the moment, overmastering sensation.</p>
+
+<p>On a glorious evening Albano and Liana stood on a sloping
+mountain-ridge; overhead was a heaven filled with a life-intoxicated,
+tumultuous creation, as the sun-god stalked away over his evening-world. He
+seized Liana's hands and pressed them wildly to his breast; flames and
+tears suffused his eyes and his cheeks, and he stammered, "Liana, I love
+thee!"</p>
+
+<p>She stepped back, and drew her white veil over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldst thou love the dead?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>He knew her meaning. Her friend Caroline, whom she had loved and who had
+died, had appeared in a vision, and announced that she would die in the
+next year.</p>
+
+<p>"The vision was not true!" cried Albano.</p>
+
+<p>"Caroline, answer him!" Liana folded her hands as if in prayer; then she
+raised the veil, looked at him tenderly, and said, in a low tone, "I will
+love thee, good Albano, if I do not make thee miserable."</p>
+
+<p>"I will die with thee!" said he.</p>
+
+<p>Charles appeared with Rabette; he, also, had spoken frantic words of
+love, and Rabette clung around him compassionately, as a mother around her
+child.</p>
+
+<p>A few more days of joyous life at Bl&uuml;menbuhl, and Liana returned to
+her home at Pestitz. Then for weeks Albano saw nothing of her, heard
+nothing of her. Liana was in sore trouble. Her father had disapproved of
+the match; what mattered much more to her, her mother also. The mother's
+opposition was on the quite decisive ground that she could not endure
+Albano.</p>
+
+<p>The Minister von Froulay had more specific reasons for his
+hostility--the most specific of all being that he had designed his daughter
+for one Bouverot, a disreputable court intriguer, his leaning towards
+Bouverot being based on financial liabilities, and stimulated by financial
+expectations. The minister's lady detested Bouverot, but in desiring
+separation between Liana and Albano, she was her husband's ally. Behold,
+then, Liana torn between duty towards her mother and love for Albano.</p>
+
+<p>Once Albano saw her, but heard no explanation. The prince was wedded to
+the Princess of Haarbaar, and it was at a wedding festivity in the grounds
+of the pleasure palace of Lilar that Albano looked upon his beloved. But
+she was pledged for the time to tell him nothing, and she told him nothing.
+The princess looked curiously at her, for Liana exactly resembled the
+princess's younger sister, the philanthropic Idoine, who devoted herself to
+the idyllic happiness of her peasantry in the Arcadian village that it was
+her whim to rule.</p>
+
+<p>To the aged and saintly court chaplain, Spener, Liana at last brought
+her perplexities. Here the history moves in veils. How he extorted from her
+the promise to renounce her Albano for ever is a mystery watched and hidden
+by the Great Sphinx of the oath she swore to him.</p>
+
+<p>On the next day Albano was summoned, and stood with quivering lips
+before the beloved.</p>
+
+<p>"I am true to you--even unto death," she said; "but all is over."</p>
+
+<p>He looked upon her, wild, wondering.</p>
+
+<p>"I have resigned you," she said; "and my parents are not to blame. There
+is a mystery that has constrained me--"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, God!" he cried. "Is it thus with external fidelity and love?" In
+whirling, cruel passion he pictured his love, her coldness, his pain, her
+violated oath.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not think thou wert so hard," she said. "Oh, it grows dark to me;
+let me to my mother!"</p>
+
+<p>Albano gazed into the groping, timid face, and guessed all--her
+blindness had returned!</p>
+
+<p>The mother rushed up. "May God bring you retribution for this!" cried
+Albano to her. "Farewell, unhappy Liana!"</p>
+
+<p>For many days Albano lived without love or hope, in bitter
+self-reproach; every recollection darted into him a scorpion-sting. And to
+him in his agony came the tormenting news that the fickle Roquairol had
+deserted Rabette. He drove the false one from his presence; sister and
+brother, beloved and friend, were now utterly lost to him.</p>
+
+<p>At length he learned that Liana had recovered her sight, and that she
+was dying. Once more, for the last time, he was admitted to her presence.
+She reclined in an easy-chair, white-clad, with white, sunken cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome, Albano!" she said feebly, but with the old smile. "Some day
+thou wilt know why I parted from thee. On this, my dying day, I tell thee
+my heart has been true to thee." She handed him a sheet with a sketch she
+had made with trembling hand of the noble head of Linda de Romeiro. "It is
+my last wish that them shouldst love her," she said. "She is more worthy of
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, forgive, forgive!" sobbed Albano.</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell, beloved!" she said calmly, while her feeble hand pressed his.
+For a while she was silent. Suddenly she said, with a low tone of gladness,
+"Caroline! Here, here, Caroline! How beautiful thou art!" Liana's fingers
+ceased to play; she lay peaceful and smiling, but dead.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Linda De Romeiro</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Albano's state for a long time was one of fever. He lay dressed in bed,
+unable to walk, in a burning heat, talking wildly, and as each hour struck
+on the clock, springing up to kneel down and utter the prayer, "Liana,
+appear, and give me peace!" to the high, shut-up heavens.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor brother!" said Schoppe the librarian, his old preceptor and dear
+friend. "I swear to thee thou shalt get thy peace to-day."</p>
+
+<p>He went to Linda de Romeiro, now in Pestitz after long wandering, and
+placed his design before her. Would the Princess Idoine, Liana's likeness,
+appear before Albano as a vision and give him peace? Linda consented to
+plead with Idoine. But Idoine made a difficulty. It was not the unusualness
+and impropriety of the thing that she dreaded, but the untruthfulness and
+unworthiness of playing false with the holy name of a departed soul, and
+cheating a sick man with a superficial similarity.</p>
+
+<p>At length Idoine gave her decision. "If a human life hangs upon this, I
+must conquer my feeling."</p>
+
+<p>As eight o'clock struck, Albano knelt in the dusk, crying, "Peace,
+peace!"</p>
+
+<p>Idoine trembled as she heard him; but she entered, clothed in white, the
+image of the dead Liana.</p>
+
+<p>"Albano, have peace!" she said, in a low and faltering tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Liana!" he groaned, weeping.</p>
+
+<p>"Peace!" cried she more strongly, and vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"I have my peace now, good Schoppe," said Albano softly, "and now I will
+sleep."</p>
+
+<p>Time gradually unfolded Albano's grief instead of weakening it. His life
+had become a night, in which the moon is under the earth, and he could not
+believe that Luna would gradually return with an increasing bow of light.
+Not joys, but only actions--those remote stars of night--were now his aim.
+As he travelled with his father in Italy after his recovery, the news of
+the French Revolution gave an object to his eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Take here my word," he wrote to Schoppe, "that as soon as the probable
+war of Gallic freedom breaks out I take my part decidedly in it, for
+it."</p>
+
+<p>But at Ischia, Albano was dazzled by a wonder; he saw Linda de Romeiro.
+When she raised her veil, beauty and brightness streamed out of a rising
+sun; delicate, maidenly colours, lovely lines and sweet fullness of youth
+played like a flower garland about the brow of a goddess, with soft
+blossoms around the holy seriousness and mighty will on brow and lip, and
+around the dark glow of the large eye.</p>
+
+<p>As Albano and Linda walked on the mountain Epomeo, looking upon the
+coasts and promontories of that rare region, upon cities and sea, upon
+Vesuvius without flame or thunder, white with sand or snow, Albano's heart
+was an asbestos leaf written over and cast into the fire--burning, not
+consuming; his whole former life went out, the leaf shone fiery and pure
+for Linda's hand. He gazed into her face lovingly and serenely as a sun-god
+in morning redness, and pressed her hands. "Give them to me for ever!" said
+he earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>She inclined modestly her beautiful head upon his breast, but
+immediately raised it again, with its large, moist eyes, and said
+hurriedly, "Go now! Early to-morrow come, Albano! Adio! Adio!"</p>
+
+<p>Count Gaspard bestowed his paternal consent on the union, and the lovers
+returned separately to Hohenfliess. A difference arose; Albano was still
+bent on warring for France, Linda sought to dissuade him. They quarrelled,
+and parted in anger.</p>
+
+<p>On the day after the quarrel Linda received a letter in Albano's
+handwriting begging forgiveness, and asking for a meeting in the gardens of
+Lilar. She went there at the appointed evening hour, although, owing to the
+night-blindness from which, like many Spaniards, she often suffered, she
+could not see her lover. But she kissed him, and heard his burning words of
+love.</p>
+
+<p>But Albano had not written, and had not entered Lilar. Roquairol's old
+passion for Linda was undiminished; his rage at Albano was beyond bounds.
+He could mimic Albano's writing and voice; he knew of Linda's
+night-blindness. On the next night, in the presence of Albano and Linda, he
+slew himself with his own hand.</p>
+
+<p>The death of Roquairol lay like a blight between the lovers. They parted
+for ever.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Idoine</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>"War!" This word alone gave Albano peace. He made himself ready for a
+journey to France, and ere he set forth he sought out the little spot of
+earth, beneath a linden-tree, where reposed the gentle Liana, the friendly,
+lovely angel of peace.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, with a shudder, he beheld the white form of Liana herself
+leaning against the linden. He believed some dream had drawn down the airy
+image from heaven, and he expected to see it pass away. It lingered, though
+quiet and mute. Kneeling down, he exclaimed, "Apparition, comest thou from
+God? Art thou Liana?"</p>
+
+<p>Quickly the white form looked round, and saw the youth. She rose slowly,
+and said, "My name is Idoine. I am innocent of the cruel deception, most
+unhappy youth." Then he covered his eyes, from a sudden, sharp pang at the
+return of the cold, heavy reality. Thereupon he looked at her again, and
+his whole being trembled at her glorified resemblance to the
+departed--prouder and taller her stature, paler her complexion, more
+thoughtful the maidenly brow. She could not, when he looked upon her so
+silently and comparingly, repress her sympathy; she wept, and he too.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I, too, distress you?" said he, in the highest emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"I only weep," she innocently said, "that I am not Liana."</p>
+
+<p>"Noble princess," he replied, "this holy spot takes away all sense of
+mutual strangeness. Idoine, I know that you once gave me peace, and here I
+thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"I did it," she said, "without knowing you, and therefore could allow
+myself the use of a fleeting resemblance."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her sharply; everything within him loved her, and his whole
+heart, opened by wounds, was unfolded to the still soul. But a stern spirit
+closed it. "Unhappy one, love no one again; for a dark, destroying angel
+goes with poisoned sword behind thy love."</p>
+
+<p>Idoine turned to go. He knelt, pressed her hand to his bosom, and only
+said, "Peace, all-gracious one!" Idoine, after a few swift steps, passed
+out of his sight.</p>
+
+<p>Albano hastened preparations for his journey; but ere the preparations
+were ended, a letter was brought to him that caused him to abandon the
+project altogether. It was a letter from the long-dead Princess Eleonore,
+wife of the old prince who had died when Albano had first entered Pestitz.
+Now, in the fullness of time, was the letter placed before Albano's eyes
+and the token of the fullness of time was the death, without issue, of
+Prince Luigi, and the seeming inheritance of his dominions by the House of
+Haarkaar.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the letter began:</p>
+
+<p>"My son,--Hear thine own history from the mouth of thy mother; from no
+other will it come to thee more acceptably.</p>
+
+<p>"The birth of thy brother Luigi at a late period of our married life
+annihilated the hopes of succession of the house of Haarkaar. But Count
+Cesara discovered proofs of some dark actions which were to cost thy poor
+brother his life. 'They will surely get the better of us at last,' said thy
+father.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame Cesara and I loved each other; we were both of romantic spirit.
+She had just borne a lovely daughter, called Linda. We made the singular
+contract that, if I bore a son, we would exchange; with her, my son could
+grow up without incurring the danger which had always threatened thy
+brother in my house.</p>
+
+<p>"Soon afterwards I brought forth thee and thy sister Julienne at a
+birth. 'I keep' I said, to the countess, 'my daughter, thou keepest thine;
+as to Albano, let the prince decide.' Thy father allowed that thou shouldst
+be brought up as son of the count. The documents of thy genealogy were
+thrice made out, and I, the count, and the court chaplain Spener, were put
+in possession of them. The Countess Cesara went off with Linda to Valencia,
+and took the name Romeiro. By this change of names all would be covered up
+as it now stands.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I shall not live to be permitted openly to clasp thy son in my
+arms! May it go well with thee, dearest child! God guide all our weak
+expedients for the best.</p>
+
+<p class="date">"Thy faithful mother,</p>
+
+<p class="date">"ELEONORE"</p>
+
+<p>Albano stood for a long time speechless. Joy of life, new powers and
+plans, delight in the prospect of the throne, the images of new relations,
+and displeasure at the past, stormed through each other in his spirit.</p>
+
+<p>He went out, and in the twilight stood upon the mountains, whence he
+could overlook, but with other eyes than once, the city which was to be the
+circus and theatre of his powers. He belongs now to a German house, the
+people around him are his kinsmen; the prefiguring ideals, which he had
+once sketched to himself at the coronation of his brother, of the warm rays
+wherewith a prince as a constellation can enlighten and enrich lands, were
+now put into his hands for fulfilment. His pious father, still blessed by
+the grandchildren of the country, pointed to him the pure sun-track of his
+princely duty: only actions give life strength, only moderation gives it a
+charm.</p>
+
+<p>He descended to Bl&uuml;menbuhl. The funeral bell of the little church
+of Bl&uuml;menbuhl tolled for Luigi. Albano joined his sister Julienne, and
+they betook themselves with Idoine and Rabette to the church. At the bright
+altar was the venerable Spener; the long coffin of the brother stood before
+the altar between rows of lights. Here, near such altar-lights, had once
+the oppressed Liana knelt while swearing the renunciation of her love. The
+whole constellation of Albano's shining past had gone down below the
+horizon, and only one bright star of all the group stood glimmering still
+above the earth--Idoine.</p>
+
+<p>After the solemn service, Idoine addressed herself to him oftener; her
+sweet voice was more tender, though more tremulous; her maidenly shyness of
+the resemblance to Liana seemed conquered or forgotten. Her existence had
+decided itself within her, and on her virgin love, as on a spring soil by
+one warm evening rain, all buds had been opened into bloom.</p>
+
+<p>"How many a time, Albano," said Julienne, "hast thou here, in thy
+long-left youthful years, looked toward the mountains for thine own
+ones--for thy hidden parents, and brothers and sisters--for thou hadst
+always a good heart!"</p>
+
+<p>Here Idoine unconsciously looked at him with inexpressible love, and his
+eyes met hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Idoine," said he, "I have that heart still; it is unhappy, but
+unstained."</p>
+
+<p>Then Idoine hid herself quickly and passionately in Julienne's bosom,
+and said, scarcely audibly, "Julienne, if Albano rightly knows me, then be
+my sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do know thee, holy being!" said Albano, and clasped his bride to his
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p>"Look up at the fair heaven!" cried Julienne. "The rainbow of eternal
+peace blooms there, and the tempests are over, and the world's all so
+bright and green. Wake up, my brother and sister!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="PETER_ROSEGGER"></a>PETER ROSEGGER</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_Papers_of_the_Forest_Schoolmaster"></a>The Papers of the
+Forest Schoolmaster</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> In Austrian literature the "story in dialect" is a modern
+development. Its founder and most distinguished exponent is Peter
+Kettenfeier Rosegger, who was born at Alpel, near Krieglach, on July 31,
+1843, and who has spent his lifetime among the people of the Styrian Alps.
+Mr. Rosegger first attracted attention in 1875 with a volume of short
+stories, bearing the general title of "Schriften des Waldschulmeisters," or
+"Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster," and since then he has written a large
+number of similar tales, all more or less sentimental in tone, and all
+dealing with certain aspects of peasant life. "The Papers of the Forest
+Schoolmaster," which takes the form of a diary, is not only one of the most
+winsome idylls that has come from Herr Rosegger's pen, but it exhibits a
+delicacy of touch, a keen penetration into the mysteries of human life, and
+a deep insight into nature in her various moods; and under all there is a
+strong current of romance and a great sense of the poetry of
+things--qualities that have made its author one of the foremost prose poets
+in recent German literature. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>Mist and rain made it impossible for me to ascend the "Grey Tooth" for
+some days after I had arrived at Winkelsteg, the highest village in the
+remotest valley, and I was temporarily lodged in the schoolhouse, which had
+been deserted since the schoolmaster, who--so I was told--had lived in this
+out-of-the-way corner for fifty years, had disappeared last Christmas. The
+whole next day the rain continued to beat against the window. There was
+nothing to be done, and I spent my time in arranging the scattered but
+numbered sheets of the vanished schoolmaster's manuscript, which I found
+littered in the drawer allotted to me for my scant belongings. And then I
+began to read that strange man's diary, the first page of which only bore
+the words:</p>
+
+
+<p><i>The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster</i></p>
+
+
+<p>So I am at last settled in this wilderness. And I will write it all
+down, although I know not for whom. My father died when I was seven, and I
+was taken charge of by an itinerant umbrella-maker who taught me his trade,
+and on his death left me his stock of some two dozen umbrellas, which I
+took to the market. A heavy shower just at midday helped me to sell them
+rapidly, and I only retained one for my own protection and for that of an
+elegant gentleman who, unable to secure a carriage, made me accompany him
+to town to save him from getting drenched. He made me tell him all about
+myself, and offered to take me as apprentice in his bookshop. He was a kind
+master. When he discovered' that I was more interested in the contents of
+his books than in my work he secured me admission in a college. I studied
+hard, and obtained my meals at the houses of private pupils whom I
+undertook to coach. My friend Henry, a clothmaker's son, had procured me a
+post as teacher to Hermann, the son of the Baron von Schrankenheim. I was
+treated with every consideration in his house, and became deeply attached
+to my pupil's sister. Of course, the case was hopeless then; but in a few
+years, when I should have passed my examinations and taken my degrees--who
+knows?</p>
+
+<p>An indiscreet speech, which offended my teachers, made an end to all my
+dreams. I was ploughed, and I resolved at once to leave the town, and to
+seek my fortune in the world. I first enlisted with Andreas Hofer to fight
+the French invaders, and was carried off a prisoner into France. Then only
+I learnt that the Tyrolese were rebels against their own emperor, that I
+had fought for a bad cause; and to atone for it I took service with the
+great Napoleon's army. I was among those who escaped from the Russian
+disaster, and, in my enthusiasm for Napoleon, whom I regarded as the
+liberator of the peoples, fought for him against my own country. At Leipzig
+I shot Henry, my best friend, whom I only recognised when in his agony he
+called me by my name. Then only my eyes were opened. Failure had dogged my
+every step. A hermit's life in the wilderness was all that was left for me.
+This resolve I communicated to the Baron von Schrankenheim, who, after vain
+attempts to dissuade me from my purpose, spoke to me of this wilderness,
+his property, where I could do real good among the rough wood-cutters,
+poachers, shepherds and charcoal-burners, who, cut off from the rest of the
+world, eked out their existence without priest or doctor or schoolmaster.
+Winkelsteg was to be my hermitage; and now I am here, a schoolmaster
+without a school. I shall have to study these rough folk and gain their
+confidence before I can set to work.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>The Forest Folk</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Strange trades are carried on in this wilderness. These people literally
+dig their bread out of earth and stone and ant-heaps, scrape it off the
+trees, distill it out of uneatable fruit. There is the root-digger, whose
+booty of mountain ovens is said to go to far Turkey to be turned into
+scent. He would long have given up digging, to live entirely on poaching,
+but for his hope to unearth some day treasure of gold and jewels. One of
+these "forest-devils" has just died. He never worked at all. His profession
+was eating. He went from village to village and from fair to fair, eating
+cloth and leather, nails, glass, stones, to the amazement of his audience.
+He died from eating a poisonous root given him by some unknown digger--they
+say it was the devil himself. His funeral oration was delivered by a pale,
+bent, quiet man, known as the Solitary, of whose life nobody can give one
+any information.</p>
+
+<p>Then there is the pitch-boiler. You can smell him from afar, and see him
+glitter through the thicket. His pitch-oil is bought by the wood-cutter for
+his wounds, by the charcoal-burner for his burns, by the carter for his
+horse, by the brandy-distiller for his casks. It is a remedy for all
+ailments. The most dangerous of all the forest-devils is the
+brandy-distiller. He is better dressed than the others, has a kind word for
+everybody, and plays the tempter with but too great success.</p>
+
+<p>Black Matthias is dying in his miserable hut. His little boy and girl
+are playing around him, and his wife bids them be silent. "Let them shout,"
+says Matthias; "but try and keep down Lazarus' temper." On his death-bed
+Matthias told me the story of his life--how he, a jolly, happy fellow, fell
+into the recruiting-officers' trap, escaped from their clutches, was
+betrayed by his own village people, and flogged through the line, and how
+they rubbed vinegar and salt into his wounded back; how he escaped from the
+battlefield and found refuge in this wilderness--a changed man,
+quarrelsome, with an uncontrollable temper, which led him into many a
+brawl; and how, under great provocation, he had stabbed a wood-burner at
+the inn, and had been beaten within an inch of his life by the
+wood-cutters. His life was now ebbing away fast, and he had good reason to
+fear that his uncontrollable temper would live in his son. Hence his
+exhortation to his wife. Black Matthias died a few hours after he had told
+me of his sad life.</p>
+
+<p>And so I get to know them all, and make friends with them all,
+especially with the children, and with the shepherd lad Berthold and the
+poor milkmaid Aga. There was a wedding down at Heldenichlag, where they
+have a parish church, and dancing and merrymaking at the inn all night.
+Next morning Berthold went to the priest. He wanted to marry Aga, but the
+priest told him he was too young, too poor; he could come back again in ten
+years! The poor lad is left speechless and does not know how to explain
+<i>why</i> he wants to be united for ever with his Aga. Sadly he leaves the
+room, but out in the open air his spirit returns to him. On the second day
+of the wedding feast there was no holding him. He was the wildest and
+merriest of the lot. In the afternoon we all returned to Winkelsteg in the
+forest.</p>
+
+<p class="date">1815.</p>
+
+<p>I know I must begin with a church. And at last I have obtained the
+baron's consent. I have designed the plan myself--it must be large enough
+to hold all who are in need of comfort here, and bright and cheerful, for
+there is darkness enough in the forest. And the steeple must be slender
+like a finger pointing heavenwards. Three bells there must be to announce
+the Trinity of God in one Person, and to sing the song of faith, hope, and
+love. And an organ there must be, but no pictures and gilding and show.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Autumn</i>, 1816.</p>
+
+<p>I have been taking a census. How very limited is their range of names.
+They have no family names, and only some half dozen Christian names! This
+must be altered. I must invent names for them, according to their
+occupation or dwelling or character: Sepp Woodcutter, Hiesel Springhutter,
+and so forth. They like their new names; only Berthold gets angry and
+refuses to take a name. "A name for me? I want no name; I am nobody. The
+priest won't let me marry. Call me Berthold Misery, or call me Satan!"</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>May</i>, 1817.</p>
+
+<p>I have been ill--the result of being snowed up on the way home from a
+visit to a forester who had been wounded by a poacher. The danger is over
+now, but my eyes continue to suffer. The forest folk have been very good to
+me, and much concerned about my progress. And now I am able to go out
+again. To-day I was watching a spider in the thicket, when I saw Aga
+rushing towards me. "Ah, it's you!" she cried. "You must help us. We want
+to live in honour and decency. The priest won't marry us. You can ask for
+our blessing." The next moment Berthold had joined her and they were
+kneeling before me. And I pronounced the words which I had no right to
+pronounce. I married them in the heart of the green forest.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>St. James's Day</i>, 1817.</p>
+
+<p>Matthias's widow is in despair. Lazarus has disappeared. In a fit of
+temper he threw a stone at her, then gave a wild yell and rushed away. "It
+was a <i>small</i> stone, but there is a heavy stone upon my heart,"
+laments the mother; "his running away is the biggest stone he could have
+thrown."</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>St. Catherine's Day</i>, 1817.</p>
+
+<p>Lazarus' sister found a letter pinned on to a stick on her father's
+grave, which she often visits. It was from her brother, and told them not
+to worry--he is "in the school of the Cross." And then there was another
+letter to say that he was well, and thinking of them all. They answered,
+imploring him to return, and fixed the note and a little cross on the tomb.
+It is still there, and has never been opened.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>March</i>, 1818.</p>
+
+<p>Berthold is gone among the wood-cutters, and has got his hut. A little
+girl was born to Aga yesterday, and I was sent for to baptise it. I am no
+priest, and must not steal a name from the calendar. So I called her Forest
+Lily, and baptised her with the water of the priest.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Summer</i>, 1818.</p>
+
+<p>The first Sunday in these forests! The church is finished, and the bells
+have summoned the people from the whole neighbourhood. The priest has come
+from Heldenichlag to dedicate the church, and the schoolmaster to play the
+organ. But some of the folk grumble because there is no inn by the church;
+and I hear that the <i>grassteiger</i> has applied for a spirit license.
+This is the shadow of the church!</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, as I went back to the church, I saw a youth, apparently
+at prayer, who took to his heels the moment he found he was discovered. I
+caught him up and recognised. Lazarus! But I could not get a word out of
+him. I rang the church bells, and soon the lad was surrounded by the
+astonished villagers. He only murmured, "Paulus, Paulus!" and refused to
+take the proffered food, though he looked half starved. I took him back to
+his mother the same evening.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>December</i>, 1818.</p>
+
+<p>Lazarus must have been through a miraculous school. He has completely
+lost his evil temper, but he refuses to speak clearly of his life during
+the past year, though he mumbles of a rock-cave, a good dark man, of
+penance, and of a crucifix. We have no priest. I have to look after the
+church, ring the bells, play the organ, sing and conduct prayer on Sundays.
+I hear bad news of Hermann, my old pupil. He is said to be leading a wild
+life in the capital. I cannot believe it.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Summer</i>, 1819.</p>
+
+<p>And now we have a priest--as strange and mysterious as the altar
+crucifix which I had taken to the church from the rock valley. On the last
+day of the hay-month, when I entered the church to ring the bells, I found
+"the Solitary" reading mass on the highest step of the altar. I asked for
+an explanation, and he answered with a rusty voice that he would tell me
+all next Saturday at a desolate place he appointed in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>The Solitary has told me the whole sad story of his life. He was born in
+a palace, and had been rocked in a golden cradle. He had drained the cup of
+pleasure to the very dregs, and then, prompted by his tutor, had joined a
+religious order, taken the binding vow, and renounced his fortune to the
+order. A girl, whom he had known before, implored him not to leave her and
+her child in distress. It was too late--he was now penniless and
+irrevocably bound. She drowned herself and haunted his dreams, even after
+he had become a priest under the name of Paulus. Blind obedience was
+exacted from him by his order, and when he refused to betray a king's
+confession he was sent as missionary to India. After his return he became a
+zealot, exacting severe penance from sinners, and through his severity
+driving a man to suicide. In his remorse he, too, had sought refuge in this
+wilderness, where no one knew him, and where one day he found Lazarus, took
+him to his cave, and taught him to tame his quick temper. I had always
+thought the first pastor at Winkelsteg should be a repentant sinner, and
+not a just man. We have now our priest.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Winter</i>, 1830.</p>
+
+<p>For more than ten years I have neglected my diary, partly because I was
+no longer alone, but had a friend and companion in "the Solitary," partly
+because I was busy with the building of the schoolhouse. I have my own
+ideas on education. The child is a book in which we read, and into which we
+ought to write. They ought to hear of nought but the beautiful, the good,
+the great. They ought to learn patriotism--not the patriotism which makes
+them die, but that which makes them live for their country.</p>
+
+<p>Berthold has become a poacher. I have already had to intercede for him
+with the gamekeeper. Then, one winter's night, Forest Lily, his daughter,
+was sent out to beg some milk for the babies. Snow fell heavily, and she
+did not return. For three days they searched, and finally found her huddled
+up with a whole herd of deer in a snow-covered thicket of dry
+branches--kept alive by the animals' warmth and the pot of milk she was
+taking home. When Berthold heard that the forest animals had saved his
+child, he smashed his gun against a rock, and shouted, "Never again! never
+again!"</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Carnival Time</i>, 1832.</p>
+
+<p>In the parsonage lies a farm-hand with a broken jaw. Drink and quarrel
+and fight--it is ever the same. The priest has warned them often enough. He
+has called the brandy-distiller a poison-brewer, and a few days ago the
+distiller came to the parsonage, armed with a heavy stick. He poured out
+his complaints. The priest was spoiling his honest business. What was he to
+do? He took up a threatening attitude. "So you have come at last," said
+Father Paulus; "I was going to come to you. So you won't give them any more
+spirits--you are a benefactor of the community! I quite agree with you. You
+will prepare medicines and oils and ointments from the roots and resin?
+I'll help you, and in a few years you will be a well-to-do man."</p>
+
+<p>The distiller was speechless. He had said nothing of the sort, but it
+all seemed so reasonable to him. He grumbled a few words, stumbled across
+the threshold, and threw his stick away as far as it would fly.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>March 22</i>, 1832.</p>
+
+<p>Our priest died to-day.</p>
+
+<p>I can scarcely believe it. But there is no knocking at the window as I
+pass the parsonage--no friendly face smiling at me. And I can scarcely
+believe that he has gone.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Ascension Day</i>, 1835.</p>
+
+<p>A few days ago I had a letter from my former pupil, our present master.
+He was ill, tired of the world, and wanted to find peace and rest in the
+mountains. He remembered his old teacher, and asked me to be his guide. I
+went to meet him, and he behaved so strangely that I thought I was walking
+with a madman. On the second day he seemed better. He wanted to ascend at
+once the highest peak, known as the "Grey Tooth." And as we passed the dark
+mountain lake, we saw a beautiful young woman bathing. She looked like a
+water-nymph. But when she saw us she disappeared under the water, and did
+not show herself again. Was she drowning herself from very modesty? I
+pulled her out of the water, we dressed her; then fear gave her strength,
+she jumped up and ran away. It was my "Forest Lily."</p>
+
+<p>Hermann no longer insisted on climbing the mountain. He came with me to
+Winkelsteg, remained three days, made Berthold gamekeeper, and arranged
+that he should forthwith marry Aga in our church. Before he left he said to
+me: "She thought more of her maidenhood than of her life. I never knew
+there were such women. This is a new world for me--I, too, belong to the
+forest. I entrust her to you--teach her if she wants to learn, and take
+care of her. And keep the secret If I can be cured, I shall return."</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Summer</i>, 1837.</p>
+
+<p>It has come to pass. Schrankenheim has broken through class prejudice.
+Two days ago he was married to Forest Lily in our church. They have left
+us, and have gone to the beautiful city of Salzburg.</p>
+
+<p>The years pass in loneliness and monotony. Yet they have brought a great
+change. A prosperous village now surrounds the church, and orchards
+surround the village. And the folk are no longer savages. How smartly they
+are now dressed on Sundays! The young people have more knowledge than the
+old, but too little reverence for the old. But they still smoke tobacco and
+drink spirits. What can an old schoolmaster do quite by himself?</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Spring</i>, 1848.</p>
+
+<p>Hermann's beautiful sister, she who turned my head so many years ago, is
+coming here to seek refuge from the troubles in town, where they are
+building barricades. I must see that everything is made pleasant and
+comfortable for her.</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>June</i>, 1848.</p>
+
+<p>To-day she gave a dinner party, and invited the parson and the
+innkeeper. And I was sent a piece of meat and a glass of wine. I gave it to
+a beggar. So two beggars have received alms to-day. I hear they spoke of me
+during dinner. She said I received charity from her father when I was a
+poor student; then I ran away from school and returned as a vagabond. So
+you know it now, Andreas Erdmann!</p>
+
+<p class="date"><i>Christmas Eve</i>, 1864.</p>
+
+<p>I have not left the forest for fifty years. If I could only see the sea.
+They say on a clear day you can see it from the "Grey Tooth."
+To-morrow----</p>
+
+<p>Here the diary broke off abruptly. The next day being bright and sunny,
+I engaged a lad to guide me on the deferred ascent. It was glorious. And
+whilst my eyes were searching the far distance, my companion gave a sudden
+scream, and pointed--at a human head protruding from the snow. He
+recognised the schoolmaster. We dug him out of the hard snow and found in
+his pocket a paper on which a shaky hand had written in pencil: "Christmas
+Day. At sunset I beheld the sea and lost my eyesight"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="JEAN_JACQUES_ROUSSEAU"></a>JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_New_Heloise"></a>The New Heloise</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Jean Jacques Rousseau, born at Geneva on June 28, 1712,
+tells the story of his own life in the "Confessions" (see LIVES AND
+LETTERS, Vol. X). All his dreams of felicity having been shattered, he took
+up his abode in Paris, where he made a poor living by copying music.
+Hither, again, he returned after a short stay in Venice, where he acted as
+secretary in the Embassy. He now secured work on the great Encyclopaedia,
+and became known, in 1749, by an essay on the arts and sciences, in which
+he attacked all culture as an evidence and cause of social degeneration. A
+successful opera followed in 1753; and to the same year belongs his "Essay
+on Inequality among Men" ("Discours sur l'in&eacute;galit&eacute; parmi les Hommes"), in
+which he came forward as the apostle of the state of nature, and of
+anarchy. His revolutionary ideas were viewed with great displeasure by the
+authorities, and he fled in 1764 to Switzerland; and in 1766, under the
+auspices of David Hume, to England. Rousseau wrote "The New Heloise" ("La
+Nouvelle H&eacute;loise") in 1756-7, while residing at the Hermitage at
+Montmorency--an abode where, in spite of certain quarrels and emotional
+episodes, he passed some of the most placid days of his life. This book,
+the title of which was founded on the historic love of Abelard and Heloise
+(see Vol. IX), was published in 1760. Rousseau's primary intention was to
+reveal the effect of passion upon persons of simple but lofty nature,
+unspoiled by the artificialities of society. The work may be described as a
+novel because it cannot very well be described as anything else. It is
+overwhelmingly long and diffuse; the slender stream of narrative threads
+its way through a wilderness of discourses on the passions, the arts,
+society, rural life, religion, suicide, natural scenery, and nearly
+everything else that Rousseau was interested in--and his interests were
+legion. "The New Heloise" is thoroughly characteristic of the wandering,
+enthusiastic, emotional-genius of its author. Several brilliant passages in
+it are ranked among the classics of French literature; and of the work as a
+whole, it may be said, judicially and without praise or censure, that there
+is nothing quite like it in any literature. Rousseau died near Paris, July
+2, 1778. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--"The Course of True Love"</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>I must escape from you, mademoiselle. I must see you no more.</p>
+
+<p>You know that I entered your house as tutor to yourself and your cousin,
+Mademoiselle Claire, at your mother's invitation. I did not foresee the
+peril; at any rate, I did not fear it. I shall not say that I am now paying
+the price of my rashness, for I trust I shall never fail in the respect due
+to your high birth, your beauty, and your noble character. But I confess
+that you have captured my heart. How could I fail to adore the touching
+union of keen sensibility and unchanging sweetness, the tender pity, all
+those spiritual qualities that are worth so much more to me than personal
+charms?</p>
+
+<p>I have lost my reason. I promise to strive to recover it. You, and you
+alone, can help me. Forbid me from appearing in your presence, show this
+letter if you like to your parents; drive me away. I can endure anything
+from you. I am powerless to escape of my own accord.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE</p>
+
+<p>I must, then, reveal my secret! I have striven to resist, but I am
+powerless. Everything seems to magnify my love for you; all nature seems to
+be your accomplice; every effort that I make is in vain. I adore you in
+spite of myself.</p>
+
+<p>I hope and I believe that a heart which has seemed to me to deserve the
+whole attachment of mine will not belie the generosity that I expect of it;
+and I hope, also that if you should prove unworthy of the devotion I feel
+for you, my indignation and contempt will restore to me the reason that my
+love has caused me to lose.</p>
+
+
+<p>TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how am I to realise the torrent of delights that pours into my
+heart? And how can I best reassure the alarms of a timid and loving woman?
+Pure and heavenly beauty, judge more truly, I beseech you, of the nature of
+your power. Believe me, if I adore your loveliness, it is because of the
+spotless soul of which that loveliness is the outward token. When I cease
+to love virtue, I shall cease to love you, and I shall no longer ask you to
+love me.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE</p>
+
+<p>My friend, I feel that every day I become more attached to you; the
+smallest absence from you is insupportable; and when you are not with me I
+must needs write you, so that I may occupy myself with you unceasingly.</p>
+
+<p>My mind is troubled with news that my father has just told me. He is
+expecting a visit from his old friend, M. de Wolmar; and it is to M. de
+Wolmar, I suspect, that he designs that I should be married. I cannot marry
+without the approval of those who gave me life; and you know what the fury
+of my father would be if I were to confess my love for you--for he would
+assuredly not suffer me to be united to one whom he deems my inferior in
+that mere worldly rank for which I care nothing. Yet I cannot marry a man I
+do not love; and you are the only man I shall ever love.</p>
+
+<p>It pains me that I must not reveal our secret to my dear mother, who
+esteems you so highly; but would she not reveal it, from a sense of duty,
+to my father? It is best that only my inseparable Cousin Claire should know
+the truth.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>I have bad news for you, my dear cousin. First of all, your love affair
+is being gossipped about; secondly, this gossip has indirectly brought your
+lover into serious danger.</p>
+
+<p>You have met my lord Edouard Bomston, the young English noble who is now
+staying at Vevay. Your lover has been on terms of such warm friendship with
+him ever since they met at Sion some time ago that I could not believe they
+would ever have quarrelled. Yet they quarrelled last night, and about
+you.</p>
+
+<p>During the evening, M. d'Orbe tells me, mylord Edouard drank freely, and
+began to talk about you. Your lover was displeased and silent. Mylord
+Edouard, angered at his coldness, declared that he was not always cold, and
+that somebody, who should be nameless, caused him to behave in a very
+different manner. Your lover drew his sword instantly; mylord Edouard drew
+also, but stumbled in his intoxication, and injured his leg. In spite of M.
+d'Orbe's efforts to reconcile them, a meeting was arranged to take place as
+soon as mylord Edouard's leg was better.</p>
+
+<p>You must prevent the duel somehow, for mylord Edouard is a dangerous
+swordsman. Meanwhile, I am terrified lest the gossip about you should reach
+your father's ears. It would be best to get your lover to go away before
+any mischief comes to pass.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p>
+
+<p>I am told that you are about to fight the man whom I love--for it is
+true that I love him--and that he will probably die by your hand. Enjoy in
+advance, if you can, the pleasure of piercing the bosom of your friend, but
+be sure that you will not have that of contemplating my despair. For I
+swear that I shall not survive by one day the death of him who is to me as
+my life's breath. Thus you will have the glory of slaying with a single
+stroke two hapless lovers who have never willingly committed a fault
+towards you, and who have delighted to honour you.</p>
+
+
+<p>TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>Have no fear for me, dearest Julie. Read this, and I am sure that you
+will share in my feelings of gratitude and affection towards the man with
+whom I have quarrelled.</p>
+
+<p>This morning mylord Edouard entered my room, accompanied by two
+gentlemen. "I have come," he said, "to withdraw the injurious words that
+intoxication led me to utter in your presence. Pardon me, and restore to me
+your friendship. I am ready to endure any chastisement that you see fit to
+inflict upon me."</p>
+
+<p>"Mylord," I replied, "I acknowledge your nobility of spirit. The words
+you uttered when you were not yourself are henceforth utterly forgotten." I
+embraced him, and he bade the gentlemen withdraw.</p>
+
+<p>When we were alone, he gave me the warmest testimonies of friendship;
+and, touched by his generosity, I told him the whole story of our love. He
+promised enthusiastically to do what he could to further our happiness; and
+this is the nobler in him, inasmuch as he admitted that he had himself
+conceived a tender admiration for you.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE</p>
+
+<p>Dearest, the worst has happened. My father knows of our love. He came to
+me yesterday pale with fury; in his wrath he struck me. Then, suddenly, he
+took me in his arms and implored my forgiveness. But I know that he will
+never consent to our union; I shall never dare to mention your name in his
+presence. My love for you is unalterable; our souls are linked by bonds
+that time cannot dissolve. And yet--my duty to my parents! How can I do
+right by wronging them? Oh, pity my distraction!</p>
+
+<p>It seems that mylord Edouard impulsively asked my father for his consent
+to our union, telling him how deeply we loved each other, and that he would
+mortally injure his daughter's happiness if he denied her wishes. My father
+replied, in bitter anger, that he would never suffer his child to be united
+to a man of humble birth. Mylord Edouard hotly retorted that mere
+distinctions of birth were worthless when weighed in the scale with true
+refinement and true virtue. They had a long and violent argument, and
+parted in enmity.</p>
+
+<p>I must take counsel with Cousin Claire, who never suffers her reason to
+be clouded with those heart-torments of which I am the unhappy victim.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>On learning of your distress, dear cousin, I made up my mind that your
+lover must go away, for your sake and his own; I summoned M. d'Orbe and
+mylord Edouard. I told M. d'Orbe that the success of his suit to me
+depended on his help to you. You know that my friendship for you is greater
+than any love can be. Mylord Edouard acted splendidly. He promised to endow
+your lover with a third of his estate, and to take him to Paris and London,
+there to win the distinction that his talents deserve.</p>
+
+<p>M. d'Orbe went to order a chaise, and I proceeded to your lover and told
+him that it was his duty to leave at once. At first he passionately
+refused, then he yielded to despair; then he begged to be allowed to see
+you once more. I refused; I urged that all delays were dangerous. His agony
+brought tears to my eyes, but I was firm. M. d'Orbe led him away; mylord
+Edouard was waiting with the chaise, and they are now on the way to
+Besan&ccedil;on and Paris.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Separation</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>Why was I not allowed to see you before leaving? Did you fear that the
+parting would kill me? Be reassured. I do not suffer--I think of you--I
+think of the time when I was dear to you. Nay, you love me yet, I know it.
+But why so cruelly drive me away? Say one word, and I return like the
+lightning. Ah, these babblings are but flung into empty air. I shall live
+and die far away from you--I have lost you for ever!</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE</p>
+
+<p>Deep depression has succeeded violent grief in the mind of your lover.
+But I can count upon his heart, it is a heart framed to fight and to
+conquer.</p>
+
+<p>I have a proposition to make which I hope you will carefully consider.
+In your happiness and your lover's I have a tender and inextinguishable
+interest, since between you I perceive a deeper harmony than I have ever
+known to exist between man and woman. Your present misfortunes are due to
+my indiscretion; let me do what I can to repair the fault.</p>
+
+<p>I have in Yorkshire an old castle and a large estate. They are yours and
+your lover's, Julie, if you will accept them. You can escape from Vevay
+with the aid of my valet, when I have left there; you can join your lover,
+be wedded to him, and spend the rest of your days happily in the place of
+refuge I have designed for you.</p>
+
+<p>Reflect upon this, I beseech you. I should add that I have said nothing
+of this project to your lover. The decision rests with you and you
+alone.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p>
+
+<p>Your letter, mylord, fills me with gratitude and admiration. It would
+indeed be joy for me to gain happiness under the auspices of so generous a
+friend, and to procure from his kindness the contentment that fortune has
+denied me.</p>
+
+<p>But could contentment ever be granted to me if I had the consciousness
+of having pitilessly abandoned those who gave me birth? I am their only
+living child; all their pleasure, all their hope is in me. Can I deliver up
+their closing days to shame, regrets, and tears? No, mylord, happiness
+could not be bought at such a price. I dare brave all the sorrows that
+await me here; remorse I dare not brave.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE TO HER LOVER</p>
+
+<p>I have just returned from the wedding of Claire and M. d'Orbe. You will,
+I know, share my pleasure in the happiness of our dearest friend; and such
+is the worth of the friendship that joins us, that the good fortune of one
+of us should be a real consolation for the sorrows of the other two.</p>
+
+<p>Continue to write me from Paris, but let me tell you that I am not
+pleased with the bitterness of your letters--a bitterness unworthy of my
+philosophic tutor of the happy bygone days at Vevay. I wish my true love to
+see all things clearly, and to be the just and honest man I have always
+deemed him--not a cynic who seeks a sorry comfort in misfortune by carping
+at the rest of mankind.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER</p>
+
+<p>I am about to ask of you a great sacrifice; but I know you will perceive
+it to be a necessary sacrifice, and I think that your devotion to Julie's
+true happiness will endure even this final test.</p>
+
+<p>Julie's mother has died, and Julie has tormented herself with the idea
+that her love troubles have hastened her parent's end. Since then she has
+had a serious illness, and is now in a depressed state both physically and
+mentally. Nothing, I am convinced, can cure her save absolute oblivion of
+the past, and the beginning of a new life--a married life.</p>
+
+<p>M. de Wolmar is here once more, and Julie's father will insist upon her
+union with him. This quiet, emotionless, observant man cannot win her love,
+but he can bring her peace. Will you cease from all correspondence with
+her, and renounce all claim to her? Remember that Julie's whole future
+depends upon your answer. Her father will force her to obey him; prove that
+you are worthy of her love by removing all obstacles to her obedience.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO HER FATHER</p>
+
+<p>I hereby renounce all claims upon the hand of Julie d'Etange, and
+acknowledge her right to dispose of herself in matrimony without consulting
+her heart.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER</p>
+
+<p>Julie is married. Give thanks to the heaven that has saved you both.
+Respect her new estate; do not write to her, but wait to hear from her. Now
+is the time when I shall learn whether you are worthy of the esteem I have
+ever felt for you.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE'S LOVER</p>
+
+<p>A squadron is fitting out at Plymouth for the tour of the globe, under
+the command of my old friend George Anson. I have obtained permission for
+you to accompany him. Will you go?</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO MADAME D'ORBE</p>
+
+<p>I am starting, dear and charming cousin, for a voyage round the
+world--to seek in another hemisphere the peace that I cannot enjoy in this.
+Adieu, tender and inseparable friends, may you make each other's
+happiness!</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Philosophic Husband</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX (PSEUDONYM OF JULIE'S LOVER)</p>
+
+<p>I learn that you have returned to Europe after all these years of
+travel. Although I have not as yet the pleasure of knowing you, permit me
+nevertheless to address you. The wisest and dearest of women has opened her
+heart to me. I believe that you are worthy of having been loved by her, and
+I invite you to our home. Innocence and peace reign within it; you will
+find there friendship, hospitality, esteem, and confidence.</p>
+
+<p class="date">WOLMAR.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.--Come, my friend; we wait you with eagerness. Do not grieve me by a
+refusal.</p>
+
+<p class="date">JULIE.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p>
+
+<p>I have seen her, mylord! She has called me her friend--her dear friend.
+I am happier than ever I was in my life.</p>
+
+<p>Yet when I approached M. de Wolmar's house at Clarens, I was in a state
+of frantic nervousness. Could I bear to see my old love in the possession
+of another? Would I not be driven to despair? As the carriage neared
+Clarens, I wished that it would break down. When I dismounted I awaited
+Julie in mortal anxiety. She came running and calling out to me, she seized
+me in her arms. All my terrors were banished, I knew no feeling but
+joy.</p>
+
+<p>M. de Wolmar, meanwhile, was standing beside us. She turned to him, and
+introduced me to him as her old friend. "If new friends have less ardour
+than old ones," he said to me as he embraced me, "they will be old friends
+in their turn, and will yield nothing to others." My heart was exhausted, I
+received his embraces passively.</p>
+
+<p>When we reached the drawing-room she disappeared for a moment, and
+returned--not alone. She brought her two children with her, darling little
+boys, who bore on their countenances the charm and the fascination of their
+mother. A thousand thoughts rushed into my mind, I could not speak; I took
+them in my arms, and welcomed their innocent caresses.</p>
+
+<p>The children withdrew, and M. de Wolmar was called away. I was alone
+with Julie. I was conscious of a painful restraint; she was seemingly at
+ease, and I became gradually reassured. We talked of my travels, and of her
+married life; there was no mention of our old relations.</p>
+
+<p>I came to realise how Julie was changed, and yet the same. She is a
+matron, the happy mother of children, the happy mistress of a prosperous
+household. Her old love is not extinguished; but it is subdued by domestic
+peace and by her unalterable virtue--let me add, by the trust and kindness
+of her elderly husband, whose unemotional goodness has been just what was
+needed to soothe her passion and sorrow. I am her old and dear friend; I
+can never be more. And, believe me, I am content. Occasionally, pangs of
+regret tear at my heart, but they do not last long; my passion is cured,
+and I can never experience another.</p>
+
+<p>How can I describe to you the peace and felicity that reign in this
+household? M. de Wolmar is, above all things, a man of system; the life of
+the establishment moves with ordered regularity from the year's beginning
+to its end. But the system is not mechanical; it is founded on wide
+experience of men, and governed by philosophy. In the home life of Julie
+and her husband and children luxury is never permitted; even the table
+delicacies are simple products of the country. But, without luxury, there
+is perfect comfort and perfect confidence. I have never known a community
+so thoroughly happy, and it is a deep joy to me to be admitted as a
+cherished member of it.</p>
+
+<p>One day M. de Wolmar drew Julie and myself aside, and where do you think
+he took us? To a plantation near the house, which Julie had never entered
+since her marriage. It was there that she had first kissed me. She was
+unwilling to enter the place, but he drew her along with him, and bade us
+be seated. Then he began:</p>
+
+<p>"Julie, I knew the secret of your love before you revealed it to me. I
+knew it before I married you. I may have been in the wrong to marry you,
+knowing that your heart was elsewhere; but I loved you, and I believed I
+could make you happy. Have I succeeded?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear husband," said Julie, in tears, "you know you have
+succeeded."</p>
+
+<p>"One thing only," he went on, "was necessary to prove to you that your
+old passion was powerless against your virtue, and that was the presence of
+your old lover. I trusted you; I believed, from my knowledge of you, that I
+could trust him. I invited him here, and since then I have been quietly
+watching. My high anticipations of him are justified. And as for you,
+Julie, the haunting fears that your virtue would fail before the test
+inflicted by the return of your lover have, once and for all, been put to
+rest. Past wounds are healed. Monsieur," he added, turning to me, "you have
+proved yourself worthy of our fullest confidence and our warmest
+friendship."</p>
+
+<p>What could I answer? I could but embrace him in silence.</p>
+
+<p>Madame d'Orbe, now a widow, is about to come here to take permanent
+charge of the household, leaving Julie to devote herself to the training of
+the children.</p>
+
+<p>Hasten to join us, mylord; your coming is anxiously awaited. For my own
+part, I shall not be content until you have looked with your own eyes upon
+the peaceful delights of our life at Clarens.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p>
+
+<p>Madame d'Orbe is now with us. We look to you to complete the party. When
+you have made a long stay at Clarens, I shall be ready to join you in your
+projected journey to Rome.</p>
+
+<p>Julie has revealed to me the one trouble of her life. Her husband is a
+freethinker. Will you aid me in trying to convince him of his error, and
+thus perfecting Julie's happiness?</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Veil</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>FROM SAINT PREUX TO MADAME D'ORBE</p>
+
+<p>Mylord Edouard and I, after leaving you all yesterday, proceeded no
+farther than Villeneuve; an accident to one of mylord's attendants delayed
+us, and we spent the night there.</p>
+
+<p>As you know, I had parted from Julie with regret, but without violent
+emotion. Yet, strangely enough, when I was alone last night the old grief
+came back. I had lost her! She lived and was happy; her life was my death,
+her happiness my torment! I struggled with these ideas. When I lay down,
+they pursued me in my sleep.</p>
+
+<p>At length I started up from a hideous dream. I had seen Julie stretched
+upon her death-bed. I knew it was she, although her face was covered by a
+veil. I advanced to tear it off; I could not reach it. "Be calm, my
+friend," she said feebly; "the veil of dread covers me, no hand can remove
+it." I made another effort, and awoke.</p>
+
+<p>Again I slept, again I dreamt the dream. A third time I slept, a third
+time it appeared to me. This was too much. I fled from my room to mylord
+Edouard's.</p>
+
+<p>At first, he treated the dream as a jest; but, seeing my panic-stricken
+earnestness, he changed his tune. "You will have a chance of recovering
+your reason to-morrow," he said. Next morning we set out on our journey, as
+I thought. Brooding over my dream, I never noticed that the lake was on the
+left-hand of the carriage, that we were returning. When I roused myself, I
+found that we were back again at Clarens!</p>
+
+<p>"Now, go and see her again; prove that the dream was wrong," said
+Edouard.</p>
+
+<p>I went nervously, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself. I could hear you
+and Julie talking in the garden. I was cured in an instant of my
+superstitious folly; it fled from my mind. I retired without seeing her,
+feeling a man again. I rejoined mylord Edouard, and drove back to
+Villeneuve. We are about to resume the journey to Rome.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX</p>
+
+<p>Why did you not come to see us, instead of merely listening to our
+voices? You have transfixed the terror of your dream to me. Until your
+return, I shall never look upon Julie without trembling, lest I should lose
+her.</p>
+
+<p>M. de Wolmar has let you know his wish that you should remain
+permanently with us and superintend the education of his children. I am
+sure you will accept Rejoin us swiftly, then; I shall not have an easy
+moment until you are amongst us once more.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX</p>
+
+<p>It has come to pass. You will never see her more! The veil! The veil!
+Julie is dead!</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX</p>
+
+<p>I have allowed your first hours of grief to pass in silence. I was in no
+condition to give details, nor you to receive them. Now I may write, and
+you may read.</p>
+
+<p>We were on a visit to the castle of Chillon, guests of the bailli of
+Vevay. After dinner the whole party walked on the ramparts, and our
+youngest son slipped and fell into the deep water. Julie plunged in after
+him. Both were rescued; the child was soon brought round, but Julie's state
+was critical. When she had recovered a little, she was taken back to
+Clarens. The doctor told her she had but three days to live. She spent
+those three days in perfect cheerfulness and tranquillity of spirit,
+conversing with Madame D'Orbe, the pastor, and myself, expressing her
+content that her life should end at a time when she had attained complete
+happiness. On the fourth morning we found her lifeless.</p>
+
+<p>During the three days she wrote a letter, which I enclose. Fulfil her
+last requests. There yet remains much for you to do on earth.</p>
+
+
+<p>FROM JULIE TO SAINT PREUX</p>
+
+<p>All is changed, my dear friend; let us suffer the change without a
+murmur. It was not well for us that we should rejoin each other.</p>
+
+<p>For it was an illusion that my love for you was cured; now, in the
+presence of death, I know that I still love you. I avow this without shame,
+for I have done my duty. My virtue is without stain, my love without
+remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Come back to Clarens; train my children, comfort their noble father,
+lead him into the light of Christian faith. Claire, like yourself, is about
+to lose the half of her life; let each of you preserve the other half by a
+union that in these latter days I have often wished to bring about.</p>
+
+<p>Adieu, sweet friend, adieu!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="BERNARDIN_DE_ST_PIERRE"></a>BERNARDIN DE ST. PIERRE</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Paul_and_Virginia"></a>Paul and Virginia</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint Pierre was born at Havre
+on January 19, 1737. Like many boys that are natives of seaports, he was
+anxious to become a sailor; but a single voyage cured him of his desire for
+a seafaring life, although not of his love for travel. For some years
+afterwards he was a rolling stone, sometimes soldier and sometimes
+engineer, visiting one European country after another. In 1771 he obtained
+a government appointment in Mauritius, a spot which was the subject of his
+first book (see TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, Vol. XIX), and which was afterwards
+made the scene of "Paul and Virginia." In his "Nature Studies," 1783, he
+showed an enthusiasm for nature that contrasted vividly with the
+artificiality of most eighteenth-century writers; but his fame was not
+established until he had set all the ladies of France weeping with his
+"Paul and Virginia," perhaps the most sentimental book ever written. It was
+published in 1787, and although it does not cause in modern readers the
+tearful raptures that it provoked on its first appearance, its fame has
+survived as the most notable work of a romantic and nature-loving
+sentimentalist with remarkable powers of narration. Saint Pierre died on
+January 21, 1814. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Home Among the Rocks</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>On the eastern declivity of the mountain which rises behind Port Louis,
+in the Isle of France, are still to be seen, on a spot of ground formerly
+cultivated, the ruins of two little cottages. They are situated almost in
+the midst of a basin formed by enormous rocks, with only one opening, from
+which you may look upon Port Louis and the sea.</p>
+
+<p>I took pleasure in retiring to this place, where one can at once enjoy
+an unbounded prospect and profound solitude. One day, as I was sitting near
+the cottages, an elderly man approached me. His hair was completely white,
+his aspect simple and majestic. I saluted him, and he sat down beside
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you inform me, father," I asked, "to whom these two cottages
+belonged?"</p>
+
+<p>"My son," replied he, "these ruins were inhabited by two families, which
+there found the means of true happiness. But who will deign to take an
+interest in the history, however affecting, of a few obscure
+individuals?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father," I replied, "relate to me, I beseech you, what you know of
+them; and be assured that there is no man, however depraved by prejudices,
+but loves to hear of the felicity which nature and virtue bestow."</p>
+
+<p>Upon this the old man related what follows.</p>
+
+<p>In the year 1735 there came to this spot a young widow named Madame de
+la Tour. She was of a noble Norman family; but her husband was of obscure
+birth. She had married him portionless, and against the will of her
+relations, and they had journeyed here to seek their fortune. The husband
+soon died, and his widow found herself destitute of every possession except
+a single negro woman. She resolved to seek a subsistence by cultivating a
+small plot of ground, and this was the spot that she chose.</p>
+
+<p>Providence had one blessing in store for Madame de la Tour--the blessing
+of a friend. Inhabiting this spot was a sprightly and sensible woman of
+Brittany, named Margaret. She, like madame, had suffered from the sorrows
+of love; she had fled to the colonies, and had here established herself
+with her baby and an old negro, whom she had purchased with a poor,
+borrowed purse.</p>
+
+<p>When Madame de la Tour had unfolded to Margaret her former condition and
+her present wants the good woman was moved with compassion; she tendered to
+the stranger a shelter in her cottage and her friendship. I knew them both,
+and went to offer them my assistance. The territory in the rock-basin,
+amounting to about twenty acres, I divided equally between them. Margaret's
+cottage was on the boundary of her own domain, and close at hand I built
+another cottage for Madame de la Tour. Scarcely had I completed it when a
+daughter was born to madame. She was called Virginia; the infant son of
+Margaret bore the name of Paul.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends, so dear to each other in spite of their difference in
+rank, spun cotton for a livelihood. They seldom visited Port Louis, for
+fear of the contempt with which they were treated on account of the
+coarseness of their dress. But if they were exposed to a little suffering
+when abroad, they returned home with so much more additional satisfaction.
+They found there cleanliness and freedom, blessings which they owed
+entirely to their own industry, and to servants animated with zeal and
+affection. As for themselves, they had but one will, one interest, one
+table. They had everything in common.</p>
+
+<p>Their mutual love redoubled at the sight of their two children. Nothing
+was to be compared with the attachment which the babes showed for each
+other. If Paul complained, they brought Virginia to him; at the sight of
+her he was pacified. If Virginia suffered, Paul lamented; but Virginia was
+wont to conceal her pain, that her sufferings might not distress him. All
+their study was to please and assist each other. They had been taught no
+religion but that which instructs us to love one another; and they raised
+toward heaven innocent hands and pure hearts, filled with the love of their
+parents. Thus passed their early infancy, like a beautiful dawn, which
+seems to promise a still more beautiful day.</p>
+
+<p>Madame de la Tour had moments of uneasiness during her daughter's
+childhood; sometimes she used to say to me: "If I should die what would
+become of Virginia, dowerless as she is?" She had an aunt in France, a
+woman of quality, rich, old, and a devotee, to whom she had written at the
+time of Virginia's birth. Not until 1746--eleven years later--did a reply
+reach her. Her aunt told her that she merited her condition for having
+married an adventurer; that the untimely death of her husband was a just
+chastisement of God; that she had done well not to dishonour her country by
+returning to France; and that after all she was in an excellent country,
+where everybody made fortunes except the idle.</p>
+
+<p>She added, however, that in spite of all this she had strongly
+recommended her to the governor of the island, M. de la Bourdonaye. But,
+conformably to a custom too prevalent, in feigning to pity she had
+calumniated her; and, consequently, madame was received by the governor
+with the greatest coolness.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the plantation with a bitter heart, madame read the letter
+tearfully to all the family. Margaret clasped her to her arms; Virginia,
+weeping, kissed her hands; Paul stamped with rage; the servants hearing the
+noise, ran in to comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>Such marks of affection soon dissipated madame's anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my children!" she cried. "Misfortune only attacks me from afar;
+happiness is ever around me!"</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II--Nature's Children</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>As the years went on, Paul and Virginia grew up together in purity and
+contentment. Every succeeding day was to them a day of happiness. They were
+strangers to the torments of envy and ambition. By living in solitude, so
+far from degenerating into savages, they had become more humane. If the
+scandalous history of society did not supply them with topics of discourse,
+nature filled their hearts with transports of wonder and delight. They
+contemplated with rapture the power of that Providence which, by aid of
+their hands, had diffused amid these barren rocks abundance, beauty, and
+simple and unceasing pleasures.</p>
+
+<p>When the weather was fine, the families went on Sundays to mass at the
+church of Pamplemousses. When mass was over, they ministered to the sick or
+gave comfort to the distressed. From these visits Virginia often returned
+with her eyes bathed in tears, but her heart overflowing with joy, for she
+had been blessed with an opportunity of doing good.</p>
+
+<p>Paul and Virginia had no clocks nor almanacs nor books of history or
+philosophy; the periods of their lives were regulated by those of nature.
+They knew the hour of the day by the shadow of the trees; the seasons by
+the times when the trees bore flowers or fruits; and years by the number of
+the harvests.</p>
+
+<p>"It is dinner-time," Virginia would say to the family; "the shadows of
+the banana-trees are at their feet." Or, "Night approaches, for the
+tamarinds are closing their leaves."</p>
+
+<p>When asked about her age and that of Paul, "My brother," she would
+answer, "is the same age with the great coconut-tree of the fountain, and I
+the same age with the small one. The mango-trees have yielded their fruit
+twelve times, and the orange-trees have opened their blossoms twenty-four
+times since I came into the world."</p>
+
+<p>Thus did these two children of nature advance in life; hitherto no care
+had wrinkled their foreheads, no intemperance had corrupted their blood, no
+unhappy passion had depraved their hearts; love, innocence, piety were
+daily unfolding the beauties of their souls in graces ineffable, in their
+features, their attitude, and their movements.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, in time Virginia felt herself disturbed by a strange
+malady. Serenity no longer sat upon her forehead, nor smiles upon her lips.
+She withdrew herself from her innocent amusements, from her sweet
+occupations, and from the society of her family.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, at the sight of Paul, she ran up to him playfully, when all
+of a sudden an unaccountable embarrassment seized her; a lively red
+coloured her cheeks, and her eyes no longer dared to fix themselves on
+his.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame de la Tour, "Why should we not marry
+our children? Their passion for each other is extreme, although my son is
+not sensible of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," answered madame; "they are too young, and too poor. But if we
+send Paul to India for a short time, commerce will supply him with the
+means of buying some slaves. On his return we will marry him to Virginia,
+for I am certain that no one can make my daughter so happy as your son
+Paul. Let us consult our neighbour about it."</p>
+
+<p>So they discussed the matter with me, and I approved of their plan. But
+when I opened the business to Paul, I was astonished when he replied, "Why
+would you have me quit my family for a visionary project of fortune? If we
+wish to engage in trade, cannot we do so by carrying our superfluities to
+the city, without any necessity for my rambling to India? What if any
+accident should befall my family during my absence, more especially
+Virginia, who even now is suffering? Ah, no! I could never make up my mind
+to quit them."</p>
+
+<p>I durst not hint to him that Virginia was lovesick, and that the voyage
+had been projected that the two might be separated until they had grown a
+little older.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Virginia's Departure</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Just at this time a letter came to Madame de la Tour from her aunt, who
+had just recovered from a dangerous illness, and whose obdurate heart had
+been softened by the fear of death. She requested her niece to return to
+France; or, if the state of her health prevented her from undertaking the
+voyage, to send Virginia thither, on whom she intended to bestow a good
+education, a place at court, and a bequest of all her possessions. The
+return of her favour, she added, depended entirely on compliance with these
+injunctions.</p>
+
+<p>The letter filled the family with utter consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you leave us?" Margaret asked, in deep anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied madame, "I will never leave you. With you I have lived,
+and with you I mean to die."</p>
+
+<p>At these words tears of joy bedewed the cheeks of the whole household,
+and the most joyous of all, although she gave the least testimony to her
+pleasure, was Virginia.</p>
+
+<p>But next morning they were surprised to receive a visit from the
+governor. He, too, had heard from madame's aunt. "Surely," he said, "you
+cannot without injustice deprive your young and beautiful daughter of so
+great an inheritance." Taking madame aside, he told her that a vessel was
+on the point of sailing, and that a lady who was related to him would take
+care of her daughter. He then placed upon the table a large bag of
+piastres, which one of his slaves had brought. "This," he said, "is what
+your aunt has sent to make the preparations for the voyage."</p>
+
+<p>After the governor had left, madame urged her daughter to go. But wealth
+had no temptations for Virginia. She thought only of her family, and of her
+love for Paul. "Oh, I shall never have resolution to quit you!" she
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>But in the evening came her father confessor, sent by the governor. "My
+children," said he as he entered, "there is wealth in store for you now,
+thanks to Heaven. You have at length the means of gratifying your
+benevolent feeling by ministering to the unhappy. We must obey the will of
+Providence," he continued, turning to Virginia. "It is a sacrifice, I
+grant, but it is the command of the Almighty."</p>
+
+<p>Virginia, with downcast eyes and trembling voice, replied, "If it is the
+command of God that I should go, God's will be done." And burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>I was with the family at supper that evening. Little was eaten, and
+nobody uttered a syllable.</p>
+
+<p>After supper Virginia rose first, and went out. Paul quickly followed
+her. The rest of us went out soon afterwards, and we sat down under the
+banana-trees. Paul and Virginia were not far off, and we heard every word
+they said.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to leave us," began Paul, "for the sake of a relation
+whom you have never seen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Alas!" replied Virginia. "Had I been allowed to follow my own
+inclinations, I should have remained here all my days. But my mother wishes
+me to go. My confessor says it is the will of God that I should go."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Paul. "And do you say nothing of the attractions of wealth?
+You will soon find another on whom you can bestow the name of brother among
+your equals--one who has riches and high birth, which I cannot offer you.
+But whither can you go to be more happy than where you are? Cruel girl! How
+will our mothers bear this separation? What will become of me? Oh, since a
+new destiny attracts you, since you seek fortune in far countries, let me
+at least go with you! I will follow you as your slave."</p>
+
+<p>Paul's voice was stifled with sobs. "It is for your sake that I go!"
+cried Virginia tearfully. "You have laboured daily to support us. By my
+wealth I shall seek to repay the good you have done to us all. And would I
+choose any brother but thee! Oh, Paul, Paul, you are far dearer to me than
+a brother!"</p>
+
+<p>At these words he clasped her in his arms. "I shall go with her. Nothing
+shall shake my resolution!" he declared, in a terrible voice.</p>
+
+<p>We ran towards them, and Paul turned savagely on Madame de la Tour. "Do
+you act the part of a mother," he cried, "you who separate brother and
+sister? Pitiless woman! May the ocean never give her back to your arms!"
+His eyes sparkled; sweat ran down his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my friend," cried Virginia to him in terror, "I swear by all that
+could ever unite two unhappy beings that if I remain here I will only live
+for you; and if I depart, I will one day return to be yours!"</p>
+
+<p>His head drooped; a torrent of tears gushed from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Come to-night to my home, my friend," I said. "We will talk this matter
+over to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot let her go!" cried madame, in distraction.</p>
+
+<p>Paul accompanied me in silence. After a restless night he arose at
+daybreak, and returned to his own home.</p>
+
+<p>Virginia had gone! The vessel had sailed at daybreak, and she was on
+board.</p>
+
+<p>By intricate paths Paul climbed to the summit of a rock cone, from which
+a vast area of sea was visible. From here he perceived the vessel that bore
+away Virginia; and here I found him in the evening, his head leaning
+against the rock, his eyes fixed on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>When I had persuaded him to return home, he bitterly reproached madame
+with having so cruelly deceived him. She told us that a breeze had sprung
+up in the early morning, and that the governor himself, his officers, and
+the confessor has come and carried Virginia off in spite of all their tears
+and protests, the governor declaring that it was for their good that she
+was thus hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>Paul wandered miserably among all the spots that had been Virginia's
+favourites. He looked at her goats, and at the birds that came fluttering
+to be fed by the hand of her who had gone. He watched the dog vainly
+searching, following the scent up and down. He cherished little things that
+had been hers--the last nosegay she had worn, the coconut cup out of which
+she was accustomed to drink.</p>
+
+<p>At length he began to labour in the plantation again. He also besought
+me to teach him reading and writing, so that he might correspond with
+Virginia; and geography and history, that he might learn the situation and
+character of the country whither she had gone.</p>
+
+<p>We heard a report that Virginia had reached France in safety; but for
+two years we heard no other news of her.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Virginia's Return</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>When at length a letter arrived from Virginia it appeared that she had
+written several times before, but as she had received no replies, she
+feared that her great-aunt had intercepted her former letters.</p>
+
+<p>She had been placed in a convent school, and although she lived in the
+midst of riches, she had not the disposal of a single farthing. She was not
+allowed to mention her mother's name, and was bidden to forget the land of
+savages where she was born; but she would sooner forget herself.</p>
+
+<p>To Paul she sent some flower-seeds in a small purse, on which were
+embroidered the letters "P" and "V" formed of hair that he knew to be
+Virginia's.</p>
+
+<p>But reports were current that gave him great uneasiness. The people of
+the vessel that had brought the letter asserted that Virginia was about to
+be married to a great nobleman; some even declared that the wedding was
+already over.</p>
+
+<p>But soon afterwards his disquietude ceased at the news that Virginia was
+about to return.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of December 24, 1752, Paul saw a signal indicating that a
+vessel was descried at sea, and he hastened to the city. A pilot went out
+to reconnoitre her according to the custom of the port; he came back in the
+evening with the news that the vessel was the Saint Gerard, and that her
+captain hoped to bring her to anchor off Port Louis on the following
+afternoon. Virginia was on board, and sent by the pilot a letter to her
+mother which Paul, after kissing it with transport, carried hurriedly to
+the plantation.</p>
+
+<p>Virginia wrote that her great-aunt had tried to force her into marriage,
+had disinherited her on her refusal, and had sent her back to the island.
+Her only wish now was once more to see and embrace her dear family.</p>
+
+<p>Paul, in his excitement, rushed to tell me the news, although it was
+late at night. As we walked together we were overtaken by a breathless
+negro.</p>
+
+<p>"A vessel from France has just cast anchor under Amber Island," he said.
+"She is firing distress guns, for the sea is very heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"That will be Virginia's vessel," I said. "Let us go that way to meet
+her."</p>
+
+<p>The heat was stifling, and the flashes of lightning that illumined the
+dense darkness revealed masses of thick clouds lowering over the island. In
+the distance we heard the boom of the distress-gun. We quickened our pace
+without saying a word, not daring to communicate our anxiety to each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>When we reached the coast by Amber Island, we found several planters
+gathered round a fire, discussing whether the vessel could enter the
+channel in the morning and find safety.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after dawn the governor arrived with a detachment of soldiers, who
+immediately fired a volley. Close at hand came the answering boom of the
+ship's gun; in the dim light we could see her masts and yards, and hear the
+voices of the sailors. She had passed through the channel, and was
+secure--save from the hurricane.</p>
+
+<p>But the hurricane came. Black clouds with copper edging hung in the
+zenith; seabirds made their way, screaming, to shelter in the island. Then
+fearful noises as of torrents were heard from the sea; the mists of the
+morning were swept away and the storm was upon us.</p>
+
+<p>The vessel was now in deadly peril, and ere long what we had feared took
+place. The cables on her bows snapped, and she was dashed upon the rocks
+half a cable's length from the shore. A cry of grief burst from every
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was about to fling himself into the sea, when I seized him by the
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh. let me go to her rescue," he cried, "or let me die!"</p>
+
+<p>I tied a rope round his waist, and he advanced toward the ship,
+sometimes walking, sometimes swimming. He hoped to get on board the vessel,
+for the sea in its irregular movements left her almost dry. But presently
+it returned with redoubled fury, and the unhappy Paul was hurled back upon
+the shore, bleeding, bruised, and senseless.</p>
+
+<p>The ship was now going to pieces, and the despairing crew were flinging
+themselves into the sea. On the stern gallery stood Virginia, stretching
+out her arms towards the lover who sought to save her. When he was thrust
+back she waved her hand towards us, as if bidding us an eternal
+farewell.</p>
+
+<p>One sailor remained with her, striving to persuade her to undress and
+try to swim ashore. With a dignified gesture she repelled him. Then a
+prodigious mountain of water swept towards the vessel. The sailor sprang
+off, and was carried ashore. Virginia vanished from our sight.</p>
+
+<p>We found her body on the beach of a bay near at hand, whither much of
+the wreckage had been carried. Her eyes were closed, but her countenance
+showed perfect calm; only the pale violet of death blended itself upon her
+cheeks with the rose of modesty. One of her hands was firmly closed. I
+disengaged from it, with much difficulty, a little casket; within the
+casket was a portrait of Paul--a gift from him which she had promised never
+to part with while she lived.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was taken home stretched on a palanquin. His coming brought a ray
+of comfort to the unhappy mothers; the tears, which had been till then
+restrained through excess of sorrow, now began to flow, and, nature being
+thus relieved, all the three bereaved ones fell into a lethargic
+repose.</p>
+
+<p>It was three weeks ere Paul was sufficiently recovered to walk. For day
+after day, when his strength was restored, he wandered among the places
+endeared to him by memories of Virginia. His eyes grew hollow, his colour
+faded, his health gradually but visibly declined. I strove to mitigate his
+feelings by giving him change of scene, by taking him to the busy inhabited
+parts of the island. My efforts proving quite ineffectual, I tried to
+console him by reminding him that Virginia had gained eternal
+happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Since death is a blessing, and Virginia is happy," he replied
+mournfully, "I will die, also, that I may again be united to her."</p>
+
+<p>Thus, the consolation I sought to administer only aggravated his
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>Paul died two months after his beloved Virginia, whose name was ever on
+his lips to the last. Margaret survived her son only by a week, and Madame
+de la Tour, who had borne all her terrible losses with a greatness of soul
+beyond belief, lived but another month.</p>
+
+<p>By the side of Virginia, at the foot of the bamboos near the church of
+Pamplemousses, Paul was laid to rest. Close at hand the two mothers were
+buried. No marble is raised over their humble graves, no inscriptions
+record their virtues, but in the hearts of those who loved them, they have
+left a memory that time can never efface.</p>
+
+<p>With these words the old man, tears flowing from his eyes, arose and
+went away.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="GEORGE_SAND"></a>GEORGE SAND</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Consuelo"></a>Consuelo</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> The life of the great French novelist, George Sand, is as
+romantic as any of the characters in her novels. She was born at Paris in
+July, 1804, her real name being Armandine Lucile Aurore Dupin. At eighteen
+she married the son of a colonel and baron of the empire, by name Dudevant,
+but after nine years she separated from her husband, and, bent upon a
+literary career, made her way to Paris. Success came quickly. Entering into
+a literary partnership with her masculine friend, Jules Sandeau, the chief
+fruit of their joint enterprise was "Rose et Blanche." This was followed by
+her independent novel, "Indiana," a story that brought her the enthusiastic
+praises of the reading public, and the warm friendship of the most
+distinguished personages in French literary society. A few years later her
+relations with the poet Alfred De Musset provided the matter for what is
+now an historic episode. Her literary output was enormous, consisting of a
+hundred or more volumes of novels and stories, four volumes of
+autobiography, and six of correspondence. Yet everything that she wrote is
+marked by that richness, delicacy and power of style and of thought which
+constitutes her genius. "Consuelo," which appeared in 1844, is typical of
+all these in its sparkling dialogue, flowing narrative, and vivid
+description. George Sand died on June 7, 1876. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--In Venice</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Little Consuelo, at the age of fourteen, was the best of all the pupils
+of the Maestro Porpora, a famous Italian composer, of the eighteenth
+century.</p>
+
+<p>At that time in Venice a certain number of children received a musical
+education at the expense of the state, and it was Porpora, the great
+musician--then a soured and disappointed man--who trained the voices of the
+girls. They were not equally poor, these young ladies, and among them were
+the daughters of needy artists, whose wandering existence did not permit
+them a long stay in Venice. Of such parentage was little Consuelo, born in
+Spain, and arriving in Italy by the strange routes of Bohemians. Not that
+Gonsuelo was really a gipsy. She was of good Spanish blood, and had a
+calmness of mind and manner quite foreign to the wandering races. A rare
+and happy temperament was hers, and, in spite of poverty and
+orphanhood--for her mother, who brought her to Venice, was dead--Consuelo
+worked on with Porpora, finding the labour an enjoyment, and overcoming the
+difficulties of her art as if by some invisible instinct.</p>
+
+<p>When Consuelo was eighteen Count Zustiniani, having heard her sing in
+Porpora's choir, decided she must come out as a prima donna in his theatre.
+For the fame and success of this theatre Zustiniani cared more than for
+anything else in the world--not that he was eager for money, but because he
+was an enthusiast for music--a man of taste, an amateur, whose great
+business in life was to gratify his taste. He liked to be talked about and
+to have his theatre and his magnificence talked about.</p>
+
+<p>The success of Consuelo was assured when she appeared for the first time
+in Gluck's "Ipermnestra." The debutante was at once self-possessed and
+serious, receiving the applause of the audience without fear or humility.
+For her art itself, and not the results of art, were the main thing, and
+her inward satisfaction in her performance did not depend on the amount of
+approbation manifested by the public.</p>
+
+<p>But Zustiniani, gratified as he was by the triumph of his new prima
+donna, was not content with Consuelo's success on the stage; he also wanted
+her for himself. Consuelo gravely refused the jewels and ornaments he
+offered her, and the count was strangely annoyed. He was thrilled with
+unknown emotions by Consuelo's singing, and his patrician soul could not
+realise that this poor little pupil of Porpora's was not to be won by the
+ordinary methods, which he had hitherto employed successfully in the
+conquest of opera singers.</p>
+
+<p>Porpora saved Consuelo from the count's threatening attentions.</p>
+
+<p>The prima donna suddenly disappeared, and it was said she had gone to
+Vienna, that she had been engaged for the emperor's theatre, and that
+Porpora was also going there to conduct his new opera.</p>
+
+<p>Count Zustiniani was particularly embarrassed by Consuelo's flight. He
+had led all Venice to believe this wonderful new singer favoured his
+addresses. Some, indeed, maintained for a time that, jealous of his
+treasure, the count had hidden her in one of his country houses. But when
+they heard Porpora say, with a blunt openness which could never deceive,
+that he had advised his pupil to go to Germany and wait for him, there was
+nothing left but to try and find out the motives for this extraordinary
+decision.</p>
+
+<p>To all inquiries addressed to him Porpora answered that no one should
+ever know from him where Consuelo was to be found.</p>
+
+<p>In real truth, it was not only Zustiniani who had driven Consuelo away.
+A youth named Anzoleto, who had grown up in Venice with Consuelo so that
+the two were as brother and sister, and who lacked both heart and
+constancy, made life too hard for Consuelo. Anxious to get all the
+advantages of Consuelo's friendship, and to be known as her betrothed, so
+that he could procure an engagement in the opera through her generous
+influence, he yet made love to another singer, a former favourite of
+Zustiniani's. Learning of Anzoleto's heartless unfaithfulness, and pressed
+by Zustiniani, Consuelo had turned to her old master for help, and had not
+been disappointed.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--In Bohemia</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Among the mountains which separate Bohemia from Bavaria stood an old
+country house, known as the Castle of the Giant, the residence of the Lords
+of Rudolstadt. A strange mystery reigned over this ancient family. Count
+Christian Rudolstadt, the head of the house, a widower, his elder sister,
+the Canoness Wenceslawa, a venerable lady of seventy, and Count Albert, the
+only son and heir, lived alone with their retainers, never associating with
+their neighbours. The count's brother, Baron Frederick Rudolstadt, with his
+daughter Amelia, had for some time past taken up their abode in the Castle
+of the Giants, and it was the hope of the two brothers that Albert and
+Amelia would become betrothed. But the silence and gloom of the place were
+hateful to Amelia, and Albert's deep melancholy and absent-mindedness were
+not the tokens of a lover.</p>
+
+<p>Albert, in fact, had so brooded over the horrors of the old wars between
+Catholic and Protestant in Bohemia, that when the fit was on him he
+believed himself living and acting in those terrible times, and it was this
+kind of madness in his son which made Count Christian shun all social
+intercourse. Albert was now thirty, and the doctors had predicted that this
+year he would either conquer the fancies which took such fierce hold on
+him, or succumb entirely.</p>
+
+<p>One night, when the family were assembled round the hearth, the castle
+bell rang, and presently a letter was brought in. It was from Porpora to
+Count Christian, and the count, having read it, passed it on to Amelia.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed that Christian had written to Porpora, whom he had long known
+and respected, to ask him to recommend him a companion for Amelia, and the
+letter now arrived not only recommended Consuelo, but Consuelo herself had
+brought it.</p>
+
+<p>The old count at once hastened with his niece to welcome Porporpina, as
+the visitor was called, and the terror which the journey to the castle and
+the first impressions of the gloomy place had struck upon the young singer
+only melted at the warmth of Christian's praises of her old master,
+Porpora.</p>
+
+<p>From the first the whole household treated Consuelo with every kindness,
+and Amelia very soon confided in her new friend all that she knew of the
+family history, explaining that her cousin Albert was certainly mad.</p>
+
+<p>Albert himself seemed unaware of Consuelo's presence until one day when
+he heard her sing. Amelia's singing always made him uneasy and restless,
+but the first time Consuelo sang--she had chosen a religious piece from
+Palestrina--Albert suddenly appeared in the room, and remained motionless
+till the end. Then, falling on his knees, his large eyes swimming in tears,
+he exclaimed, in Spanish: "Oh, Consuelo, Consuelo! I have at last found
+thee!"</p>
+
+<p>"Consuelo?" cried the astonished girl, replying in the same language.
+"Why, señor, do you call me by that name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I call you Consolation, because a consolation has been promised to my
+desolate life, and because you are that consolation which God at last
+grants to my solitary and gloomy existence. Consuelo! If you leave me, my
+life is at an end, and I will never return to earth again!" Saying this he
+fell at her feet in a swoon; and the two girls, terrified, called the
+servants to carry him to his room and restore him to consciousness. But
+hardly had Albert been left alone before his apartment was empty, and he
+had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Days passed, and the anxiety at the castle remained unrelieved. It was
+not the first time Albert had disappeared, but now his absence was longer
+than usual. Consuelo found out the secret of his hiding-place--a vaulted
+hall at the end of a long gallery in a cave in the forest was Albert's
+hermitage, and a secret passage from the moat of the castle enabled him to
+pass unseen to his solitude. She traced him to the chamber in the recesses
+of the cavern.</p>
+
+<p>Already Consuelo had discovered the two natures in Albert--the one wise,
+the other mad; the one polished, tender, merciful; the other strange,
+untamed and violent She saw that sympathy and firmness were both needed in
+dealing with this lonely and unfortunate man--sympathy with his religious
+mysticism, and firmness in urging him not to yield to the images of his
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>That Albert was in love with her, Consuelo understood; but to his
+pleadings she had but one answer:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not speak of love, do not speak of marriage. My past life, my
+recollections, make the first impossible. The difference in our conditions
+would render the second humiliating and insupportable to me. Let it be
+enough that I will be your friend and your consoler, whenever you are
+disposed to open your heart to me."</p>
+
+<p>And with this Albert, for a time, professed to be content. So determined
+was he, however, to win Consuelo's heart, that he readily obeyed her
+advice, and even promised never to return to his hermitage without first
+asking her to accompany him.</p>
+
+<p>Gentle old Count Christian himself came later to plead his son's cause
+with Consuelo. Amelia and her father had left the Castle of the Giants, and
+Christian realised how much Consuelo had already done for the restoration
+of his son's health.</p>
+
+<p>"You were afraid of me, dear Consuelo," said the old man. "You thought
+that the old Rudolstadt, with his aristocratic prejudices, would be ashamed
+to owe his son to you. But you are mistaken, and I go to bring my son to
+your feet, that together we may bless you for extending his happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, stop, my dear lord!" said Consuelo, amazed. "I am not free. I have
+an object, a vocation, a calling. I belong to the art to which I have
+devoted myself since my childhood. I could only renounce all this--if--if I
+loved Albert. That is what I must find out. Give me at least a few days,
+that I may learn whether I have this love for him within my heart."</p>
+
+<p>The arrival of the worthless Anzoleto at the Castle of the Giants drove
+Consuelo once more to flight. Anzoleto had enjoyed some success at Venice,
+but having incurred the wrath of Zustiniani, he was escaping to Prague.
+Passing through Bohemia, the fame of a beautiful singer at the castle of
+the Rudolstadts came to his ears, and Anzoleto resolved to recover the old
+place he had once held in Consuelo's heart. He gave himself out as
+Consuelo's brother, and was at once admitted to the castle and treated
+kindly. For Consuelo, the only course open now was to flee to Vienna, and
+take refuge with Porpora, and this she did, leaving in the dead of night,
+after writing explanations to Christian and Albert.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--In Vienna</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The greater part of the journey to Vienna was accomplished on foot, and
+Consuelo had for her travelling companion a humble youth, whose name was
+Joseph Haydn, and whose great musical genius was yet to be recognized by
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>Many months had elapsed since Consuelo had seen her master and
+benefactor, and to the joy which she experienced in pressing old Porpora in
+her arms a painful feeling soon succeeded. Vexation and sorrow had
+imprinted their marks on the brow of the old maestro. He looked far older,
+and the fire of his countenance seemed chilled by age. The unfortunate
+composer had flattered himself that he would find in Vienna fresh chances
+of success and fortune; but he was received there with cold esteem, and
+happier rivals were in possession of the imperial favour and the public
+admiration. Being neither a flatterer nor an intriguer, Porpora's rough
+frankness was no passport to influence, and his ill-humour made enemies
+rather than friends. He held out no hopes to Consuelo.</p>
+
+<p>"There are no ears to listen, no hearts to comprehend you in this place,
+my child," he said sadly. "If you wish to succeed, you would do well to
+follow the master to whom they owe their skill and their fortune."</p>
+
+<p>But when Consuelo told him of the proposal made by Count Albert, and of
+Count Christian's desire for her marriage with his son, the tyrannical old
+musician at once put his foot down.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not think of the young count!" he said fiercely. "I positively
+forbid you! Such a union is not suitable. Count Christian would never
+permit you to become an artist again. I know the unconquerable pride of
+these nobles, and you cannot hesitate for an instant between the career of
+nobility and that of art."</p>
+
+<p>So resolute was Porpora that Consuelo should not be tempted from the
+life he had trained her for, that he did not hesitate to destroy, unread,
+her letters to the Rudolstadts, and letters from Count Christian and
+Albert. He even wrote to Christian himself, declaring that Consuelo desired
+nothing but the career of a public singer.</p>
+
+<p>But when, after many disappointments and rebuffs, Consuelo at last was
+appointed to take the prima donna's place for six days at the imperial
+opera house, she was frightened at the prospect of the toils and struggles
+before her feverish arena of the theatre seemed to her a place of terror
+and the Castle of the Giants a lost paradise, an abode of peace and
+virtue.</p>
+
+<p>Consuelo's triumph at the opera had been indisputable. Her voice was
+sweeter and richer than when she sang in Venice, and a perfect storm of
+flowers fell upon the stage at the end of the performance. Amid these
+perfumed gifts Consuelo saw a green branch fall at her feet, and when the
+curtain was lowered for the last time she picked it up. It was a bunch of
+cypress, a symbol of grief and despair.</p>
+
+<p>To add to her distress, she was now conscious that her love for Albert
+was a reality, and no answer had come from him or from Count Christian to
+the letters she had sent. Twice in the six days at the opera she had caught
+a glimpse, so it seemed to her, of Count Albert, but on both occasions the
+figure had melted away without a word, and unobserved by all at the
+theatre.</p>
+
+<p>No further engagement followed at the opera, and Consuelo's thoughts
+turned more and more to the Rudolstadts. If only she could hear from
+Christian or his son, she would know whether she was free to devote herself
+absolutely to her art. For she had made her promise to Count Christian that
+she would send him word should she feel sure of being in love with Albert;
+and now that word had been sent, and no reply had come.</p>
+
+<p>Porpora, with a promise of an engagement at the royal theatre in Berlin,
+and anxious to take Consuelo with him, had confessed, in answer to her
+objection to leaving Vienna before hearing from Christian, that letters had
+come from the Rudolstadts, which he had destroyed.</p>
+
+<p>"The old count was not at all anxious to have a daughter-in-law picked
+up behind the scenes," said Porpora, "and so the good Albert sets you at
+liberty."</p>
+
+<p>Consuelo never suspected her master of this profound deceit, and, taking
+the story he had invented for truth, signed an agreement to go to Berlin
+for two months.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Return to Bohemia</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The carriage containing Porpora and Consuelo had reached the city of
+Prague, and was on the bridge that spans the Moldau, when a horseman
+approached and looked in at the window, gazing with a tranquil curiosity.
+Porpora pushed him back, exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you stare at ladies so closely."</p>
+
+<p>The horseman replied in Bohemian, and Consuelo, seeing his face, called
+out:</p>
+
+<p>"Is it the Baron Frederick of Rudolstadt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is I, signora!" replied the baron, in a dejected tone. "The
+brother of Christian, the uncle of Albert. And in truth, is it you
+also?"</p>
+
+<p>The baron accompanied them to a hotel, and there explained to Consuelo
+that he had received a letter from the canoness, his sister, bidding him,
+at Albert's request, be on the bridge of Prague at seven o'clock that
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>"The first carriage that passes you will stop; if the first person you
+see in it can leave for the castle that same evening, Albert, perhaps, will
+be saved. At least, he says it will give him a hold on eternal life. I do
+not know what he means, but he has the gift of prophecy and the perception
+of hidden things. The doctors have given up all hope for his life."</p>
+
+<p>"Is the carriage ready, sir?" Consuelo said, when the latter was
+finished. "If so I am ready also, and we can set out instantly."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall follow you," said Porpora. "Only we must be in Berlin in a
+week's time."</p>
+
+<p>The carriage and horses were already in the courtyard, and in a few
+minutes the baron and Consuelo were on their journey to the castle of the
+Rudolstadts.</p>
+
+<p>At the doorway of the castle they were met by the aged canoness, who,
+seizing Consuelo by the arm, said:</p>
+
+<p>"We have not a moment to lose. Albert begins to grow impatient. He has
+counted the hours and minutes till your arrival, and announced your
+approach before we heard the sound of the carriage wheels. He was sure of
+your coming; but, he said, if any accident detained you, it would be too
+late. Signora, in the name of Heaven, do not oppose any of his wishes;
+promise all he asks; pretend to love him. Albert's hours are numbered; his
+life is close. All we ask of you is to soothe his sufferings." Then, as
+they approached the great saloon, she added, "Take courage, signora. You
+need not be afraid of surprising him, for he expects you, and has seen you
+coming hours ago."</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and Consuelo darted forward to her lover. Albert was
+seated in a large arm-chair before the fire. It was no longer a man, it was
+a spectre, Consuelo saw. His face, still beautiful, was as a face of
+marble. There was no smile on his lips, no ray of joy in his eyes. Consuelo
+knelt before him; he looked fixedly at her, and then, giving a sign to the
+canoness, she placed his arms on Consuelo's shoulders. Then she made the
+young girl lay her head on Albert's breast, and the dying man whispered in
+her ear: "I am happy." With another sign, he made the canoness understand
+that she and his father were to kiss his betrothed.</p>
+
+<p>"From my very heart!" exclaimed the canoness, with emotion. The old
+count who had been holding his brother's hand in one of his and Porpora's
+in the other, left them to embrace Consuelo fervently.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor urged an immediate marriage.</p>
+
+<p>"I can answer positively for nothing," he said, "but I venture to think
+much good may come of it. Your excellency consented to this marriage
+formerly----"</p>
+
+<p>"I always consented to it. I never opposed it," said the count. "It was
+Master Porpora who wrote to say that he would never consent, and that she
+likewise had renounced all idea. Alas, it was the death-blow to my unhappy
+child!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not grieve," murmured Albert to Consuelo. "I have understood for
+many days now that you were faithful. I know that you have endeavoured to
+love me, and have succeeded. But we have been deceived, and you must
+forgive your master, as I forgive him."</p>
+
+<p>Consuelo looked at Porpora, and the old musician reproached himself for
+homicide, and burst into tears. Only Consuelo's consent was necessary, and
+this was given.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage was hastened on. Porpora and the doctor served as
+witnesses. Albert found strength to pronounce a decisive "Yes," and the
+other responses in the service in a clear voice, and the family from this
+felt a new hope for his recovery. Hardly had the chaplain recited the
+closing prayer over the newly-married couple, before Albert arose and threw
+himself into his father's arms; then, seating himself again in his
+arm-chair, he pressed Consuelo to his heart, and exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"I am saved!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is nature's last effort," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Albert's arms loosed their hold, and fell forward on his knees. His gaze
+was riveted on Consuelo; gradually the shade crept from his forehead to his
+lips, and covered his face with a snowy veil.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the hand of Death!" said the doctor, breaking the silence.</p>
+
+<p>Consuelo would take neither her husband's title nor his riches.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay with us, my daughter?" cried the canoness, "for you have a lofty
+soul and a great heart!"</p>
+
+<p>But Consuelo tore herself away after the funeral, though her heart was
+wrung with grief. As she crossed the drawbridge with Porpora, Consuelo did
+not know that already the old count was dead, and that the Castle of the
+Giants, with its riches and its sufferings, had become the property of the
+Countess of Rudolstadt.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Mauprat"></a>Mauprat</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> It was while George Sand was pleading for a separation from
+her husband, on the ground of incompatibility of temperament, that
+"Mauprat" was written, and the powerful story, full of storm, sentiment,
+and passion, bears the marks of its tumultuous birth. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Bernard Mauprat's Childhood</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>In the district of Varenne, within a gloomy ravine, stands the ruined
+castle of Roche-Mauprat. It is a place I never pass at night without some
+feeling of uneasiness; and now I have just learnt its history from Bernard
+Mauprat, the last of the line.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Mauprat is eighty-four and no man is more represented in the
+province. Passing his house with a friend who knew the old man, we ventured
+to call, and were received with stately welcome. Later Mauprat told us his
+story in the following words:</p>
+
+<p>There were formerly two branches of the Mauprat family and I belonged to
+the elder. My grandfather was that Tristan de Mauprat whose crimes are
+still remembered. My father was his eldest son, and on his death, which
+occurred at a shooting party, the only living member of the younger branch,
+the chevalier, Hubert de Mauprat, a widower with an infant daughter, begged
+that he might be allowed to adopt me, promising to make me his heir. My
+grandfather refused the offer, and when I was seven years old and my mother
+died--poisoned some said by my grandfather--I was carried off by that
+terrible man to his house at Roche-Mauprat. I only knew afterwards that my
+father was the only son of Tristan's who had married and that consequently
+I was the heir to the property.</p>
+
+<p>It was a terrible journey I made with my grandfather but more terrible
+still was the life led at Roche-Mauprat by Tristan and his eight sons.
+Beset by creditors, the Mauprats with a dozen peasants and poachers defied
+the civil laws as they had already broken all moral laws. They formed
+themselves into a body of adventurers, levying blackmail on the small farms
+of the neighbourhood, intimidating the tax-collectors and at times not
+hesitating from petty thefts at fairs. Masters and servants were united in
+bonds of infamy. Debauchery, extortion, fraud, and cruelty were the precept
+and example of my youth. All notions of justice were scoffed at, and the
+civilisation, the light of education, and the philosophy of social
+equality, then spreading in France and preparing the way for the convulsion
+of the Revolution, found no entrance at Roche-Mauprat.</p>
+
+<p>The eight sons, the pride and strength of old Mauprat, all resembled him
+in physical vigour, brutality of manners, and in a cunning ill-nature. They
+gave themselves the airs of knights of the twelfth century. What elsewhere
+was called assassination and robbery I was taught to call battle and
+conquest. The frightful tortures heaped upon prisoners by my uncles gave me
+a horrible uneasiness, but what kept me from admiring the savagery that
+surrounded me was the ill-usage I received myself. I grew up without
+conceiving any liking for vice, but a tendency to hatred was fostered. Of
+virtue or simple human affection I knew nothing, and a blind and brutal
+anger was nourished in my breast.</p>
+
+<p>As the years went by Roche-Mauprat became more and more isolated. People
+left the neighbourhood to escape our violent depredations, and in
+consequence we had to go farther afield for plunder. I joined in the
+robberies as a soldier serves in a campaign, but on more than one occasion
+I helped some unfortunate man who had been knocked down to get up and
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>My grandfather died when I was fifteen. A year later and so threatened
+were we by crown officers, private creditors and infuriated peasants, that
+it was a question of either fleeing the country or bracing ourselves for a
+decisive struggle, and if needs be finding a grave under the ruins of the
+castle.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Meet my Cousin Edm&eacute;e</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>One night, when wind and rain beat fiercely against the old walls of the
+castle and I sat at supper with my uncles, a horn was heard at the
+portcullis. I had been drinking heavily, and boasting that I would make a
+conquest of the first woman brought to Roche-Mauprat--for I had been
+rallied on my modesty--when a second blast of the horn announced that it
+was my Uncle Lawrence bringing in a prize.</p>
+
+<p>"If it is a woman," cried my Uncle Antony, as he went out to the
+portcullis, "I swear by the soul of my father that she shall be yours, and
+we'll see if your courage is equal to your conceit."</p>
+
+<p>When the door opened again a woman entered, and one of the Mauprats
+whispered to me that the young lady had lost her way at a wolf hunt and
+that Lawrence, meeting her in the forest, had promised to escort her to
+Rochemaure where she had friends. Never having seen the face of one of my
+uncles, and little dreaming she was near their haunt, for she had never had
+a glimpse of Roche-Mauprat, she was led into the castle without having the
+least suspicion of the trap into which she had fallen. When I beheld this
+woman, so young and so beautiful, with her expression of calm sincerity and
+goodness, it seemed to me I was dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>My uncles withdrew, for Antony had pledged his word, and I was left
+alone with the stranger. For a moment I felt more bewildered and stupefied
+than pleased. With the fumes of wine in my head I could only suppose this
+lady was some acquaintance of Lawrence's, and that she had been told of my
+drunken boast and was willing to put my gallantry to the proof. I got up
+and bolted and double-locked the door.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting close to the fire, drying her wet garments, without
+noticing what I had done. I made up my mind to kiss her, but no sooner had
+she raised her eyes to mine than this familiarity became impossible. All I
+could say, was:</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word, mademoiselle, you are a charming creature, and I love
+you--as true as my name is Bernard Mauprat."</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard Mauprat!" she cried, springing up; "you are Bernard Mauprat,
+you? In that case learn to whom you are speaking, and change your
+manners."</p>
+
+<p>"Really!" I said with a grin, "but let my lips meet yours, and you shall
+see if I am not as nicely mannered as those uncles of mine."</p>
+
+<p>Her lips grew white. Her agony was manifest in every gesture. I
+shuddered myself, and was in a state of great perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>This woman was beautiful as the day. I do not believe that there has
+ever lived a woman as lovely as she. And this was the first trial of her
+life.</p>
+
+<p>She was my young cousin, Edm&eacute;e de Mauprat, daughter of M. Hubert
+de Mauprat, the chevalier. She was of my age, for we were both seventeen,
+and I ought to have protected her against the world at the peril of my
+life.</p>
+
+<p>"I swear by Christ," she said, taking my hands in hers, "that I am
+Edm&eacute;e, your cousin, your prisoner--yes, and your friend, for I have
+always felt an interest in you."</p>
+
+<p>Her words were cut short by the report of a gun outside; more shots were
+heard and the alarm trumpet sounded.</p>
+
+<p>I heard my Uncle Lawrence shouting violently at the door. "Where is that
+coward? Where is that wretched boy? Bernard, the mounted police are
+attacking us, and you are amusing yourself by making love while our throats
+are being cut. Come and help us, Bernard."</p>
+
+<p>"May the devil take the lot of you," I cried, "if I believe a single
+word of all this."</p>
+
+<p>But the shots rang out louder and for half an hour the fighting was most
+desperate. Our band amounted to twenty-four all told, and the enemy were
+fifty soldiers in addition to a score of peasants.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as I learnt that we were really being attacked, I had taken my
+weapons and done what I called my duty, after leaving Edm&eacute;e locked
+in the room.</p>
+
+<p>After three assaults had been repulsed there was a long lull, and I
+returned to my captive. The fear lest my uncles should get possession of
+Edm&eacute;e made me mad. I kept on telling her I loved her and wanted her
+for myself, and seeing what an animal it was she had to deal with, my
+cousin made up her mind accordingly. She threw her arms round me, and let
+me kiss her. "Do you love me?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>From this moment the victory was hers. The wolf in me was conquered, and
+the man rose in its place.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I love you! Yes, I love you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," she said distractedly, "let us love each other and escape
+together."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; let us escape," I answered. "I loathe this house, and I loathe my
+uncles. I have long wanted to escape. And yet I shall only be hanged, you
+know." For I knew I had as much to fear from the besiegers as from the
+besieged.</p>
+
+<p>"They won't hang you," she rejoined with a laugh; "my betrothed is a
+lieutenant-general."</p>
+
+<p>"Your betrothed!" I burst out in a fit of jealousy. "You are going to be
+married?"</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Swear that you will not marry before I die. Swear that you will be mine
+sooner than this lieutenant-general's," I cried.</p>
+
+<p>Edm&eacute;e swore as I asked her, and she made me swear in return that
+her promise should be a secret. Then I clasped her in my arms, and we
+remained motionless until fresh shots announced that the fight had begun
+again. Every moment of delay was dangerous now. I seized a torch, and
+lifting a trap door made her descend with me to the cellar. Thence we
+passed into a subterranean passage, and finally hurried forth into the
+open, holding each other's hands as a sign of mutual trust. I found a horse
+that had belonged to my grandfather in the forest, and this animal carried
+us some miles from Roche-Mauprat, before it stumbled and threw us.
+Edm&eacute;e was unhurt but my ankle was badly sprained. Fortunately we
+were near a lonely building called Gayeau Tower, the dwelling place of a
+remarkable man called Patience, a peasant who was both a hermit and a
+philosopher, and who, like Edm&eacute;e, was filled with the new social
+gospel of Rousseau. Between these two a warm friendship existed.</p>
+
+<p>"The lamb in the company of the wolf," cried Patience when he saw
+us.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend," replied Edm&eacute;e, "welcome him as you welcome me. I was
+a prisoner at Roche-Mauprat, and it was he who rescued me."</p>
+
+<p>At that Patience took me by the arm and led me in. A few days later I
+was carried to the chateau of the chevalier, M. Hubert de Mauprat, at
+Sainte-S&eacute;v&egrave;re, and there I learnt that Roche-Mauprat had been
+taken, that five of my uncles were dead, and that two, John and Antony, had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard," added the chevalier, "I owe to you the life I hold dearest in
+the world. All my own life shall be devoted to giving you proofs of my
+gratitude and esteem. Bernard, we are both of us victims of a vicious
+family. The wrong that has been done you shall be repaired. They have
+deprived you of education, but your soul has remained pure. Bernard, you
+will restore the honour of your family, promise me this."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--I Go to America and Return</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>For a long time I am sure my presence was a source of utter discomfort
+to the kind and venerable chevalier, and to his daughter. I was boorish and
+illiterate and Edm&eacute;e was one of the most perfect women to be found
+in France. She found her happiness in her own family, and the sweetest
+simplicity crowned her mental powers and lofty virtues. Brute like, at that
+time I saw her only with the eyes of the body, and believed I loved her
+because she was beautiful. Her fiance, M. de la Marche, the
+lieutenant-general, a shallow and frigid Voltairean, understood her but
+little better. A day came when I could understand her--the day when M. de
+la Marche could have understood her would never have come.</p>
+
+<p>The first step was taken on my part when I realised that I was ignorant
+and savage, and I applied to the Abb&eacute; Aubert, the chaplain, whose
+offices I had hitherto despised, to instruct me. I learnt quickly, and soon
+vanity at my rapid progress became the bane of my life.</p>
+
+<p>With Edm&eacute;e I was so passionately in love that jealousy would
+awaken the old brutality that I thought dead, and I would gladly have
+killed de la Marche in a duel. Then after an outburst remorse would
+overtake me.</p>
+
+<p>My cousin at last told me plainly that while she would be true to her
+word, and not marry anyone before me, she would not marry me, and that on
+her father's death a convent should be her refuge. I knew my boorishness
+was responsible for this, and resolved to leave her.</p>
+
+<p>Lafayette was taking out volunteers to help the United States in their
+war of independence. I told him I would go with him, and crossed hastily
+into Spain, whence he was going to sail to America.</p>
+
+<p>I left a note to my uncle, and wrote to Edm&eacute;e that, as far as I
+was concerned, she was free, and that, while I would not thwart a wish of
+hers, it was impossible for me to witness a rival's triumph.</p>
+
+<p>Before we sailed came the following reply from Edm&eacute;e:</p>
+
+<p>"You have done well, Bernard. Go where honour and love of truth call
+you. Return when your mission is accomplished; you will find me neither
+married nor in a convent."</p>
+
+<p>I cannot describe the American war. I stayed till peace was declared,
+and then chafing at my long absence from France, for I was away six
+years--and more in love with Edm&eacute;e than ever, at last set sail and
+in due time landed at Brest.</p>
+
+<p>I had not sent any letter to announce my coming, and when I reached the
+Ch&acirc;teau of Sainte-S&eacute;v&egrave;re I almost feared to cross the
+threshold. Then I rushed forward and entered the drawing room. The
+chevalier was asleep and did not wake. Edm&eacute;e, bending over her
+tapestry, did not hear my steps.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds I stood looking at her, then I fell at her feet
+without being able to say a word. She uttered no cry, no exclamation of
+surprise, but took my head in her two arms, and held it for sometime
+pressed to her bosom. The good chevalier, who had waked with a start,
+stared at us in astonishment; then he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well! what is the meaning of this?"</p>
+
+<p>He could not see my face, hidden as it was in Edm&eacute;e's breast. She
+pushed me towards him, and the old man clasped me in his feeble arms with a
+burst of generous affection.</p>
+
+<p>Never shall I forget the welcome they gave me. An immense change had
+taken place in me during those years of the war. I had learnt to bring my
+instincts and desires into harmony with my affections, my reason, and I had
+greatly developed my power of acquiring learning.</p>
+
+<p>Edm&eacute;e was not surprised at my intellectual progress, but she
+rejoiced at it. I had shown it in my letters, she said.</p>
+
+<p>My good uncle, the chevalier, now took a real liking for me, and where
+formerly natural generosity and family pride had made him adopt me, a
+genuine sympathy made him give me his friendship. He did not disguise from
+me that his great desire, before falling into the sleep that knows no
+waking, was to see me married to Edm&eacute;e; and when I told him this was
+the one wish of my soul, the one thought of my life, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know. Everything depends on her, and I think she can no
+longer have any reasons for hesitation.... At all events," he added, "I
+cannot see any that she could allege at present."</p>
+
+<p>From these words I concluded that he himself had long been favourable to
+my suit, and that any obstacle which might exist lay with Edm&eacute;e. But
+so much did I stand in awe of Edm&eacute;e's sensitive pride and her
+unspeakable goodness that I dared not ask her point-blank to decide my
+fate. M. de la Marche I knew had left France, and all thought of an
+engagement on his part with Edm&eacute;e was at an end. In a proud struggle
+to conceal the poverty of his estate, all his fortune had gone, and he had
+not been long in following me to America.</p>
+
+<p>The chevalier insisted on my visiting my property of Roche-Mauprat.
+Thanks to my uncle, great improvements had been accomplished in my absence,
+and the land was being well cultivated by good tenants. I knew that I ought
+not to neglect my duty, and though I had not set foot on the accursed soil
+since the day I left it with Edm&eacute;e, I set out and was away two
+days.</p>
+
+<p>I stayed in the gloomy old house and the only remarkable thing about the
+visit was that I had a vision of my wicked uncle John Mauprat.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--My Trial and Happiness</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>We had gone on a hunting party one day after my return, and Edm&eacute;e
+and I were separated from the rest. Somehow the old unbridled passions rose
+up within me and I succeeded in affronting Edm&eacute;e with my fierce
+speech. Then I hastened away, ashamed and fearful.</p>
+
+<p>I had not gone more than thirty paces when I heard the report of a gun
+from the spot where I had left Edm&eacute;e. I stopped, petrified with
+horror, and then retraced my steps. Edm&eacute;e was lying on the ground,
+rigid and bathed in blood. Patience was standing by her side with his arms
+crossed on his breast, and his face livid. For myself, I could not
+understand what was taking place. I fancy that my brain, already bewildered
+by my previous emotions, must have been paralyzed. I sat down on the ground
+by Edm&eacute;e's side. She had been shot in the breast in two places, and
+the Abb&eacute; Aubert was endeavouring to staunch the blood with his
+handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead, dead," said Patience, "and there is the murderer! She said so as
+she gave up her pure soul to God; and Patience will avenge her! It is very
+hard but it must be so! It is God's will, since I alone was here to learn
+the truth!"</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible, horrible!" exclaimed the Abb&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>Edm&eacute;e was carried away to the chateau, and I followed and for
+several days remained in a state of prostration. When strength and
+consciousness returned I learnt that she was not dead, but that everybody
+believed me guilty of attempted murder. Patience himself told me the only
+thing for me to do was to leave that part of the country. I swore I was
+innocent and would not be saddled with the crime.</p>
+
+<p>Then, one evening, I saw mounted police in the courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" I said, "let my destiny take its course." But before quitting
+the house, perhaps forever, I wished to see Edm&eacute;e again for the last
+time. I walked straight to her room, and there I found the Abb&eacute; and the
+doctor. I heard the latter declare that the wounds in themselves were not
+mortal, and the only danger was from a violent disturbance in the
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>I approached the bed, and took Edm&eacute;e's cold and lifeless hand. I
+kissed it a last time, and, without saying a single word to the others,
+went and gave myself up to the police.</p>
+
+<p>I was immediately thrown into prison and in a few days my trial began at
+the assizes. I was convicted, but through the efforts of certain friends a
+revision of my sentence was granted, and I was allowed a new trial.</p>
+
+<p>At this trial Patience appeared and declared that, while he had believed
+from what Edm&eacute;e had said that I was guilty, it had come into his
+head that some other Mauprat might have fired the shot. It appeared that
+John Mauprat was now living in the neighbourhood, as a penitent Trappist
+monk, and he had been seen in company with another monk who was not to be
+found since the attack on Edm&eacute;e. "So I put myself on the track of
+this wandering monk," Patience concluded, "and I have discovered who he is.
+He is the would-be murderer of Edm&eacute;e de Mauprat, and his name is
+Antony Mauprat."</p>
+
+<p>It then turned out that Antony's plot was to kill Edm&eacute;e, get me
+hanged for the murder, and then, when the chevalier was dead, claim the
+estates. John Mauprat knew of his brother's intentions but denied all
+complicity and was eventually sent back to his monastery. Antony was
+subsequently convicted and broken on the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>But before I was finally acquitted Edm&eacute;e herself gave evidence
+for me. She was still far from well but answered clearly all the irritating
+and maddening questions that were put to her. When she said to the
+president of the court, "Everything which to you seems inexplicable in my
+conduct finds its justification in one word: I love him!" I could not help
+crying out, "Let them take me to the scaffold now; I am king of all the
+earth."</p>
+
+<p>But as I have said, it was proved that Antony Mauprat was the criminal;
+and no sooner was I acquitted and set at liberty, with my character
+completely cleared, than I hastened to Edm&eacute;e.</p>
+
+<p>I arrived in time to witness my great-uncle's last moments. He
+recognised me, clasped me to his breast, blessed me at the same time as
+Edm&eacute;e, and put my hand into his daughter's.</p>
+
+<p>After we had paid the last tribute of affection to our noble and
+excellent relative, we left the province for sometime and paid a visit to
+Switzerland, Patience and the Abb&eacute; Aubert bearing us company.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of Edm&eacute;e's mourning we returned. This was the time
+that had been fixed for our marriage, which was duly celebrated in the
+village chapel.</p>
+
+<p>The years of happiness with my wife beggar description. She was the only
+woman I ever loved, and though she has now been dead ten years I feel her
+loss as keenly as on the first day, and seek only to make myself worthy of
+rejoining her in a better world after I have completed my probation
+here.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="MICHAEL_SCOTT"></a>MICHAEL SCOTT</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="Tom_Cringles_Log"></a>Tom Cringle's Log</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Michael Scott was a merchant who turned an unquestioned
+literary faculty to excellent account. Born at Cowlairs, near Glasgow,
+Scotland, Oct. 30, 1789, at the age of seventeen Scott was sent to Jamaica
+to manage a small estate of his father's, and a few years later entered
+business at Kingstown. Both of these occupations necessitated frequent
+journeys, by land and by sea, and the experiences gained thereby form the
+basis of "Tom Cringle's Log." The story appeared anonymously at
+intermittent intervals in "Blackwood's Magazine" (1829-33), being published
+in book form in 1834. Its authorship was attributed, among others, to
+Captain Marryatt, and so successfully did Scott himself conceal his
+identity with it that the secret was not known until after his death, which
+occurred at Glasgow on November 7, 1835. Of its kind, "Tom Cringle's Log"
+is a veritable masterpiece. Humour and pathos and gorgeous descriptions are
+woven into a thrilling narrative. Scott wrote many other things beside "Tom
+Cringle," but only one story, "The Cruise of the Midge" (1836), is in any
+way comparable with his first and most famous romance. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Quenching of the Torch</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The evening was closing in dark and rainy, with every appearance of a
+gale from the westward, and the red and level rays of the setting sun
+flashed on the black hull and tall spars of his Britannic Majesty's sloop
+Torch. At the distance of a mile or more lay a long, warlike-looking craft,
+rolling heavily and silently in the trough of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>A flash was seen; the shot fell short, but close to us, evidently thrown
+from a heavy cannon.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Splinter, the first lieutenant, jumped from the gun he stood on, and
+dived into the cabin to make his report.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Deadeye was a staid, wall-eyed veteran, with his coat of a
+regular Rodney cut, broad skirts, long waist, and stand-up collar, over
+which dangled either a queue, or marlinspike with a tuft of oakum at the
+end of it--it would have puzzled old Nick to say which. His lower spars
+were cased in tight unmentionables of what had once been white kerseymere,
+and long boots, the coal-scuttle tops of which served as scuppers to carry
+off the drainings from his coat-flaps in bad weather; he was, in fact, the
+"last of the sea-monsters," but, like all his tribe, as brave as steel,
+and, when put to it, as alert as a cat.</p>
+
+<p>He no sooner heard Splinter's report, than he sprang up the ladder.</p>
+
+<p>"Clear away the larboard guns!" I absolutely jumped off the deck with
+astonishment--who could have spoken it? The enemy was a heavy American
+frigate, and it appeared such downright madness to show fight under the
+very muzzles of her guns, half a broadside from which was sufficient to
+sink us. It was the captain, however, and there was nothing for it but to
+obey.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, men, mind your aim; our only chance is to wing him." The men--with
+cutlasses buckled round their waists, and many with nothing but their
+trousers on--instinctively cheered. Blaze went our cannonades and long gun
+in succession, and down came the fore-topsail; the head of the topmast had
+been shot away. "That will do; now knock off, my boys, and let us run for
+it. Make all sail."</p>
+
+<p>Jonathan was for an instant paralysed by our impudence; but he yawed and
+let drive his whole broadside; and fearfully did it transmogrify us. Half
+an hour before we were as gay a little sloop as ever floated, with a crew
+of 120 as fine fellows as ever manned a British man-of-war. The iron-shower
+sped--ten of the 120 never saw the sun rise again; 17 more were wounded,
+three mortally; our hull and rigging were regularly cut to pieces.</p>
+
+<p>But we had the start, crippled and be-devilled though we were; and as
+the night fell, we contrived to lose sight of our large friend, and pursue
+our voyage to Jamaica.</p>
+
+<p>A week later, and the hurricane fell upon us. Our chainplates, strong
+fastenings, and clenched bolts, drew like pliant wires, shrouds and stays
+were torn away, and our masts and spars were blown clean out of the ship
+into the sea. Had we shown a shred of the strongest sail in the vessel, it
+would have been blown out of the bolt-rope in an instant. With four men at
+the wheel, one watch at the pumps, and the other clearing the wreck, we had
+to get her before the wind.</p>
+
+<p>Our spirits were soon dashed, when the old carpenter, one of the coolest
+and bravest men in the ship, rose through the forehatch pale as a ghost,
+with his white hairs streaming out in the wind. He did not speak to any of
+us, but clambered aft, towards the capstan, to which the captain had lashed
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"The water is rushing in forward like a mill-stream, sir; she is fast
+settling down by the head."</p>
+
+<p>The brig, was, indeed, rapidly losing her buoyancy.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand by, to heave the guns overboard."</p>
+
+<p>Too late, too late! Oh, God, that cry! I was stunned and drowning, a
+chaos of wreck was beneath me and around me and above me, and blue,
+agonised, gasping faces and struggling arms, and colourless clutching
+hands, and despairing yells for help, where help was impossible; when I
+felt a sharp bite on the neck, and breathed again. My Newfoundland dog,
+Sneezer, had snatched at me, and dragged me out of the eddy of the sinking
+vessel.</p>
+
+<p>For life, dear life, nearly suffocated, amidst the hissing spray, we
+reached the cutter, the dog and his helpless master.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>For three miserable days I had been exposed, half naked and bareheaded,
+in an open boat, without water, or food, or shade. The third fierce West
+Indian noon was long passed, and once more the dry, burning sun sank in the
+west, like a red hot shield of iron. I glared on the noble dog as he lay at
+the bottom of the boat, and would have torn at his throat with my teeth,
+not for food, but that I might drink his hot blood; but as he turned his
+dull, gray, glazing eye on me, the pulses of my heart stopped, and I fell
+senseless.</p>
+
+<p>When my recollection returned, I was stretched on some fresh plantain
+leaves, in a low, smoky hut, with my faithful dog lying beside me, whining
+and licking my hands and face. Underneath the joists, that bound the
+rafters of the roof together, lay a corpse, wrapped in a boatsail, on which
+was clumsily written with charcoal, "The body of John Deadeye, Esq., late
+commander of his Britannic Majesty's sloop Torch."</p>
+
+<p>There was a fire on the floor, at which Lieutenant Splinter, in his
+shirt and trousers, drenched, unshorn, and death-like, was roasting a joint
+of meat, whilst a dwarfish Indian sat opposite to him fanning the flame
+with a palm-leaf. I had been nourished during my delirium; for the
+fierceness of my sufferings were assuaged, and I was comparatively strong.
+I anxiously inquired of the lieutenant the fate of our shipmates.</p>
+
+<p>"All gone down in the old Torch; and had it not been for the launch and
+our four-footed friend there, I should not have been here to have told it.
+All that the sharks have left of the captain and five seamen came ashore
+last night. I have buried the poor fellows on the beach where they lay, as
+well as I could, with an oar-blade for a shovel, and the <i>bronze
+ornament</i> there," pointing to the Indian, "for an assistant."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Perils on Land</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>I was awakened by the low growling and short bark of the dog. The night
+was far spent, and the amber rays of the yet unrisen sun were shooting up
+in the east.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a musket shot," said the lieutenant. The Indian crept to the
+door, and placed his open palms behind his ears. The distant wail of a
+bugle was heard, then three or four dropping shots again, in rapid
+succession. Mr. Splinter stooped to go forth, but the Indian caught him by
+the leg, uttering the single word "Espanoles" (Spaniards).</p>
+
+<p>On the instant a young Indian woman, with a shrieking infant in her
+arms, rushed to the door. There was a blue gunshot wound in her neck, and
+her features were sharpened as if in the agony of death. Another shot, and
+the child's small, shrill cry blended with the mother's death shriek;
+falling backwards the two rolled over the brow of the hill out of sight.
+The ball had pierced the heart of the parent through the body of her
+offspring. By this time a party of Spanish soldiers had surrounded the hut,
+one of whom, kneeling before the low door, pointed his musket into it. The
+Indian, who had seen his wife and child shot down before his face, fired
+his rifle and the man fell dead.</p>
+
+<p>Half a dozen musket balls were now fired at random through the wattles
+of the hut, while the lieutenant, who spoke Spanish well, sung out lustily
+that we were English officers who had been shipwrecked.</p>
+
+<p>"Pirates!" growled the officer of the party. "Pirates leagued with
+Indian bravos; fire the hut, soldiers, and burn the scoundrels!"</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to be lost; Mr. Splinter made a vigorous attempt to
+get out, in which I seconded him with all the strength that remained to me,
+but they beat us back again with the butts of their muskets.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are your commissions, your uniforms, if you be British officers?"
+We had neither, and our fate appeared inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>The doorway was filled with brushwood, fire was set to the hut, and we
+heard the crackling of the palm thatch, while thick, stifling white smoke
+burst in upon us through the roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Lend a hand, Tom, now or never." We laid our shoulders to the end wall,
+and heaved at it with all our might; when we were nearly at our last gasp
+it gave way, and we rushed headlong into the middle of the party, followed
+by Sneezer, with his shaggy coat, full of clots of tar, blazing like a
+torch. He unceremoniously seized, <i>par le queue</i>, the soldier who had
+throttled me, setting fire to the skirts of his coat, and blowing up his
+cartridge-box. I believe, under Providence, that the ludicrousness of this
+attack saved us from being bayoneted on the spot. It gave time for Mr.
+Splinter to recover his breath, when, being a powerful man, he shook off
+the two soldiers who had seized him, and dashed into the burning hut again.
+I thought he was mad, especially when I saw him return with his clothes and
+hair on fire, dragging out the body of the captain. He unfolded the sail it
+was wrapped up in, and pointing to the remains of the naval uniform in
+which the mutilated corpse was dressed, he said sternly to the officer, "We
+are in your power, and you may murder us if you will; but <i>that</i> was
+my captain four days ago, and you see at least <i>he</i> was a British
+officer--satisfy yourself."</p>
+
+<p>The person he addressed, a handsome young Spaniard, shuddered at the
+horrible spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>When he saw the crown and anchor, and his Majesty's cipher on the
+appointments of the dead officer, he became convinced of our quality, and
+changed his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis true, he is an Englishman. But, gentlemen, were there not three
+persons in the hut?"</p>
+
+<p>There were, indeed, and the Indian perished in the flames, making no
+attempt to escape.</p>
+
+<p>The officer, who belonged to the army investing Carthagena, now treated
+us with great civility; he heard our story, and desired his men to assist
+us in burying the remains of our late commander.</p>
+
+<p>We stayed that night with the captain of the outpost, who received us
+very civilly at a temporary guard-house, and apologised for the discomfort
+under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he had, and that
+was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us into the hut,
+where we found a rough deal coffin, lying on the very bench that was to be
+our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness in the world, saying,
+"It was only one of his people who had died that morning of yellow
+fever."</p>
+
+<p>"Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we
+have had of it, Tom!"</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Piccaroon</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>From the Spanish headquarters at Torrecilla we were allowed to go to the
+village of Turbaco, a few miles distant from the city for change of
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Peter," said Mr. Splinter, addressing a negro who sat mending his
+jacket in one of the enclosures near the water gate of the arsenal, "don't
+you know me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot say dat I do," rejoined the negro, very gravely. "Have not de
+honour of your acquaintance, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Confound you, sir! But I know you well enough, my man; and you can
+scarcely have forgotten Lieutenant Splinter of the Torch, one would
+think?"</p>
+
+<p>The name so startled the poor fellow, that in his hurry to unlace his
+legs, as he sat tailor-fashion, he fairly capsized and toppled down on his
+nose.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh!--no--yes, him sure enough! And who is de piccaniny hofficer? Oh! I
+see, Massa Tom Cringle! Where have you dropped from, gentlemen? Where is de
+old Torch? Many a time hab I, Peter Mangrove, pilot to him Britannic
+Majesty's squadron, taken de old brig in and through amongst de keys at
+Port Royal."</p>
+
+<p>"She will never give you that trouble again, my boy--foundered--all
+hands lost, Peter, but the two you see before you."</p>
+
+<p>"Werry sorry, Massa 'Plinter, werry sorry. What? de black cook's-mate
+and all? But misfortune can't be help. Stop till I put up my needle, and I
+will take a turn wid you. Proper dat British hofficers in distress should
+assist one anoder--we shall consult togeder. How can I serve you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Peter, if you could help us to a passage to Port Royal, it would
+be serving us most essentially. Here we have been for more than a month,
+without a single vessel belonging to the station having looked in; our
+money is running short, and in another six weeks we shall not have a shot
+left in the locker."</p>
+
+<p>The negro looked steadfastly at us, and then carefully around before he
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Massa 'Plinter, I am desirable to serve you; it is good for me
+at present to make some friend wid the hofficer of de squadron, being as
+how dat I am absent widout leave. If you will promise dat you will stand my
+friends, I will put you in de way of getting a shove across to de east end
+of Jamaica; and I will go wid you, too, for company. But you must promise
+dat you will not seek to know more of de vessel, nor of her crew, than dey
+are willing to tell you, provided you are landed safe."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Splinter agreed and presently Peter Mangrove went off in a canoe to a
+large, shallow vessel, to reappear with another blackamoor, of as ungainly
+an exterior as could well be imagined.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, sir, are you the master of that vessel?" said the lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I am the mate; and I learn you are desirous of a passage to
+Jamaica." This was spoken with a broad Scotch accent.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we do," said I, in very great astonishment; "but we will not sail
+with the devil; and who ever saw a negro Scotchman before?"</p>
+
+<p>The fellow laughed. "I am black, as you see; so were my father and
+mother before me. But I was born in the good town of Glasgow,
+notwithstanding; and many a voyage I have made as cabin-boy and cook with
+worthy old Jock Hunter. But here comes our captain. Captain Vanderbosh,
+here are two shipwrecked British officers who wish to be put ashore in
+Jamaica; will you take them, and what will you charge for their
+passage?"</p>
+
+<p>The man he spoke to was a sun-burnt, iron-visaged veteran.</p>
+
+<p>"Vy for von hundred thaler I will land dem safe in de bay."</p>
+
+<p>The bargain was ratified, and that same evening we set sail. When off
+the San Domingo Gate two boats full of men joined us, and our crew was
+strengthened by about forty as ugly Christians, of all ages and countries,
+as I ever set eyes on. From the moment they came on board Captain
+Vanderbosh sank into the petty officer, and the Scottish negro took the
+command, evincing great coolness, energy, and skill.</p>
+
+<p>When night had fallen the captain made out a sail to windward.
+Immediately every inch of canvas was close furled, every light carefully
+extinguished, a hundred and twenty men with cutlasses at quarters, and the
+ship under bare poles. The strange sail could be seen through the
+night-glasses; she now burned a blue light--without doubt an old
+fellow-cruiser of ours, the Spark.</p>
+
+<p>"She is from Santa Martha with a freight of specie, I know," said
+Williamson. "I will try a brush with her."</p>
+
+<p>"I know the craft," Splinter struck in, "a heavy vessel of her class,
+and you may depend on hard knocks and small profit if you do take her;
+while, if she takes you----"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be hanged if she does," said Williamson, and he grinned at the
+conceit; "or, rather, I will blow the schooner up with my own hand before I
+strike; better that than have one's bones bleached in chains on a quay at
+Port Royal. But you cannot control us, gentlemen; so get down below, and
+take Peter Mangrove with you. I would not willingly see those come to harm
+who have trusted me."</p>
+
+<p>However, there was no shot flying as yet, and we stayed on deck. All
+sail was once more made, and presently the cutter saw us, tacked, and stood
+towards us. Her commander hailed: "Ho, the brigantine, ahoy! What schooner
+is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Spanish schooner, Caridad," sung out Williamson.</p>
+
+<p>"Heave-to, and send your boat on board."</p>
+
+<p>"We have none that will swim, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, bring to, and I will send mine."</p>
+
+<p>We heard the splash of the jolly-boat touching the water; then the
+measured stroke of the oars, and a voice calling out, "Give way, my
+lads."</p>
+
+<p>The character of the vessel we were on board of was now evident; and the
+bitter reflection that we were, as it were, chained to the stake on board
+of a pirate, on the eve of a fierce contest with one of our own cruisers,
+was aggravated by the consideration that a whole boat's crew would be
+sacrificed before a shot was fired.</p>
+
+<p>The officer in the boat had no sooner sprung on board than he was caught
+by two strong hands, gagged, and thrown down the main hatchway.</p>
+
+<p>"Heave," cried a voice, "and with a will!" and four cold 32-pound shot
+were hove at once into the boat alongside, which, crashing through her
+bottom, swamped her in a moment, precipitating the miserable crew into the
+boiling sea. Their shrieks rang in my ears as they clung to the oars and
+some loose planks of the boat.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring up the officer, and take out the gag," said Williamson.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Malcolm, who had been an old messmate of mine, was now dragged to
+the gangway, his face bleeding, and heavily ironed, when the blackamoor,
+clapping a pistol to his head, bade him, as he feared instant death, hail
+the cutter for another boat.</p>
+
+<p>The young midshipman turned his pale mild countenance upwards as he said
+firmly, "Never!" The miscreant fired, and he fell dead.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!" The whole broadside was poured in, and we could hear the shot
+rattle and tear along the cutter's deck, and the shrieks and groans of the
+wounded.</p>
+
+<p>We now ranged alongside, and close action commenced; never do I expect
+to see such an infernal scene again. Up to this moment all had been
+coolness and order on board the pirate; but when the yards locked, the crew
+broke loose from all control--they ceased to be men--they were demons, for
+they threw their own dead and wounded indiscriminately down the hatchways,
+to get clear of them. They had stripped themselves almost naked; and
+although they fought with the most desperate courage, yelling and cursing,
+each in his own tongue, yet their very numbers, pent up in a small vessel,
+were against them. Amidst the fire and smoke we could see that the deck had
+become a very shamble; and unless they soon carried the cutter by boarding,
+it was clear that the coolness and discipline of the service must prevail.
+The pirates seemed aware of this themselves, for they now made a desperate
+attempt at boarding, led on by the black captain. While the rush forward
+was being made, by a sudden impulse, Splinter and I, followed by Peter,
+scrambled from our shelter, and in our haste jumped down, knocking over the
+man at the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to be lost; if any of the crew came aft we were dead
+men; so we tumbled down through the cabin skylight, and stowed ourselves
+away in the side berths. The noise on deck soon ceased--the cannon were
+again plied--gradually the fire slackened, and we could hear that the
+pirate had scraped clear and escaped. Some time after this, the lieutenant
+commanding the cutter came down. We both knew him well, and he received us
+cordially.</p>
+
+<p>In a week we were landed at Port Royal.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>I was a midshipman when I began my log, but before I finally left the
+West Indies I was promoted to the rank of commander, and appointed to the
+Lotus Leaf, under orders for England.</p>
+
+<p>Before I set sail, however, I was married to my cousin Mary in Jamaica;
+and when we got to Old England, where the Lotus Leaf was paid off, I
+settled for a time on shore, the happiest, etc., until some years
+afterwards, when the wee Cringles began to tumble home so fast that I had
+to cut and run, and once more betake myself to the salt sea.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT"></a>SIR WALTER SCOTT</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_Antiquary"></a>The Antiquary</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Sir Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh on August 15, 1771.
+As a child he was feeble and sickly, and very early he was smitten with
+lameness which remained with him through life, although he matured into a
+man of robust health. He was educated for the law, which he began to
+practise in 1792. Although he had fair success in his profession, he soon
+began to occupy his leisure time with literature, and his first work was
+published in 1796. The first of the "Waverley" series made its appearance
+anonymously in 1814. As the series progressed, it became known that Walter
+Scott was the author of the famous novels, and he became the idol of the
+hour. In 1820 a baronetcy was bestowed upon him. Six years later he joined
+an old friend in the establishment of a large printing and publishing
+business in Edinburgh, but the venture was not successful, and Scott soon
+found himself a bankrupt. Here his manhood and proud integrity were most
+nobly shown. With stern and unfaltering resolution, he set himself to the
+task of paying his debts from the profits of his pen. Within a space of two
+years he realised for his creditors the amazing sum of nearly forty
+thousand pounds, but the limits of endurance had been reached, and in 1830
+he was smitten down with paralysis, from which he never thoroughly rallied.
+He died at Abbotsford on September 31, 1832. As a lyrist Scott especially
+excelled, and as a novelist he takes rank among the foremost. Although many
+of his works are lax and careless in structure, yet if a final test in
+greatness in the field of novel writing be the power to vitalise character,
+very few writers can be held to surpass Sir Walter Scott. According to
+Basil Hall, "The Antiquary" was Scott's own favourite romance. It was
+published in May, 1816, the third of the Waverley Novels, and in it the
+author intended to illustrate the manners of Scotland during the last ten
+years of the eighteenth century. "I have been more solicitous," he writes,
+"to describe manners minutely, than to arrange in any case an artificial
+and combined narrative, and have but to regret that I felt myself unable to
+unite these two requisites of a good novel." Scott took considerable pains
+to point out that old Edie Ochiltree, the wandering mendicant with his blue
+gown, was by no means to be confounded with the utterly degraded class of
+beings who now practise that wandering trade. Although "The Antiquary" was
+not so well received on its first appearance as "Waverley" or "Guy
+Mannering," it soon rose to equal, and with some readers, superior
+popularity. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Travelling Companions</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>It was early on a fine summer's day, near the end of the eighteenth
+century, when a young man of genteel appearance, journeying towards the
+north-east of Scotland, provided himself with a ticket in one of those
+public carriages which travel between Edinburgh and the Queensferry, at
+which place there is a passage-boat for crossing the Firth of Forth.</p>
+
+<p>The young gentleman was soon joined by a companion, a good-looking man
+of the age of sixty, perhaps older, but his hale complexion and firm step
+announced that years had not impaired his strength of health. This senior
+traveller, Mr. Jonathan Oldenbuck (by popular contraction Oldbuck), of
+Monkbarns, was the owner of a small property in the neighbourhood of a
+thriving seaport town on the north-eastern coast of Scotland, which we
+shall denominate Fairport. His tastes were antiquarian, his wishes very
+moderate. The burghers of the town regarded him with a sort of envy, as one
+who affected to divide himself from their rank in society, and whose
+studies and pleasures seemed to them alike incomprehensible. Some habits of
+hasty irritation he had contracted, partly from an early disappointment in
+love, but yet more by the obsequious attention paid to him by his maiden
+sister and his orphan niece.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Oldbuck, finding his fellow-traveller an interested and intelligent
+auditor, plunged at once into a sea of discussion concerning urns, vases,
+and Roman camps, and when they reached Queensferry, and stopped for dinner
+at the inn, he at once made some advances towards ascertaining the name,
+destination, and quality of his young companion.</p>
+
+<p>His name, the young gentleman said, was Lovel. His father was a north of
+England gentleman. He was at present travelling to Fairport, and if he
+found the place agreeable, might perhaps remain there for some weeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Was Mr. Lovel's excursion solely for pleasure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not entirely."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps on business with some of the commercial people of
+Fairport?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was partly on business, but had no reference to commerce."</p>
+
+<p>Here he paused, and Mr. Oldbuck, having pushed his inquiries as far as
+good manners permitted, was obliged to change the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The mutual satisfaction which they found in each other's society induced
+Mr. Oldbuck to propose, and Lovel willingly to accept, a scheme for
+travelling together to the end of their journey. A postchaise having been
+engaged, they arrived at Fairport about two o'clock on the following
+day.</p>
+
+<p>Lovel probably expected that his travelling companion would have invited
+him to dinner on his arrival; but his consciousness of a want of ready
+preparation for unexpected guests prevented Oldbuck from paying him that
+attention. He only begged to see him as early as he could make it
+convenient to call in a forenoon, and recommended him to a widow who had
+apartments to let.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later, when his baggage had arrived from Edinburgh, Mr. Lovel
+went forth to pay his respects at Monkbarns, and received a cordial welcome
+from Mr. Oldbuck. They parted the best of friends, but the antiquary was
+still at a loss to know what this well-informed young man, without friends,
+connections, or employment, could have to do as a resident at Fairport.
+Neither port wine nor whist had apparently any charms for him. A
+coffee-room was his detestation, and he had as few sympathies with the
+tea-table. There was never a Master Lovel of whom so little positive was
+known, but nobody knew any harm of him.</p>
+
+<p>"A decent, sensible lad," said the Laird of Monkbarns to himself, when
+these particulars of Lovel had been reported to him. "He scorns to enter
+into the fooleries and nonsense of these idiot people at Fairport. I must
+do something for him--I must give him a dinner, and I will write to Sir
+Arthur to come to Monkbarns to meet him. I must consult my womankind."</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, such consultation having been held, the following letter
+was sent to Sir Arthur Wardour, of Knockwinnock Castle:</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Sir Arthur,--On Tuesday, the 17th inst, I hold a symposium at
+Monkbarns, and pray you to assist thereat, at four o'clock precisely. If my
+fair enemy, Miss Isabel, can and will honour us by accompanying you, my
+womankind will be but too proud. I have a young acquaintance to make known
+to you, who is touched with some stain of a better spirit than belong to
+these giddy-paced times, reveres his elders, and has a pretty notion of the
+classics. And as such a youth must have a natural contempt for the people
+about Fairport, I wish to show him some rational as well as worshipful
+society. I am, dear Sir Arthur, etc., etc."</p>
+
+<p>In reply to this, at her father's request, Miss Wardour intimated, "her
+own and Sir Arthur's compliments, and that they would have the honour of
+waiting upon Mr. Oldbuck. Miss Wardour takes this opportunity to renew her
+hostility with Mr. Oldbuck, on account of his long absence from
+Knockwinnock, where his visits give so much pleasure."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Treacherous Sands</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Sir Arthur and his daughter had set out, on leaving Monkbarns, to return
+to Knockwinnock by the turnpike road; but when they discerned Lovel a
+little before them Miss Wardour immediately proposed to her father that
+they should take another direction, and walk home by the sands.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur acquiesced willingly, and the two left the high road, and
+soon attained the side of the ocean. The tide was by no means so far out as
+they had computed; but this gave them no alarm; there was seldom ten days
+in the year when it approached so near the cliffs as not to leave a dry
+passage.</p>
+
+<p>As they advanced together in silence a sudden change of weather made
+Miss Wardour draw close to her father. As the sun sank the wind rose, and
+the mass of waters began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink in
+deeper furrows. Presently, through the drizzling rain, they saw a figure
+coming towards them, whom Sir Arthur recognised as the old blue-gowned
+beggar, Edie Ochiltree.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn back! Turn back!" exclaimed the vagrant. "The tide is running on
+Halket-head, like the Fall of Fyers! We will maybe get back by Ness Point
+yet. The Lord help us--it's our only chance! We can but try."</p>
+
+<p>The waves had now encroached so much upon the beach, that the firm and
+smooth footing which they had hitherto had on the sand must be exchanged
+for a rougher path close to the foot of the precipice, and in some places
+even raised upon its lower ledges. It would have been utterly impossible
+for Sir Arthur Wardour or his daughter to have found their way along these
+shelves without the guidance and encouragement of the beggar, who had been
+there before in high tides, though never, he acknowledged, "in sae awsome a
+night as this."</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed a dreadful evening. The howling of the storm mingled with
+the shrieks of the sea-fowl. Each minute the raging tide gained ground
+perceptibly. The three still struggled forward; but at length they paused
+upon the highest ledge of rock to which they could attain, for it seemed
+that any farther attempt to advance could only serve to anticipate their
+fate.</p>
+
+<p>The fearful pause gave Isabella Wardour time to collect the powers of a
+mind naturally strong and courageous.</p>
+
+<p>"Must we yield life," she said, "without a struggle? Is there no path,
+however dreadful, by which we could climb the crag?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was a bold cragsman," said Ochiltree, "once in my life; but it's lang
+syne, and nae mortal could speel them without a rope. But there was a path
+here ance--His name be praised!" he ejaculated suddenly, "there's ane
+coming down the crag e'en now! there's ane coming down the crag e'en now!"
+Then, exalting his voice, he halloo'd out to the daring adventurer such
+instructions as his former practice forced upon his mind.</p>
+
+<p>The adventurer, following the directions of old Edie, flung him down the
+end of the rope, which he secured around Miss Wardour. Then, availing
+himself of the rope, which was made fast at the other end, Ochiltree began
+to ascent the face of the crag, and after one or two perilous escapes, was
+safe on the broad flat stone beside our friend Lovel. Their joint strength
+was able to raise Isabella to the place of safety which they had attained,
+and the next thing was to raise Sir Arthur beyond the reach of the
+billows.</p>
+
+<p>The prospect of passing a tempestuous night upon a precipitous piece of
+rock, where the spray of the billows flew high enough to drench them,
+filled old Ochiltree with apprehension for Miss Wardour.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll climb up the cliff again," said Lovel, "and call for more
+assistance."</p>
+
+<p>"If ye gang, I'll gang too," said the bedesman.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark! hark!" said Lovel. "Did I not hear a halloo?"</p>
+
+<p>The unmistakable shout of human voices from above was soon augmented,
+and the gleam of torches appeared.</p>
+
+<p>On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled.
+Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with unwonted
+desperation to the very brink of the crag. Some fishermen had brought with
+them the mast of a boat, and this was soon sunk in the ground and
+sufficiently secured. A yard, across the upright mast, and a rope stretched
+along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed an extempore
+crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair down to the flat
+shelf on which the sufferers had roosted.</p>
+
+<p>Lovel bound Miss Wardour to the back and arms of the chair, while
+Ochiltree kept Sir Arthur quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"What are ye doing wi' my bairn? She shall not be separated from me!
+Isabel, stay with me, I command you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell, my father!" murmured Isabella; "farewell, my--my friends!"
+and, shutting her eyes, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those who
+were above.</p>
+
+<p>A loud shout announced the success of the experiment. The chair was
+again lowered, and Sir Arthur made fast in it; and after Sir Arthur had
+been landed safe and sound, old Ochiltree was brought up; finally Lovel was
+safely grounded upon the summit of the cliff. As he recovered from a sort
+of half-swoon, occasioned by the giddiness of the ascent, he cast his eyes
+eagerly around. The object for which they sought was already in the act of
+vanishing. Her white garment was just discernible as she followed on the
+path which her father had taken. She had lingered till she saw the last of
+their company rescued from danger, but Lovel was not aware that she had
+expressed in his fate even this degree of interest.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Duel</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Some few weeks after the perilous escape from the tide, Sir Arthur
+invited Mr. Lovel and the Monkbarns family to join him on a visit to the
+ruins of a certain priory in the neighbourhood. Lovel at once accepted, and
+Mr. Oldbuck decided that there would be room for his niece in a postchaise.
+This niece, Mary M'Intyre, like her brother Hector, was an orphan. They
+were the offspring of a sister of Monkbarns, who had married one Captain
+M'Intyre, a Highlander. Both parents being dead, the son and daughter were
+left to the charge of Mr. Oldbuck. The nephew was now a captain in the
+army, the niece had her home at Monkbarns.</p>
+
+<p>All went happily at Sir Arthur's party at the ruins, until the
+unexpected arrival of Hector M'Intyre. This newcomer, a handsome young man
+about five-and-twenty, had ridden to Monkbarns, and learning his uncle's
+absence had come straight on to join the company. On his introduction to
+Lovel the young soldier bowed with more reserve than cordiality, and Lovel
+was equally frigid and haughty in return.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wardour's obvious determination not to allow Captain M'Intyre an
+opportunity for private conversation with her drove Hector to speak to his
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray who is this Mr. Lovel, whom our old uncle has at once placed so
+high in his good graces?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean how Mr. Lovel comes to visit at Monkbarns you must ask my
+uncle; and you must know that Mr. Lovel rendered Miss Wardour and him a
+service of the most important kind."</p>
+
+<p>"What! that romantic story is true, then? And does the valorous knight
+aspire to the hand of the young lady whom he redeemed from peril? I did
+think that she was uncommonly dry to me as we walked together."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Hector," said his sister, "do not continue to nourish any
+affection for Miss Wardour. Your perseverance is hopeless. Above all, do
+not let this violent temper of yours lead you to lose the favour of our
+uncle, who has hitherto been all that is kind and paternal to us."</p>
+
+<p>Captain M'Intyre promised to behave civilly, and returned to the
+company.</p>
+
+<p>On Lovel mentioning, in the course of conversation, that he was an
+officer in a certain regiment, M'Intyre could not refrain from declaring
+that he knew the officers of that regiment, and had never heard of the name
+of Lovel.</p>
+
+<p>Lovel blushed deeply, and taking a letter out of an envelope, handed it
+to M'Intyre. The latter acknowledged the handwriting of General Sir ----,
+but remarked that the address was missing.</p>
+
+<p>"The address, Captain M'Intyre," answered Lovel, "shall be at your
+service whenever you choose to inquire after it."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly shall not fail to do so," rejoined Hector.</p>
+
+<p>The party broke up, Lovel returned to Fairport, and early next morning
+was waited upon by a military friend of Captain M'Intyre. Upon Lovel
+declining to give his name the captain insisted on his fighting, and that
+very evening the duel was arranged to take place in a valley close by the
+ruins of St. Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>Captain M'Intyre's ball grazed the side of his opponent, but did not
+draw blood. That of Lovel was more true, and M'Intyre reeled and fell.</p>
+
+<p>The grasp of old Ochiltree, who had appeared on the scene, roused Lovel
+to movement, and leaving M'Intyre to the care of a surgeon, he followed the
+bedesman into the recesses of the wood, in order to get away by boat the
+following morning.</p>
+
+<p>Amid the secret passages of the ruins, well known to Ochiltree, Lovel
+was to pass the night; but all rest was impossible by the discovery of two
+human figures, one of whom Lovel made out to be a German named
+Donsterswivel, a swindling impostor who promised discoveries of gold to Sir
+Arthur Wardour, gold buried in the ruins, and only to be unearthed by magic
+and considerable expenditure of ready money.</p>
+
+<p>"That other ane," whispered Edie, "maun be, according to a' likelihood,
+Sir Arthur Wardour. I ken naebody but himself wad come here at this time
+wi' that German blackguard."</p>
+
+<p>Donsterswivel, with much talk of planetary influences, and spirits, and
+"suffumigation," presently set fire to a little pile of chips, and when the
+flame was at the highest flung in a handful of perfumes, which produced a
+strong and pungent odour.</p>
+
+<p>A violent explosion of sneezing, which the mendicant was unable to
+suppress, accompanied by a grunting, half-smothered cough, confounded the
+two treasure-seekers.</p>
+
+<p>"I was begun to think," said the terrified German, "that this would be
+bestermost done in de daylight; we was bestermost to go away just now."</p>
+
+<p>"You juggling villain!" said the baronet; "this is some legerdemain
+trick of yours to get off from the performance of your promise, as you have
+so often done before. You shall show me that treasure, or confess yourself
+a knave."</p>
+
+<p>Here Edie, who began to enter into the humour of the scene, uttered an
+extraordinary howl. Donsterswivel flung himself on his knees. "Dear Sir
+Arthur, let us go, or let me go!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you cheating scoundrel!" said the knight, unsheathing his sword. "I
+will see this treasure before you leave this place, or, by heaven, I'll run
+this sword through you though all the spirits of the dead should rise
+around us!"</p>
+
+<p>"For de lofe of heaven, be patient, mine honoured patron; do not speak
+about de spirits--it makes dem angry."</p>
+
+<p>Donsterswivel at length proceeded to a corner of the building where lay
+a flat stone upon the ground. With great trepidation he removed the stone,
+threw out a shovelful or two of earth, and produced a small case or casket.
+This was at once opened by the baronet, and appeared to be filled with
+coin.</p>
+
+<p>"This is being indeed in good luck," said Sir Arthur; "and if you think
+it omens proportional success upon a larger venture, I will hazard the
+necessary advance."</p>
+
+<p>But the German's guilty conscience and superstitious fears made him
+anxious to escape, and accordingly he hurried Sir Arthur from the spot.</p>
+
+<p>"Saw onybody e'er the like o' that!" said Edie to Lovel.</p>
+
+<p>"His faith in the fellow is entirely restored," said Lovel, "by this
+deception, which he had arranged beforehand."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay; trust him for that. He wants to wile him out o' his last
+guinea, and then escape to his own country, the land-louper."</p>
+
+<p>But thanks to old Edie's efforts, Donsterswivel was checked in his
+scheme for the plunder of Sir Arthur Wardour.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Secret is Disclosed</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Captain M'Intyre's wound turned out to be not so dangerous as was at
+first suspected, and after some six weeks' nursing at Monkbarns, the
+hot-tempered soldier was once more in full health.</p>
+
+<p>It was during those weeks that the Antiquary met after an interval of
+more than twenty years, the Earl of Glenallan, a neighbouring laird. Lord
+Glenallan and Mr. Oldbuck had both loved the same lady, Eveline Neville,
+and against the commands of the old countess, his mother, Glenallan had
+married Miss Neville. Driven by the false taunts of the countess to
+believe, as her husband did, the marriage invalid, the unhappy Eveline had
+thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea, and the child born to her had
+been kept in concealment in England by her brother, Geraldin Neville. The
+countess died, and an old fish woman, once the countess's confidential
+maid, when dying, demanded to see Lord Glenallan, and on her death-bed told
+him the truth, and that his child was living.</p>
+
+<p>The scare of a French invasion brought Lord Glenallan, with Mr. Oldbuck,
+and Sir Arthur Wardour, to Fairport, and to his uncle's surprise and
+satisfaction, Captain M'Intyre acted as military adviser to the volunteers
+with remarkable presence of mind, giving instructions calmly and
+wisely.</p>
+
+<p>The arrival of an officer from headquarters was eagerly expected in
+Fairport, and at length a cry among the people announced "There's the brave
+Major Neville come at last!" A postchaise and four drove into the square,
+amidst the huzzas of the volunteers and inhabitants, and what was the
+surprise of all present, but most especially that of the Antiquary, when
+the handsome uniform and military cap disclosed the person and features of
+the pacific Lovel! A warm embrace was necessary to assure him that his eyes
+were doing him justice. Sir Arthur was no less surprised to recognise his
+son, Captain Wardour, as Major Neville's companion.</p>
+
+<p>The first words of the young officers were a positive assurance to all
+present that their efforts were unnecessary, that what was merely an
+accidental bonfire had been taken for a beacon.</p>
+
+<p>The Antiquary found his arm pressed by Lord Glenallan, who dragged him
+aside. "For God's sake, who is that young gentleman who is so strikingly
+like----"</p>
+
+<p>"Like the unfortunate Eveline," interrupted Oldbuck. "I felt my heart
+warm to him from the first. Formerly I would have called him Lovel, but now
+he turns out to be Major Neville."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom my brother brought up as his natural son--whom he made his
+heir--the child of my Eveline!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Oldbuck at once determined to make further investigation, and
+returned to Major Neville, who was now arranging for the dispersion of the
+force which had been assembled.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, Major Neville, leave this business for a moment to Captain
+Wardour and to Hector, with whom, I hope, you are thoroughly
+reconciled"--Neville laughed, and shook hands with Hector across the
+table--"and grant me a moment's audience."</p>
+
+<p>"You have every claim on me," said Neville, "for having passed myself
+upon you under a false name. But I am so unfortunate as to have no better
+right to the name of Neville, than that of Lovel."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I know more of your birth than you do yourself, and to
+convince you of it, you were educated and known as a natural son of
+Geraldin Neville, of Neville's-burg, in Yorkshire."</p>
+
+<p>"I did believe Mr. Geraldin Neville was my father, but during the war in
+French Flanders, I found in a convent near where we were quartered, a woman
+who spoke good English--a Spaniard. She discovered who I was, and made
+herself known to me as the person who had charge of me in my infancy, and
+intimated that Mr. Geraldin Neville was not my father. The convent was
+burned by the enemy, and several nuns perished, among others this woman. I
+wrote to Mr. Neville, and on my return implored him to complete the
+disclosure. He refused, and, on my importunity, indignantly upbraided me
+with the favours he had already conferred. We parted in mutual displeasure.
+I renounced the name of Neville, and assumed that of Lovel. It was at this
+time, when residing with a friend in the north of England, that I became
+acquainted with Miss Wardour, and was romantic enough to follow her to
+Scotland. When I was at Fairport, I received news of Mr. Neville's death.
+He had made me his heir, but the possession of considerable wealth did not
+prevent me from remembering Sir Arthur's strong prejudices against
+illegitimacy. Then came my quarrel with Captain M'Intyre, and my compelled
+departure from Fairport."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Major Neville, you must, I believe, exchange both of your aliases
+for the style and title of the Honourable William Geraldin, commonly called
+Lord Geraldin."</p>
+
+<p>The Antiquary then went through the strange and melancholy circumstances
+concerning his mother's death. "And now, my dear sir," said he, in
+conclusion, "let me have the pleasure of introducing a son to a
+father."</p>
+
+<p>We will not attempt to describe such a meeting. The proof on all sides
+was found to be complete, for Mr. Neville had left a distinct account of
+the whole transaction with his confidential steward in a small packet,
+which was not to be opened until the death of the old countess.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening of that day, the yeomanry and volunteers of Glenallan
+drank prosperity to their young master; and a month afterwards, Lord
+Glenallan was married to Miss Wardour.</p>
+
+<p>Hector is rising rapidly in the army, and rises proportionally high in
+his uncle's favour.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Guy_Mannering"></a>Guy Mannering</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Guy Mannering, or, the Astrologer," the second of the
+Waverley series, represents the labour of six weeks. Although the novel was
+completed in so short a period, neither story--if one or two instances of
+evidences of haste is ignored--nor characterisation has suffered. For the
+main theme Scott was indebted to an old legend of the horoscope of a
+new-born infant. In common with nearly all his tales, several of the
+characters in "Guy Mannering" were founded on real persons; Meg Merrilies
+was the prototype of a gipsy named Jennie Gordon, and many of the personal
+features of Dominie Sampson were obtained from a clergyman who once acted
+as tutor at Abbotsford. The hero was at once recognised by Hogg, the
+Ettrick shepherd, as a portrait of Scott himself. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Astrologer</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>It was in the month of November, 17--, when a young English gentleman,
+who had just left the University of Oxford, being benighted while
+sightseeing in Dumfriesshire, sought shelter at Ellangowan, on the very
+night the heir was born. Our hero, Guy Mannering, entering into the simple
+humour of Mr. Bertram, his host, agreed to calculate the infant's horoscope
+by the stars, having in early youth studied with an old clergyman who had a
+firm belief in astrology.</p>
+
+<p>Mannering had once before tried a similar piece of foolery, at the
+instance of the young lady to whom he was betrothed, and now found that the
+result of the scheme in both cases presaged misfortune in the same year to
+the infant as to her. To the baby, three periods would be particularly
+hazardous--his fifth, his tenth, his twenty-first year.</p>
+
+<p>He mentally relinquished his art for ever, and to prevent the child
+being supposed to be the object of evil prediction, he gave the paper into
+Mr. Bertram's hand, and requested him to keep it for five years with the
+seal unbroken, after which period he left him at liberty, trusting that the
+first fatal year being safely overpast, no credit would be paid to its
+farther contents.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Bertram was able to work again, her first employment was to
+make a small velvet bag for the scheme of nativity; and though her fingers
+itched to break the seal, she had the firmness to enclose it in two slips
+of parchment, and put it in the bag aforesaid, and hang it round the neck
+of the infant.</p>
+
+<p>It was again in the month of November, more than twenty years after the
+above incident, that a loud rapping was heard at the door of the Gordon
+Arms at Kippletringan.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish, madam," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, where several
+neighbours were assembled, "you would give me leave to warm myself here,
+for the night is very cold."</p>
+
+<p>His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous effect in
+his favour. The landlady installed her guest comfortably by the fireside,
+and offered what refreshment her house afforded.</p>
+
+<p>"A cup of tea, ma'am, if you will favour me." Mrs. MacCandlish bustled
+about, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace, explaining that she
+had a very nice parlour, and everything agreeable for gentlefolks; but it
+was bespoke to-night for a gentleman and his daughter, that were going to
+leave this part of the country.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of wheels was now heard, and the postilion entered. "No, they
+canna' come at no rate, the laird's sae ill."</p>
+
+<p>"But God help them," said the landlady. "The morn's the term--the very
+last day they can bide in the house--a' things to be roupit."</p>
+
+<p>"Weel, I tell you, Mr. Bertram canna be moved."</p>
+
+<p>"What Mr. Bertram?" said the stranger. "Not Mr. Bertram of Ellangowan, I
+hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just e'en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye've come at a
+time when he's sair bested."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been abroad for many years. Is his health so much deranged?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and his affairs an' a'. The creditors have entered into possession
+o' the estate, and it's for sale. And some that made the maist o' him,
+they're sairest on him now. I've a sma' matter due mysell, but I'd rather
+have lost it than gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and him just
+dying."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but," said the parish clerk, "Factor Glossin wants to get rid of
+the auld laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the heir-male should cast
+up; for if there's an heir-male, they canna sell the estate for auld
+Ellangowan's debt."</p>
+
+<p>"He had a son born a good many years ago," said the stranger. "He is
+dead, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dead! I'se warrant him dead lang syne. He hasna' been heard o' these
+twenty years."</p>
+
+<p>"I wat weel it's no twenty years," said the landlady. "It's no abune
+seventeen in this very month. It made an unco noise ower a' this country.
+The bairn disappeared the very day that Supervisor Kennedy came by his end.
+He was a daft dog! Oh, an' he could ha' handen' off the smugglers! Ye see,
+sir, there was a king's sloop down in Wigton Bay, and Frank Kennedy, he
+behoved to have her up to chase Dirk Hatteraick's lugger. He was a daring
+cheild, and fought his ship till she blew up like peelings of ingans."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Bertram's child," said the stranger, "what is all this to
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ou, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi' the supervisor, and it was
+generally thought he went on board the vessel with him."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; you're clean out there, Luckie! The young laird was stown awa'
+by a randy gipsy woman they ca'd Meg Merrilies," said the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>But the presenter would not have this version, and told a tale of how an
+astrologer, an ancient man, had appeared at the time of the heir's birth,
+and told the laird that the Evil One would have power over the knave bairn,
+and he charged him that the bairn should be brought up in the ways of
+piety, and should aye hae a godly minister at his elbow; and the aged man
+vanished away, and so they engaged Dominie Sampson to be with him morn and
+night. But even that godly minister had failed to protect the child, who
+was last seen being carried off by Frank Kennedy on his horse to see a
+king's ship chase a smuggler. The excise-man's body was found at the foot
+of the crags at Warroch Point, but no one knew what had become of the
+child.</p>
+
+<p>A smart servant entered with a note for the stranger, saying, "The
+family at Ellangowan are in great distress, sir, and unable to receive any
+visits."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said his master. "And now, madam, if you will have the
+goodness to allow me to occupy the parlour----"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir," said Mrs. MacCandlish, and hastened to light the
+way.</p>
+
+<p>"And wha' may your master be, friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"What! That's the famous Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East
+Indies."</p>
+
+<p>"What, him we read of in the papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord safe us!" said the landlady. "I must go and see what he would have
+for supper--that I should set him down here."</p>
+
+<p>When the landlady re-entered, Colonel Mannering asked her if Mr. Bertram
+lost his son in his fifth year.</p>
+
+<p>"O ay, sir, there's nae doubt of that; though there are many idle
+clashes about the way and manner. And the news being rashly told to the
+leddy cost her her life that saym night; and the laird never throve from
+that day, was just careless of everything. Though when Miss Lucy grew up
+she tried to keep order. But what could she do, poor thing? So now they're
+out of house and hauld."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Vanbeest Brown's Reappearance</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Early next morning, Mannering took the road to Ellangowan. He had no
+need to inquire the way; people of all descriptions streamed to the sale
+from all quarters.</p>
+
+<p>When the old towers of the ruin rose upon his view, thoughts thronged
+upon the mind of the traveller. How changed his feelings since he lost
+sight of them so many years before! Then life and love were new, and all
+the prospect was gilded by their rays. And now, disappointed in affection,
+sated with fame, goaded by bitter and repentant recollections, his best
+hope was to find a retirement in which to nurse the melancholy which was to
+accompany him to his grave. About a year before, in India, he had returned
+from a distant expedition to find a young cadet named Brown established as
+the habitual attendant on his wife and daughter, an arrangement which
+displeased him greatly, owing to the suggestions of another cadet, though
+no objection could be made to the youth's character or manners. Brown made
+some efforts to overcome his colonel's prejudice, but feeling himself
+repulsed, and with scorn, desisted, and continued his attentions in
+defiance. At last some trifle occurred which occasioned high words and a
+challenge. They met on the frontiers of the settlement, and Brown fell at
+the first shot. A horde of Looties, a species of banditti, poured in upon
+them, and Colonel Mannering and his second escaped with some difficulty.
+His wife's death shortly after, and his daughter's severe illness, made him
+throw up his command and come home. She was now staying with some old
+friends in Westmoreland, almost restored to her wonted health and
+gaiety.</p>
+
+<p>When Colonel Mannering reached the house he found his old acquaintance
+paralysed, helpless, waiting for the postchaise to take him away.
+Mannering's evident emotion at once attained him the confidence of Lucy
+Bertram. The laird showed no signs of recognising Mannering; but when the
+man, Gilbert Glossin, who had brought him to this pass, had the effrontery
+to make his appearance, he started up, violently reproaching him, sank into
+his chair again, and died almost without a groan.</p>
+
+<p>A torrent of sympathy now poured forth, the sale was postponed, and
+Mannering decided on making a short tour till it should take place, but he
+was called back to Westmoreland, and, owing to the delay of his messenger,
+the estate passed into the hands of Glossin. Lucy and Dominie Sampson, who
+would not be separated from his pupil, found a temporary home in the house
+of Mr. MacMorlan, the sheriff-substitute, a good friend of the family.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Mannering lost no time in hiring for a season a large and
+comfortable mansion not far from Ellangowan, having some hopes of
+ultimately buying that estate. Besides a sincere desire to serve the
+distressed, he saw the advantage his daughter Julia might receive from the
+company of Lucy Bertram, whose prudence and good sense might be relied on,
+and therefore induced her to become the visitor of a season, and the
+dominie thereupon required no pressing to accept the office of librarian.
+The household was soon settled in its new quarters, and the young ladies
+followed their studies and amusements together.</p>
+
+<p>Society was quickly formed, most of the families in the neighbourhood
+visited Colonel Mannering, and Charles Hazlewood soon held a distinguished
+place in his favour and was a frequent visitor, his parents quite
+forgetting their old fear of his boyish attachment to penniless Lucy
+Bertram in the thought that the beautiful Miss Mannering, of high family,
+with a great fortune, was a prize worth looking after. They did not know
+that the colonel's journey to Westmoreland was in consequence of a letter
+from his friend there expressing uneasiness about serenades from the lake
+beside the house. However, he had returned without making any discovery or
+any advance in his daughter's confidence, who might have told him that
+Brown still lived, had not her natural good sense and feeling been warped
+by the folly of a misjudging, romantic mother, who had called her husband a
+tyrant until she feared him as such.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>Vanbeest Brown had escaped from captivity and attained the rank of
+captain after Mannering left India, and his regiment having been recalled
+home, was determined to persevere in his addresses to Julia while she left
+him a ray of hope, believing that the injuries he had received from her
+father might dispense with his using much ceremony towards him.</p>
+
+<p>So, soon after the Mannerings' settlement in Scotland, he was staying in
+the inn at Kippletringan; and, as the landlady said, "a' the hoose was
+ta'en wi' him, he was such a frank, pleasant young man." There had been a
+good deal of trouble with the smugglers of late, and one day Brown met the
+young ladies with Charles Hazlewood. Julia's alarm at his appearance misled
+that young man, and he spoke roughly to Brown, even threatening him with
+his gun. In the confusion the gun went off, wounding Hazlewood.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Glossin's Villainy</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Gilbert Glossin, Esq., now Laird of Ellangowan, and justice of the
+peace, saw an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the country gentry,
+and exerted himself to discover the person by whom young Charles Hazlewood
+had been wounded. So it was with great pleasure he heard his servants
+announce that MacGuffog, the thief-taker, had a man waiting his honour,
+handcuffed and fettered.</p>
+
+<p>The worthy judge and the captive looked at each other steadily. At
+length Glossin said:</p>
+
+<p>"So, captain, this is you? You've been a stranger on these coasts for
+some years."</p>
+
+<p>"Stranger!" replied the other. "Strange enough, I should think, for hold
+me der teyvil, if I have ever been here before."</p>
+
+<p>Glossin took a pair of pistols, and loaded them.</p>
+
+<p>"You may retire," said he to his clerk, "and carry the people with you,
+but wait within call." Then: "You are Dirk Hatteraick, are you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tousand teyvils! And if you know that, why ask me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain, bullying won't do. You'll hardly get out of this country
+without accounting for a little accident at Warroch Point a few years
+ago."</p>
+
+<p>Hatteraick's looks grew black as midnight.</p>
+
+<p>"For my part," continued Glossin. "I have no wish to be hard on an old
+acquaintance, but I must send you off to Edinburgh this very day."</p>
+
+<p>"Poz donner! you would not do that?" said the prisoner. "Why, you had
+the matter of half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vanbruggen!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was an affair in the way of business," said Glossin, "and I have
+retired from business for some time."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but I have a notion I could make you go steady about, and try the
+old course again," said Dirk Hatteraick. "I had something to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Of the boy?" said Glossin eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yaw, mynheer," replied the captain coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"He does not live, does he?"</p>
+
+<p>"As lifelich as you or me," said Hatteraick.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God! But in India?" exclaimed Glossin.</p>
+
+<p>"No, tousand teyvils, here--on this dirty coast of yours!" rejoined the
+prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Hatteraick, this--that is, if it be true, will ruin us both, for
+he cannot but remember."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you," said the seaman, "it will ruin none but you, for I am done
+up already, and if I must strap for it, all shall out."</p>
+
+<p>Glossin paused--the sweat broke upon his brow; while the hard-featured
+miscreant sat opposite coolly rolling his tobacco in his cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be ruin," said Glossin to himself, "absolute ruin, if the heir
+should reappear--and then what might be the consequences of conniving with
+these men?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hark you, Hatteraick, I can't set you at liberty, but I can put you
+where you can set yourself at liberty. I always like to assist an old
+friend."</p>
+
+<p>So he gave him a file.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a friend for you, and you know the way to the sea, and you must
+remain snug at the point of Warroch till I see you."</p>
+
+<p>"The point of Warroch?" Hatteraick's countenance fell. "What--in the
+cave? I would rather it was anywhere else. They say he walks. But donner
+and blitzen! I never shunned him alive, and I won't shun him dead!"</p>
+
+<p>The justice dismissed the party to keep guard for the night in the old
+castle with a large allowance of food and liquor, with the full hope and
+belief that they would spend the night neither in watching nor prayer. Next
+morning great was the alarm when the escape of the prisoner was discovered.
+When the officers had been sent off in all directions (except the right
+one), Glossin went to Hatteraick in the cave. A light soon broke upon his
+confusion of ideas. This missing heir was Vanbeest Brown who had wounded
+young Hazlewood. He hastily explained to Dick Hatteraick that his goods
+which had been seized were lying in the Custom-house at Portanferry, and
+there to the Bridewell beside it be would send this younker, when he had
+caught him; would take care that the soldiers were dispersed, and he, Dick
+Hatteraick, could land with his crew, receive his own goods, and carry the
+younker Brown back to Flushing.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, carry him to Flushing," said the captain, "or to America, or--to
+Jericho?"</p>
+
+<p>"Psha! Wherever you have a mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, or pitch him overboard?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, I advise no violence."</p>
+
+<p>"Nein, nein! You leave that to me Sturm-wetter; I know you of old. But,
+hark ye, what am I, Dirk Hatteraick, to be the better for this?"</p>
+
+<p>Glossin made him understand it would not be safe for either of them if
+young Ellangowan settled in the country, and their plans were soon
+arranged. None of the old crew were alive but the gipsy who had sent the
+news of Brown's whereabouts and identity.</p>
+
+<p>Brown, or, as we may now call him, Harry Bertram, had retreated into
+England, but now, hearing that Hazlewood's wound was trifling, returned and
+landed at Ellangowan Bay; he approached the castle, unconscious as the most
+absolute stranger, where his ancestors had exercised all but regal
+dominion.</p>
+
+<p>Confused memories thronged his mind, and he paused by a curious
+coincidence on nearly the same spot on which his father had died, just as
+Glossin came up the bank with an architect, to whom he was talking of
+alterations; Bertram turned short round upon him, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Would you destroy this fine old castle, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>He was so exactly like his father in his best days that Glossin thought
+the grave had given up its dead. He staggered back, but instantly
+recovered, and whispered a few words in the ear of his companion, who
+immediately went towards the house, while Glossin talked civilly to
+Bertram. By the next evening he was safely locked up in the Bridewell at
+Portanferry, until Sir Charles Hazlewood, the injured youth's father, to
+whom Glossin had conducted him, could make inquiries as to the truth of his
+story.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Bertram's Restoration</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Bertram, unable to sleep, gazing out of the window of his prison, saw a
+long boat making for the quay. About twenty men landed and disappeared, and
+soon a miscellaneous crowd came back, some carrying torches, some bearing
+packages and barrels, and a red glare illuminated land and sea, and shone
+full on them, as with ferocious activity they loaded their boats. A fierce
+attack was made on the prison gates; they were soon forced, and three or
+four smugglers hurried to Bertram's apartment. "Der teyvil," said the
+leader, "here's our mark!" And two of them seized on Bertram, and one
+whispered, "Make no resistance till you are in the street."</p>
+
+<p>They dragged him along, and in the confusion outside the gang got
+separated. A noise as of a body of horse advancing seemed to add to the
+disturbance, the press became furiously agitated, shots were fired, and the
+glittering swords of dragoons began to appear. Now came the warning
+whisper: "Shake off that fellow, and follow me!"</p>
+
+<p>Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly, easily burst from the other
+man's grasp, and dived through a narrow lane after his guide, at the end of
+which stood a postchaise with four horses.</p>
+
+<p>"Get into it," said the guide. "You will soon be in a place of
+safety."</p>
+
+<p>They were driven at a rapid rate through the dark lanes, and suddenly
+stopped at the door of a large house. Brown, dizzied by the sudden glare of
+light, almost unconsciously entered the open door, and confronted Colonel
+Mannering; interpreting his fixed and motionless astonishment into
+displeasure at his intrusion, hastened to say it was involuntary.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Brown, I believe?" said Colonel Mannering.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said the young man modestly but firmly. "The same you knew
+in India, and who ventures to hope that you would favour him with your
+attestation to his character as a gentleman and man of honour."</p>
+
+<p>At this critical moment appeared Mr. Pleydell, the lawyer who had
+conducted the inquiry as to the disappearance of Harry Bertram, who
+happened to be staying with Colonel Mannering, and he instantly saw the
+likeness to the late laird.</p>
+
+<p>Bertram was as much confounded at the appearance of those to whom he so
+unexpectedly presented himself as they were at the sight of him. Mr.
+Pleydell alone was in his element, and at once took upon himself the whole
+explanation. His catechism had not proceeded far before Dominie Sampson
+rose hastily, with trembling hands and streaming eyes, and called
+aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"Harry Bertram, look at me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Bertram, starting from his seat--"yes, that was my name, and
+that is my kind old master."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>When they parted for the night Colonel Mannering walked up to Bertram,
+gave him joy of his prospects, and hoped unkindness would be forgotten
+between them. It was he who had sent the postchaise to Portanferry in
+consequence of a letter he had received from Meg Merrilies; it was she who
+had sent back the soldiers so opportunely, and through her the next day
+Dirk Hatteraick was captured; but, unhappily, she was killed by that
+ruffian at the moment of the fulfilment of her hopes for the family of
+Ellangowan.</p>
+
+<p>Glossin also met the fate he deserved at the hands of Hatteraick, who
+had claims to no virtue but fidelity to his shipowners.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>Mr. Pleydell carried through his law business successfully, and we leave
+him and the colonel examining plans for a new house for Julia and Bertram
+on the estate of Ellangowan. Another house on the estate was to be repaired
+for the other young couple, Lucy and Hazlewood, and called Mount
+Hazlewood.</p>
+
+<p>"And see," said the colonel, "here's the plan of my bungalow, with all
+convenience for being separate and sulky when I please."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will repair the tower for the nocturnal contemplation of the
+heavenly bodies. Bravo, colonel!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, my dear Pleydell! Here ends the astrologer."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="The_Heart_of_Midlothian"></a>The Heart of Midlothian</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> John Ruskin coupled "Rob Roy" and "The Heart of Midlothian"
+as the best of all the "Waverley Novels." The latter, constituting the
+second series in the "Tales of My Landlord," was published in 1818, and was
+composed during a period of recurrent fits of intense bodily pain. The
+romance gets its name from Midlothian, or Middle Lothian, an Edinburgh
+prison which in days gone by used to mark the centre of the district of
+Lothian, between the Tweed and the Forth, now the County of Edinburgh.
+According to Scott himself, the story of the heroism of Jeannie Deans was
+founded on fact. Her prototype was one Helen Walker, the daughter of a
+small Dumfriesshire farmer, who in order to get the Duke of Argyle to
+intercede to save her sister's life got up a petition and actually walked
+to London barefoot to present it to his grace. Helen Walker died in 1791,
+and on the tombstone of this unassuming heroine is an inscription by Scott
+himself. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--In the Tolbooth</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>In former times England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims of
+justice were conducted in solemn procession; and in Edinburgh, a large
+oblong square, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same purpose. This
+place was crowded to suffocation on the day when John Porteous, captain of
+the City Guard, was to be hanged, sentenced to death for firing on the
+crowd on the occasion of the execution of a popular smuggler.</p>
+
+<p>The grim appearance of the populace conveyed the impression of men who
+had come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. When the news that
+Porteous was respited for six weeks was announced, a roar of rage and
+mortification arose, but speedily subsided into stifled mutterings as the
+people slowly dispersed.</p>
+
+<p>That night the mob broke into the Tolbooth, the prison, commonly called
+the Heart of Midlothian, dragged the wretched Porteous from the chimney in
+which he had concealed himself, and carried him off to the Grassmarket,
+where, as the leader of the rioters, a tall man dressed in woman's clothes
+said he had spilled the blood of so many innocents.</p>
+
+<p>"Let no man hurt him," continued the speaker. "Let him make his peace
+with God, if he can; we will not kill both soul and body."</p>
+
+<p>A young minister named Butler, whom the rioters had met and compelled to
+come with them, was brought to the prisoner's side, to prepare him for
+instant death. With a generous disregard of his own safety, Butler besought
+the crowd to consider what they did. But in vain. The unhappy man was
+forced to his fate with remorseless rapidity, and Butler, separated from
+him by the press, and unnoticed by those who had hitherto kept him
+prisoner, escaped the last horror, and fled from the fatal spot.</p>
+
+<p>His first purpose was instantly to take the road homewards, but other
+fears and cares, connected with news he had that day heard, induced him to
+linger till daybreak.</p>
+
+<p>Reuben Butler was the grandson of a trooper in Monk's army, and had been
+brought up by a grandmother, a widow, a cotter who struggled with poverty
+and the hard and sterile soil on the land of the Laird of Dumbiedikes. She
+was helped by the advice of another tenant, David Deans, a staunch
+Presbyterian, and Jeannie, his little daughter, and Reuben herded together
+the handful of sheep and the two or three cows, and went together to the
+school; where Reuben, as much superior to Jeannie Deans in acuteness of
+intellect as inferior to her in firmness of constitution, was able to
+requite in full the kindness and countenance with which, in other
+circumstances, she used to regard him.</p>
+
+<p>While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the university the knowledge
+necessary for a clergyman, David Deans, by shrewdness and skill, gained a
+footing in the world and the possession of some wealth. He had married
+again, and another daughter had been born to him. But now his wife was
+dead, and he had left his old home, and become a dairy farmer about half a
+mile from Edinburgh, and the unceasing industry and activity of Jeannie was
+exerted in making the most of the produce of their cows.</p>
+
+<p>Effie, his youngest daughter, under the tend guileless purity of
+thought, speech, and action, as by her uncommon loveliness of person. The
+news that this girl was in prison on suspicion of the murder of her child
+was what kept Reuben Butler lingering on the hills outside Edinburgh, until
+a fitting time should arrive to wait upon Jeannie and her father. Effie
+denied all guilt of infanticide; but she had concealed the birth of a
+child, and the child had disappeared, so that by the law she was judged
+guilty.</p>
+
+<p>His limbs exhausted with fatigue, Butler dragged himself up to St.
+Leonard's crags, and presented himself at the door of Deans' habitation,
+with feelings much akin to the miserable fears of its inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," answered the low, sweet-toned voice he loved best to hear, as
+he tapped at the door. The old man was seated by the fire with his
+well-worn pocket Bible in his hands, and turned his face away as Butler
+entered and clasped the extended hand which had supported his orphan
+infancy, wept over it, and in vain endeavoured to say more than "God
+comfort you! God comfort you!"</p>
+
+<p>"He will--He doth, my friend," said Deans. "He doth now, and He will yet
+more in His own gude time. I have been ower proud of my sufferings in a
+gude cause, Reuben, and now I am to be tried with those whilk will turn my
+pride and glory into a reproach and a hissing."</p>
+
+<p>Butler had too much humanity to do anything but encourage the good old
+man as he reckoned up with conscious pride the constancy of his testimony
+and his sufferings, but seized the opportunity as soon as possible of some
+private conversation with Jeannie. He gave her the message he had received
+from a stranger he had met an hour or two before, to the effect that she
+must meet him that night alone at Muschat's cairn at moonrise.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," said Jeannie hastily, "I will certainly come"; and to all
+Butler's entreaties and expostulations would give no explanation. They were
+recalled--"ben the house," to use the language of the country--by the loud
+tones of David Deans, and found the poor old man half frantic between grief
+and zealous ire against proposals to employ a lawyer on Effie's behalf,
+they being, all, in his opinion, carnal, crafty self-seekers.</p>
+
+<p>But when the poor old man, fatigued with the arguments and presence of
+his guests, retired to his sleeping apartment, the Laird of Dumbiedikes
+said he would employ his own man of business, and Butler set off instantly
+to see Effie herself, and try to get her to give him the information that
+she had refused to everyone.</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell, Jeannie," said he. "Take no <i>rash steps</i> till you hear
+from me."</p>
+
+<p>Butler was at once recognised by the turnkey when he presented himself
+at the Tolbooth, and detained as having been connected with the riots the
+night before. One of the prisoners had recognised Robertson, the leader of
+the rioters, and seen him trying to persuade Effie Deans to escape and to
+save himself from the gallows, being a well-known thief and prison-breaker,
+gave information, hoping, as he candidly said, to obtain the post of gaoler
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>It became obvious that the father of Effie's child and the slayer of
+Porteous were one and the same person, and on hearing from Butler, who had
+no reason to conceal his movements, of the stranger he had met on the hill,
+the procurator fiscal, otherwise the superintendent of police, with a
+strong body-guard, interrupted Jeannie's meeting with the stranger that
+night; but he had made her understand that her sister's life was in her
+hands before, hearing men approaching, he plunged into the darkness and was
+lost to sight.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Effie's Trial</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Soon afterwards, Ratcliffe, the prisoner who had recognised Robertson,
+received a full pardon, and becoming gaoler, was repeatedly applied to, to
+procure an interview between the sisters; but the magistrates had given
+strict orders to the contrary, hoping that they might, by keeping them
+apart, obtain some information respecting the fugitive. But Jeannie knew
+nothing of Robertson, except having met him that night by appointment to
+give her some advice respecting her sister's concern, the which, she said,
+was betwixt God and her conscience. And Effie was equally silent. In vain
+they offered, even a free pardon, if she would confess what she knew of her
+lover.</p>
+
+<p>At length the day was fixed for Effie's trial, and on the preceding
+evening Jeannie was allowed to see her sister. Even the hard-hearted
+turnkey could not witness the scene without a touch of human sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye are ill, Effie," were the first words Jeannie could utter. "Ye are
+very ill."</p>
+
+<p>"O, what wad I gie to be ten times waur, Jeannie!" was the reply. "O
+that I were lying dead at my mother's side!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hout, lassie!" said Ratcliffe. "Dinna be sae dooms downhearted as a'
+that. There's mony a tod hunted that's no killed. They are weel aff has
+such a counsel and agent as ye have; ane's aye sure of fair play."</p>
+
+<p>But the mourners had become unconscious of his presence. "O Effie," said
+her elder sister, "how could you conceal your situation from me? O woman,
+had I deserved this at your hand? Had ye but spoke ae word----"</p>
+
+<p>"What gude wad that hae dune?" said the prisoner. "Na, na, Jeannie; a'
+was ower whan once I forgot what I promised when I turned down the leaf of
+my Bible. See, the Book aye opens at the place itsell. O see, Jeannie, what
+a fearfu' Scripture!"</p>
+
+<p>"O if ye had spoken ae word again!" sobbed Jeannie. "If I were free to
+swear that ye had said but ae word of how it stude wi' you, they couldna
+hae touched your life this day!"</p>
+
+<p>"Could they na?" said Effie, with something like awakened interest.
+"Wha' tauld ye that, Jeannie?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was ane that kenned what he was saying weel eneugh," said
+Jeannie.</p>
+
+<p>"Hout!" said Ratcliffe. "What signifies keeping the poor lassie in a
+swither? I'se uphand it's been Robertson that learned ye that
+doctrine."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it him?" cried Effie. "Was it him, indeed? O I see it was him, poor
+lad! And I was thinking his heart was as hard as the nether millstane, and
+him in sic danger on his ain part. Poor George! O, Jeannie, tell me every
+word he said, and if he was sorry for poor Effie!"</p>
+
+<p>"What needs I tell ye onything about 't?" said Jeannie. "Ye may be sure
+he had ower muckle about onybody beside."</p>
+
+<p>"That's no' true, Jeannie, though a saint had said it," replied Effie.
+"But ye dinna ken, though I do, how far he put his life in venture to save
+mine." And looking at Ratcliffe, checked herself and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I fancy," said he, "the lassie thinks naebody has een but hersell.
+Didna I see Gentle Geordie trying to get other folk out of the Tolbooth
+forbye Jock Porteous? Ye needna look sae amazed. I ken mair things than
+that, maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"O my God, my God!" said she, throwing herself on her knees before him.
+"D'ye ken where they hae putten my bairn? O my bairn, my bairn! Tell me wha
+has taen't away, or what they hae dune wi't!"</p>
+
+<p>As his answer destroyed the wild hope that had suddenly dawned upon her,
+the unhappy prisoner fell on the floor in a strong convulsion fit.</p>
+
+<p>Jeannie instantly applied herself to her sister's relief, and Ratcliffe
+had even the delicacy to withdraw to the other end of the room to render
+his official attendance as little intrusive as possible; while Jeannie
+commenced her narrative of all that had passed between her and Robertson.
+After a long pause:</p>
+
+<p>"And he wanted you to say something to you folks that wad save my young
+life?" said Effie.</p>
+
+<p>"He wanted," said Jeannie, "that I shuld be mansworn!"</p>
+
+<p>"And you tauld him," said Effie, "that ye wadna hear o' coming between
+me and death, and me no aughteen year auld yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dinna deserve this frae ye, Effie," said her sister, feeling the
+injustice of the reproach and compassion for the state of mind which
+dictated it.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe no, sister," said Effie. "But ye are angry because I love
+Robertson. Sure am I, if it had stude wi' him as it stands wi' you----"</p>
+
+<p>"O if it stude wi' me to save ye wi' the risk of <i>my</i> life!" said
+Jeannie.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lass," said her sister, "that's lightly said, but no sae lightly
+credited frae ane that winna ware a word for me; and if it be a wrang word,
+ye'll hae time enough to repent o' 't."</p>
+
+<p>"But that word is a grievous sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, weel, Jeannie, never speak mair o' 't," said the prisoner. "It's
+as weel as it is. And gude-day, sister. Ye keep Mr. Ratcliffe waiting on.
+Ye'll come back and see me, I reckon, before----"</p>
+
+<p>"And are we to part in this way," said Jeannie, "and you in sic deadly
+peril? O, Effie, look but up and say what ye wad hae me do, and I could
+find it in my heart amaist to say I wad do 't."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jeannie," said her sister, with an effort. "I'm better minded now.
+God knows, in my sober mind, I wadna' wuss any living creature to do a
+wrang thing to save my life!"</p>
+
+<p>But when Jeannie was called to give her evidence next day, Effie, her
+whole expression altered to imploring, almost ecstatic earnestness of
+entreaty, exclaimed, in a tone that went through all hearts:</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeannie, Jeannie, save me, save me!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeannie suddenly extended her hand to her sister, who covered it with
+kisses and bathed it with tears; while Jeannie wept bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before the judge himself could subdue his own emotion
+and administer the oath: "The truth to tell, and no truth to conceal, in
+the name of God, and as the witness should answer to God at the great Day
+of Judgement." Jeannie, educated in devout reverence for the name of the
+Deity, was awed, but at the same time elevated above all considerations
+save those to which she could, with a clear conscience, call him to
+witness. Therefore, though she turned deadly pale, and though the counsel
+took every means to make it easy for her to bear false witness, she replied
+to his question as to what Effie had said when questioned as to what ailed
+her, "Alack! alack! she never breathed a word to me about it."</p>
+
+<p>A deep groan passed through the court, and the unfortunate father fell
+forward, senseless. The secret hope to which he had clung had now
+dissolved. The prisoner with impotent passion, strove with her guard. "Let
+me gang to my father! He is dead! I hae killed him!" she repeated in
+frenzied tones.</p>
+
+<p>Even in that moment of agony Jeannie did not lose that superiority that
+a deep and firm mind assures to its possessor. She stooped, and began
+assiduously to chafe her father's temples.</p>
+
+<p>The judge, after repeatedly wiping his eyes, gave directions that they
+should be removed and carefully attended. The prisoner pursued them with
+her eyes, and when they were no longer visible, seemed to find courage in
+her despair.</p>
+
+<p>"The bitterness of 't is now past," she said. "My lords, if it is your
+pleasure to gang on wi' this matter, the weariest day will have its end at
+last."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--Jeannie's Pilgrimage</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>David Deans and his eldest daughter found in the house of a cousin the
+nearest place of friendly refuge. When he recovered from his long swoon, he
+was too feeble to speak when their hostess came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Is all over?" said Jeannie, with lips pale as ashes. "And is there no
+hope for her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nane, or next to nane," said her cousin, Mrs. Saddletree; but added
+that the foreman of the jury had wished her to get the king's mercy, and
+"nae ma about it."</p>
+
+<p>"But can the king gie her mercy?" said Jeannie.</p>
+
+<p>"I well he wot he can, when he likes," said her cousin and gave
+instances, finishing with Porteous.</p>
+
+<p>"Porteous," said Jeannie, "very true. I forgot a' that I culd mind
+maist. Fare ye well, Mrs. Saddletree. May ye never want a friend in the
+hour o' distress."</p>
+
+<p>To Mrs. Saddletree's protests she replied there was much to be done and
+little time to do it in; then, kneeling by her father's bed, begged his
+blessing. Instinctively the old man murmured a prayer, and his daughter
+saying, "He has blessed mine errand; it is borne in on my mind that I shall
+prosper," left the room. Mrs. Saddletree looked after her, and shook her
+head. "I wish she binna roving, poor thing. There's something queer about
+a' thae Deanes. I dinna like folk to be sae muckle better than ither folk;
+seldom comes gude o't."</p>
+
+<p>But she took good care of "the honest auld man," until he was able to go
+to his own home.</p>
+
+<p>Effie was roused from her state of stupefied horror by the entrance of
+Jeannie who, rushing into the cell, threw her arms round her neck.</p>
+
+<p>"What signifies coming to greet ower me," said poor Effie, "when you
+have killed me? Killed me, when a word from your mouth would have saved
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not die," said Jeannie, with enthusiastic firmness. "Say what
+you like o' me, only promise, for I doubt your proud heart, that you winna'
+harm yourself? I will go to London and beg your pardon from the king and
+queen. They <i>shall</i> pardon you, and they will win a thousand hearts by
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>She soon tore herself from her sister's arms and left the cell.
+Ratcliffe followed her, so impressed was he by her "spunk," he advised her
+as to her proceedings, to find a friend to speak for her to the king--the
+Duke of Argyle, if possible--and wrote her a line or two on a dirty piece
+of paper, which would be useful if she fell among thieves. Jeannie then
+hastened home to St. Leonard's Crags, and gave full instructions to her
+usual assistant, concerning the management of domestic affairs and
+arrangements for her father's comfort in her absence. She got a loan of
+money from the Laird of Dumbiedikes, and set off without losing a moment on
+her walk to London. On her way she stopped to bid adieu to her old friend
+Reuben Butler, whom she had expected to see at the court yesterday. She
+knew, of course, that he was still under some degree of restraint--he had
+been obliged to find bail not to quit his usual residence, in case he were
+wanted as a witness--but she had hoped he would have found means to be with
+his old friend on such a day.</p>
+
+<p>She found him quite seriously ill, as she had feared, but yet most
+unwilling to let her go on this errand alone; she must give him a husband's
+right to protect her. But she, pointing out the fact that he was scarcely
+able to stand, said this was no time to speak of marrying or giving in
+marriage, asked him if his grandfather had not done some good to the
+forebear of MacCallumore. It was so, and Reuben gave her the papers to
+prove it, and a letter to the Duke of Argyle; and she, begging him to do
+what he could for her father and sister, left the room hastily.</p>
+
+<p>With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, Jeannie Deans,
+travelling at the rate of twenty miles and more a day, traversed the
+southern part of Scotland, where her bare feet attracted no attention. She
+had to conform to the national extravagance in England, and confessed
+afterwards "that besides the wastrife, it was lang or she could walk as
+comfortably with the shoes as without them"; but found the people very
+hospitable on the whole, and sometimes got a cast in a waggon.</p>
+
+<p>At last London was reached, and an audience obtained with the Duke of
+Argyie. His Grace's heart warmed to the tartan when Jeannie appeared before
+him in the dress of a Scottish maiden of her class. His grandfather's
+letter, too, was a strong injunction to assist Stephen Butler, his friends
+or family, and he exerted himself to such good purpose, that he brought her
+into the presence of the queen to plead her cause for herself. Her majesty
+smiled at Jeannie's awestruck manner and broad Northern accent, and
+listened kindly, but said:</p>
+
+<p>"If the king were to pardon your sister, it would in all probability do
+her little good, for I suppose the people of Edinburgh would hang her out
+of spite." But Jeannie said: "She was confident that baith town and country
+would rejoice to see his majesty taking compassion on a poor unfriended
+creature." The queen was not convinced of the propriety of showing any
+marked favour to Edinburgh so soon--"the whole nation must be in a league
+to screen the murderers of Porteous"--but Jeannie pleaded her sister's
+cause with a pathos at once simple and solemn, and her majesty ended by
+giving her a housewife case to remind her of her interview with Queen
+Caroline, and promised her warm intercession with the king.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke of Argyie came to Jeannie's cousin's, where she was staying, in
+a few days to say that a pardon had been dispatched to Effie Deans, on
+condition of her banishing herself forth of Scotland for fourteen years--a
+qualification which greatly grieved the affectionate disposition of her
+sister.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--In After Years</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>When Jeannie set out from London on her homeward journey, it was not to
+travel on foot, but in the Duke of Argyle's carriage, and the end of the
+journey was not Edinburgh, but the isle of Roseneath, in the Firth of
+Clyde. When the landing-place was reached, it was in the arms of her father
+that Jeannie was received.</p>
+
+<p>It was too wonderful to be believed--but the form was indisputable.
+Douce David Deans himself, in his best light-blue Sunday coat, with broad
+metal buttons, and waistcoat and breeches of the same.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeannie--my ain Jeannie--my best--my maist dutiful bairn! The Lord of
+Israel be thy father, for I am hardly worthy of thee! Thou hast redeemed
+our captivity, brought back the honour of our house!"</p>
+
+<p>These words broke from him not without tears, though David was of no
+melting mood.</p>
+
+<p>"And Effie--and Effie, dear father?" was Jeannie's eager question.</p>
+
+<p>"You will never see her mair, my bairn," answered Deans, in solemn
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>"She is dead! It has come ower late!" exclaimed Jeannie, wringing her
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jeannie, she lives in the flesh, and is at freedom from earthly
+restraint. But she has left her auld father, that has wept and prayed for
+her. She has left her sister, that travailed and toiled for her like a
+mother. She has made a moonlight flitting of it."</p>
+
+<p>"And wi' that man--that fearfu' man?" said Jeannie.</p>
+
+<p>"It is ower truly spoken," said Deans. "But never, Jeannie never more
+let her name be spoken between you and me."</p>
+
+<p>The next surprise for Jeannie Deans was the appearance of Reuben Butler,
+who had been appointed by the Duke of Argyle to the kirk of Knocktarlitie,
+at Roseneath; and within a reasonable time after the new minister had been
+comfortably settled in his living, the banns were called, and long wooing
+of Reuben and Jeannie was ended by their union in the holy bands of
+matrimony.</p>
+
+<p>Effie, married to Robertson, whose real name was Staunton, paid a
+furtive visit to her sister, and many years later, when her husband was no
+longer a desperate outlaw, but Sir George Staunton, and beyond anxiety of
+recognition, the two sisters corresponded freely, and Lady Staunton even
+came to stay with Mrs. Butler, after old Deans was dead.</p>
+
+<p>A famous woman in society was Lady Staunton, but she was childless, for
+the child of her shame, carried off by gypsies, she saw no more.</p>
+
+<p>Jeannie and Reuben, happy in each other, in the prosperity of their
+family, and the love and honour of all by gypsies, she saw no more.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Ivanhoe"></a>Ivanhoe</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Ivanhoe," in common with "The Legend of Montrose" and "The
+Bride of Lammermoor," was written, or rather dictated to amanuenses, during
+a period of great physical suffering; "through fits of suffering," says one
+of Scott's biographers, "so great that he could not suppress cries of
+agony." "Ivanhoe" made its appearance towards the end of 1819. Although the
+book lacks much of that vivid portraiture that distinguishes Scott's other
+novels, the intense vigour of the narrative, and the striking presentation
+of mediaeval life, more than atone for the former lapse. From the first,
+"Ivanhoe" has been singularly successful, and it is, and has been, more
+popular among English readers than any of the so-called "Scottish novels."
+According to Sir Leslie Stephen, it was Scott's culminating success in the
+book-selling sense. </p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--The Hall of Cedric the Saxon</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>In the hall of Rotherwood at the centre of the upper table sat Cedric
+the Saxon, irritable at the delay of his evening meal, and impatient for
+the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, and the return of his swineherd
+Gurth. "They have been carried off to serve the Norman lords," he
+exclaimed. "But I will be avenged. Haply they think me old, but they shall
+find the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric. Ah, Wilfred,
+Wilfred!" he went on in a lower tone, "couldst thou have ruled thine
+unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the
+solitary oak that throws out its shattered branches against the full sweep
+of the tempest!"</p>
+
+<p>From his melancholy reflections, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the
+blast of a horn.</p>
+
+<p>"To the gate, knaves!" said the Saxon, hastily. "See what tidings that
+horn tells us of."</p>
+
+<p>Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced "that the Prior
+Aymer of Jorvank, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Commander of
+the Order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality
+and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament to be held
+not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche."</p>
+
+<p>"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but, Norman or Saxon, the hospitality
+of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome since they have
+chosen to halt; in the quality of guests, even Normans must suppress their
+insolence."</p>
+
+<p>The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded
+by the major domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing blazing
+torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment, followed by their
+attendants, and, at a more humble distance, by a pilgrim, wearing the
+sandals and broad hat of the palmer.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner were the guests seated, and the repast about to commence, than
+the major domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said
+aloud--"Forbear!--Place for the Lady Rowena." A side door at the upper end
+of the hall now opened, and Cedric's ward, Rowena, a Saxon lady of rare
+beauty and lofty character, entered. All stood up to receive her, and, as
+she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board, the Knight
+Templar's eyes bent on her with an ardour that made Rowena draw with
+dignity the veil around her face.</p>
+
+<p>Cedric and the Prior discoursed on hunting for a time, the Lady Rowena
+seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendants; while the
+haughty Templar's eye wandered from the Saxon beauty to the rest of the
+company.</p>
+
+<p>"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill
+another to the Abbot. To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or
+language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the
+champions of the Cross!"</p>
+
+<p>"To whom, besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre, whose badge
+I wear, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?" said
+Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena,
+"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the
+Temple?"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, lady," replied de Bois-Guilbert, "the English monarch did,
+indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those
+whose breasts have been the bulwark of that blessed land."</p>
+
+<p>"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, and all turned towards the spot from
+whence the declaration came. "I say that the English chivalry were second
+to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I saw it when King
+Richard himself and five of his knights held a tournament after the taking
+of Sir John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. On that day each
+knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three antagonists. Seven
+of these assailants were Knights of the Temple--and Sir Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>A bitter smile of rage darkened the countenance of the Templar. At
+Cedric's request the Pilgrim told out the names of the English knights,
+only pausing at the sixth to say--"he was a young knight--his name dwells
+not in my memory."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Palmer," said the Templar, scornfully, "I will myself tell the name
+of the knight before whose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned my
+falling--it was the Knight of Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six that
+for his years had more renown in arms. Yet this I will say, and
+loudly--that were he in England, and durst repeat, in this week's
+tournament, the challenge of St. John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I
+now am, would give him every advantage of weapons and abide the
+result."</p>
+
+<p>"Your challenge would be soon answered," replied the Palmer, "were your
+antagonist near you. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his
+surety that he meet you. And for pledge I proffer this reliquary," taking a
+small ivory box from his bosom, "containing a portion of the true cross,
+brought from the Monastery of Mount Carmel."</p>
+
+<p>The Templar took from his neck a gold chain, which he flung on the
+board, saying, "Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge, and that of this nameless
+vagrant, in token that when the Knight of Ivanhoe comes within the four
+seas of Britain, he underlies the challenge of Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
+which, if he answers not, I will proclaim him as a coward on the walls of
+every Temple Court in Europe."</p>
+
+<p>"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "my voice
+shall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised on behalf of the absent
+Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge, and I
+would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud knight the meeting
+he desires."</p>
+
+<p>"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I
+myself, justly offended as I am, would yet gage my honour for the honour of
+Ivanhoe."</p>
+
+<p>The grace-cup was shortly after served round, and the guests marshalled
+to their sleeping apartment.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Disinherited Knight</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby,
+attracted universal attention, as champions of the first renown were to
+take the field in the presence of Prince John himself.</p>
+
+<p>The laws of the tournament, proclaimed by the heralds, were briefly:</p>
+
+<p>First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.</p>
+
+<p>Secondly, the general tournament in which all knights present might take
+part; and being divided into two bands of equal numbers, might fight it out
+manfully, until the signal was given by Prince John to cease the
+combat.</p>
+
+<p>The challengers, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were all Normans, and
+Cedric saw, with keen feeling of dissatisfaction, the advantage they
+gained. No less than four parties of knights had gone down before the
+challengers, and Prince John began to talk about adjudging the prize to
+Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and
+foiled a third.</p>
+
+<p>But a new champion had entered the lists. His suit of armour was of
+steel, and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the
+roots, with the Spanish word <i>Desdichado</i>, signifying Disinherited. To
+the astonishment of all present he struck with the sharp end of his spear
+the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. Amazed at his
+presumption was the redoubted knight, whom he had thus defied to mortal
+combat.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "that you
+peril your life so frankly?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited
+Knight.</p>
+
+<p>"Then look your last upon the sun," said Bois-Guilbert; "for this night
+thou shalt sleep in paradise."</p>
+
+<p>The champions closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a
+thunderbolt. The Templar aimed at the centre of his antagonist's shield,
+and struck it so fair that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited
+Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that champion addressed his
+lance to his antagonist's helmet, and hit the Norman on the visor, where
+his lance's point kept hold of the bars. The girths of the Templar's saddle
+burst, and saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a cloud of
+dust.</p>
+
+<p>To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the
+Templar scarce the work of a moment; and stung with madness, he drew his
+sword, and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited Knight
+sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the
+field, however, intervened, for the laws of the tournament did not permit
+this species of encounter, and Bois-Guilbert returned to his tent in an
+agony of rage and despair.</p>
+
+<p>The Disinherited Knight then sounded a defiance to each of the
+challengers, and the four Normans each in his turn retired discomfited.</p>
+
+<p>The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
+Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited
+Knight.</p>
+
+<p>To Prince John's annoyance the champion declined either to raise his
+visor or to attend the evening banquet, pleading fatigue and the necessity
+of preparing for the morrow. As victor it was his privilege to name the
+lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love, was to preside over the next
+day's festival; and Prince John, having placed upon his lance a coronet of
+green satin, the Disinherited Knight rode slowly around the lists and
+paused beneath the balcony where Cedric and the Lady Rowena were placed.
+Then he deposited the coronet at the feet of the fair Rowena, while the
+populace shouted "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and lawful Queen of
+Love and of Beauty!"</p>
+
+<p>On the following morning the general tournament was proclaimed, and
+about fifty knights were ready upon each side, the Disinherited Knight
+leading one body, and Brian de Bois-Guilbert the other.</p>
+
+<p>Prince John escorted Rowena to the seat of honour opposite his own,
+while the fairest ladies present crowded after her to obtain places as near
+as possible to their temporary sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the field became thin by the numbers on either side who
+had yielded themselves vanquished that the Templar and the Disinherited
+Knight at length encountered hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal
+animosity and rivalry of honour could inspire. Bois-Guilbert, however, was
+soon joined by two more knights, the gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, and the
+ponderous Athelstane, who, though a Saxon, had enlisted under the
+Norman--to Cedric's disgust. The masterly horsemanship of the Disinherited
+Knight enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his three
+antagonists, but it was evident that he must at last be overpowered.</p>
+
+<p>An unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day. Among the ranks
+of the Disinherited Knight was a champion in black armour, who bore on his
+shield no device of any kind, and who, beyond beating off with seeming ease
+those who attacked him, evinced little interest in the combat.</p>
+
+<p>On discovering the leader of his party so hard beset, this knight threw
+aside his apathy and came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, exclaiming
+in trumpet tones, "<i>Desdichado</i>, to the rescue!" It was high time;
+for, while the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the Templar,
+Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but ere the
+blow could descend, the Black Knight dealt a blow on the head--and
+Front-de-Boeuf rolled to the ground, both horse and man equally stunned.
+The Black Knight then turned upon Athelstane, wrenched from the hand of the
+bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and bestowed him such a blow
+on the crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having
+achieved this double feat he retired calmly to the extremity of the lists,
+leaving his leader to cope as best he could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
+This was no longer matter of so much difficulty. The Templar's horse had
+bled much, and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited Knight's
+charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the field, and his antagonist,
+springing from horseback, waved his fatal sword over the Templar's head,
+and commanded him to yield. But Prince John saved him that mortification by
+putting an end to the conflict.</p>
+
+<p>Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. The Knight of the
+Black Armour having disappeared, the Disinherited Knight was named the
+champion of the day, and was conducted to the foot of that throne of honour
+which was occupied by Lady Rowena. His helmet having been removed, by order
+of the marshals, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt features of a young man of
+twenty-five were seen, and no sooner had Rowena beheld him than she uttered
+a faint shriek. Trembling with the violence of sudden emotion, she placed
+upon the drooping head of the victor the splendid chaplet which was the
+destined reward of the day.</p>
+
+<p>The Knight stooped his head, and then, sinking down, lay prostrate at
+the feet of his lovely sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>There was general consternation. Cedric, struck mute by the sudden
+appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward. The marshals hastened
+to undo Ivanhoe's armour, and finding that the head of a lance had
+penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side, he was
+quickly removed from the lists.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Burning of Torquilstone</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Cedric, Rowena, and Athelstane, returning home with their retinue from
+Ashby, were waylaid by Bois-Guilbert and his followers, and boldly carried
+off as prisoners to Torquilstone, Front-de-Boeuf's castle. In those lawless
+times these Norman nobles trusted thus to obtain a good ransom for Cedric
+and Athelstane, and to win Rowena for a bride. Ivanhoe, who, enfeebled by
+his wound, lay concealed in a litter, unknown to his father, was also
+taken.</p>
+
+<p>But Gurth rallied the Saxon outlaws and yeomen of the neighbourhood to
+the rescue, the Black Knight of the tournament led the attacking party, and
+in spite of a ferocious defence Torquilstone was stormed. The Black Knight
+bore the wounded Ivanhoe in his arms from the burning castle, Rowena was
+saved by Cedric and Gurth, just as she had abandoned all hopes of life.</p>
+
+<p>One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from
+window and shot hole. But, in other parts, the great thickness of the walls
+resisted the progress of the flames, and there the rage of man still
+triumphed. The besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from chamber
+to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which animated them
+against the soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison
+resisted to the uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none received it.</p>
+
+<p>The courtyard of the castle was soon the last scene of the contest. Here
+sat the fierce Templar mounted on horseback, with a remnant of the
+defenders, who fought with the utmost valour. Athelstane who, on the flight
+of the guard, had made his way into the ante-room and thence into the
+court, snatched a mace from the pavement, and rushed on the Templar's band
+striking in quick succession to the right and left: he was soon within two
+yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.</p>
+
+<p>But Athelstane was without armour, and a silken bonnet keeps out no
+steel blade. So trenchant was the Templar's weapon that it levelled the
+ill-fated Saxon to the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Taking advantage of the dismay which was spread by the fall of
+Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who would save themselves, follow
+me!" the Templar pushed across the drawbridge, and then galloped off with
+his followers.</p>
+
+<p>And now the towering flames surmounted every obstruction, and rose to
+the evening skies one huge and burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed
+down, with blazing roof and rafter, and the combatants were driven from the
+courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>When the last turret gave way, the voice of Robin Hood was heard,
+"Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil to
+our chosen place of rendezvous, and there at break of day will be made just
+partition among our own bands, together with our allies in this great deed
+of vengeance."</p>
+
+<p>Cedric, ere he departed, earnestly entreated the Black Knight to
+accompany him to Rotherwood, "not as a guest, but as a son or brother."</p>
+
+<p>"To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon," said the Knight, "and that
+speedily. Peradventure, when I come, I will ask such a boon as will put
+even thy generosity to the test."</p>
+
+<p>"It is granted already," said Cedric, "were it to affect half my
+fortune. But my heart is oppressed with sadness, for the noble Athelstane
+is no more. I have but to say," he added, "that during the funeral rites I
+shall inhabit his castle of Coningsburgh--which will be open to all who
+choose to partake of the funeral banqueting."</p>
+
+<p>Rowena waved a graceful adieu to the Black Knight, the Saxon bade God
+speed him, and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Ivanhoe's Wedding</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>At the castle of Coningsburgh all was a scene of busy commotion when the
+Black Knight, attended by Ivanhoe, who had muffled his face in his mantle,
+entered and was welcomed gravely by Cedric--by common consent the chief of
+the distinguished Saxon families present.</p>
+
+<p>"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we
+last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you,
+to grant me a boon."</p>
+
+<p>"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad
+moment----"</p>
+
+<p>"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me--but my time is
+brief--neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the noble
+Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour
+of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will
+admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black
+Knight--know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to my
+boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive to
+thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."</p>
+
+<p>"My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's
+feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of
+Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a
+Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena
+must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost of
+Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to his
+memory were it otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane,
+arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard, and
+like something arisen from the dead!</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal,
+speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected
+breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed on
+bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's sword,
+stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me flatlings, being
+averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow. Others, of both
+sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so that I never recovered
+my senses until I found myself in a coffin--an open one, by good
+luck--placed before the altar in church. But that villain Abbot has kept me
+a prisoner for three days and he shall hang on the top of this castle of
+Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole. I will be king in my own domains, and
+nowhere else. Cedric, I rise from the tomb a wiser man than I
+descended."</p>
+
+<p>"My ward, Rowena," said Cedric--"you do not intend to desert her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares
+not for me--she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glove
+better than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it--nay, blush not,
+kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than a
+country thane,--and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes and a
+thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment. Nay, as thou wilt needs
+laugh, I will find thee a better jest--Give me thy hand, or, rather, lend
+it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. Here, cousin Wilfred of
+Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure--Hey! our cousin Wilfred hath
+vanished!"</p>
+
+<p>Ivanhoe had disappeared, and King Richard had gone also.</p>
+
+<p>Ivanhoe hastened away at a secret message to fight once more with Brian
+de Bois-Guilbert, who had abducted a Jewish maiden named Rebecca, and
+spurned by Rebecca, Bois-Guilbert only escaped condemnation by the Grand
+Master of the Templars for his offence by admitting Rebecca to be a
+sorceress, and by challenging to mortal combat all who should dare to
+champion the high-souled and hapless Hebrew maid.</p>
+
+<p>Bois-Guilbert fell in the lists as Ivanhoe approached, and, unscathed by
+the lance of his enemy, died a victim to the violence of his own contending
+passions.</p>
+
+<p>Ivanhoe and King Richard (who had followed Wilfred) hastened back to
+Coningsburgh, and Cedric, finding his project for the union of Rowena and
+Athelstane at an end by the mutual dissent of both parties, soon gave his
+consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred of
+Ivanhoe.</p>
+
+<p>The nuptials thus formally approved were celebrated in the noble Minster
+of York. The King himself attended, and the presence of high-born Normans,
+as well as Saxons, joined with the universal rejoicing of the lower orders,
+marked the marriage as a pledge of the future peace and harmony betwixt the
+two races.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Kenilworth"></a>Kenilworth</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> Scott's success in portraying the character of Mary Stuart
+in "The Abbot" fired him with the desire of doing likewise with her great
+rival Elizabeth; and although history has modified his picture of the
+English Queen, the portrait still remains a vivid and in many respects a
+faithful likeness. In his preface to the first edition of "Kenilworth,"
+which was published in January, 1821, Scott, referring to his delineation
+of Elizabeth, admits that he is a "Scottishman," and therefore may be
+pardoned for looking at his subject with certain prejudices. Another source
+of inspiration that led him to write the romance was the old ballad of
+"Cumnor Hall," in which the tale of Amy Robsart is told. Scott's genius for
+depicting the life and manners and customs of the Middle Ages, of
+visualising scenes of long-gone chivalry, is exhibited in "Kenilworth" as
+in none other of his works. In common also with all his historical novels,
+"Kenilworth" bears witness to its author's passion for historical truth.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--At Cumnor</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The village of Cumnor, within three or four miles of Oxford, boasted in
+the eighteenth of Queen Elizabeth an excellent inn, conducted by Giles
+Gosling, whom no one excelled in his power of pleasing his guests of every
+description.</p>
+
+<p>A traveller in the close of the evening was ushered, with much semblance
+of welcome, into a large, low chamber, where several persons were seated in
+different parties, some drinking, some playing cards, some conversing.</p>
+
+<p>The host soon recognised, without satisfaction, his graceless nephew,
+Michael Lambourne, who had not been heard of for long years; but, saying
+his sister's son should be called to no reckoning in his house, he heartily
+invited all who would to join them at supper in honour of his nephew's
+return. Many present remembered him as a school companion, and so forth,
+and, encouraged by the precept and example of Michael Lambourne, they soon
+passed the limits of temperance, as was evident from the bursts of laughter
+with which his inquiries after old acquaintances were answered. Giles
+Gosling made some sort of apology to a solitary guest who had sat apart for
+their license; they would be to-morrow a set of painstaking mechanics, and
+so forth, though to-night they were such would-be rufflers, and prevailed
+on him to join them.</p>
+
+<p>Most of Michael's old friends seemed to have come to some sad end, but
+one, Tony Foster, for whom he inquired had married, and become a good
+Protestant, and held his head high, and scorned his old companions. He now
+dwelt at Cumnor Place, an old mansion house, and had nothing to do with
+anybody in Cumnor, not entirely from pride; it was said there was a fair
+lady in the case.</p>
+
+<p>Here Tressilian, the guest, who had sat apart, intervened in the
+conversation, and was informed that Foster had a beautiful lady closely
+mewed up at Cumnor Place, and would scarcely let her look upon the light of
+day.</p>
+
+<p>Michael Lambourne at once wagered that he would force Tony Foster to
+introduce him to his fair guest, and Tressilian asked permission to
+accompany him, to mark the skill end valour with which he should conduct
+himself, and, in spite of the host's warnings, the next morning they set
+off together to Anthony Foster's dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>Michael Lambourne soon let Tressilian know that he suspected other
+motives than simple curiosity had led him, a gentleman of birth and
+breeding, into the company of such a scant-of-grace as himself, and owned
+that he expected both pleasure and profit from his visit.</p>
+
+<p>They found the gate open, and passed up an avenue overshadowed by old
+trees, untrimmed for many years. Everything was in a dilapidated condition.
+After some delay, they were introduced into a stone-paved parlour, where
+they had to wait some time before the present master of the mansion made
+his appearance. He looked to Tressilian for an explanation of this visit,
+so true was Lambourne's observation that the superior air of breeding and
+dignity shone through the disguise of an inferior dress. But it was Michael
+who replied to him, with the easy familiarity of an old friend, and though
+Foster at first made it obvious that he had no wish to renew the
+acquaintance, in a few minutes he requested him to follow him to another
+apartment, and the two worthies left the room, leaving Tressilian
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>His dark eyes followed them with a glance of contempt, some of which was
+for himself for having stooped for a moment to be their familiar companion.
+A slight noise interrupted his reverie. He looked round, and in the
+beautiful and richly attired female who entered he recognised the object of
+his search. His first impulse urged him to conceal his face in the cloak,
+but the young lady (she was not above eighteen years old) ran joyfully
+towards him, and, pulling him by the cloak, said playfully:</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, my sweet friend, after I have waited for you so long, you come not
+to my bower to play the masquer."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas, Amy," said Tressilian, in a low and melancholy voice. Then, as
+she turned pale as death, he added: "Amy, fear me not."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I fear you?" said the lady; "or wherefore have you intruded
+yourself into my dwelling, uninvited, sir, and unwished for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your dwelling, Amy?" said Tressilian. "Alas! is a prison your dwelling?
+A prison, guarded by the most sordid of men, but not a greater wretch than
+his employer?"</p>
+
+<p>"This house is mine," said Amy, "mine while I choose to inhabit it. If
+it is my pleasure to live in seclusion, who shall gainsay me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your father, maiden," answered Tressilian, "your broken-hearted father,
+who dispatched me in quest of you with that authority which he cannot exert
+in person."</p>
+
+<p>"Tressilian," said the lady, "I cannot--I must not--I dare not leave
+this place! Go back to my father. Tell him I will obtain leave to see him
+within twelve hours from hence. Tell him I am well--I am happy. Go, carry
+him the news. I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is, when I
+obtain permission."</p>
+
+<p>"Permission? Permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhaps on
+his death-bed?" repeated Tressilian impatiently. "And permission from whom?
+Amy, in the name of thy broken-hearted father, I command thee to follow
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he advanced and extended his arm, as with the purpose of
+laying hold upon her. But she shrunk back from his grasp, and uttered a
+scream which brought into the apartment Lambourne and Foster.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam, fare you well!" said Tressilian. "What life lingers in your
+father's bosom will leave him at the news I have to tell."</p>
+
+<p>He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room:</p>
+
+<p>"Tressilian, be not rash. Say no scandal of me."</p>
+
+<p>Tressilian pursued the first path through the wild and overgrown park in
+which the mansion of Foster was situated. At the postern, a cavalier,
+muffled in his riding cloak, entered, and stood at once within four yards
+of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed, in tons of resentment
+and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other, "Tressilian!"</p>
+
+<p>"What takes you here?" said Tressilian. "Are you come to triumph over
+the innocence you have destroyed? Draw, dog, and defend thyself!"</p>
+
+<p>Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art mad, Tressilian! I own appearances are against me, but by
+every oath Mistress Amy Robsart hath no injury from me!"</p>
+
+<p>Tressilian forced him to draw, and Varney received a fall so sudden and
+violent that his sword flew several paces from his hand. Lambourne came up
+just in time to save the life of Varney, and Tressilian perceived it was
+madness to press the quarrel further against such odds.</p>
+
+<p>"Varney, we shall meet where there are none to come betwixt us!"</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he turned round, and departed through the postern door.</p>
+
+<p>Varney, left alone, gave vent to his meditations in broken words. "She
+loves me not--I would it were as true that I loved not her! But she must
+not leave this retreat until I am assured on what terms we are to stand. My
+lord's interest--and so far it is mine own, for if he sinks I fall in his
+train--demands concealment of this obscure marriage."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--The Earl and the Countess</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>At first, when the Earl of Leicester paid frequent visits to Cumnor, the
+Countess was reconciled to the solitude to which she was condemned. But
+when these visits became rarer and more rare, the brief letters of excuse
+did not keep out discontent and suspicion from the splendid apartments
+which love had once fitted up for beauty. Her answers to Leicester conveyed
+these feelings too bluntly, and pressed more naturally than prudently that
+she might be relieved from the obscure and secluded residence, by the
+Earl's acknowledgement of their marriage.</p>
+
+<p>"I have made her Countess," Leicester said to his henchman Varney;
+"surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she should
+put on the coronet?"</p>
+
+<p>The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.</p>
+
+<p>"What signifies," she said, "that I have rank and honour in reality, if
+I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance, and
+suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced reputation?"</p>
+
+<p>Leicester, high in Elizabeth's favour, dared not avow his marriage, and
+Varney was always at hand to paint the full and utter disgrace that would
+overwhelm him at the Court were the marriage known, and to spur his
+ambition to avoid the ruin of his fortunes.</p>
+
+<p>Varney even prompted Leicester to invite the Countess to pass as
+Varney's wife, lest Elizabeth's jealousy should be aroused, and this
+suggestion and the knowledge that Varney desired her for himself (for he
+made no secret of his passion), drove the Countess to escape from Cumnor
+and to seek her husband at Kenilworth, Janet Foster, her faithful
+attendant, at first suggested that the Countess should return home to her
+father, Sir Hugh Robsart, at Lidcote Hall, in Devonshire.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Janet," said the lady mournfully; "I left Lidcote Hall while my
+heart was light and my name was honourable, and I will not return thither
+till my lord's public acknowledgement of our marriage restore me to my
+native home with all the rank and honour which he has bestowed on me. I
+will go to Kenilworth, girl. I will see these revels--these princely
+revels--the preparation for which makes the land ring from side to side.
+Methinks, when the Queen of England feasts within my husband's halls, the
+Countess of Leicester should be no unbeseeming guest."</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest madam," said the maiden, "have you forgotten that the noble
+Earl has given such strict charges to keep your marriage secret, that he
+may preserve his Court favour? And can you think that your sudden
+appearance at his castle, at such a juncture, and in such a presence, will
+be acceptable to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will appeal to my husband alone, Janet. I will be protected by him
+alone. I will see him, and receive from his own lips the directions for my
+future conduct. Do not argue against my resolution. And to own the truth, I
+am resolved to know my fate at once, and from my husband's own mouth; and
+to seek him at Kenilworth is the surest way to attain my purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"May the blessing of God wend with you, madam," said Janet, kissing her
+mistress's hand.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--At Kenilworth</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>With pomp and magnificence, Leicester entertained the Queen at the
+Castle of Kenilworth. Of the Countess he saw nothing for some days, and
+Varney let it be thought that the unhappy lady who had made her way into
+the castle was his wife, while Amy, mindful of the alarm which Leicester
+had expressed at the Queen's knowing aught of their union, kept out of the
+way of her sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>Then, on one memorable morning, when a hunt had been arranged, Leicester
+escorted the Queen to the castle garden, with another chase in view.
+Without premeditation, but urged on by vanity and ambition, his importunity
+became the language of love itself.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Dudley," said Elizabeth, yet with broken accents. "No, I must be
+the mother of my people. Urge it no more, Leicester. Were I, as others,
+free to seek my own happiness, then indeed--but it cannot be. It is
+madness, and must not be repeated. Leave me. Go, but go not far from hence;
+and meantime let no one intrude on my privacy."</p>
+
+<p>The Queen turned into a grotto in which her hapless, and yet but too
+successful, rival lay concealed, and presently became aware of a female
+figure beside an alabaster column.</p>
+
+<p>The unfortunate countess dropped on her knee before the queen, and
+looked up in the queen's face with such a mixed agony of fear and
+supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected.</p>
+
+<p>"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou
+have with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I
+request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one
+Varney!"</p>
+
+<p>"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What
+are you to him, or he to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"</p>
+
+<p>Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save
+her from Varney without endangering her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou
+art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee by
+inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master
+Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."</p>
+
+<p>Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No,
+madam, no! As there is a God above us, I am not the wife of that
+contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife of
+Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"</p>
+
+<p>The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, God, ha' mercy,
+woman! Tell me, for I <i>will</i> know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art
+thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness than
+with Elizabeth!"</p>
+
+<p>Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of
+Leicester knows it all!"</p>
+
+<p>"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of
+Leicester! Come with me instantly!"</p>
+
+<p>As Amy shrunk back with terror, Elizabeth seized on her arm, and dragged
+the terrified countess to where Leicester stood--the centre of a splendid
+group of lords and ladies.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!" cried the queen.</p>
+
+<p>Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended
+Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before the
+queen, exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one can lay
+aught to the charge of noble Leicester!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, minion," answered the queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the
+Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Varney rushed into the presence, with every mark of
+disorder.</p>
+
+<p>"What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>Varney could only prostrate himself before her feet, exclaiming:
+"Pardon, my Liege, pardon! Or let your justice avenge itself on me; but
+spare my noble, my generous, my innocent patron and master!"</p>
+
+<p>Amy started up at the sight of the man she deemed most odious so near
+her, and besought the queen to save her from "that most shameless villain!"
+"I shall go mad if I look longer on him."</p>
+
+<p>"Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already," answered the
+queen. Then she bade Lord Hunsdon, a blunt, warm-hearted old noble, "Look
+to this poor distressed young woman, and let her be safely bestowed, till
+we require her to be forthcoming."</p>
+
+<p>"By our Lady," said Hunsdon, taking in his strong arms the swooning form
+of Amy, "she is a lovely child! And though a rough nurse, your Grace hath
+given her a kind one. She is safe with me as one of my own ladybirds of
+daughters."</p>
+
+<p>So saying he carried her off, and the queen followed him with her eye,
+and then turned angrily to Varney, for Leicester stared gloomily on the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, Sir Richard, and explain these riddles."</p>
+
+<p>"Your Majesty's piercing eye," said Varney, "has already detected the
+cruel malady of my beloved lady. It is the nature of persons in her
+disorder, so please your Grace, to be ever most inveterate in their spleen
+against those whom, in their better moments, they hold nearest and dearest.
+May your Grace then be pleased to command my unfortunate wife to be
+delivered into the custody of my friends?"</p>
+
+<p>Leicester partly started, but making a stronger effort, he subdued his
+emotion, while Elizabeth answered sharply, that her own physician should
+report on the lady's health.</p>
+
+<p>That night Leicester sought the countess in her apartment, and would
+have avowed his marriage to the queen, but for Varney's influence. Finding
+all other argument vain, Varney finally urged that the countess was in love
+with Tressilian, and mentioned that he had seen him at Cumnor. Leicester
+allowed his mind to be poisoned, and was silent when, on the Queen's
+physician declaring Lady Varney to be sullen and the victim of fancies,
+Elizabeth answered, "Nay, then away with her all speed. Let Varney care for
+her with fitting humanity, but let them rid the castle of her
+forthwith."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Death of the Countess</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Armed with the authority of Leicester's signet-ring Varney induced the
+countess to leave Kenilworth for Cumnor, declaring that the earl had
+ordered it for his own safety. But no sooner was the lady gone than
+Leicester repented of the consent Varney had wrested from him. An interview
+with Tressilian and the recovery of a letter written by Amy at Cumnor
+revealed all Varney's villainy. Too late he acknowledged his marriage to
+the queen, and when the fury of Elizabeth's anger had somewhat subsided,
+she ordered Tressilian and Sir Walter Raleigh to repair at once to Cumnor,
+bring the countess to Kenilworth, and secure the body of Richard Varney,
+dead or alive.</p>
+
+<p>But Varney's fell purpose had already decided that the countess must be
+got rid of. A part of the wooden gallery immediately outside her door was
+really a trap-door, and beneath it was an abyss dark as pitch. This
+trap-door remained secure in appearance even when the supports were
+withdrawn beneath it.</p>
+
+<p>"Were the lady to attempt an escape over it," said Varney, to his
+accomplice Foster, who held the house by Varney's favour, "her weight would
+carry her down."</p>
+
+<p>"A mouse's weight would do it," Foster answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, she die in attempting her escape, and what could you or I
+help it? Let us, to bed; we will adjust our project to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>On the next day, when evening approached, Varney summoned Foster to the
+execution of their plan. Foster himself, as if anxious to see that the
+countess suffered no want of accommodations, visited her place of
+confinement. He was so much staggered at her mildness and patience, that he
+could not help earnestly recommending to her not to cross the threshold on
+any account until Lord Leicester should come. Amy promised that she would
+resign herself to her fate, and Foster returned to his hardened companion
+with his conscience half-eased of the perilous load that weighed on it. "I
+have warned her," he said; "surely in vain is the snare set in the sight of
+any bird!"</p>
+
+<p>He left the countess's door unsecured on the outside, and, under the eye
+of Varney, withdrew the supports which sustained the falling trap, which,
+therefore, kept its level position merely by a slight adhesion. They
+withdrew to wait the issue on the ground floor adjoining; but they waited
+long in vain.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she is resolved," said Foster, "to await her husband's
+return."</p>
+
+<p>"True! Most true!" said Varney, rushing out; "I had not thought of that
+before."</p>
+
+<p>In less than two minutes, Foster, who remained behind, heard the tread
+of a horse in the courtyard, and then a whistle similar to that which was
+the earl's usual signal. The instant after the door to the countess's
+chamber opened, and in the same moment the trap-door gave way. There was a
+rushing sound--a heavy fall--a faint groan, and all was over.</p>
+
+<p>At the same instant Varney called in at the window, "Is the bird caught?
+Is the deed done?"</p>
+
+<p>"O God, forgive us!" replied Foster.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, thou fool," said Varney, "thy toil is ended, and thy reward
+secure. Look down into the vault--what seest thou?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see only a heap of clothes, like a snowdrift," said Foster. "O God,
+she moves her arm!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hurl something down on her."</p>
+
+<p>"Varney, thou art an incarnate fiend!" replied Foster. "There needs
+nothing more--she is gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"So pass our troubles," said Varney; "I dreamed not I could have
+mimicked the earl's call so well."</p>
+
+<p>While they were at this consultation Tressilian and Raleigh broke in
+upon them. Foster fled at their entrance, and escaped all search. He
+perished miserably in a secret passage, behind an iron door, forgetting the
+key of the spring-clock, and years later his skeleton was discovered.</p>
+
+<p>But Varney was taken on the spot. He made very little mystery either of
+the crime or of its motives--alleging that there was sufficient against him
+to deprive him of Leicester's confidence, and to destroy all his towering
+plans of ambition. "I was not born," he said, "to drag on the remainder of
+life a degraded outcast; nor will I so die that my fate shall make a
+holiday to the vulgar herd."</p>
+
+<p>That night he swallowed a small quantity of strong poison, which he
+carried about his person, and next morning was found dead in his cell.</p>
+
+<p>The news of the countess's dreadful fate put a sudden stop to the
+pleasures of Kenilworth. Leicester retired from court, and for a
+considerable time abandoned himself to his remorse. But as Varney in his
+last declaration had been studious to spare the character of his patron,
+the earl was the object rather of compassion than resentment. The queen at
+length recalled him to court; he was once more distinguished as a statesman
+and favourite; and the rest of his career is well known to history. But
+there was something retributive in his death, for it is believed he died by
+swallowing a draught of poison, designed by him for another person.</p>
+
+<p>Tressilian at length embarked with his friend, Sir Walter Raleigh, for
+the Virginia expedition, and young in years, but old in grief, died before
+his day in that foreign land.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Old_Mortality"></a>Old Mortality</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Old Mortality" and the "Black Dwarf" were published
+together as the first series of the "Tales of My Landlord" on December 1,
+1816. The first is certainly one of the best of Scott's historical
+romances. It was the fourth of the "Waverley Novels," and the authorship
+was still unavowed; though Mr. Murray, the publisher, at once declared it
+"must be written either by Walter Scott or the Devil." On the other hand,
+there were critics who did not believe the book was Sir Walter's because it
+lacked his "tedious descriptions." Some said openly it was the work of
+several hands. The study of the fierce, fanatical Covenanters in "Old
+Mortality" is done not only with all the author's literary genius, but a
+wonderful fidelity to historical truth; and while the accuracy of the
+portrait of Claverhouse--"Bonny Dundee"--will always be disputed, no lover
+of romance will question its brilliant charm. The immediate popularity of
+"Old Mortality" was less than many of the "Waverley Novels," only two
+editions, amounting to 4,000 copies, being sold in six weeks.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Tillietudlem Castle</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>"Most readers," says the manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, "must have
+witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of the
+village school. The buoyant spirit of childhood may then be seen to
+explode, as it were, in shout and song and frolic; but there is one
+individual who partakes of the relief, whose feelings are not so obvious,
+or so apt to receive sympathy--the teacher himself."</p>
+
+<p>The reader may form some conception of the relief which a solitary walk,
+on a fine summer evening, affords to the head which has ached, and the
+nerves which have been shattered for so many hours in plying the irksome
+task of public instruction.</p>
+
+<p>To me these evening strolls have been the happiest hours of an unhappy
+life; and it was in one of them that I met, for the first time, the
+religious itinerant known in various parts of Scotland by the title of "Old
+Mortality." He was busily engaged in deepening with his chisel the letters
+of the inscription upon the monument of the slaughtered
+Presbyterians--those champions of the Covenant whose deeds and sufferings
+were his favourite theme.</p>
+
+<p>For nearly thirty years this pious enthusiast visited annually the
+graves of those who suffered for the cause during the reigns of the last
+two Stuarts, most numerous in the districts of Ayr, Galloway, and Dumfries.
+To talk of their exploits was the delight, as to repair their monuments was
+the business of his life.</p>
+
+<p>My readers will understand that in embodying into one narrative many of
+the anecdotes I derived from Old Mortality, I have endeavoured to correct
+and verify them from the most authentic sources of tradition afforded by
+the representatives of either party. Peace to their memory!</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+"Implacable resentment was their crime,<br />
+And grievous has the expiation been."<br />
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Under the reign of the last Stuarts, frequent musters of the people,
+both for military exercise and for sports and pastimes, were appointed by
+authority, and the Sheriff of Lanark was holding the wappen-schaw of a wild
+district, on the day our narrative commences, May 5, 1679.</p>
+
+<p>The lord-lieutenant of the country alone, who was of ducal rank,
+pretended to the magnificence of a wheel-carriage, but near it might be
+seen the erect form of Lady Margaret Bellenden on her sober palfrey, and
+her granddaughter; the fair-haired Edith appeared beside her aged relative
+like Spring, close to Winter.</p>
+
+<p>Many civilities passed between her ladyship and the representatives of
+sundry ancient royal families, and not a young man of rank passed by them
+in the course of the muster, but carried himself more erect in the saddle
+and displayed his horsemanship to the best advantage in the eyes of Miss
+Edith Bellenden.</p>
+
+<p>When the military evolutions were over, a loud shout announced that the
+competitors were about to step forth for the shooting of the popinjay--the
+figure of a bird suspended to a pole. When a slender young man, dressed
+with great simplicity, yet with an air of elegance, his dark-green cloak
+thrown back over his shoulder, approached the station with his fusee in his
+hand, there was a murmur among the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>"Ewhow, sirs, to see his father's son at the like o' thae fearless
+follies!" said some of the more rigid, but the generality were content to
+wish success to the son of a deceased Presbyterian leader. Their wishes
+were gratified. The green adventurer made the first palpable hit of the
+day, and two only of those who followed succeeded--the first, a young man
+of low rank, who kept his face muffled in a grey cloak; and the second, a
+gallant young cavalier, remarkably handsome, who had been in close
+attendance on Lady Margaret and Miss Bellenden.</p>
+
+<p>But the applause, even of those whose wishes had favoured Lord Evandale,
+were at the third trial transferred to his triumphant rival, who was led by
+four of the duke's friends to his presence, passing in front of Lady
+Margaret and her granddaughter. The captain of the popinjay (as the victor
+was called) and Miss Bellenden coloured like crimson, as the latter
+returned the low inclination he made, even to the saddlebow, in passing
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know that young person?" said Lady Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"I--I--have seen him, madam, at my uncle's, and--and--elsewhere,
+occasionally," stammered Edith.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark
+is the nephew of old Milnwood."</p>
+
+<p>"The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a
+regiment of horse with great courage at Dunbar and Inverkeithing," said a
+gentleman beside Lady Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and before that, who fought for the Covenanters, both at Marston
+Moor and Philipshaugh," said Lady Margaret, sighing. "His son ought to
+dispense with intruding himself into the company of those to whom his name
+must bring unpleasing recollections."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, my dear lady, he comes here to discharge suit and service
+in name for his uncle. He is an old miser, and although probably against
+the grain, sends the young gentleman to save pecuniary pains and penalties.
+The youngster is, I suppose, happy enough to escape for the day from the
+dullness of the old home at Milnwood."</p>
+
+<p>The company now dispersed, excepting such as, having tried their
+dexterity at the popinjay, were, by ancient custom, obliged to partake of a
+grace-cup with their captain, who, though he spared the cup himself, took
+care it should go round with due celerity among the rest.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving the alehouse, a stranger observed to Morton that he was
+riding towards Milnwood, and asked for the advantage of his company.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said Morton, though there was a gloomy and relentless
+severity in the man's manner from which he recoiled, and they rode off
+together.</p>
+
+<p>They had not long left, when Cornet Grahame, a kinsman of Claverhouse,
+entered with the news that the Archbishop of St. Andrews had been murdered
+by a body of the rebel Whigs.</p>
+
+<p>He read their descriptions, and it was clear that the stern stranger who
+had just left with Henry Morton, was Balfour of Burley, the actual
+commander of the band of assassins, though Morton himself knew nothing of
+Burley's terrible deed.</p>
+
+<p>"Horse, horse, and pursue, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame. "The
+murdering dog's head is worth its weight in gold."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Henry Morton's Escape</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The dragoons soon arrived at Milnwood, and carried off Henry Morton
+prisoner for having given a night's shelter to Balfour of Burley, an old
+military comrade of his father's. Morton acknowledged he had done this, but
+refused to give any other information. Hitherto he had meddled with no
+party in the state. They decided to bring him before Colonel Grahame of
+Claverhouse, who was expected next day at the Castle of Tillietudlem, the
+residence of Lady Margaret Bellenden.</p>
+
+<p>Although Henry Morton had prevailed upon the sergeant to let him be
+muffled up in one of the soldier's cloaks, Miss Edith Bellenden found it
+impossible to withdraw her eyes from him, and her waiting maid soon
+discovered his identity, and found means for the lovers (for such they
+were) to meet in secret in the room where the prisoner was confined.</p>
+
+<p>"You are lost, you are lost, if you are to plead your cause with
+Claverhouse!" sighed Edith. "The primate was his intimate friend and early
+patron. 'No excuse, no subterfuge,' he wrote to my grandmother, 'shall save
+either those connected with the deed, or such as have given them
+countenance and shelter.'"</p>
+
+<p>They were interrupted by the guard, and Morton, assuming a firmness he
+was far from feeling, whispered, "Farewell, Edith; leave me to my fate; it
+cannot be beyond endurance, since you are interested in it. Good night,
+good night! Do not remain here till you are discovered."</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone has his taste, to be sure," said the sentinel; "but, d---- me
+if I would vex so sweet a girl for all the Whigs that ever swore a
+covenant!"</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast next day, Major Bellenden, Edith's grand-uncle, to whom
+she had written, approached Claverhouse, to plead for the life of the son
+of his old friend, but she heard the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be, Major Bellenden; lenity in his case is altogether beyond
+the bounds of my commission. And here comes Evandale with news, as I think.
+What tidings do you bring us, Evandale?" addressing the young lord, who now
+entered in complete uniform but with dress disordered, and boots
+bespattered.</p>
+
+<p>"Unpleasant news, sir," was the reply. "A large body of Whigs are in
+arms among the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion."</p>
+
+<p>Claverhouse immediately bid them sound to horse, saying, "There are
+rogues enough in the country to make the rebels five times their strength,
+if they are not checked at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they expect a
+strong body of the indulged Presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, the
+son of the famous old Roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lie!" said the major hastily, and begged that Henry Morton might
+at once be heard himself. Evandale drew near to Miss Bellenden, and
+addressed her in a manner, expressing a feeling much deeper and more
+agitating than was conveyed in his phrases.</p>
+
+<p>"I will but dispose of this young fellow," said Claverhouse, "and then
+Lord Evandale--I am sorry to interrupt your conversation--but then we must
+mount. Why do you not bring up your prisoner? And hark ye, let two files
+load their carbines."</p>
+
+<p>Edith broke through the restraint that had hitherto kept her silent, and
+entreated Lord Evandale to use his interest with his colonel, becoming
+bolder and more urgent as the soldiers entered with the prisoner, whom they
+had just informed that Lady Margaret's niece was interceding for his life
+with Lord Evandale, to whom she was about to be married.</p>
+
+<p>The unfortunate prisoner heard enough, as he passed behind Edith's seat,
+of the broken expressions which passed between her and Lord Evandale, to
+confirm all that the soldiers had told him.</p>
+
+<p>That moment made a singular and instantaneous change in his character.
+Desperate himself, he determined to support the rights of his country,
+insulted in his person. So he declined to answer any questions, and assured
+Claverhouse that there were yet Scotsmen who could assert the liberties of
+Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>"Make you peace then, with Heaven, in five minutes space. Bothwell, lead
+him down to the courtyard, and draw up your party!"</p>
+
+<p>A silence of horror fell on all but the speaker at these words. Edith
+sprang up, but her strength gave way, and she would have fallen had she not
+been caught by her attendant.</p>
+
+<p>Evandale at once addressed Claverhouse, and calling him aside reminded
+him of services rendered by his family in an affair of the privy
+council.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear Evandale," answered Claverhouse; "I am not a man who
+forgets such debts. How can I evince my gratitude?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will hold the debt cancelled," said Lord Evandale, "if you will spare
+this young man's life."</p>
+
+<p>"Evandale," replied Claverhouse in great surprise, "you are
+mad--absolutely mad. You see him? He is tottering on the verge between time
+and eternity; yet his is the only cheek unblanched, the only heart that
+keeps its usual time. Look at him well. If that man should ever come to
+head an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for."</p>
+
+<p>He then said aloud, "Young man, your life is for the present safe, owing
+to the interference of your friends." So Morton was hurried down to the
+courtyard, where three other prisoners remained under an escort of
+dragoons; soon they were all pressing forward to overtake the main body, as
+it was supposed they would come in sight of the enemy in less than two
+hours. It was obvious, when they did so that there were old soldiers with
+the rebels from the choice of the ground, and the order of battle in which
+they waited the assault. Cornet Grahame was sent with a flag of truce to
+offer a free pardon to all but the murderers of the archbishop if they
+would disperse themselves. On his persisting in addressing the people
+themselves in spite of the warning of their spokesman, Balfour of Burley,
+whom he recognised. "Then the Lord grant grace to thy soul--amen!" said
+Burley, and fired, and Cornet Grahame dropped from his horse, mortally
+wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.</p>
+
+<p>"My duty," said Balfour firmly. "Is it not written 'Thou shalt be
+zealous even to slaying?' Let those who dare now venture to talk of truce
+or pardon!"</p>
+
+<p>Claverhouse saw his nephew fall; with a glance of indescribable emotion
+he looked at Evandale. "I will avenge him, or die," exclaimed Evandale, and
+rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and that of the
+deceased cornet, each striving to be first in revenge. They soon fell into
+confusion in the broken ground. In vain Claverhouse shouted, "Halt! halt!
+This rashness will undo us." The enemy set upon them with the utmost fury,
+crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines! Down with the Dagon and
+all his adherents!" Though the young nobleman fought like a lion, he was
+forced to retreat, and soon Claverhouse was compelled to follow his troops
+in their flight; as he passed Henry Morton and the other prisoners just
+released from their bonds, Evandale's horse was shot, and Morton rushed
+forward just in time to prevent his being killed by Balfour himself in hot
+pursuit.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Presbyterian Insurgents</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>John Balfour of Burley, a man of some fortune and good family, a soldier
+from his youth upwards, aspired to place himself at the head of the
+Presbyterian forces then in arms against the English government. On this
+account he was particularly anxious to secure the accession of young Henry
+Morton to the cause of the insurgents, for the memory of Morton's father
+was esteemed among the Presbyterians, and few persons of decent quality had
+so far joined the rising.</p>
+
+<p>Morton, on his side, was willing to join in any insurrection which
+promised freedom to the country though he abhorred the murder of Sharpe,
+and the tenets of the wilder set of Cameronians, by whom the seeds of
+disunion were already thickly sown in the ill-fated party.</p>
+
+<p>At the nomination of the council of the Presbyterian army Morton was
+sent with the main body to march against Glasgow, while Burley, with a
+chosen body of five hundred men, remained behind to blockade the castle of
+Tillietudlem. A command to surrender had been scorned with indignation by
+Major Bellenden and Lord Evandale.</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks later a pause in the hostilities enabled Morton, anxious for
+the fate of Tillietudlem, to return to Burley's camp, where he learnt that
+Evandale had been taken prisoner, and was to be hanged at daybreak unless
+the castle surrendered.</p>
+
+<p>Burley sullenly yielded his prisoner into Morton's hands, and Evandale,
+released on parole by the man whose life he had previously saved, undertook
+to set out for Edinburgh, with a list of the grievances of the insurgents.
+A mutiny within the castle drove Major Bellenden to evacuate Tillietudlem;
+the ladies acquiesced in the decision, and when the scarlet and blue
+colours of the Scottish Covenant floated from the keep of Tillietudlem, the
+cavalcade led by the major was on the road towards Edinburgh.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Evandale's good word saved Morton a second time when Claverhouse
+routed the Presbyterian army at Bothwell Bridge. Morton was taken prisoner,
+but his life was spared, and at Leith he was put on board a vessel bound
+for Rotterdam with letters of recommendation to the Prince of Orange.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--Henry Morton Returns in Time</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>By the prudent tolerance of King William Scotland narrowly escaped the
+horrors of a protracted civil war. The triumphant Whigs re-established
+Presbytery as the national religion, and only the extreme sect of
+Cameronians on the one side, and the Highlanders, who were for the deposed
+Stuart king, on the other, disturbed the peace of the land. Balfour of
+Burley refused to sheathe his sword, and Evandale followed his old
+commander Claverhouse (now Viscount Dundee) in joining the rebel Jacobites.
+Major Bellenden was dead.</p>
+
+<p>No news had ever come of Henry Morton, and it was believed with good
+reason he was lost when the vessel in which he sailed went down with crew
+and passengers. But Morton was already back in Scotland, in the service of
+King William.</p>
+
+<p>In the belief of her Morton's death, Edith Bellenden had become
+betrothed to Lord Evandale, though she postponed marriage, and her prayers
+went out to him that he would refrain from joining Claverhouse, when he
+came to bid her farewell.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my lord, remain!" said Edith. "Do not rush on death and ruin!
+Remain to be our prop and stay, and hope everything from time."</p>
+
+<p>"It is too late, Edith," answered Lord Evandale. "I know you cannot love
+me, that your heart is dead or absent. But were it otherwise, the die is
+now cast."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke thus an old servant rushed in to say a party of horse headed
+by one Basil Olifant, a rascal who was anxious to take Evandale for the
+sake of reward, had beset the outlets of the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hide yourself, my lord!" cried Edith, in an agony of terror.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not, by Heaven!" answered Lord Evandale. "What right has the
+villain to assail me or stop my passage? I will make my way, were he backed
+by a regiment. And now, farewell, Edith!"</p>
+
+<p>He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then rushed out and
+mounted his horse, and with his servants rode composedly down the
+avenue.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Lord Evandale appeared, Olifant's party spread themselves a
+little, as if preparing to enclose him. Their leader stood fast, supported
+by three men, two of whom were dragoons, the third in dress and appearance
+a countryman, all well-armed. Whoever had before seen the strong figure,
+stern features, and resolved manner of the third attendant could have no
+difficulty in recognising Balfour of Burley.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow me," said Lord Evandale to his servants, "and if we are forcibly
+opposed, do as I do."</p>
+
+<p>He advanced at a hand gallop; Olifant called out, "Shoot the traitor!"
+and four carbines were fired upon the unfortunate nobleman. He reeled in
+the saddle, and fell from his horse mortally wounded. His servants fired
+and Basil Olifant and a dragoon were stretched lifeless on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Burley, whose blood was up, exclaimed, "Down with the Midianites!" and
+advanced, sword in hand. At this instant the clatter of horses' hoofs was
+heard, and a party of horse appeared on the fatal field. They were foreign
+dragoons led by a Dutch commander, accompanied by Morton and a civil
+magistrate.</p>
+
+<p>Only the belief that Evandale was to marry Edith had kept Morton
+hitherto from revealing his return.</p>
+
+<p>A hasty call to surrender, in the name of God and King William, was
+obeyed by all except Burley, who turned his horse and attempted to escape.
+Pursued by soldiers he made for the river, but was shot in the middle of
+the stream, and felt himself dangerously wounded. He returned towards the
+bank he had left, waving his hand as if in token of surrender. The troopers
+ceased firing, and as he approached a dragoon laid hands on him. Burley, in
+requital, grasped his throat, and both came headlong into the river, and
+were swept down the stream. They were twice seen to rise, the trooper
+trying to swim, and Burley clinging to him in a manner that showed his
+desire that both should perish. Their corpses were taken out about a
+quarter of a mile down the river.</p>
+
+<p>While the soul of this stern enthusiast flitted to its account, that of
+the brave and generous Lord Evandale was also released. Morton had flung
+himself from his horse, to render his dying friend all the aid in his
+power. Evandale knew him, for he pressed his hand, and intimated by signs
+his wish to be conveyed to the house. This was done with all the care
+possible, and the clamorous grief of the lamenting household was far
+exceeded in intensity by the silent agony of Edith. Unconscious even of the
+presence of Morton, she was not aware that fate, who was removing one
+faithful lover, had restored another as if from the grave, until Lord
+Evandale taking their hands in his, united them together, raised his face
+as if to pray for a blessing on them, and sunk back and expired in the next
+moment.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>The marriage of Morton and Miss Bellenden was delayed for several months
+on account of Lord Evandale's death. Lady Margaret was prevailed on to
+countenance Morton, who now stood high in the reputation of the world, and
+Edith was her only hope, and she wished to see her happy. So Lady Margaret
+put her prejudice aside, for Morton's being an old Covenanter stuck sorely
+with her for some time, and consoled herself with the recollection that his
+most sacred majesty Charles the Second had once observed to her that
+marriage went by destiny.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="Peveril_of_the_Peak"></a>Peveril of the Peak</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p> "Peveril of the Peak," the longest of all the Waverley
+novels, was published in 1823. For the main idea of the tale Sir Walter was
+indebted to some papers found by his younger brother, Thomas Scott, in the
+Isle of Man. These papers gave the story of William Christian, who took the
+side of the Roundheads against the high-spirited Countess of Derby, and was
+subsequently tried and executed, according to the laws of the island, by
+that lady, for having dethroned his august mistress and imprisoned her and
+her family. "Peveril" is one of the most complicated, in respect of
+characters and incidents, of Scott's works. The canvas is crowded with
+personages, good, bad, and indifferent, yet all full of vitality and
+responding to the actual forces which their creator set in motion.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<h4><i>I.--Cavalier and Roundhead</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>In Charles the Second's time, the representative of an ancient family in
+the county of Derbyshire, long distinguished by the proud title of Peverils
+of the Peak, was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man with the attributes of an
+old-fashioned country gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>When the civil wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak raised a regiment for
+the king, and performed his part with sufficient gallantry for several
+rough years. He witnessed also the final defeat at Worcester, where, for
+the second time, he was made prisoner, and being regarded as an obstinate
+malignant, was in great danger of execution. But Sir Geoffrey's life was
+preserved by the interest of a friend, who possessed influence in the
+councils of Cromwell. This was a Major Bridgenorth, a gentleman of middling
+quality, who had inherited from his father a considerable sum of money, and
+to whom Sir Geoffrey was under pecuniary obligations.</p>
+
+<p>Moultrassie Hall, the residence of Mr. Bridgenorth, was but two miles
+distant from Martindale Castle, the ancient seat of the Peverils; and
+while, as Bridgenorth was a decided Roundhead, all friendly communication
+which had grown up betwixt Sir Geoffrey and his neighbour was abruptly
+broken asunder at the outbreak of hostilities, on the trial and execution
+of Charles I., Bridgenorth was so shocked, fearing the domination of the
+military, that his politics on many points became those of the Peverils,
+and he favoured the return of Charles II.</p>
+
+<p>Another bond of intimacy, stronger than the same political opinions, now
+united the families of the castle and the hall.</p>
+
+<p>In the beginning of the year 1658 Major Bridgenorth--who had lost
+successively a family of six young children--was childless; ere it ended,
+he had a daughter, but her birth was purchased by the death of an
+affectionate wife. The same voice which told Bridgenorth that he was a
+father of a living child--it was the friendly voice of Lady Peveril--told
+him that he was no longer a husband.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Peveril placed in Bridgenorth's arms the infant whose birth had
+cost him so dear, and conjured him to remember that his Alice was not yet
+dead, since she survived in the helpless child.</p>
+
+<p>"Take her away--take her away!" said the unhappy man. "Let me not look
+on her! It is but another blossom that has bloomed to fade."</p>
+
+<p>"I will take the child for a season," said Lady Peveril, "since the
+sight of her is so painful to you; and the little Alice shall share the
+nursery of our Julian until it shall be pleasure, and not pain, for you to
+look on her."</p>
+
+<p>"That hour will never come," said the unhappy father; "she will follow
+the rest--God's will be done! Lady, I thank you--I trust her to your
+care."</p>
+
+<p>It is enough to say that the Lady Peveril did undertake the duties of a
+mother to the little orphan, and the puny infant gradually improved in
+strength and in loveliness.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Geoffrey was naturally fond of children, and so much compassionated
+the sorrows of his neighbour, that morning after morning he made
+Moultrassie Hall the termination of his walk or ride, and said a single
+word of kindness as he passed. "How is it with you, Master Bridgenorth?"
+the knight would say, halting his horse by the latticed window. "I just
+looked in to bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that Julian is
+well, and little Alice is well, and all are well at Martindale Castle."</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you, Sir Geoffrey; my grateful duty waits on Lady Peveril," was
+generally Bridgenorth's only answer.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of Peveril suddenly assumed a new and different tone in the
+month of April, 1660. He rushed into the apartment of the astonished major
+with his eyes sparkling and called out, "Up, up, neighbour! No time now to
+mope in the chimney-corner! Where is your buff coat and broadsword, man?
+Take the true side once in your life, and mend past mistakes. Monk has
+declared at London--for the king. Fairfax is up in Yorkshire--for the king,
+for the king, man! I have a letter from Fairfax to secure Derby and
+Chesterfield with all the men I can make. All are friends now, and you and
+I, good neighbour, will charge abreast as good neighbours should!" The
+sturdy cavalier's heart became too full, and exclaiming, "Did ever I think
+to live to see this happy day!" he wept, to his own surprise as much as to
+that of Bridgenorth.</p>
+
+<p>The neighbours were both at Chesterfield when news arrived that the king
+had landed in England, and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his purpose of
+waiting upon his majesty, while the major desired nothing better than to
+find all well at Martindale on his return.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, on the subsequent morning, Bridgenorth went to Martindale
+Castle, and gave Lady Peveril the welcome assurances of her husband's
+safety.</p>
+
+<p>"May Almighty God be praised!" said the Lady Peveril. The door of the
+apartment opened as she spoke, and two lovely children entered. The eldest,
+Julian Peveril, a fine boy betwixt four and five years old, led in his hand
+a little girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered along.</p>
+
+<p>Bridgenorth cast a hasty glance upon his daughter, and then caught her
+in his arms and pressed her to his heart. The child, though at first
+alarmed at the vehemence of his caresses, presently smiled in reply to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Julian must lose his playfellow now, I suppose?" said Lady Peveril.
+"But the hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often."</p>
+
+<p>"God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie," said Major
+Bridgenorth hastily; "it has been the grave of her race. The air of the low
+grounds suited them not. I will seek for her some other place of
+abode."</p>
+
+<p>"Major Bridgenorth," answered the lady, "if she goes not to her father's
+house, she shall not quit mine. I will keep the little lady as a pledge of
+her safety and my own skill; and since you are afraid of the damp of the
+low grounds, I hope you will come here frequently to visit her."</p>
+
+<p>This was a proposal which went to the heart of Major Bridgenorth. He
+expressed his grateful duty to Lady Peveril, and having solemnly blessed
+his little girl, took his departure for Moultrassie Hall.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>II.--Separation</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>The friendly relations between the inhabitants of Martindale and
+Moultrassie came to an end with the common rejoicing over the restoration
+of Charles II.</p>
+
+<p>The Countess of Derby, queen in the Isle of Man, whose husband had
+perished for the crown, took refuge at the castle, fleeing from a warrant
+for her arrest, and told her story to Lady Peveril in the presence of Major
+Bridgenorth.</p>
+
+<p>The countess had kept the royal standard flying in Man until her vassal,
+William Christian, turned against her. Then for seven years she had endured
+strict captivity, until the tide turned, and she was once more in
+possession of the sovereignty of the island. "I was no sooner placed in
+possession of my rightful power," said the countess, "than I ordered the
+dempster to hold a high court of justice upon the traitor Christian,
+according to all the formalities of the isle. He was fully convicted of his
+crime, and without delay was shot to death by a file of musketeers."</p>
+
+<p>At hearing this, Bridgenorth clasped his hands together and groaned
+bitterly. "O Christian--worthy, well worthy of the name thou didst bear! My
+friend, my brother--the brother of my blessed wife Alice, art thou, then,
+cruelly murdered!"</p>
+
+<p>Then, drawing himself up with resolution, he demanded the arrest of the
+countess.</p>
+
+<p>This Lady Peveril would not permit, and Bridgenorth left the castle. The
+arrival of Sir Geoffrey from London with news that the council had sent a
+herald with the king's warrant for the Countess of Derby's arrest, made
+flight to the Isle of Man imperative. Bridgenorth, with a number of the old
+Roundheads, attempted to prevent the escape, but were beaten off by Sir
+Geoffrey and his men, and the countess embarked safely for her son's
+hereditary dominions, until the accusation against her for breach of the
+royal indemnity by the execution of Christian could be brought to some
+compromise.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving Martindale, the countess called Julian to her, and
+kissing his forehead said: "When I am safely established and have my
+present affairs arranged, you must let me have this little Julian of yours
+some time hence, to be nurtured in my house, held as my page, and the
+playfellow of the little Derby."</p>
+
+<p>Five years passed.</p>
+
+<p>Major Bridgenorth left his seat of Moultrassie Hall in the care of his
+old housekeeper and departed to no one knew whither, having in company with
+him his daughter, Alice, and Mrs. Deborah Debbitch, the child's early nurse
+at the castle.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Peveril, with many tears, took a temporary leave of her son,
+Julian, who was sent as had been long intended for the purpose of sharing
+the education of the young Earl of Derby. The plan seemed to be in every
+respect successful, and when, from time to time, Julian visited the house
+of his father, Lady Peveril had the satisfaction to see him improved in
+person and in manner. In process of time he became a gallant and
+accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the Continent with the
+young earl.</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>III.--The Island Lovers</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Julian, leaving the earl to go on a sailing voyage, assumed the dress of
+one who means to amuse himself with angling. Then, mounted upon a Manx
+pony, he rode briskly over the country, and halted at one of the mountain
+streams, and followed along the bank until he reached a house where once a
+fastness had stood, called the Black Fort.</p>
+
+<p>He received no answer to his knocks, and impatience getting the upper
+hand, Julian opened the door, and passed through the hall into a summer
+parlour.</p>
+
+<p>"How now--how is this?" said a woman's voice. "You here, Master Peveril,
+in spite of all the warnings you have had!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril. "I am here once more, against
+every prohibition. Where is Alice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where you will never see her, Master Julian--you may satisfy yourself
+of that," answered Mistress Deborah. "For if Dame Christian should learn
+that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you we
+should soon be obliged to find other quarters."</p>
+
+<p>"Come now, Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured," said Julian. "Consider,
+was not all this intimacy of ours of your own making? Did you not make
+yourself known to me the very first time I strolled up this glen with my
+fishing-rod, and tell me that you were my former keeper, and that Alice had
+been my little playfellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Dame Deborah; "but I did not bid you fall in love with us,
+though, or propose such a matter as marriage either to Alice or myself.
+Why, there is the knight your father, and my lady your mother; and there is
+her father that is half crazy with his religion, and her aunt that wears
+eternal black grogram for that unlucky Colonel Christian; and there is the
+Countess of Derby that would serve us all with the same sauce if we were
+thinking of anything that would displease her. Though I may indeed have
+said your estates were born to be united, and sure enough they might be
+were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth."</p>
+
+<p>The good nature of Dame Debbitch could not, however, resist the appeal
+of Julian, and she left the apartment and ran upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>The visits of Julian to the Black Fort had hitherto been only
+occasional, but his affections were fixed, and his ardent character had
+already declared his love. To-day, on her entrance to the room, Alice
+reproached him for again coming there against her earnest request. "It were
+better that we should part for a long time," she said softly, "and for
+heaven's sake let it be as soon as possible--perhaps it is even now too
+late to prevent some unpleasant accident. Spare yourself, Julian--spare
+me--and in mercy to us both depart, and return not again till you can be
+more reasonable."</p>
+
+<p>"Reasonable?" replied Julian. "Did you not say that if our parents could
+be brought to consent to our union, you would no longer oppose my
+suit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, indeed, Julian," said the almost weeping girl, "you ought not
+to press me thus. It is ungenerous, it is cruel. You dared not to mention
+the subject to your own father--how should you venture to mention it to
+mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Major Bridgenorth," replied Julian, "by my mother's account, is an
+estimable man. I will remind him that to my mother's care he owes the
+dearest treasure and comfort of his life. Let me but know where to find
+him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead my cause with
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not attempt it," said Alice. "He is already a man of sorrows.
+Besides, I could not tell you if I would where he is now to be found. My
+letters reach him from time to time by means of my Aunt Christian, but of
+his address I am entirely ignorant."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, by heaven," answered Julian, "I will watch his arrival in this
+island, and he shall answer me on the subject of my suit."</p>
+
+<p>"Then demand that answer now," said a voice, as the door opened, "for
+here stands Ralph Bridgenorth." As he spoke, he entered the apartment with
+slow and sedate step, and eyed alternately his daughter and Julian Peveril
+with a penetrating glance.</p>
+
+<p>Bidding his daughter learn to rule her passions and retire to her
+chamber, Bridgenorth turned to Julian and told him he had long known of
+this attachment, and went on to point out calmly the differences which made
+the union seem impossible. "But heaven hath at times opened a door where
+man beholds no means of issue," continued Bridgenorth. "Julian, your mother
+is, after the fashion of the world, one of the best and one of the wisest
+of women, with a mind as pure as the original frailty of our vile nature
+will permit. Of your father I say nothing--he is what the times and
+examples of others have made him. I have power over him, which ere now he
+might have felt, but there is one within his chambers who might have
+suffered in his suffering. Enough, however, of this, for to-day this is thy
+habitation."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he stretched out his thin, bony hand and grasped that of
+Julian Peveril.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a pleasant dream from
+which he fears to awake, and whose delight is mingled with wonder and with
+uncertainty, Julian found himself seated between Alice Bridgenorth and her
+father--the being he most loved on earth and the person whom he had ever
+considered as the great obstacle to their intercourse.</p>
+
+<p>It was evening when he departed. "You have not, after all," said
+Bridgenorth, bidding Julian farewell, "told me the cause of your coming
+hither. Will you find no words to ask of me the great boon which you seek?
+Nay, reply not to me now, but go, and peace be with you."</p>
+
+
+<h4><i>IV.--The Popish Plot</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Julian Peveril set out for London when the fictitious "popish plot" of
+Titus Oates had set England "stark staring mad," promising the countess
+that he would apprise her should any danger menace the Earl of Derby or
+herself. He had learnt that Bridgenorth was on the island with secret and
+severe orders, and that the countess in return was issuing warrants on her
+own authority for the apprehension of Bridgenorth, and before leaving he
+obtained one more interview with Alice, who was alive to the dangers on all
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>"Break off all intercourse with our family," said Alice. "Return to your
+parents--or, what will be much safer, visit the Continent, and abide till
+God sends better days to England, for these are black with many a storm.
+Placed as we are, with open war about to break out betwixt our parents and
+friends, we must part on this spot, and at this hour, never to meet
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"No, by heaven!" said Peveril, venturing to throw his arm around her;
+"we part not, Alice. If I am to leave my native land you shall be my
+companion in my exile. Fear not for my parents; they love me, and they will
+soon learn to love, in Alice, the only being on earth who could have
+rendered their son happy. And for your own father, when state and church
+intrigues allow him to bestow a thought upon you, will he not think your
+happiness is cared for when you are my wife? What could his pride desire
+better for you than the establishment which will one day be mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot--it cannot be," said Alice, faltering. "Think what I, the
+cause of all, should feel when your father frowns, your mother weeps, your
+noble friends stand aloof, and you--even you--shall have made the painful
+discovery that you have incurred the resentment of all to satisfy a boyish
+passion. Farewell, then, Julian; but first take the solemn advice which I
+impart to you: shun my father--you cannot walk in his paths; leave this
+island, which will soon be agitated by strange incidents; while you stay be
+on your guard, distrust everything----"</p>
+
+<p>Alice broke off suddenly, and with a faint shriek. Once more her father
+stood unexpectedly before them.</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you, Alice," he said solemnly to his daughter, "for the hints
+you have thrown out; and now retire, and let me complete the conference
+which you have commenced."</p>
+
+<p>"I go, sir," said Alice. "Julian, to you my last words are: Farewell and
+caution!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned from them, and was seen no more.</p>
+
+<p>Bridgenorth turned to Peveril. "You are willing to lead my only child
+into exile from her native country, to give her a claim to the kindness and
+protection from your family, which you know will be disregarded, on
+condition I consent to bestow her hand on you, with a fortune sufficient to
+have matched that of your ancestors when they had most reason to boast of
+their wealth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet, so little
+do I value the goods of this world, that it might not be utterly beyond thy
+power to reconcile me to the match which you have proposed."</p>
+
+<p>"Show me but the means, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril, "and you shall
+see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to your
+conditions."</p>
+
+<p>"This is a critical period," cried the major; "it becomes the duty of
+all men to step forward. You, Julian Peveril, yourself know the secret but
+rapid strides which Rome has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry within our
+Protestant land."</p>
+
+<p>"I trust to live and die in the faith of the reformed Church of
+England," said Peveril. "I have seen popery too closely to be friendly to
+its tenets."</p>
+
+<p>"Enough," said Bridgenorth, "that I find thee not as yet enlightened
+with the purer doctrine, but willing to uplift thy testimony against the
+errors and arts of the Church of Rome. At present thy prejudices occupy thy
+mind like the strong keeper of the house mentioned in Scripture. But,
+remember, thou wilt soon be called upon to justify what thou hast said, and
+I trust to see thy name rank high amongst those by whom the prey shall be
+rent from the mighty."</p>
+
+<p>"You have spoken to me in riddles, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril;
+"and I have asked for no explanation. But we do not part in anger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in anger, my son," answered Bridgenorth, "but in love and strong
+affection. I accept not thy suit, neither do I reject it; only he that
+would be my son must first show himself the true and loving child of his
+oppressed and deluded country. Farewell; thou shalt hear of me sooner than
+thou thinkest for."</p>
+
+<p>He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, leaving him with confused
+impressions of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Surprised to find himself so
+far in the good graces of Alice's father, he could not help suspecting that
+Bridgenorth was desirous, as the price of his favour, that he should adopt
+some line of conduct inconsistent with the principles of his education.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived in England, Julian first hastened to Martindale, only to find
+the castle in the hands of officers of the House of Commons and his mother
+and Sir Geoffrey prisoners on suspicion of conspiring in the popish plot,
+and about to be escorted to London by a strong guard. On their departure
+the property of the castle was taken possession of by an attorney in the
+name of Major Bridgenorth, a large creditor of the unfortunate knight.</p>
+
+<p>Julian himself was soon seized and put to trial with his father. But the
+fury of the people had, however, now begun to pass away, and men's minds
+were beginning to cool. The character of the witnesses was more closely
+sifted--their testimonies did not in all cases tally. Chief Justice
+Scroggs, sagacious in the signs of the times, saw that court favour, and
+probably popular opinion also, were about to declare against the witnesses
+and in favour of the accused.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Geoffrey and. Julian were both declared "not guilty" of the
+monstrous and absurd charges brought against them and the accusation
+against Lady Peveril was dropped.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had the Peverils, father and son, escaped to Lady Peveril's
+lodgings, and the first rapturous meeting over, than Alice Bridgenorth was
+presented by Julian's mother as the pretended daughter of an old cavalier,
+and Sir Geoffrey embraced her warmly. Julian, to whom his mother whispered
+that Alice was there by her father's authority, was as one enchanted, when
+a gentleman arrived from Whitehall bidding Sir Geoffrey and his son
+instantly attend upon the king's presence.</p>
+
+<p>The Countess of Derby had come openly to court, braving all danger, when
+she heard of the arrest of the Peverils, resolved to save their lives. From
+the king's own lips she heard of the acquittal, and Charles II., for the
+moment anxious to reward the fidelity of his old follower, invited them
+forthwith to Whitehall.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Geoffrey, with every feeling of his early life afloat in his memory,
+threw himself on his knees before the king, and Charles said, with feeling,
+"My good Sir Geoffrey, you have had some hard measure; we owe you amends,
+and will find time to pay our debt."</p>
+
+<p>Later in the evening the Countess of Derby, who had had much private
+conversation with Julian, said, "Your majesty, there is a certain Major
+Bridgenorth, who designs, as we are informed, to leave England for ever. By
+dint of the law he hath acquired strong possession over the domains of
+Peveril, which he desires to restore to the ancient owners with much fair
+land besides, conditionally that our young Julian will receive them as the
+dowry of his only child."</p>
+
+<p>"By my faith!" said the king, "she must be a foul-mouthed wench if
+Julian requires to be pressed to accept her on such fair conditions."</p>
+
+<p>"They love each other like lovers of the last age," said the countess;
+"but the stout old knight likes not the roundheaded alliance."</p>
+
+<p>"Our royal word shall put that to rights," said the king. "Sir Geoffrey
+Peveril has not suffered hardship so often at our command that he will
+refuse our recommendation when it comes to make amends for all losses."</p>
+
+<p>The king did not speak without being fully aware of the ascendancy which
+he possessed over the spirit of the old Tory; and within four weeks
+afterwards the bells of Martindale-Moultrassie were ringing for the union
+of the two families, and the beacon-light of the castle blazed high over
+hill and dale.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+Project Gutenberg's The World's Greatest Books, Vol VII, by Various
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+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
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+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books, Vol VII
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: March 9, 2004 [EBook #11527]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, V7 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS
+
+JOINT EDITORS
+
+ARTHUR MEE Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
+
+J.A. HAMMERTON Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
+
+VOL. VII FICTION
+
+
+MCMX
+
+
+
+_Table of Contents_
+
+PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE
+  Headlong Hall
+  Nightmare Abbey
+
+PORTER, JANE
+  Scottish Chiefs
+
+PUSHKIN
+  The Captain's Daughter
+
+RABELAIS
+  Gargantua and Pantagruel
+
+READE, CHARLES
+  Hard Cash
+  Never Too Late to Mend
+  The Cloister and the Hearth
+
+RICHARDSON, SAMUEL
+  Pamela
+  Clarissa Harlowe
+  Sir Charles Grandison
+
+RICHTER, JEAN PAUL
+  Hesperus
+  Titan
+
+ROSEGGER, PETER
+  Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster
+
+ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES
+  New Heloise
+
+SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE
+  Paul and Virginia
+
+SAND, GEORGE
+  Consuelo
+  Mauprat
+
+SCOTT, MICHAEL
+  Tom Cringle's Log
+
+SCOTT, SIR WALTER
+  Antiquary
+  Guy Mannering
+  Heart of Midlothian
+  Ivanhoe
+  Kenilworth
+  Old Mortality
+  Peveril of the Peak
+  (SCOTT: _Continued in Vol. VIII_.)
+
+Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of
+Volume XX
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK
+
+
+Headlong Hall
+
+
+     The novels of Thomas Love Peacock still find admirers among
+     cultured readers, but his extravagant satire and a certain
+     bookish awkwardness will never appeal to the great
+     novel-reading public. The son of a London glass merchant,
+     Peacock was born at Weymouth on October 18, 1785. Early in
+     life he was engaged in some mercantile occupation, which,
+     however, he did not follow up for long. Then came a period of
+     study, and he became an excellent classical scholar. His first
+     ambition was to become a poet, and between 1804 and 1806 he
+     published two slender volumes of verse, which attracted little
+     or no attention. Yet Peacock was a poet of considerable merit,
+     his best work in this direction being scattered at random
+     throughout his novels. In 1812 he contracted a friendship with
+     Shelley, whose executor he became with Lord Byron. Peacock's
+     first novel, "Headlong Hall," appeared in 1816, and is
+     interesting not so much as a story pure and simple, but as a
+     study of the author's own temperament. His personalities are
+     seldom real live characters; they are, rather, mouthpieces
+     created for the purposes of discussion. Peacock died on
+     January 23, 1866.
+
+
+_I.--The Philosophers_
+
+
+The ambiguous light of a December morning, peeping through the windows
+of the Holyhead mail, dispelled the soft visions of the four insides,
+who had slept, or seemed to sleep, through the first seventy miles of
+the road.
+
+A lively remark that the day was none of the finest having elicited a
+repartee of "quite the contrary," the various knotty points of
+meteorology were successively discussed and exhausted; and, the ice
+being thus broken, in the course of conversation it appeared that all
+four, though perfect strangers to each other, were actually bound to the
+same point, namely, Headlong Hall, the seat of the ancient family of the
+Headlongs, of the vale of Llanberris, in Carnarvonshire.
+
+The present representative of the house, Harry Headlong, Esquire, was,
+like all other Welsh squires, fond of shooting, hunting, racing,
+drinking, and other such innocent amusements. But, unlike other Welsh
+squires, he had actually suffered books to find their way into his
+house; and, by dint of lounging over them after dinner, he became seized
+with a violent passion to be thought a philosopher and a man of taste,
+and had formed in London as extensive an acquaintance with philosophers
+and dilettanti as his utmost ambition could desire. It now became his
+chief wish to have them all together in Headlong Hall, arguing over his
+old Port and Burgundy the various knotty points which puzzled him. He
+had, therefore, sent them invitations in due form to pass their
+Christmas at Headlong Hall, and four of the chosen guests were now on
+their way in the four corners of the Holyhead mail.
+
+These four persons were Mr. Foster, the optimist, who believed in the
+improvement of mankind; Mr. Escot, the pessimist, who saw mankind
+constantly deteriorating; Mr. Jenkison, who thought things were very
+well as they were; and the Reverend Doctor Gaster, who, though neither a
+philosopher nor a man of taste, had won the squire's fancy by a learned
+dissertation on the art of stuffing a turkey.
+
+In the midst of an animated conversation the coach stopped, and the
+coachman, opening the door, vociferated: "Breakfast, gentlemen," a sound
+which so gladdened the ears of the divine, that the alacrity with which
+he sprang from the vehicle distorted his ankle, and he was obliged to
+limp into the inn between Mr. Escot and Mr. Jenkison, the former
+observing that he ought to look for nothing but evil and, therefore,
+should not be surprised at this little accident; the latter remarking
+that the comfort of a good breakfast and the pain of a sprained ankle
+pretty exactly balanced each other.
+
+The morning being extremely cold, the doctor contrived to be seated as
+near the fire as was consistent with his other object of having a
+perfect command of the table and its apparatus, which consisted not only
+of the ordinary comforts of tea and toast, but of a delicious supply of
+new-laid eggs and a magnificent round of beef; against which Mr. Escot
+immediately pointed all the artillery of his eloquence, declaring the
+use of animal food, conjointly with that of fire, to be one of the
+principal causes of the present degeneracy of mankind.
+
+"The natural and original man," said he, "lived in the woods; the roots
+and fruits of the earth supplied his simple nutriment; he had few
+desires, and no diseases. But, when he began to sacrifice victims on the
+altar of superstition, to pursue the goat and the deer, and, by the
+pernicious invention of fire, to pervert their flesh into food, luxury,
+disease, and premature death were let loose upon the world. From that
+period the stature of mankind has been in a state of gradual diminution,
+and I have not the least doubt that it will continue to grow _small by
+degrees, and lamentably less_, till the whole race will vanish
+imperceptibly from the face of the earth."
+
+"I cannot agree," said Mr. Foster, "in the consequences being so very
+disastrous, though I admit that in some respects the use of animal food
+retards the perfectibility of the species."
+
+"In the controversy concerning animal and vegetable food," said Mr.
+Jenkison, "there is much to be said on both sides. I content myself with
+a mixed diet, and make a point of eating whatever is placed before me,
+provided it be good in its kind."
+
+In this opinion his two brother philosophers practically coincided,
+though they both ran down the theory as highly detrimental to the best
+interests of man.
+
+The discussion raged for some time on the question whether man was a
+carnivorous or frugivorous animal.
+
+"I am no anatomist," said Mr. Jenkison, "and cannot decide where doctors
+disagree; in the meantime, I conclude that man is omnivorous, and on
+that conclusion I act."
+
+"Your conclusion is truly orthodox," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster;
+"indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the
+practise of the church in all ages shows----"
+
+"That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes," said Mr. Escot.
+
+"It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine," said the reverend
+doctor.
+
+The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed.
+
+"You will allow," said Mr. Foster, as soon as they were again in motion,
+"that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two
+hundred miles of forest with as much facility as one of these vehicles
+transports you and me."
+
+"I am certain," said Mr. Escot, "that a wild man can travel an immense
+distance without fatigue; but what is the advantage of locomotion? The
+wild man is happy in one spot, and there he remains; the civilised man
+is wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates
+himself on being accommodated with a machine that will whirl him to
+another, where he will be just as miserable as ever."
+
+
+_II.--The Squire and his Guests_
+
+
+Squire Headlong, in the meanwhile, was superintending operations in four
+scenes of action at the Hall--the cellar, the library, the
+picture-gallery, and the dining-room-preparing for the reception of his
+philosophical visitors. His myrmidon on this occasion was a little,
+red-nosed butler, who waddled about the house after his master, while
+the latter bounced from room to room like a cracker. Multitudes of
+packages had arrived by land and water, from London, and Liverpool, and
+Chester, and Manchester, and various parts of the mountains; books,
+wine, cheese, mathematical instruments, turkeys, figs, soda-water,
+fiddles, flutes, tea, sugar, eggs, French horns, sofas, chairs, tables,
+carpets, beds, fruits, looking-glasses, nuts, drawing-books, bottled
+ale, pickles, and fish sauce, patent lamps, barrels of oysters, lemons,
+and jars of Portugal grapes. These, arriving in succession, and with
+infinite rapidity, had been deposited at random--as the convenience of
+the moment dictated--sofas in the cellar, hampers of ale in the
+drawing-room, and fiddles and fish-sauce in the library. The servants
+unpacking all these in furious haste, and flying with them from place to
+place, tumbled over one another upstairs and down. All was bustle,
+uproar, and confusion; yet nothing seemed to advance, while the rage and
+impetuosity of the squire continued fermenting to the highest degree of
+exasperation, which he signified, from time to time, by converting some
+newly-unpacked article, such as a book, a bottle, a ham, or a fiddle,
+into a missile against the head of some unfortunate servant.
+
+In the midst of this scene of confusion thrice confounded, arrived the
+lovely Caprioletta Headlong, the squire's sister, whom he had sent for
+to do the honours of his house, beaming like light on chaos, to arrange
+disorder and harmonise discord. The tempestuous spirit of her brother
+became as smooth as the surface of the lake of Llanberris, and in less
+than twenty-four hours after her arrival, everything was disposed in its
+proper station, and the squire began to be all impatience for the
+appearance of his promised guests.
+
+The first visitor was Marmaduke Milestone, Esq., a picturesque landscape
+gardener of the first celebrity, who promised himself the glorious
+achievement of polishing and trimming the rocks of Llanberris.
+
+A postchaise brought the Reverend Doctor Gaster, and then came the three
+philosophers.
+
+The next arrival was that of Mr. Cranium and his lovely daughter, Miss
+Cephalis Cranium, who flew to the arms of her dear friend Caprioletta.
+Miss Cephalis blushed like a carnation at the sight of Mr. Escot, and
+Mr. Escot glowed like a corn-poppy at the sight of Miss Cephalis.
+
+Mr. Escot had formerly been the received lover of Miss Cephalis, till he
+incurred the indignation of her father by laughing at a very profound
+dissertation which the old gentleman delivered.
+
+Next arrived a postchaise containing four insides. These personages were
+two very profound critics, Mr. Gall and Mr. Treacle, and two very
+multitudinous versifiers, Mr. Nightshade and Mr. McLaurel.
+
+The last arrivals were Mr. Cornelius Chromatic, the most scientific of
+all amateurs of the fiddle, with his two blooming daughters, Miss
+Tenorina and Miss Graziosa; Sir Patrick O'Prism, a dilettante painter of
+high renown, and his maiden aunt, Miss Philomela Poppyseed, a compounder
+of novels written for the express purpose of supporting every species of
+superstition and prejudice; and Mr. Panscope, the chemical, botanical,
+geological, astronomical, critical philosopher, who had run through the
+whole circle of the sciences and understood them all equally well.
+
+Mr. Milestone was impatient to take a walk round the grounds, that he
+might examine how far the system of clumping and levelling could be
+carried advantageously into effect; and several of the party supporting
+the proposition, with Squire Headlong and Mr. Milestone leading the van,
+they commenced their perambulation.
+
+
+_III.--The Tower and the Skull_
+
+
+The result of Mr. Milestone's eloquence was that he and the squire set
+out again, immediately after breakfast next morning, to examine the
+capabilities of the scenery. The object that most attracted Mr.
+Milestone's admiration was a ruined tower on a projecting point of rock,
+almost totally overgrown with ivy. This ivy, Mr. Milestone observed,
+required trimming and clearing in various parts; a little pointing and
+polishing was necessary for the dilapidated walls; and the whole effect
+would be materially increased by a plantation of spruce fir, the present
+rugged and broken ascent being first converted into a beautiful slope,
+which might be easily effected by blowing up a part of the rock with
+gunpowder, laying on a quantity of fine mould, and covering the whole
+with an elegant stratum of turf.
+
+Squire Headlong caught with avidity at this suggestion, and as he had
+always a store of gunpowder in the house, he insisted on commencing
+operations immediately. Accordingly, he bounded back to the house and
+speedily returned, accompanied by the little butler and half a dozen
+servants and labourers with pickaxes and gunpowder, a hanging stove, and
+a poker, together with a basket of cold meat and two or three bottles of
+Madeira.
+
+Mr. Milestone superintended the proceedings. The rock was excavated, the
+powder introduced, the apertures strongly blockaded with fragments of
+stone; a long train was laid to a spot sufficiently remote from the
+possibility of harm, and the squire seized the poker, and applied the
+end of it to the train.
+
+At this critical moment Mr. Cranium and Mr. Panscope appeared at the top
+of the tower, which, unseeing and unseen, they had ascended on the
+opposite side to that where the squire and Mr. Milestone were conducting
+their operations. Their sudden appearance a little dismayed the squire,
+who, however, comforted himself with the reflection that the tower was
+perfectly safe, and that his friends were in no probable danger but of a
+knock on the head from a flying fragment of stone.
+
+The explosion took place, and the shattered rock was hurled into the air
+in the midst of fire and smoke. The tower remained untouched, but the
+influence of sudden fear had so violent an effect on Mr. Cranium, that
+he lost his balance, and alighted in an ivy bush, which, giving way
+beneath him, transferred him to a tuft of hazel at its base, which
+consigned him to the boughs of an ash that had rooted itself in a
+fissure about halfway down the rock, which finally transmitted him to
+the waters of the lake.
+
+Squire Headlong anxiously watched the tower as the smoke rolled away;
+but when the shadowy curtain was withdrawn, and Mr. Panscope was
+discovered, alone, in a tragical attitude, his apprehensions became
+boundless, and he concluded that a flying fragment of rock had killed
+Mr. Cranium.
+
+Mr. Escot arrived at the scene of the disaster just as Mr. Cranium,
+utterly destitute of the art of swimming, was in imminent danger of
+drowning. Mr. Escot immediately plunged in to his assistance, and
+brought him alive and in safety to a shelving part of the shore. Their
+landing was hailed with a shout from the delighted squire, who, shaking
+them both heartily by the hand, and making ten thousand lame apologies
+to Mr. Cranium, concluded by asking, in a pathetic tone, "How much water
+he had swallowed?" and without waiting for his answer, filled a large
+tumbler with Madeira, and insisted on his tossing it off, which was no
+sooner said than done. Mr. Panscope descended the tower, which he vowed
+never again to approach within a quarter of a mile.
+
+The squire took care that Mr. Cranium should be seated next to him at
+dinner, and plied him so hard with Madeira, to prevent him, as he said,
+from taking cold, that long before the ladies sent in their summons to
+coffee, the squire was under the necessity of ringing for three or four
+servants to carry him to bed, observing, with a smile of great
+satisfaction, that he was in a very excellent way for escaping any ill
+consequences that might have resulted from his accident.
+
+The beautiful Cephalis, being thus freed from his surveillance, was
+enabled, during the course of the evening, to develop to his preserver
+the full extent of her gratitude.
+
+Mr. Escot passed a sleepless night, the ordinary effect of love,
+according to some amatory poets, and arose with the first peep of day.
+He sallied forth to enjoy the balmy breeze of morning, which any but a
+lover might have thought too cool; for it was an intense frost, the sun
+had not risen, and the wind was rather fresh from the north-east. But a
+lover is supposed to have "a fire in his heart and a fire in his brain,"
+and the philosopher walked on, careless of whither he went, till he
+found himself near the enclosure of a little mountain chapel. Passing
+through the wicket, and peeping through the chapel window, he could not
+refrain from reciting a verse in Greek aloud, to the great terror of the
+sexton, who was just entering the churchyard.
+
+Mr. Escot at once decided that now was the time to get extensive and
+accurate information concerning his theory of the physical deterioration
+of man.
+
+"You have been sexton here," said Mr. Escot, in the language of Hamlet,
+"man and boy, forty years."
+
+The sexton turned pale; the period named was so nearly the true.
+
+"During this period you have, of course, dug up many bones of the people
+of ancient times. Perhaps you can show me a few."
+
+The sexton grinned a ghastly smile.
+
+"Will you take your Bible oath you don't want them to raise the devil
+with?"
+
+"Willingly," said Mr. Escot. "I have an abstruse reason for the
+inquiry."
+
+"Why, if you have an _obtuse_ reason," said the sexton, "that alters the
+case."
+
+So saying, he led the way to the bone-house, from which he began to
+throw out various bones and skulls, and amongst them a skull of very
+extraordinary magnitude, which he swore by St. David was the skull of
+Cadwallader.
+
+"How do you know this to be his skull?" said Mr. Escot.
+
+"He was the biggest man that ever lived, and he was buried here; and
+this is the biggest skull I ever found. You see now----"
+
+"Nothing could be more logical," said Mr. Escot. "My good friend, will
+you allow me to take away this skull with me?"
+
+"St. Winifred bless us!" exclaimed the sexton. "Would you have me
+haunted by his ghost for taking his blessed bones out of consecrated
+ground? For, look you, his epitaph says:
+
+    "'He that my bones shall ill bestow,
+    Leek in his ground shall never grow.'"
+
+"But you will well bestow them in giving them to me," said Mr. Escot. "I
+will have this illustrious skull bound with a silver rim and filled with
+wine, for when the wine is in the brain is out."
+
+Saying these words, he put a dollar into the hand of the sexton, who
+instantly stood spellbound, while Mr. Escot walked off in triumph with
+the skull of Cadwallader.
+
+
+_IV.--The Proposals_
+
+
+The Christmas ball, when relatives and friends assembled from far and
+wide, was the great entertainment given at Headlong Hall from time
+immemorial, and it was on the morning after the ball that Miss
+Brindle-Mew Tabitha Ap-Headlong, the squire's maiden aunt, took her
+nephew aside, and told him it was time he was married if the family was
+not to become extinct.
+
+"Egad!" said Squire Headlong. "That is very true. I'll marry directly. A
+good opportunity to fix on someone now they are all here, and I'll pop
+the question without further ceremony. I'll think of somebody presently.
+I should like to be married on the same day with Caprioletta. She is
+going to be married to my friend Mr. Foster, the philosopher."
+
+"Oh!" said the maiden aunt, "that a daughter of our ancient family
+should marry a philosopher!"
+
+"It's Caprioletta's affair, not mine," said Squire Headlong. "I tell you
+the matter is settled, fixed, determined, and so am I, to be married on
+the same day. I don't know, now I think of it, whom I can choose better
+than one of the daughters of my friend Chromatic."
+
+With that the squire flew over to Mr. Chromatic, and, with a hearty slap
+on the shoulder, asked him "How he should like him for a son-in-law?"
+
+Mr. Chromatic, rubbing his shoulder, and highly delighted with the
+proposal, answered, "Very much indeed"; but, proceeding to ascertain
+which of his daughters had captivated the squire, the squire was unable
+to satisfy his curiosity.
+
+"I hope," said Mr. Chromatic, "it may be Tenorina, for I imagine
+Graziosa has conceived a penchant for Sir Patrick O'Prism."
+
+"Tenorina, exactly!" said Squire Headlong; and became so impatient to
+bring the matter to a conclusion that Mr. Chromatic undertook to
+communicate with his daughter immediately. The young lady proved to be
+as ready as the squire, and the preliminaries were arranged in little
+more than five minutes.
+
+Mr. Chromatic's words concerning his daughter Graziosa and Sir Patrick
+O'Prism were not lost on the squire, who at once determined to have as
+many companions in the scrape as possible; and who, as soon as he could
+tear himself from Mrs. Headlong elect, took three flying bounds across
+the room to the baronet, and said, "So, Sir Patrick, I find you and I
+are going to be married?"
+
+"Are we?" said Sir Patrick. "Then sure, won't I wish you joy, and myself
+too, for this is the first I have heard of it."
+
+"Well," said Squire Headlong, "I have made up my mind to it, and you
+must not disappoint me."
+
+"To be sure, I won't, if I can help it," said Sir Patrick. "And pray,
+now, who is that I am to be turning into Lady O'Prism?"
+
+"Miss Graziosa Chromatic," said the squire.
+
+"Och violet and vermilion!" said Sir Patrick; "though I never thought of
+it before, I dare say she will suit me as well as another; but then you
+must persuade the ould Orpheus to draw out a few notes of rather a more
+magical description than those he is so fond of scraping on his crazy
+violin."
+
+"To be sure, he shall," said the squire; and immediately returning to
+Mr. Chromatic, concluded the negotiation for Sir Patrick as
+expeditiously as he had done for himself.
+
+The squire next addressed himself to Mr. Escot: "Here are three couples
+of us going to throw off together, with the Reverend Doctor Gaster for
+whipper in. Now I think you cannot do better than to make the fourth
+with Miss Cephalis."
+
+"Indeed?" said Mr. Escot. "Nothing would be more agreeable to both of us
+than such an arrangement; but the old gentleman since I first knew him
+has changed like the rest of the world, very lamentably for the worse.".
+
+"I'll settle him," said Squire Headlong; and immediately posted up to
+Mr. Cranium, informing him that four marriages were about to take place
+by way of a merry winding up of the Christmas festivities. "In the first
+place," said the squire, "my sister and Mr. Foster; in the second, Miss
+Graziosa Chromatic and Sir Patrick O'Prism; in the third, Miss Tenorina
+Chromatic and your humble servant; and in the fourth, to which, by the
+by, your consent is wanted, your daughter----"
+
+"And Mr. Panscope," said Mr. Cranium.
+
+"And Mr. Escot," said Squire Headlong. What would you have better? He
+has ten thousand virtues."
+
+"So has Mr. Panscope. He has ten thousand a year."
+
+"Virtues?" said Squire Headlong.
+
+"Pounds," said Mr. Cranium.
+
+"Who fished you out of the water?" said Squire Headlong..
+
+"What is that to the purpose?" said Mr. Cranium. "The whole process of
+the action was mechanical and necessary. He could no more help jumping
+into the water than I could help falling into it."
+
+"Very well," said the squire. "Your daughter and Mr. Escot are
+necessitated to love one another."
+
+Mr. Cranium, after a profound reverie, said, "Do you think Mr. Escot
+would give me that skull?"
+
+"Skull?" said Squire Headlong.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Cranium. "The skull of Cadwallader."
+
+"To be sure he will. How can you doubt it?"
+
+"I simply know," said Mr. Cranium, "that if it were once in my
+possession I would not part with it for any acquisition on earth, much
+less for a wife."
+
+The squire flew over to Mr. Escot. "I told you," said he, "I would
+settle him; but there is a very hard condition attached to his
+compliance. Nothing less than the absolute and unconditional surrender
+of the skull of Cadwallader."
+
+"I resign it," said Mr. Escot.
+
+"The skull is yours," said the squire, skipping over to Mr. Cranium.
+
+"I am perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Cranium.
+
+"The lady is yours," said the squire, skipping back to Mr. Escot.
+
+"I am the happiest man alive," said Mr. Escot, and he flew off as nimbly
+as Squire Headlong himself, to impart the happy intelligence to his
+beautiful Cephalis.
+
+The departure of the ball visitors then took place, and the squire did
+not suffer many days to elapse before the spiritual metamorphosis of
+eight into four was effected by the clerical dexterity of the Reverend
+Doctor Gaster.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Nightmare Abbey
+
+
+     "Nightmare Abbey" is perhaps the most extravagant of all
+     Peacock's stories, and, with the exception of "Headlong Hall,"
+     it obtained more vogue on its publication in 1818 than any of
+     his other works. It is eminently characteristic of its
+     author--the eighteenth century Rabelaisian pagan who prided
+     himself on his antagonism towards religion, yet whose likes
+     and dislikes were invariably inspired by hatred of cant and
+     enthusiasm for progress. The hero of the story is easily
+     distinguishable as the poet Shelley. On the whole the
+     characters are more life-like presentations of humanity than
+     those of "Headlong Hall." Simple and weak though the plot is,
+     the reader is carried along to the end through a brilliant
+     maze of wit and satire; underneath which outward show of
+     irresponsible fun there pervades a gloomy note of tragedy.
+
+
+_I.--Mr. Glowry and His Son_
+
+
+Nightmare Abbey, a venerable family mansion in a highly picturesque
+state of semi-dilapidation, in the county of, Lincoln, had the honour to
+be the seat of Christopher Glowry, Esquire, a gentleman much troubled
+with those phantoms of indigestion commonly called "blue devils."
+
+Disappointed both in love and friendship, he had come to the conclusion
+that there was but one good thing in the world, videlicet, a good
+dinner; and remained a widower, with one only son and heir, Scythrop.
+
+This son had been sent to a public-school, where a little learning was
+painfully beaten into him, and thence to the university, where it was
+carefully taken out of him, and he finished his education to the high
+satisfaction of the master and fellows of his college. He passed his
+vacations sometimes at Nightmare Abbey, and sometimes in London, at the
+house of his uncle, Mr. Hilary, a very cheerful and elastic gentleman.
+The company that frequented his house was the gayest of the gay.
+Scythrop danced with the ladies and drank with the gentlemen, and was
+pronounced by both a very accomplished, charming fellow.
+
+Here he first saw the beautiful Miss Emily Girouette, and fell in love;
+he was favourably received, but the respective fathers quarrelled about
+the terms of the bargain, and the two lovers were torn asunder, weeping
+and vowing eternal constancy; and in three weeks the lady was led a
+smiling bride to the altar, leaving Scythrop half distracted. His
+father, to comfort him, read him a commentary on Ecclesiastes, of his
+own composition; it was thrown away upon Scythrop, who retired to his
+tower as dismal and disconsolate as before.
+
+The tower which Scythrop inhabited stood at the south-eastern angle of
+the abbey; the south-western was ruinous and full of owls; the
+north-eastern contained the apartments of Mr. Glowry; the north-eastern
+tower was appropriated to the servants, whom Mr. Glowry always chose by
+one of two criterions--a long face or a dismal name. The main building was
+divided into room of state, spacious apartments for feasting, and
+numerous bedrooms for visitors, who, however, were few.
+
+Occasional visits were paid by Mr. and Mrs. Hilary, but another visitor,
+much more to Mr. dowry's taste, was Mr. Flosky, a very lachrymose and
+morbid gentleman, of some note in the literary world, with a very fine
+sense of the grim and the tearful.
+
+But the dearest friend of Mr. Glowry, and his most welcome guest, was
+Mr. Toobad, the Manichean Millenarian. The twelfth verse of the twelfth
+chapter of Revelations was always in his mouth: "Woe to the inhabitants
+of the earth and of the sea, for the devil is come among you, having
+great wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time." He maintained
+that this precise time was the point of the plenitude of the power of
+the Evil Principle; he used to add that by and by he would be cast down,
+and a happy order of things succeed, but never omitted to add "Not in
+our time," which last words were always echoed by Mr. Glowry, in doleful
+response.
+
+Shortly after Scythrop's disappointment Mr. Glowry was involved in a
+lawsuit, which compelled his attendance in London, and Scythrop was left
+alone, to wander about, with the "Sorrows of Werter" in his hand.
+
+He now became troubled with the passion for reforming the world, and
+meditated on the practicability of reviving a confederacy of
+regenerators. He wrote and published a treatise in which his meanings
+were carefully wrapped up in the monk's hood of transcendental
+technology, but filled with hints of matters deep and dangerous, which
+he thought would set the whole nation in a ferment, and awaited the
+result in awful expectation; some months after he received a letter from
+his bookseller, informing him that only seven copies had been sold, and
+concluding with a polite request for the balance.
+
+"Seven copies!" he thought. "Seven is a mystical number, and the omen is
+good. Let me find the seven purchasers, and they shall be the seven
+golden candlesticks with which I shall illuminate the world."
+
+Scythrop had a certain portion of mechanical genius, and constructed
+models of cells and recesses, sliding panels and secret passages, which
+would have baffled the skill of the Parisian police. In his father's
+absence, he smuggled a dumb carpenter into his tower, and gave reality
+to one of these models. He foresaw that a great leader of regeneration
+would be involved in fearful dilemmas, and determined to adopt all
+possible precautions for his own preservation.
+
+In the meantime, he drank Madeira and laid deep schemes for a thorough
+repair of the crazy fabric of human nature.
+
+
+_II.--Marionetta_
+
+
+Mr. Glowry returned with the loss of his lawsuit, and found Scythrop in
+a mood most sympathetically tragic. His friends, whom we have mentioned,
+availed themselves of his return to pay him a simultaneous visit, and at
+the same time arrived Scythrop's friend and fellow-collegian, the Hon.
+Mr. Listless, a young gentleman devoured with a gloomy and
+misanthropical _nil curo_.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Hilary brought with them an orphan niece, Miss Marionetta
+Celestina O'Carroll, a blooming and accomplished young lady, who
+exhibited in her own character all the diversities of an April sky. Her
+hair was light brown, her eyes hazel, her features regular, and her
+person surpassingly graceful. She had some coquetry, and more caprice,
+liking and disliking almost in the same moment, and had not been three
+days in the abbey before she threw out all the lures of her beauty and
+accomplishments to make a prize of her cousin Scythrop's heart.
+
+Scythrop's romantic dreams had given him many pure anticipated
+cognitions of combinations of beauty and intelligence, which, he had
+some misgivings, were not realised by Marionetta, but he soon became
+distractedly in love, which, when the lady perceived, she altered her
+tactics and assumed coldness and reserve. Scythrop was confounded, but,
+instead of falling at her feet begging explanation, he retreated to his
+tower, seated himself in the president's chair of his imaginary
+tribunal, summoned Marionetta with terrible formalities, frightened her
+out of her wits, disclosed himself, and clasped the beautiful penitent
+to his bosom.
+
+While he was acting this reverie, his study door opened, and the real
+Marionetta appeared.
+
+"For heaven's sake, Scythrop," said she, "what is the matter?"
+
+"For heaven's sake, indeed!" said Scythrop, "for your sake, Marionetta,
+and you are my heaven! Distraction is the matter. I adore you, and your
+cruelty drives me mad!" He threw himself at her feet, and breathed a
+thousand vows in the most passionate language of romance.
+
+With a very arch look, she said: "I prithee, deliver thyself like a man
+of the world." The levity of this quotation jarred so discordantly on
+the romantic inamorato that he sprang to his feet, and beat his forehead
+with his clenched fist. The young lady was terrified, and, taking his
+hand in hers, said in her tenderest tone: "What would you have,
+Scythrop?"
+
+Scythrop was in heaven again.
+
+"What but you, Marionetta! You, for the companion of my studies, the
+auxiliary of my great designs for mankind."
+
+"I am afraid I should be but a poor auxiliary, Scythrop. What would you
+have me do?"
+
+"Do as Rosalia does with Carlos, Marionetta. Let us each open a vein in
+the other's arm, mix our blood in a bowl, and drink it as a sacrament of
+love; then we shall see visions of transcendental illumination."
+
+Marionetta disengaged herself suddenly, and fled with precipitation.
+Scythrop pursued her, crying, "Stop, stop Marionetta--my life, my love!"
+and was gaining rapidly on her flight, when he came into sudden and
+violent contact with Mr. Toobad, and they both plunged together to the
+foot of the stairs, which gave the young lady time to escape and enclose
+herself in her chamber.
+
+This was witnessed by Mr. Glowry, and he determined on a full
+explanation. He therefore entered Scythrop Tower, and at once said:
+
+"So, sir, you are in love with your cousin."
+
+Scythrop, with as little hesitation, answered, "Yes, sir."
+
+"That is candid, at least. It is very provoking, very disappointing. I
+could not have supposed that you could have been infatuated with such a
+dancing, laughing, singing, careless, merry hearted thing as
+Marionetta--and with no fortune. Besides, sir, I have made a choice for
+you. Such a lovely, serious creature, in a fine state of high
+dissatisfaction with the world! Sir, I have pledged my honour to the
+contract, and now, sir, what is to be done?"
+
+"Indeed, sir, I cannot say. I claim on this occasion that liberty of
+action which is the co-natal prerogative of every rational being."
+
+"Liberty of action, sir! There is no such thing, and if you do not
+comply with my wishes, I shall be under the necessity of disinheriting
+you, though I shall do so with tears in my eyes."
+
+He immediately sought Mrs. Hilary, and communicated his views to her.
+She straightway hinted to her niece, whom she loved as her own child,
+that dignity and decorum required them to leave the abbey at once.
+Marionetta listened in silent submission, but when Scythrop entered, and
+threw himself at her feet in a paroxysm of grief, she threw her arms
+round his neck, and burst into tears.
+
+Scythrop snatched from its repository his ancestor's skull, filled it
+with Madeira, and presenting himself before Mr. Glowry, threatened to
+drink off the contents, if he did not promise that Marionetta should not
+leave the abbey without her own consent. Mr. Glowry, who took the
+Madeira to be some deadly brewage, gave his promise in dismal panic.
+Scythrop returned to Marionetta with a joyful heart, and drank the
+Maderia by the way, leaving his father much disturbed, for he had set
+his heart on marrying his son to the daughter of his friend, Mr. Toobad.
+
+
+_III.--Celinda_
+
+
+Mr. Toobad, too much accustomed to the intermeddling of the devil in all
+his affairs to be astonished at this new trace of his cloven claw, yet
+determined to outwit him, for he was sure there could be no comparison
+between his daughter and Marionetta in the mind of anyone who had a
+proper perception of the fact that seriousness and solemnity are the
+characteristics of wisdom. Therefore he set off to meet her in London,
+that he might lose no time in bringing her to Nightmare Abbey. After the
+first joy of meeting was over, he told his daughter he had a husband
+ready for her. The young lady replied very gravely she should take the
+liberty of choosing for herself.
+
+"Have I not a fortune in my own right, sir?" said Celinda.
+
+"The more is the pity," said Mr. Toobad. "But I can find means, miss--I
+can find means."
+
+They parted for the night with the expression of opposite resolutions,
+and in the morning the young lady's chamber was empty, and what was
+become of her, Mr. Toobad had no clue to guess. He declared that when he
+should discover the fugitive, she should find "that the devil was come
+unto her, having great wrath," and continued to investigate town and
+country, visiting and revisiting Nightmare Abbey at intervals to consult
+Mr. Glowry.
+
+Notwithstanding the difficulties that surrounded her, Marionetta could
+not debar herself from the pleasure of tormenting her lover, whom she
+kept in a continual fever, sometimes meeting him with unqualified
+affection, sometimes with chilling indifference, softening him to love
+by eloquent tenderness, or inflaming him to jealousy by coquetting with
+the Hon. Mr. Listless. Scythrop's schemes for regenerating the world and
+detecting his seven golden candlesticks went on very slowly.
+
+On retiring to his tower one day Scythrop found it pre-occupied. A
+stranger, muffled to the eyes in a cloak, rose at his entrance, and
+looked at him intently for a few minutes in silence, then saying, "I see
+by your physiognomy you are to be trusted," dropped the cloak, and
+revealed to the astonished Scythrop a female form and countenance of
+dazzling grace and beauty, with long, flowing hair of raven blackness.
+
+"You are a philosopher," said the lady, "and a lover of liberty. You are
+the author of a treatise called 'Philosophical Gas?'"
+
+"I am," said Scythrop, delighted at this first blossom of his renown.
+
+She then informed him that she was under the necessity of finding a
+refuge from an atrocious persecution, and had determined to apply to him
+(on reading his pamphlet, and recognising a kindred mind) to find her a
+retreat where she could be concealed from the indefatigable search being
+made for her.
+
+Doubtless, thought Scythrop, this is one of my seven golden
+candlesticks, and at once offered her the asylum of his secret
+apartments, assuring her she might rely on the honour of a
+transcendental eleutherarch.
+
+"I rely on myself," said the lady. "I act as I please, and let the whole
+world say what it will. I am rich enough to set it at defiance. They
+alone are subject to blind authority who have no reliance on their own
+strength."
+
+Stella took possession of the recondite apartments. Scythrop intended to
+find another asylum; but from day to day postponed his intention, and by
+degrees forgot it. The young lady reminded him from day to day, till she
+also forgot it.
+
+Scythrop had now as much mystery about him as any romantic
+transcendentalist could desire. He had his esoterical and his exoterical
+love, and could not endure the thought of losing either of them. His
+father's suspicions were aroused by always finding the door locked on
+visiting Scythrop's study; and one day, hearing a female voice, and, on
+the door being opened, finding his son alone, he looked around and said:
+
+"Where is the lady?"
+
+Scythrop invited him to search the tower, but Mr. Glowry was not to be
+deceived. Scythrop talked loudly, hoping to drown his father's voice, in
+vain.
+
+"I, say, sir, when you are so shortly to be married to your cousin
+Marionetta----"
+
+The bookcase opened in the middle, and the beautiful Stella appeared,
+exclaiming:
+
+"Married! Is he going to be married? The profligate!"
+
+"Really, madam," said Mr. Glowry, "I do not know what he is going to do,
+or what anyone is going to do, for all this is incomprehensible."
+
+"I can explain it all," said Scythrop, "if you will have the goodness to
+leave us alone."
+
+Stella threw herself into a chair and burst into a passion of tears.
+Scythrop took her hand. She snatched it away, and turned her back upon
+him. Scythrop continued entreating Mr. Glowry to leave them alone, but
+he was obstinate, and would not go.
+
+A tap at the door, and Mr. Hilary entered. He stood a few minutes in
+silent surprise, then departed in search of Marionetta.
+
+Scythrop was now in a hopeless predicament.
+
+Mr. Hilary made a hue and cry, summoning his wife and Marionetta, and
+they hastened in consternation to Scythrop's apartments. Mr. Toobad saw
+them, and judging from their manner that the devil had manifested his
+wrath in some new shape, followed, and intercepted Stella's flight at
+the door by catching her in his arms.
+
+"Celinda!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Papa!" said the young lady disconsolately.
+
+"The devil is come among you!" said Mr. Toobad. "How came my daughter
+here?"
+
+Marionetta, who had fainted, opened her eyes and fixed them on Celinda.
+Celinda, in turn, fixed hers on Marionetta. Scythrop was equi-distant
+between them, like Mahomet's coffin.
+
+"Celinda," said Mr. Toobad, "what does this mean? When I told you in
+London that I had chosen a husband for you, you thought proper to run
+away from him; and now, to all appearance, you have run away to him."
+
+"How, sir? Was that your choice?"
+
+"Precisely; and if he is yours, too, we shall both be of a mind, for the
+first time in our lives."
+
+"He is not my choice, sir. This lady has a prior claim. I renounce him."
+
+"And I renounce him!" said Marionetta.
+
+Scythrop knew not what to do. He therefore retreated into his
+stronghold, mystery; maintained an impenetrable silence, and contented
+himself with deprecating glances at each of the objects of his idolatry.
+
+The Hon. Mr. Listless, Mr. Flosky, and other guests had been attracted
+by the tumult, multitudinous questions, and answers _en masse_, composed
+a _charivari_, which was only terminated by Mrs. Hilary and Mr. Toobad
+retreating with the captive damsels. The whole party followed, leaving
+Scythrop carefully arranged in a pensive attitude.
+
+
+_IV.--Scythrop's Fate_
+
+
+He was still in this position when the butler entered to announce that
+dinner was on the table. He refused food, and on being told that the
+party was much reduced, everybody had gone, requested the butler to
+bring him a pint of port and a pistol. He would make his exit like
+Werter, but finally took Raven's advice--to dine first, and be miserable
+afterwards.
+
+He was sipping his Madeira, immersed in melancholy musing, when his
+father entered and requested a rational solution of all this absurdity.
+
+"I will leave it in writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate
+is come. The world is a stage, and my direction is exit."
+
+"Do not talk so, sir; do not talk so, Scythrop! What would you have?"
+
+"I would have my love."
+
+"And pray, sir, who is your love?"
+
+"Celinda--Marionetta--either--both."
+
+"Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy, but it will not do in
+Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And renounce Marionetta?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But you must renounce one."
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"And you cannot have both. What is to be done?"
+
+"I must shoot myself!"
+
+"Don't talk so, Scythrop! Be rational, Scythrop! Consider, and make a
+cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself on your behalf."
+
+"Well, sir, I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I cannot
+choose either, and I have no resource but a pistol."
+
+"Scythrop--Scythrop, if one of them should come to you, what then? Have
+but a little patience, a week's patience, and it shall be."
+
+"A week, sir, is an age; but to oblige you, as a last act of filial
+duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening, twenty-five
+minutes past seven. At this hour next Thursday love and fate shall smile
+on me, or I will drink my last pint of port in this world."
+
+Mr. Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the abbey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the morning of the eventful Thursday, Scythrop ascended the turret
+with a telescope and spied anxiously along the road, till Raven summoned
+him to dinner at five, when he descended to his own funeral feast. He
+laid his pistol between his watch and his bottle. Scythrop rang the
+bell. Raven appeared.
+
+"Raven," said he, "the clock is too fast."
+
+"No, indeed," said Raven. "If anything it is too slow----"
+
+"Villain," said Scythrop, pointing the pistol at him, "it is too fast!"
+
+"Yes, yes--too fast, I meant!" said Raven, in fear.
+
+"Put back my watch!" said Scythrop.
+
+Raven, with trembling hand, was putting back the watch, when the rattle
+of wheels was heard; and Scythrop, springing down the stairs three steps
+together, was at the door in time to hand either of the young ladies
+from the carriage; but Mrs. Glowry was alone.
+
+"I rejoice to see you!" said he. "I was fearful of being too late, for I
+waited till the last moment in the hope of accomplishing my promise; but
+all my endeavours have been vain, as these letters will show."
+
+The first letter ended with the words: "I shall always cherish a
+grateful remembrance of Nightmare Abbey, for having been the means of
+introducing me to a true transcendentalist, and shall soon have the
+pleasure of subscribing myself
+
+                                                     "CELINDA FLOSKY."
+
+The other, from Marionetta, wished him much happiness with Miss Toobad,
+and finished with: "I shall always be happy to see you in Berkely
+Square, when, to the unalterable designation of your affectionate
+cousin, I shall subjoin the signature of
+
+                                                "MARIONETTA LISTLESS."
+
+Scythrop tore both the letters to atoms, and railed in good, set terms
+against the fickleness of women.
+
+"Calm yourself, my dear Scythrop," said Mr. Glowry. "There are yet
+maidens in England; and besides, the fatal time is past, for it is now
+almost eight."
+
+"Then that villain Raven deceived me when he said the clock was too
+fast; but I have just reflected these repeated crosses in love qualify
+me to take a very advanced degree in misanthropy. There is therefore,
+good hope that I may make a figure in the world."
+
+Raven appeared. Scythrop looked at him very fiercely, and said, "Bring
+some Madeira!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JANE PORTER
+
+
+The Scottish Chiefs
+
+
+     Jane Porter was born at Durham in 1776, but at the age of four
+     she went to Edinburgh with her family, was brought up in
+     Scotland, and had the privilege of knowing Sir Walter Scott.
+     Her first romance, "Thaddeus of Warsaw," was published in
+     1803, soon after she had removed from Edinburgh to London. Her
+     next romance, "The Scottish Chiefs," did not appear until
+     1810. It won an immediate popularity, which survived even the
+     formidable rivalry of the "Waverley Novels," and the book
+     remained a favourite, especially in Scotland, during most of
+     the last century. The story abounds in historical
+     inaccuracies, and the characters are addicted to conversing in
+     the dialect of melodrama-but these blemishes did not abate the
+     vogue of this exciting and spirited work with the reading
+     public. Miss Porter remained a prominent figure in London
+     literary society until her death on May 24, 1850.
+
+
+_I.--The Lady Marion_
+
+
+Sir William Wallace made his way swiftly along the crags and across the
+river to the cliffs which overlooked the garden of Ellerslie. As he
+approached he saw his newly-wedded wife, the Lady Marion, leaning over
+the couch of a wounded man. She looked up, and, with a cry of joy, threw
+herself into his arms. Blood dropped from his forehead upon her bosom.
+
+"O my Wallace, my Wallace!" cried she in agony.
+
+"Fear not, my love, it is a mere scratch. How is the wounded stranger?"
+
+It was Wallace who had saved the stranger's life. That day he had been
+summoned to Douglas Castle, where he had received in secret from Sir
+John Monteith an iron box entrusted to him by Lord Douglas, then
+imprisoned in England; he had been charged to cherish the box in
+strictness, and not to suffer it to be opened until Scotland was again
+free. Returning with his treasure through Lanark, he had seen a fellow
+countryman wounded, and in deadly peril at the hands of a party of
+English. Telling two of his attendants to carry the injured man to
+Ellerslie, he had beaten off the English and slain their leader--Arthur
+Heselrigge, nephew of the Governor of Lanark.
+
+"Gallant Wallace!" said the stranger, "it is Donald, Earl of Mar, who
+owes you his life."
+
+"Then blest be my arm," exclaimed Wallace, "that has preserved a life so
+precious to my country!"
+
+"Armed men are approaching!" cried Lady Marion. "Wallace, you must fly.
+But oh! whither?"
+
+"Not far, my love; I must seek the recesses of the Cartlane Crags. But
+the Earl of Mar--we must conceal him."
+
+They found a hiding-place for the wounded earl, and Wallace went away,
+promising to be near at hand. Hardly had he gone when the door was burst
+open by a band of soldiers, and Lady Wallace was confronted by the
+governor of Lanark.
+
+"Woman!" cried he, "on your allegiance to King Edward, answer me--where
+is Sir William Wallace, the murderer of my nephew?"
+
+She was silent.
+
+"I can reward you richly," he went on, "if you speak the truth. Refuse,
+and you die!"
+
+She stretched her hands to heaven.
+
+"Blessed Virgin, to thee I commit myself."
+
+"Speak!" cried the governor, drawing his sword. She sank to the ground.
+"Kneel not to me for mercy!"
+
+"I kneel to heaven alone," she said firmly, "and may it ever preserve my
+Wallace!"
+
+"Blasphemous wretch!" cried the governor, and he plunged the sword
+through her heart.
+
+A shudder of horror ran through the English soldiers.
+
+"My friends," said Heselrigge, "I reward your services with the plunder
+of Ellerslie."
+
+"Cursed be he who first carries a stick from its walls!" exclaimed a
+veteran.
+
+"Amen!" murmured all the soldiers.
+
+But next day the governor, with a body of soldiers who had not witnessed
+his infamous deed, plundered Ellerslie and burnt it to the ground.
+During the day Lord Mar was brought from his hiding-place, and taken to
+Bothwell Castle; but the English seized him and his wife, and they were
+placed in strict confinement among the English garrison on the Rock of
+Dumbarton.
+
+An aged retainer carried the awful news of the murder to Wallace in his
+concealment. For long he was overpowered with agony. Then a desperate
+determination arose in his mind. "The sun must not again rise upon
+Heselrigge!" was his thought. He called his followers, and told them of
+the deed. "From this hour," he cried, "may Scotland date her liberty, or
+Wallace return no more!"
+
+"Vengeance! vengeance!" was the cry.
+
+That night the English garrison of Lanark was surprised, and Wallace's
+sword was buried in the body of his wife's murderer.
+
+"So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!" shouted his men
+exultantly.
+
+"Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he. "Henceforth Wallace
+has neither love nor resentment but for her. From now onwards I devote
+myself to the winning of my country's freedom, or to death in her
+cause."
+
+
+_II.--Wallace the Liberator_
+
+
+Band after band of Scottish patriots flocked to the banner of Wallace--
+the banner that bore the legend "God armeth the patriot," and in which
+was embroidered a tress of Lady Marion's hair. The making of it had been
+the labour of Lady Helen Mar, daughter of the earl; admiration for
+Wallace's prowess, and sympathy with his misfortune had aroused in
+her--although she had never seen him--an eager devotion to him as the
+man who had dared to strike at tyranny and fight for his country's
+freedom.
+
+When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St.
+Fillans. But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the
+traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her
+hand had the secret approval of Lady Mar. When the ruffian laid hold
+upon her, he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis
+and his band were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell
+suddenly upon them. Soulis was forced to relinquish his prey, and was
+carried away by his men covered with wounds; while Helen found herself
+in the presence of a gentle and courteous Scottish warrior, who conveyed
+her to a hermit's cell near at hand. Without revealing his name he
+passed on his way, declaring that he went to arouse a few brave spirits
+to arms. Brief as the interview had been, Helen knew when it was ended
+that she had given her heart to the unknown knight.
+
+As her father and mother lay one dark night in Dumbarton Castle, a
+fearful uproar arose without their prison--the clashing of swords, the
+thud of falling bodies, the groans of wounded.
+
+"There is an attack," cried the earl.
+
+"Nay, who would venture to attack such a fortress as this?" answered
+Lady Mar.
+
+"Hark! it is the slogan of Sir William Wallace. Oh, for a sword!"
+exclaimed the earl.
+
+A voice was heard begging for mercy--the voice of De Valence, the
+governor.
+
+"You shall die!" was the stern answer.
+
+"Nay, Kirkpatrick, I give him life." The accents were Wallace's.
+
+A battering-ram broke down the prison-door. There stood Wallace and his
+men, their weapons and armour covered with blood. De Valence, evading
+the clutch of Kirkpatrick, thrust his dagger into Wallace's side and
+fled.
+
+"It is nothing," said Wallace, as he staunched the wound with his scarf.
+
+"So is your mercy rewarded," muttered the grim Kirkpatrick.
+
+"So am I true to my duty," returned Wallace, "though De Valence is a
+traitor to his."
+
+The Countess of Mar looked for the first time upon Wallace's
+countenance. He was the enemy of her kinsmen of the house of Cummin;
+unknown to her husband, she had sought to betray him to one of these
+kinsmen; and now, as this beautiful woman beheld the man she had tried
+to injure, a sense of shame, accompanied by a strange fascination,
+entered her bosom.
+
+"How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man!" she said to
+herself. "Hardly have I seen this William Wallace, and yet my very being
+is lost in his!"
+
+Love mingled with ambition in her uneasy mind. Her husband was old and
+wounded; his life would not be long. Wallace had the genius of a
+conqueror. Might he not be proclaimed king of Scotland? She threw
+herself assiduously into his company during the days that followed. At
+last, with tears in eyes, she confessed her love, thinking, in her
+folly, that she could move the heart of one who had consecrated himself
+to the service of Scotland and the memory of Marion.
+
+"Your husband, Lady Mar," he said with gentleness, "is my friend; had I
+even a heart to give to women, not one sigh should arise in it to his
+dishonour. But I am deaf to women, and the voice of love sounds like the
+funeral knell of her who will never breathe it to me more."
+
+He rose, and ere the countess could reply, a messenger entered with news
+from Ayr. Eighteen Scottish chiefs had been treacherously put to death,
+and others were imprisoned and awaiting execution. Wallace and his men
+marched straight to the castle of Ayr, surprised it while the English
+lords were feasting within, and set it afire. Those who escaped the
+flames either fell by Scottish steel, or yielded themselves prisoners.
+
+Castle and fortalice opened their gates before Wallace as he marched
+from Ayr to Berwick; but at Berwick he encountered stout resistance from
+a noble foeman, the Earl of Gloucester, who with his garrison yielded
+only to starvation. Wallace, touched with their valour, permitted them
+to march out with all the honours of war, and with the chivalrous earl
+he formed a friendship that was never dimmed by the enmity of the
+nations to which they belonged.
+
+Soon there came a summons to Stirling. By a dishonourable stratagem of
+De Valence's, Lord and Lady Mar and Helen had been seized and carried to
+Stirling Castle, where Lord Mar was in danger of immediate death. Helen
+was in the power of De Valence, who pressed his hateful suit upon her.
+Wallace and his men marched hastily, and captured the town; once more De
+Valence begged Wallace's mercy, and once more, unworthy as he was,
+obtained it. But the ruthless Cressingham, commanding the castle, placed
+Lord Mar on the battlements with a rope round his neck, and declared
+that unless the attack ceased the earl and his whole family would
+instantly die. Wallace's reply was to bring forward De Valence, pale and
+trembling. "The moment Lord Mar dies, De Valence shall instantly
+perish," he declared.
+
+Cressingham agreed to an armistice, hoping to gain time until De
+Warenne, with the mighty English host then advancing from the border,
+had reached Stirling. Next morning this great army in its pride poured
+across the bridge of the Forth; but the Scottish warriors, rushing down
+from the hillsides, with Wallace at their head, swept all before them.
+It was rather a carnage than a battle. Those who escaped the steel of
+Wallace's men were thrust into the river, and land and water were
+burdened with English dead.
+
+That evening Stirling Castle surrendered, the Scottish prisoners were
+released, and their places were taken by the commanders of the enemy's
+host.
+
+
+_III.--Wallace the Regent_
+
+
+When the victorious chiefs were gathering in the hall of the castle,
+Helen looked upon each one with anxious eyes. Would the gentle knight
+who rescued her be in Wallace's train? Lady Mar turned a restless glance
+upon her step-daughter. "Wallace will behold these charms," she cried to
+herself, "and then, where am I?"
+
+Amid a crowd of knights in armour the conqueror entered; and as Helen
+raised her eyes she saw that the knight of her dream, the man who had
+saved her from worse than death, was Wallace himself!
+
+"Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!" cried the patriot Bishop of
+Dunkeld, drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, and
+pouring it upon Wallace's head.
+
+Every knee was bent, and every voice cried "Long live King William!"
+
+"Rise, lords!" exclaimed Wallace. "Kneel not to me--I am but your fellow
+soldier. Bruce lives; God has yet preserved to you a lawful monarch."
+
+Eagerly they sought to persuade him, but in vain. He consented to hold
+the kingdom for the rightful sovereign, under the name of regent, but
+the crown he would not accept. He found a nation waiting on his nod--the
+hearts of half a million people offered to his hand.
+
+On the night before the English prisoners were to start on their journey
+southwards to be exchanged with Scottish nobles--an exchange after
+which, by England's will, the war was to continue--Lady Mar, whose
+husband was now governor of Stirling Castle, gave a banquet in honour of
+the departing knights. The entertainment was conducted with that
+chivalric courtesy which a noble conqueror always pays to the
+vanquished.
+
+But the spirit of Wallace was sad amid the gaiety; seeking quiet, he
+wandered along a darkened passage that led to the chapel, unobserved
+save by his watchful enemy De Valence--whose hatred had been intensified
+by the knowledge that Helen, whose hand he had again demanded in vain,
+loved the regent. He had guessed her secret, and she had guessed
+his--the design he had of murdering the foe who had twice spared his
+life.
+
+As Wallace entered the chapel and advanced towards the altar, he saw a
+woman kneeling in prayer. "Defend him, Heavenly Father!" she cried.
+"Guard his unshielded breast from treachery!" It was Helen's voice.
+
+Wallace stepped from the shadow; Helen was transfixed and silent.
+"Continue to offer up these prayers for me," he said gently, "and I
+shall yet think, holy maid, that I have a Marion to pray for me on
+earth, as well as in heaven."
+
+"They are for your life," she said in agitation, "for it is menaced."
+
+"I will inquire by whom," answered he, "when I have first paid my duty
+at this altar. Pray with me, Lady Helen, for the liberty of Scotland."
+
+As they were praying together, Helen rose with a shriek and flung her
+arms around Wallace. He felt an assassin's steel in his back, and she
+fell senseless on his breast. Her arm was bleeding; she had partly
+warded off the blow aimed at him, and had saved his life. He took her up
+in his arms, and bore her from the chapel to the hall.
+
+"Who has done this?" cried Mar, in anguish.
+
+"I know not," replied Wallace, "but I believe some villain who aimed at
+my life." With a gasp he sank back unconscious on the bench.
+
+Helen was the first to recover, and while they were staunching the blood
+that flowed from Wallace's wound, Lady Mar turned to her step-daughter.
+
+"Will you satisfy this anxious company," said she sneeringly, "how it
+happened that you should be alone with the regent? May I ask our noble
+friends to withdraw, and leave this delicate investigation to my own
+family?"
+
+Wallace, recovering his senses, rose hastily.
+
+"Do not leave this place, my lords, till I explain how I came to disturb
+the devotions of Lady Helen;" Straightforwardly and with dignity, he
+told the story of what had happened, and the jealous Lady Mar was
+silenced.
+
+"But who was the assassin?" they asked.
+
+"I shall name him to Sir William Wallace alone," said Helen.
+
+But the dagger, found in the chapel, revealed the truth. The chiefs
+clamoured for De Valence's death, Wallace again granted him life. Next
+morning, as the cavalcade of southern knights was starting, Wallace rode
+up and handed the dagger to De Valence.
+
+"The next time that you draw this dagger," said he, "let it be with a
+more knightly aim than assassination."
+
+De Valence, careless of the looks of horror and contempt cast upon him
+by his fellow countrymen, broke it asunder, and, throwing the fragments
+in the air, said to the shivered weapon, "You shall not betray me
+again!"
+
+"Nor you betray our honours, Lord de Valence," said De Warenne sternly.
+"As lord warden of this realm, I order you under arrest until we pass
+the Scottish lines."
+
+After the exchange of prisoners had been effected, Wallace invaded the
+enemy's country, and brought rich stores from the barns of
+Northumberland to the starving people of desolated Scotland. The
+reduction followed of all the fortresses held by the English in Northern
+Scotland. King Edward himself was now advancing; but a greater peril
+menaced the regent than that of the invader.
+
+Many of the nobles, headed by the Earls of Athol, Buchan, and March,
+were bitterly jealous of the ascendancy of a low-born usurper--for so
+they called Scotland's deliverer--and conspired to restore the
+sovereignty of Edward. Their chance of treachery came when Wallace faced
+the English host at Falkirk. When the battle was joined, Athol, Buchan,
+and all the Cummins, crying, "Long live King Edward!" joined the
+English, and flung themselves upon their fellow-countrymen. Grievous was
+the havoc of Scot on Scot; and beside the English king throughout the
+battle stood Bruce, the rightful monarch, aiding in the destruction of
+his nation's liberties.
+
+But on the night of that disastrous day, a young stranger in splendid
+armour came secretly to Wallace. It was Robert Bruce, seeking to offer
+his services to his country and to wipe out the stigma that his father
+had cast upon his name.
+
+
+_IV.--The Traitors_
+
+
+None fought more fiercely than Robert Bruce in the attack made by
+Wallace's men upon the English on the banks of the Carron, and the
+traitor, Earl of March, fell by the young warrior's own hand. But
+treason, smitten on the field of battle, was rampant at Stirling; and
+when Wallace returned there, bowed with grief at the death of Lord Mar,
+he found the Cummin faction--Lady Mar's kinsmen--in furious revolt
+against the "upstart." His resolution was quickly made; he would not be
+a cause of civil strife to his country.
+
+"Should I remain your regent," said he to the assembled people, "the
+country would be involved in ruinous dissensions. I therefore quit the
+regency; and I bequeath your liberty to the care of the chieftains. But
+should it be again in danger, remember that, while life breathes in this
+heart, the spirit of Wallace will be with you still!" With these words
+he mounted his horse, and rode away, amidst the cries and tears of the
+populace.
+
+Lady Mar, whose secret hopes had been stirred afresh by the death of her
+husband, heard with consternation of Wallace's departure. But he went
+away without a thought of her; his mission was the rescue of Helen, to
+which he had pledged himself by the death-bed of Lord Mar. Helen had
+been kidnapped by De Valence, and carried off by him to his castle in
+Guienne.
+
+Wallace disguised himself as a minstrel, and travelled to Durham, where
+King Edward held his court, and where young Bruce, taken captive, was
+now confined. By making himself known to the Earl of Gloucester, Wallace
+was able to gain access to Bruce, whose father was now dead, and to lay
+his plans before him. These were that Bruce should escape from Durham,
+that the two should travel to Guienne and rescue Helen, and that they
+should then, as unknown strangers, offer their services to Scotland.
+
+The plans were fulfilled. Bruce escaped, De Valence was once more
+deprived of his prey--he did not suspect the identity of the two knights
+until after Helen had been delivered from his clutches--and the pair
+fought as Frenchmen in the wars of Scotland. To few was the truth
+revealed, and only one discovered it--a knight wearing a green plume,
+who refused to divulge his name until Wallace proclaimed his own on the
+day of victory.
+
+But the secret could not be kept for ever, and it was Wallace himself
+who cast off the disguise. At the battle of Rosslyn the day seemed lost;
+an overwhelming mass of English bore down the Scots; men were turning to
+fly. The fate of Wallace's country hung on an instant. Taking off his
+helmet, he waved it in the air with a shout, and, having thus drawn all
+eyes upon him, exclaimed: "Scots, follow William Wallace to victory!"
+The cry of "Wallace!" turned the fugitives; new courage was diffused in
+every breast; defeat was straightway changed into triumph.
+
+Soon after this declaration the knight of the green plume came to
+Wallace, tore off the disguise of knighthood, and stood before him the
+bold and unblushing Countess of Mar. It was unconquerable love, she
+said, that had induced her to act thus. Wallace told her once more that
+his love was buried in the grave, and entreated her to refrain from
+guilty passion. Angered, she thrust a dagger at his breast; he wrenched
+the weapon from her hand, and bade her go in peace.
+
+Ere sunset next evening he heard that he had been accused of treason to
+Scotland, and that his accuser was the Countess of Mar.
+
+He faced the false charge, and repudiated it. But such was the hatred of
+the Cummins and their supporters that it was plainly impossible for him
+to serve Scotland, now that his name was known, without causing
+distraction in the country's ranks. He wandered forth, alone save for
+his ever-faithful follower, Edwin Ruthven, a price set upon his head by
+the relentless Edward, leaving his enemies to rejoice, and his friends
+to despair of Scotland's liberty.
+
+
+_V.--Tragedy and Triumph_
+
+
+As Wallace journeyed in the regions made sacred to him by Marion's
+memory, he was met by Sir John Monteith, who offered to conduct him to
+Newark-on-the-Clyde, where he might embark on a vessel about to sail.
+Wallace gladly accepted the offer, little guessing that his old and
+trusted friend Monteith was in the pay of England.
+
+As he and Edwin reposed in a barn near Newark, a force of savages from
+the Irish island of Rathlin burst in upon them. Wallace, with a giant's
+strength, dispersed them as they advanced. But a shout was heard from
+the door. Monteith himself appeared, and an arrow pierced Edwin's heart.
+Wallace threw himself on his knees beside the dying boy. They sprang
+upon him, and bound him. Wallace was Edward's prisoner.
+
+As he lay in the Tower of London awaiting death, a page-boy entered
+nervously, and turned pale when he cast his eyes upon him. He started;
+he recognised the features of her who alone had ever shared his
+meditations with Marion.
+
+"Lady Helen," he cried, "has God sent you hither to be His harbinger of
+consolation?"
+
+"Will you not abhor me for this act of madness?" said Helen, in deep
+agitation. "And yet, where should I live or die but at the feet of my
+benefactor?"
+
+"Oh, Helen," exclaimed Wallace, "thy soul and Marion's are indeed one;
+and as one I love ye!"
+
+At that moment the Earl of Gloucester entered, and to this true friend
+Wallace expressed his wish that he and Helen should be united by the
+sacred rites of the church. Gloucester retired, and returned with a
+priest; the pair were joined as man and wife.
+
+Two days later Wallace stood on the scaffold. The executioner approached
+to throw the rope over the neck of his victim. Helen, with a cry, rushed
+to his bosom. Clasping her to him, he exclaimed in a low voice: "Helen,
+we shall next meet to part no more. May God preserve my country, and--"
+He stopped--he fell. Gloucester bent to his friend and spoke, but all
+was silent. He had died unsullied by the rope of Edward.
+
+"There," said Gloucester, in deepest grief, "there broke the noblest
+heart that ever beat in the breast of man."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the evening after Bannockburn. The English hosts were in
+panic-stricken flight; Scotland at last was free. Robert Bruce, king and
+conquerer, entered the Abbey of Cambuskenneth with his betrothed,
+Isabella, and stood before the bier of Wallace.
+
+Helen, wan and fragile, was borne on a litter from the adjoining
+nunnery. In her presence Bruce and Isabella were wedded; her trembling
+hands were held over them in blessing; then she threw herself prostrate
+on the coffin.
+
+At the foot of Wallace's bier stood the iron box that the dead chieftain
+had so faithfully cherished. "Let this mysterious coffer be opened,"
+said the Abbot of Inchaffray, "to reward the deliverer of Scotland
+according to its intent" Bruce unclasped the lock, and the regalia of
+Scotland was discovered!
+
+"And thus Wallace crowns thee!" said the Bishop of Dunkeld, taking the
+diadem from its coffer and setting it on Brace's head.
+
+But Helen lay motionless. They raised her, and looked upon a clay-cold
+face. Her soul had fled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDER SERGEYEVITCH PUSHKIN
+
+
+The Captain's Daughter
+
+
+     Alexander Sergeyevitch Pushkin was born at Moscow on June 7,
+     1799. He came of an ancient family, a strange ancestor being a
+     favourite negro ennobled by Peter the Great, who bequeathed to
+     him a mass of curly hair and a somewhat darker skin than
+     usually falls to the lot of the ordinary Russian. Early in
+     life a daring "Ode to Liberty" brought him the displeasure of
+     the court, and the young poet narrowly escaped a journey to
+     Siberia by accepting an official post at Kishineff, in
+     Southern Russia. But on the accession of Tsar Nicholas in
+     182s, Pushkin was recalled and appointed imperial
+     historiographer. His death, which occurred on February 10,
+     1837, was the result of a duel fought with his brother-in-law.
+     Pushkin's career was one of almost unparallelled brilliancy.
+     As a poet, he still remains the greatest Russia has produced;
+     and although his prose works do not rise to the high standard
+     of his verse, yet they are of no inconsiderable merit. "The
+     Captain's Daughter, a Russian Romance," was written about
+     1831, and published under the _nom de plume_ of Ivan Byelkin.
+     It is a story of the times of Catherine II., and is not only
+     told with interest and charm, but with great simplicity and
+     reality, and with a due sense of drama. Others of his novels
+     are "The Pistol Shot," "The Queen of Spades," and "The
+     Undertaker," the last-named a grim story in a style that has
+     been familiarised to English readers by Edgar Allan Poe.
+
+
+_I.--I Join the Army_
+
+
+My father, after serving in the army, had retired with the rank of
+senior major. Since that time he had always lived on his estate, where
+he married the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the neighbourhood.
+All my brothers and sisters died young, and it was decided that I should
+enter the army.
+
+When I was nearly seventeen, instead of being sent to join the guards'
+regiment at Petersburg, my father told me I was going to Orenburg. "You
+will learn nothing at Petersburg but to spend money and commit follies,"
+he said. "No, you shall smell powder and become a soldier, not an
+idler."
+
+It seemed horrible to me to be doomed to the dullness of a savage and
+distant province, and to lose the gaiety I had been looking forward to;
+but there was nothing for it but to submit.
+
+The morning arrived for my departure, the travelling carriage was at the
+door, and our old servant Saveluetch was in attendance to accompany me.
+
+Two days later, when we were nearing our destination, a snowstorm
+overtook us. We might have perished in the snow, for all traces of the
+road were lost, but for a stranger who guided us to a small and lonely
+inn, where we passed the night. In the morning, to the sorrow of
+Saveluetch, I insisted on giving our guide, who was but thinly clad, one
+of my cloaks--a hare-skin _touloup_.
+
+"Thanks, your excellency," said the vagrant, "and may heaven reward you.
+As long as I live I shall never forget your kindness."
+
+I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hare-skin _touloup_, and
+on arrival at Orenburg hasted to wait on the general, an old
+comrade-in-arms of my father's. The general received me kindly, examined
+my commission, told me there was nothing for me to do in Orenburg, and
+sent me on to Fort Belogorsk to serve under Commander Mironoff. Belogorsk
+lay about thirty miles beyond Orenburg, on the frontier of the Kirghiz
+Kaisak Steppes, and it was to this outlandish place I was banished.
+
+I expected to see high bastions, a wall and a ditch, but there was
+nothing at Belogorsk but a little village, surrounded by a wooden
+palisade. An old iron cannon was near the gateway, the streets were
+narrow and crooked, and the commandant's house to which I had been
+driven was a wooden erection.
+
+Vassilissa Ignorofna, the commandant's wife, received me with simple
+kindness, and treated me at once as one of the family. An old army
+pensioner and Palashka, the one servant, laid the cloth for dinner;
+while in the square, near the house, the commandant, a tall and hale old
+man, wearing a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap, was busy drilling
+some twenty elderly men--all pensioners.
+
+Chvabrine, an officer who had been dismissed from the guards for
+fighting a duel, and Marya, a young girl of sixteen, with a fresh, round
+face, the commandant's daughter, were also at dinner.
+
+Mironoff pleaded in excuse for being late for dinner that he had been
+busy drilling his little soldiers, but his wife cut him short
+ruthlessly.
+
+"Nonsense," she said, "you're only boasting; they are past service, and
+you don't remember much about the drill. Far better for you to stay at
+home and say your prayers." Vassilissa Ignorofna never seemed to stop
+talking, and overwhelmed me with questions.
+
+In the course of a few weeks I found that she not only led her husband
+completely, but also directed all military affairs, and ruled the fort
+as completely as she did the household. This really suited Ivan Mironoff
+very well, for he was a good-hearted, uneducated man, staunch and true,
+who had been raised from the ranks, and was now grown lazy. Both husband
+and wife were excellent people, and I soon became attached to them, and
+to the daughter Marya, an affectionate and sensible girl.
+
+As for Chvabrine, he at first professed great friendship for me; but
+being in love with Marya, who detested him, he began to hate me when he
+saw a growing friendliness between Marya and myself.
+
+I was now an officer, but there was little work for me to do. There was
+no drill, no mounting guard, no reviewing of troops. Sometimes Captain
+Mironoff tried to drill his soldiers, but he never succeeded in making
+them know the right hand from the left.
+
+All seemed peace, in spite of my quarrels with Chvabrine. Every day I
+was more and more in love with Marya, and the notion that we might be
+disturbed at Fort Belogorsk by any repetition of the riots and revolts
+which had taken place in the province of Orenburg the previous year was
+not entertained. Danger was nearer than we had imagined. The Cossacks
+and half-savage tribes of the frontier were again already in revolt.
+
+
+_II.--The Rebel Chief_
+
+
+One evening early in October, 1773, Captain Mironoff called Chvabrine
+and me to his house. He had received a letter from the general at
+Orenburg with information that a fugitive Cossack named Pugatchef had
+taken the name of the late Czar, Peter III., and, with an army of
+robbers, was rousing the country, destroying forts and committing murder
+and theft. The news spread quickly, and then came a disquieting report
+that a neighbouring fort some sixteen miles away had been taken by
+Pugatchef, and its officers hanged.
+
+Neither Mironoff nor Vassilissa showed any fear, and the latter declined
+to leave Belogorsk, though willing that Marya should be sent to Orenburg
+for safety. An insolent proclamation from Pugatchef, inviting us to
+surrender on peril of death, and the treachery of our Cossacks and of
+Chvabrine, who went over at once to the rebels, only made the commandant
+and his wife more resolute.
+
+"The scoundrel!" cried Vassilissa. "He has the impudence to invite us to
+lay our flag at his feet, and he doesn't know we have been forty years
+in the service!"
+
+It was the same when Pugatchef was actually at our door, and the assault
+had actually begun. Old Ivan Mironoff blessed his daughter, and embraced
+his wife, and then faced death. There was no fight in the poor old
+pensioners who made up our garrison, and both Mironoff and myself were
+soon captured, bound with ropes, and led before Pugatchef.
+
+The commandant indignantly refused to swear fidelity to the robber
+chief, and was hanged there and then in the market square; an old
+one-eyed lieutenant was soon swinging by his side. Then came my turn,
+and I gave the same answer as my captain had done. The rope was round my
+neck, when Pugatchef shouted out "Stop!" and ordered my release. A few
+minutes later, and poor old Vassilissa, who had come in search of her
+husband, was lying dead in the market square, cut down by a Cossack's
+sword. Pugatchef's arrival had prevented Marya's escape to Orenburg, and
+she was now lying too ill to be moved, in the house of Father Garassim,
+the parish priest.
+
+Pugatchef gave me leave to depart in safety, but before Saveluetch and I
+left the fort, the rebel bade me come and see him. He laughed aloud when
+I presented myself.
+
+"Who would have thought," he said, "that the man who guided you to a
+lodging on that night of the snowstorm was the great tzar himself? But
+you shall see better things; I will load you with favours when I have
+recovered my empire."
+
+Then he invited me again and again to enter his service, but I told him
+I had sworn fidelity to the crown; and finally he let me go, saying:
+"Either entirely punish or entirely pardon. Tell the officers at
+Orenburg they may expect me in a week."
+
+It hurt me to leave Marya behind, especially as Pugatchef had made
+Chvabrine commandant of the fort, but there was no help for it. Father
+Garassim and his wife bade me good-bye. "Except you, poor Marya has no
+longer any protector or comforter," said the priest's wife.
+
+At Orenburg I was in safety, but the town was soon besieged, and I could
+not persuade the general to sally out and attack the rebels. All through
+those dreary weeks of the siege I was wondering anxiously about Marya,
+and then one day when we had been driving off a party of cossacks, one
+of the rebels, whom I recognised a former soldier at Belogorsk, lingered
+to give me a letter. It was from Marya, and she told me that she was now
+in the house of Chvabrine, who threatened to kill her or hand her over
+to the robber camp if she did not marry him, and that she had but three
+days left before her fate would be sealed. Death would be easier, she
+said, than to be the wife of a man like Chvabrine.
+
+I rushed off at once to the general, and implored him to give me a
+battalion of soldiers, and let me march on Belogorsk; but the general
+only shook his head, and said the expedition was unreasonable.
+
+I decided to go alone and appeal to Pugatchef, but the faithful
+Saveluetch insisted on accompanying me, and together we arrived at the
+rebel camp.
+
+Pugatchef received me quite cordially, and I told him the truth, that I
+was in love with Marya, and that Chvabrine was persecuting her. He
+flared up indignantly at Chvabrine's presumption, and declared he would
+take me at once to Belogorsk, and attend my wedding. But on our arrival
+Chvabrine mentioned that Marya was the daughter of Mironoff, and
+immediately the countenance of the robber chief clouded over.
+
+"Listen," I said, knowing Pugatchef was well disposed towards me. "Do
+not ask of me anything against my honour or my conscience. Let me go
+with this unhappy orphan whither God shall direct, and whatever befall
+we will pray every day to God to watch over you."
+
+It seemed as if Pugatchef's fierce heart was touched. "Be it as you
+wish," he answered. "Either entirely punish or entirely pardon is my
+motto. Take your pretty one where you like, and may God give you love
+and wisdom."
+
+A safe-conduct pass was given us, and I made up my mind to take Marya to
+my parents' house. I knew my father would think it a duty and an honour
+to shelter the daughter of a veteran who had died for his country. But
+Marya said she would never be my wife unless my parents approved of the
+marriage. We set off, and as we started I saw Chvabrine standing at the
+commandant's window, with a face of dark hatred.
+
+
+_III.--The Arrest_
+
+
+I parted from Marya two days later, and entrusted her to Saveluetch, who
+promised me to escort her faithfully to my parents. My reason for this
+was that we had fallen in with a detachment of the army, and the officer
+in charge persuaded me to join him, and it seemed to me I was bound in
+honour to serve the tzarina.
+
+So all that winter, and right on till the spring came, we pursued the
+rebels; and still Pugatchef remained untaken; and this war with the
+robbers went on to the destruction of the countryside.
+
+At last Pugatchef was taken, and the war was at an end. A few days later
+I should have been in the bosom of my family, when an unforeseen
+thunderbolt struck me. I was ordered to be arrested and sent to Khasan,
+to the commission of inquiry appointed to try Pugatchef and his
+accomplices.
+
+No sooner had I arrived in Khasan than I was lodged in prison, and irons
+were placed on my ankles. It was a bad beginning, but I was full of hope
+and courage, and believed that I could easily explain my dealings with
+Pugatchef.
+
+The next day I was summoned to appear before the commission, and asked
+how long I had been in Pugatchef's service.
+
+I replied indignantly that I had never been in his service; and then
+when I was asked how it was he had spared my life and given me a
+safe-conduct pass I told the story of the guide in the snowstorm and the
+hair-skin _touloup_.
+
+Then came the question how was it I had left Orenburg, and gone straight
+to the rebel camp?
+
+I felt I could not bring in Marya's name, and expose her as a witness to
+the cross-examination of the commission, and so I stammered and became
+silent.
+
+The officer of the guard then requested that I should be confronted with
+my principal accuser, and Chvabrine was brought into court. A great
+change had come over him. He was pale and thin, and his hair had already
+turned grey. In a feeble but clear voice Chvabrine went through his
+story against me; that I had been Pugatchef's spy in Orenburg, and that
+after leaving that town I had done all I could to aid the rebels. I was
+glad of one thing, some spark of feeling kept him from mentioning
+Marya's name.
+
+I told the judges I could only repeat my former statement that I was
+entirely innocent of any part in the rebellion; and then I was taken
+back to prison, and underwent no further examination.
+
+Several weeks passed, and then my father was informed that the tzarina
+had condescended to pardon his criminal son, and remit the capital
+punishment, condemning him instead to exile for life in the heart of
+Siberia.
+
+The unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He had heard of my arrest,
+and both Saveluetch and Marya had assured him of my complete innocence.
+Now he broke out into bitter lament.
+
+"What!" he kept on saying. "What! My son mixed up in the plots of
+Pugatchef! Just God! What have I lived to see! The tzarina grants him
+life, but does that make it easier for me to bear? It is not the
+execution which is horrible. My ancestors have perished on the scaffold
+for conscience sake; but that an officer should join with robbers and
+felons! Shame on our race for ever!"
+
+In vain my mother endeavoured to comfort him by talking of the injustice
+of the verdict. My father was inconsolable.
+
+
+_IV.--The Captain's Daughter to the Rescue_
+
+
+From the first Marya had been received with the warm-hearted hospitality
+that belonged to old-fashioned country people. The opportunity of giving
+a home to a poor orphan seemed to them a favour from God. In a very
+short time they were sincerely attached to her, for no one could know
+Marya without loving her, and both my father and my mother looked
+forward to the union of their son Peter with the captain's daughter.
+
+My trial and condemnation plunged all three into misery; and Marya,
+believing that I could have justified myself had I chosen, and
+suspecting the motive which had kept me silent, and holding herself the
+sole cause of my misfortune, determined to save me.
+
+All at once she informed my parents that she was obliged to start for
+Petersburg, and begged them to give her the means to do so.
+
+"Why must you go to Petersburg?" said my mother, in distress. "You,
+too--are you also going to forsake us?"
+
+Marya answered that she was going to seek help from people in high
+position for the daughter of a man who had fallen a victim to his
+fidelity.
+
+My father could only bow his head. "Go," he said. "I do not wish to cast
+any obstacles between you and your happiness. May God grant you an
+honest man, and not a convicted traitor, for husband."
+
+To my mother alone Marya confided her plans, and then, with her maid
+Palashka and the faithful Saveluetch--who, parted from me, consoled
+himself by remembering he was serving my betrothed--set out for the
+capital.
+
+Arrived at Sofia, Marya learnt that the court was at the summer palace
+of Tzarskoe-Selo, and at once resolved to stop there. She was able to
+get a lodging at the post-house, and the postmaster's wife, who was a
+regular gossip, began to tell her all the routine of the palace, at what
+hour the tzarina rose, had her coffee, and walked in the gardens.
+
+Next morning, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the imperial
+gardens. She saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench near the large
+lake, and went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The
+lady wore a cap and a white morning gown, and a light cloak. She
+appeared to be about fifty years old, and the repose and gravity of her
+face, and the sweetness of her blue eyes and her smile, all attracted
+Marya and inspired confidence. The lady was the first to speak.
+
+"You do not belong to this place?"
+
+"No, madame. I only arrived yesterday from the country."
+
+"You came with your parents?"
+
+"No, madame, alone. I have neither father nor mother."
+
+"You are very young to travel by yourself. You have come on business?"
+
+"Yes, madame. I have come to present a petition to the tzarina."
+
+"You are an orphan. It is some injustice or wrong you complain of? What
+is your name?"
+
+"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff, and it is for mercy I have come
+to ask."
+
+"Captain Mironoff? He commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg
+district?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+The lady seemed moved.
+
+"Forgive me," she said, speaking even more gently, "if I meddle in your
+affairs; but I am going to court. Perhaps if you explain to me what it
+is you want, I may be able to help you."
+
+Marya rose and curtsied; then she took from her pocket a folded paper,
+and handed it to her protectress, who read it over. Suddenly the
+gentleness turned to hardness in the face of the unknown lady.
+
+"You plead for Peter Grineff!" she said coldly. "The tzarina cannot
+grant him mercy. He passed over to this rebel not in ignorance, but
+because he is depraved."
+
+"It is not true!" cried Marya. "Before God it is not true! I know all; I
+will tell you everything. It was only on my account that he exposed
+himself to the misfortunes which have overtaken him. And if he did not
+vindicate himself before the judges, it was because he did not wish me
+to be mixed up in the affair."
+
+And Marya went on to relate all that had taken place at Belogorsk.
+
+When she had finished, the lady asked her where she lodged, and told her
+she would not have to wait long for an answer to the letter.
+
+Marya went back to the post-house full of hope, and presently, to the
+consternation of her hostess, a lackey in the imperial livery entered
+and announced that the tzarina condescended to summon to her presence
+the daughter of Captain Mironoff.
+
+"Good heavens!" cried the postmaster's wife. "The tzarina summons you to
+court! And I'm sure you don't even know how to walk in court fashion.
+Shall I send for a dressmaker I know who will lend you her yellow gown
+with flounces? I think I ought to take you."
+
+But the lackey explained that the tzarina wanted Marya to come alone,
+and in the dress she should happen to be wearing. There was nothing for
+it but to obey, and, with a beating heart, Marya got into the carriage
+and was driven to the palace. Presently she was ushered into the boudoir
+of the tzarina, and recognised the lady of the garden.
+
+The tzarina spoke graciously to her, telling Marya that it was a
+happiness to grant her prayer.
+
+"I have had it all looked into, and I am convinced of the innocence of
+your betrothed. Here is a letter for your father-in-law. Do not be
+uneasy about the future. I know you are not rich, but I owe a debt to
+the daughter of Captain Mironoff."
+
+Marya, all in tears, fell at the feet of the tzarina, who raised her and
+kissed her forehead. The tzarina almost overwhelmed the orphan before
+she dismissed her.
+
+That same day Marya hastened back to my father's house in the country,
+without even having the curiosity to see the sights of Petersburg.
+
+I was released from captivity at the end of the year 1774, and, as it
+happened, I was present in Moscow when Pugatchef was executed in the
+following year. The famous robber chief recognised me as I stood in the
+crowd, and bade me farewell with a silent movement of his head. A few
+moments later and the executioner held up the lifeless head for all the
+people to look upon.
+
+Chvabrine I never saw again after the day I was confronted with him at
+my trial.
+
+Soon after Pugatchef's death, Marya and I were married from my father's
+house.
+
+An autograph letter from the tzarina, Catherine II., framed and glazed,
+is carefully preserved. It is addressed to the father of Peter Grineff,
+and contains, with the acquittal of his son, many praises of the
+intelligence and good heart of the daughter of Captain Mironoff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+FRANCOIS RABELAIS
+
+
+Gargantua and Pantagruel
+
+
+     Francois Rabelais was born at Seuille in Touraine, France,
+     about 1483. Brought up in a Franciscan convent, he was made a
+     priest in 1520. During his monastic career he conceived a deep
+     and lasting contempt for monkish life, and he obtained
+     permission from the Pope to become a secular priest. He then
+     studied medicine, and became a physician. After wandering
+     about France for many years, he was appointed parish priest of
+     Meudon in 1551, and he died at Paris in 1553. "The Great and
+     Inestimable Chronicles of the Grand and Enormous Giant
+     Gargantua" ("Les Grandes et Inestimables Chroniques du Grande
+     et Enorme Geant Gargantua"), and its sequel, "Pantagruel,"
+     appeared between 1533 and 1564. Had these appeared during
+     Rabelais' life, his career would probably have been shorter
+     than it was, for the work is, with all its humour, a very
+     bitter satire against both the Roman Church and the
+     Calvinistic. Rabelais is one of the very great French writers
+     and humourists whose work is closely connected with English
+     literature. But what he borrowed from Sir Thomas More, he
+     generously repaid to Shakespeare, Swift, and Sterne. The
+     famous Abbey of Thelema is inspired by More's "Utopia"; on the
+     other hand, Shakespeare's praise of debt is taken from the
+     speech of Panurge--the most humorous character in French
+     literature, and worthy to stand beside Falstaff.
+
+
+_I.--The Very Horrific Life of the Great Gargantua_
+
+
+Grangousier was a right merry fellow in his time, and he had as great a
+love as any man living in the world for neat wine and salt meat. When he
+came to man's estate he married Gargamelle, daughter to the king of the
+Parpaillons, a jolly wench and good looking, who died in giving birth to
+a son.
+
+They had gone out with their neighbours in a hurl to Willow Grove, and
+there on the thick grass they danced so gallantly that it was a heavenly
+sport to see them so frolic. Then began flagons to go, gammons to trot,
+goblets to fly, and glasses to rattle. "Draw, reach, fill, mix. Give it
+to me--without water; so my friend. Whip me off this bowl gallantly.
+Bring me some claret, a full glass running over. A truce to thirst! By
+my faith, gossip, I cannot get in a drinking humour! Have you caught a
+cold, gammer? Let's talk of drinking. Which was first, thirst or
+drinking? Thirst, for who would have drunk without thirst in the time of
+innocence? I do, as I am a sinner. I drink to prevent thirst. I drink
+for the thirst to come. Let's have a song, a catch; let us sing a round.
+Drink for ever, and you shall never die! When I am not drinking I am as
+good as dead. Drink, or I'll--The appetite comes with eating and the
+thirst goes with drinking. Nature abhors a vacuum. Swallow it down, it
+is wholesome medicine!"
+
+It was at this moment that Gargantua was born. He did not whimper as the
+other babes used to do, but with a high, sturdy, and big voice, he
+shouted out, "Drink, drink, drink!" The sound was so extremely great
+that it rang over two counties. I am afraid that you do not thoroughly
+believe in the truth of this strange nativity. Believe it or not, I do
+not care. But an honest man, a man of good sense, always believes what
+is told him, and what he finds written.
+
+When the good man Grangousier, who was then merrily drinking with his
+guests, heard his son roar out for drink, he said to him in French, "Que
+Grand Tu As et souple le gousier!" That is to say, "How great and nimble
+a throat thou hast." Hearing this, the company said that the child
+verily ought to be called Gargantua, because it was the first word
+uttered by his father at his birth. Which the father graciously
+permitted, and to calm the child they gave him enough drink to crack his
+throat, and then carried him to the font where he was christened
+according to the manner of good Christians.
+
+So great was Gargantua, even when a babe of a day old, that seventeen
+thousand nine hundred and thirteen cows were required to furnish him
+with milk. By the ancient records to be seen in the chamber of accounts
+at Montsoreau, I find that nine thousand six hundred ells of blue velvet
+were used for his gown, four hundred and six ells of crimson velvet were
+taken up for his shoes, which were soled with the hides of eleven
+hundred brown cows; and the rest of his costume was in proportion. By
+the commandment of his father, Gargantua was brought up and instructed
+in all convenient discipline, and he spent his time like the other
+children of the country--that is, in drinking, eating, and sleeping; in
+eating, sleeping, and drinking; and in sleeping, drinking, and eating.
+
+In his youth he studied hard under a very learned man, called Master
+Tubal Holofermes, and, after studying with him for five years and three
+months, he learnt so much that he was able to say the alphabet
+backwards. About this time, the king of Numidia sent out of the country
+of Africa to Grangousier, the hugest and most enormous mare that was
+ever seen. She was as large as six elephants, and of a burnt sorrel
+colour with dapple grey spots; but, above all, she had a horrible tail.
+For it was little more or less as great as the pillar of St. Mars,
+which, as you know, is eighty-six feet in height.
+
+When Grangousier saw her, he said, "Here is the very thing to carry my
+son to Paris. He shall go there and learn what the study of the young
+men of France is, and in time to come he shall be a great scholar!"
+
+The next morning, after, of course, drinking, Gargantua set out on his
+journey. He passed his time merrily along the highway, until he came a
+little above Orleans, in which place there was a forest five-and-thirty
+leagues long and seventeen wide. This forest was most horribly fertile
+and abundant in gadflies and hornets, so that it was a very purgatory
+for asses and horses. But Gargantua's mare handsomely avenged all the
+outrages committed upon beasts of her kind. For as soon as she entered
+the forest, and the hornets gave the attack, she drew out her tail and
+swished it about, and swept down all the trees with as much ease as a
+mower cuts grass. And since then there has been neither a forest nor a
+hornet's nest in that place, for all the country was thereby reduced to
+pasture land.
+
+At last Gargantua came to Paris, and inquired what wine they drank
+there, and what learning was to be had. Everybody in Paris looked upon
+him with great admiration. For the people of this city are by nature so
+sottish, idle, and good-for-nothing, that a mountebank, a pardoner come
+from Rome to sell indulgences, or a fiddler in the crossways, will
+attract together more of them than a good preacher of the Gospel. So
+troublesome were they in pursuing Gargantua, that he was compelled to
+seek a resting-place on the towers of Notre Dame. There he amused
+himself by ringing the great bells, and it came into his mind that they
+would serve as cowbells to hang on the neck of his mare, so he carried
+them off to his lodging.
+
+At this all the people of Paris rose up in sedition. They are, as you
+know, so ready to uproars and insurrections, that foreign nations wonder
+at the stupidity of the kings of France at not restraining them from
+such tumultuous courses, seeing the manifold inconveniences which thence
+arise from day to day. Believe for a truth, that the place where the
+people gathered together was called Nesle; there, after the case was
+proposed and argued, they resolved to send the oldest and most able of
+their learned men unto Gargantua to explain to him the great and
+horrible prejudice they sustained by the want of their bells. Thereupon
+Gargantua put up the bells again in their place, and in acknowledgement
+of his courtesy, the citizens offered to maintain and feed his mare as
+long as he pleased. And they sent her to graze in the forest of Biere,
+but I do not think she is there now.
+
+For some years Gargantua studied at Paris under a wise and able master,
+and grew expert in manly sports of all kinds, as well as in learning of
+every sort. Then he was called upon to return to his country to take
+part in a great and horrible war.
+
+
+_II.--The Marvellous Deeds of Friar John_
+
+
+The war began in this way: At the time of the vintage, the shepherds of
+Grangousier's country were set to guard the vines and hinder the
+starlings from eating the grapes. Seeing some cake-bakers of Lerne
+passing down the highway with ten or twelve loads of cakes, the
+shepherds courteously asked them to sell some of their wares at the
+market price. The cake-bakers, however, were in no way inclinable to the
+request of the shepherds; and, what is worse, they insulted them hugely,
+calling them babblers, broken-mouths, carrot-pates, tunbellies,
+fly-catchers, sneakbies, joltheads, slabberdegullion druggels, and other
+defamatory epithets. And when one honest shepherd came forward with the
+money to buy some of the cakes, a rude cake-baker struck him a rude lash
+with a whip. Thereupon some farmers and their men, who were watching
+their walnuts close by, ran up with their great poles and long staves,
+and thrashed the cake-bakers as if they had been green rye.
+
+When they were returned to Lerne, the cake-makers complained to their
+king, Picrochole, saying that all the mischief was done by the shepherds
+of Grangousier. Picrochole incontinently grew angry and furious, and
+without making any further question, he had it cried throughout his
+country that every man, under pain of hanging, should assemble in arms
+at noon before his castle. Thereupon, without order or measure, his men
+took the field, ravaging and wasting everything wherever they passed
+through. All that they said to any man that cried them mercy, was: "We
+will teach you to eat cakes!"
+
+Having pillaged the town of Seuille, they went on with the horrible
+tumult to an abbey. Finding it well barred and made fast, seven
+companies of foot and two hundred lances broke down the walls of the
+close, and began to lay waste the vineyard. The poor devils of monks did
+not know to what saint to pray in their extremity, and they made
+processions and said litanies against their foes. But in the abbey at
+that time was a cloister-monk named Friar John of the Trenchermen,
+young, gallant, frisky, lusty, nimble, quick, active, bold, resolute,
+tall, wide-mouthed, and long-nosed; a fine mumbler of matins, a fair
+runner through masses, and a great scourer of vigils--to put it short, a
+true monk, if ever there was one since the monking world monked a
+monkery. This monk, hearing the noise that the enemy made in the
+vineyard, went to see what they were doing, and perceiving that they
+were gathering the grapes out of which next year's drink of the abbey
+ought to be made, he grew mighty angry. "The devil take me," he cried,
+"if they have not already chopped our vines so that we shall have no
+drink for years to come! Did not St. Thomas of England die for the goods
+of the church? If I died in the same cause should I not be a saint
+likewise? However, I shall not die for them, but make other men to do
+so."
+
+Throwing off his monk's habit, he took up a cross made out of a sour
+apple-tree, which was as long as a lance, and with it he laid on lustily
+upon his enemies. He scattered the brains of some, and the legs and arms
+of others. He broke their necks; he had off their heads; he smashed
+their bones; he caved in their ribs; he impaled them, and he transfixed
+them. Believe me, it was a most horrible spectacle that ever man saw.
+Some died without speaking, others spoke without dying; some died while
+they were speaking, others spoke while they were dying. So great was the
+cry of the wounded, that the prior and all his monks came forth, and
+seeing the poor wretches hurt to death, began to confess them. But when
+those who had been shriven tried to depart, Friar John felled them with
+a terrible blow, saying, "These men have had confession and are
+repentant, so straight they go into Paradise!"
+
+Thus by his prowess and valour were discomfited all those of the army,
+under the number of thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-two, that
+entered the abbey close. Gargantua, who had come from Paris to help his
+father against Picrochole, heard of the marvellous feats of Friar John,
+and sought his aid, and by means of it utterly defeated the enemy. What
+became of Picrochole after his defeat I cannot say with certainty, but I
+was told that he is now a porter at Lyons. He always inquires of all
+strangers on the coming of the Cocquecigrues, for an old woman has
+prophesied that at their coming he shall be re-established in his
+kingdom.
+
+
+_III.--The Abbey of Thelema_
+
+
+Gargantua was mightily pleased with Friar John, and he wanted to make
+him abbot of several abbeys in his country. But the monk said he would
+never take upon him the government of monks. "Give me leave," he said,
+"to found an abbey after my own fancy." The notion pleased Gargantua,
+who thereupon offered him all the country of Thelema by the river of
+Loire. Friar John then asked Gargantua to institute his religious order
+contrary to all others. At that time they placed no women into nunneries
+save those who were ugly, ill-made, foolish, humpbacked, or corrupt; nor
+put any men into monasteries save those that were sickly, ill-born,
+simple-witted, and a burden to their family. Therefore, it was ordained
+that into this abbey of Thelema should be admitted no women that were
+not beautiful and of a sweet disposition, and no men that were not
+handsome, well-made, and well-conditioned. And because both men and
+women that are received into religious orders are constrained to stay
+there all the days of their lives, it was therefore laid down that all
+men and women admitted to Thelema should have leave to depart whenever
+it seemed good to them. And because monks and nuns made three vows of
+poverty, chastity, and obedience, it was appointed that those who
+entered into the new order might be rich and honourably married and live
+at liberty.
+
+For the building of the abbey Gargantua gave twenty-seven hundred
+thousand eight hundred and thirty-one long-wooled sheep; and for the
+maintenance thereof he gave an annual fee-farm rent of twenty-three
+hundred and sixty-nine thousand five hundred and fourteen rose nobles.
+In the building were nine thousand three hundred and thirty-two
+apartments, each furnished with an inner chamber, a cabinet, a wardrobe,
+a chapel, and an opening into a great hall. The abbey also contained
+fine great libraries and spacious picture galleries.
+
+All the life of the Thelemites was laid out, not by laws and rules, but
+according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose from their beds
+when it seemed good to them; they drank, worked, ate, slept, when the
+wish came upon them. No one constrained them in anything, for so had
+Gargantua established it. Their rule consisted of this one clause:
+
+    DO WHAT THOU WILT
+
+Because men are free, well-born, well-bred, conversant in honest
+company, have by nature an instinct and a spur that always prompt them
+to virtuous actions and withdraw them from vice; and this they style
+honour. When the time was come that any man wished to leave the abbey,
+he carried with him one of the ladies who had taken him for her faithful
+servant, and they were married together; and if they had formerly lived
+together in Thelema in devotion and friendship, still more did they so
+continue in wedlock; insomuch that they loved one another to the end of
+their lives, as on the first day of their marriage.
+
+
+_IV.--Pantagruel and Panurge_
+
+
+At the age of four hundred four score and forty-four years, Gargantua
+had a son by his wife, Badebec, daughter of one of the kings of Utopia.
+And because in the year that his son was born there was a great drought,
+Gargantua gave him the name of Pantagruel; for panta in Greek is as much
+as to say all, and gruel in the Arabic language has the same meaning as
+thirsty. Moreover, Gargantua foresaw, in the spirit of prophesy, that
+Pantagruel would one day be the ruler of the thirsty race, and that if
+he lived very long he would arrive at a goodly age.
+
+Like his father, Pantagruel went to Paris to study. There his spirit
+among his books was like fire among heather, so indefatigable was it and
+ardent. One day as Pantagruel was taking a walk without the city he met
+a man of a comely stature and elegant in all the lineaments of his body,
+but most pitifully wounded, and clad in tatters and rags.
+
+"Who are you, my friend?" said Pantagruel. "What do you want, and what
+is your name?" The man answered him in German, gibberish, Italian,
+English, Basque, Lantern-language, Dutch, Spanish, Danish, Hebrew,
+Greek, Breton, and Latin.
+
+"Well, well, my friend," replied Pantagruel, when the man had come to an
+end, "can you speak French?"
+
+"That I can very well, sir," he replied, "for my name is Panurge, and I
+was bred and born in Touraine, which is the garden of France. I have
+just come from Turkey, where I was taken prisoner, and my throat is so
+parched and my stomach so empty that if you will only put a meal before
+me, it will be a fine sight for you to see me walk into it."
+
+Pantagruel had conceived a great affection for the wandering scholar,
+and he took him home and set a great store of food before him. Panurge
+ate right on until the evening, went to bed as soon as he finished,
+slept till dinner time next day, so that he only made three steps and a
+jump from bed to table. Panurge was of a middle height, and had a nose
+like that of the handle of a razor. He was a very gallant and proper man
+in his person, and the greatest thief, drinker, roysterer, and rake in
+Paris. With all that, he was the best fellow in the world, and he was
+always contriving some mischief or other. Pantagruel, being pleased with
+him, gave him the castellany of Salmigondin, which was yearly worth
+6,789,106,789 royals of certain rent; besides the uncertain revenue of
+cockchafers and snails, amounting one year with another to the value of
+2,435,768, or 2,435,769 French crowns of Berry. Sometimes it amounted to
+1,234,554,321 seraphs, when it was a good season, and cockchafers and
+snails in request; but that was not every year.
+
+The new castellan conducted himself so well and prudently than in less
+than fourteen days he wasted all the revenue of his castellany for three
+whole years. Yet he did not throw it away in building churches and
+founding monasteries, but spent it in a thousand little banquets and
+joyful festivals, keeping open house for all good fellows and pretty
+girls who came that way.
+
+Pantagruel being advertised of the affair was in no wise offended. He
+only took Panurge aside, and sweetly represented to him that if he
+continued to live in this manner it would be difficult at any time to
+make him rich.
+
+"Rich?" answered Panurge. "Have you undertaken the impossible task to
+make me rich? Be prudent, like me, and borrow money beforehand, for you
+never know how things will turn out."
+
+"But," said Pantagruel, "when will you be out of debt?"
+
+"The Lord forbid I should ever be out of debt," replied Panurge. "Are
+you indebted to somebody? He will pray night and morning that your life
+may be blessed, long and prosperous. Fearing to lose his debt, he will
+always speak good of you in every company; moreover, he will continually
+get new creditors for you, in the hope, that, through them, you will be
+able to pay him."
+
+To this Pantagruel answering nothing. Panurge went on with his
+discourse, saying: "To think that you should run full tilt at me and
+twit me with my debts and creditors! In this one thing only do I esteem
+myself worshipful, reverend, and formidable. I have created something
+out of nothing--a line of fair and jolly creditors! Imagine how glad I
+am when I see myself, every morning, surrounded by them, humble,
+fawning, and full of reverence. You ask me when I will be out of debt.
+May the good Saint Babolin snatch me, if I have not always held that
+debt was the connection and tie between the heavens and the earth; the
+only bond of union of the human race; without it the whole progeny of
+Adam would soon perish. A world without debts! Everything would be in
+disorder. The planets, reckoning they were not indebted to each other,
+would thrust themselves out of their sphere. The sun would not lend any
+light to the earth. No rain would descend on it, no wind blow there, and
+there would be no summer or harvest. Faith, hope, and charity will be
+quite banished from such a world; and what would happen to our bodies?
+The head would not lend the sight of its eyes to guide the hands and the
+feet; the feet would refuse to carry the head, and the hands would leave
+off working for it. Life would go out of the body, and the chafing soul
+would take its flight after my money.
+
+"On the contrary, I shall be pleased to represent unto your fancy
+another world, in which everyone lends and everyone owes. Oh, how great
+will be the harmony among mankind! I lose myself in this contemplation.
+There will be peace among men; love, affection, fidelity, feastings,
+joy, and gladness; gold, silver, and merchandise will trot from hand to
+hand. There will be no suits of law, no wars, no strife. All will be
+good, all will be fair, all will be just. Believe me, it is a divine
+thing to lend, and an heroic virtue to owe. Yet this is not all. We owe
+something to posterity."
+
+"What is that?" said Pantagruel.
+
+"The task of creating it," said Panurge. "I have a mind to marry and get
+children."
+
+"We must consult the Oracle of the Divine Bottle," exclaimed Pantagruel,
+"before you enter on so dangerous an undertaking. Come, let us prepare
+for the voyage."
+
+
+_V.--The Divine Bottle_
+
+
+Pantagruel knew that the Oracle of the Divine Bottle could only be
+reached by a perilous voyage in unknown seas and strange islands. But,
+undismayed by this knowledge, he fitted out a great fleet at St. Malo,
+and sailed beyond the Cape of Good Hope to Lantern Land. As they were
+voyaging along, beyond the desolate land of the Popefigs and the blessed
+island of the Papemanes, Pantagruel heard voices in the air, and the
+pilot said: "Be not afraid, my lord! We are on the confines of the
+frozen sea, where there was a great fight last winter between the
+Arimaspians and the Nepheliabetes. The cries of the men, the neighing of
+the horses, and all the din of battle froze in the air, and now that the
+warm season is come, they are melting into sound."
+
+"Look," said Pantagruel, "here are some that are not yet thawed." And he
+threw on deck great handfuls of frozen words, seeming like sugar-plums
+of many colours. Panurge warmed some of them in his hands, and they
+melted like snow into a barbarous gibberish. Panurge prayed Pantagruel
+to give him some more, but Pantagruel told him that to give words was
+the part of a lover.
+
+"Sell me some, then," cried Panurge.
+
+"That is the part of a lawyer," said Pantagruel. But he threw three or
+four more handfuls of them on the deck, and as they melted all the
+noises of the battle rang about the ship.
+
+From this point Pantagruel sailed straight for Lantern Land, and came to
+the desired island in which was the Oracle of the Bottle. On the front
+of the Doric portal was engraved in fine gold the sentence: "In Wine,
+Truth." The noble priestess, Bachuc, led Panurge to the fountain in the
+temple, within which was placed the Divine Bottle. After he had danced
+round it three Bacchic dances, she threw a magic powder into the
+fountain, and its water began to boil violently and Panurge sat upon the
+ground and waited for the oracle. First of all a noise like that made by
+bees at their birth came from the Divine Bottle, and immediately after
+this was heard the word, "Drink!"
+
+The priestess then filled some small leather vessels with this fantastic
+water, and gave them to Panurge and Pantagruel, saying: "If you have
+observed what is written above the temple gates, you at last know that
+truth is hidden in wine. Be yourselves the expounders of your
+undertaking, and now go, friends, in the protection of that intellectual
+sphere, the centre of which is in all places and the circumference
+nowhere, which we call God. What has become of the art of calling down
+from heaven, thunder and celestial fire, once invented by the wise
+Prometheus? You have certainly lost it. Your philosophers who complain
+that all things were written by the ancients, and that nothing is left
+for them to invent, are evidently wrong. When they shall give their
+labour and study to search out, with prayer to the sovereign God (whom
+the Egyptians named the Hidden and Concealed, and invoking Him by that
+name, besought Him to manifest and discover Himself to them), He will
+grant to them, partly guided by good Lanterns, knowledge of Himself and
+His creatures. For all philosophers and ancient sages have considered
+two things necessary for the sure and pleasant pursuit of the way of
+divine knowledge and choice of wisdom--the goodness of God, and the
+company of men.
+
+"Now go, in the name of God, and may He guide you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CHARLES READE
+
+
+Hard Cash
+
+
+     Charles Reade made his first appearance as an author
+     comparatively late in life. He was the son of an English
+     squire, born at Ipsden on June 8, 1814, and was educated for
+     the Bar, being entered at Lincoln's Inn in 1843. His literary
+     career began as dramatist, and it is significant that it was
+     his own wish that the word "dramatist" should stand first in
+     the description of his works on his tombstone. His maiden
+     effort in stage literature, "The Ladies' Battle," was produced
+     in 1851; but it was not until November, 1852, with the
+     appearance of "Masks and Faces"--the story which he afterwards
+     adapted into prose under the title of "Peg Woffington"--that
+     Reade became famous as a playwright. From 1852 until his
+     death, which occurred on April 11, 1884, Reade's life is
+     mainly a catalogue of novels and dramas. Like many of Charles
+     Reade's works, "Hard Cash, a Matter-of-Fact Romance," is a
+     novel with a purpose, and was written with the object of
+     exposing abuses connected with the lunacy laws and the
+     management of private lunatic asylums. Entitled "Very Hard
+     Cash," it first appeared serially in the pages of "All the
+     Year Round," then under the editorship of Charles Dickens, and
+     although its success in that form was by no means
+     extraordinary, its popularity on its publication in book form
+     in 1863 was well deserved and emphatic. The appearance of
+     "Hard Cash," which is a sequel to a comparatively trivial
+     tale, "Love me Little, Love me Long," provoked much hostile
+     criticism from certain medical quarters--criticism to which
+     Reade replied with vehemence and characteristic vigour. His
+     activity in the campaign against the abuses of lunacy law did
+     not end with the publication of this story, since he conducted
+     personal investigations in many individual cases of false
+     imprisonment under pretence of lunacy.
+
+
+_I.--The Dodd and Hardie Families_
+
+
+In a snowy-villa, just outside the great commercial seaport, Barkington,
+there lived, a few years ago, a happy family. A lady, middle-aged, but
+still charming; two young friends of hers, and an occasional visitor.
+
+The lady was Mrs. Dodd; her periodical visitor her husband, the captain
+of an East Indiaman; her friends were her son Edward, aged twenty, and
+her daughter, Julia, nineteen.
+
+Mrs. Dodd was the favourite companion and bosom friend of both her
+children. They were remarkably dissimilar. Edward was comely and manly,
+no more; could walk up to a five-barred gate and clear it; could row all
+day, and then dance all night; and could not learn his lessons to save
+his life.
+
+In his sister Julia modesty, intelligence, and, above all, enthusiasm
+shone, and made her an incarnate sunbeam.
+
+This one could learn her lessons with unreasonable rapidity, and Mrs.
+Dodd educated her herself, from first to last; but Edward she sent to
+Eton, where he made good progress--in aquatics and cricket.
+
+In spite of his solemn advice--"you know, mamma, I've got no
+headpiece"--he was also sent to Oxford, and soon found he could not have
+carried his wares to a better market. Advancing steadily in that line of
+study towards which his genius lay, he was soon as much talked about in
+the university as any man in his college, except one. Singularly enough,
+that one was his townsman--much Edward's senior in standing, though not
+in age. Young Alfred Hardie was doge of a studious clique, and careful
+to make it understood that he was a reading man who boated and cricketed
+to avoid the fatigue of lounging.
+
+To this young Apollo, crowned with variegated laurel, Edward looked up
+from a distance, praised him and recorded his triumphs in all his
+letters; but he, thinking nothing human worthy of reverence but
+intellect, was not attracted by Edward, till at Henley he saw Julia, and
+lo! true life had dawned. He passed the rest of the term in a soft
+ecstasy, called often on Edward, and took a prodigious interest in him,
+and counted the days till he should be for four months in the same town
+as his enchantress. Within a month of his arrival in Barkington he
+obtained Mrs. Dodd's permission to ask his father's consent to propose
+an engagement to Julia, which was promptly refused; and inquiry,
+petulance, tenderness, and logic were alike wasted on Mr. Hardie by his
+son in vain. He would give no reason. But Mrs. Dodd, knowing him of old,
+had little doubt, and watched her daughter day and night to find whether
+love or pride was the stronger, all the mother in arms to secure her
+daughter's happiness. Finding this really at stake, she explained that
+she knew the nature of Mr. Hardie's objections, and they were objections
+that her husband, on his return, would remove. "My darling," she said,
+"pray for your father's safe return, for on him, and on him alone, your
+happiness depends, as mine does."
+
+Next day Mrs. Dodd walked two hours with Alfred, and his hopes revived
+under her magic, as Julia's had. The wise woman quietly made terms. He
+was not to come to the house except on her invitation, unless indeed he
+had news of the Agra to communicate; but he might write once a week, and
+enclose a few lines to Julia. On this he proceeded to call her his best,
+dearest, loveliest friend--his mother. That touched her. Hitherto he had
+been to her but a thing her daughter loved. Her eyes filled.
+
+"My poor, warm-hearted, motherless boy," she said, "pray for my
+husband's safe return."
+
+So now two more bright eyes looked longingly seaward for the Agra,
+homeward bound.
+
+
+_II.--Richard Hardie's Villainy_
+
+
+Richard Hardie was at that moment the unlikeliest man in Barkington to
+decline Julia Dodd, with hard cash in five figures, for his
+daughter-in-law.
+
+The great banker stood, a colossus of wealth and stability to the eye,
+though ready to crumble at a touch, and, indeed, self-doomed; for
+bankruptcy was now his game. This was a miserable man, far more so than
+his son, whose happiness he was thwarting; and of all things that gnawed
+him, none was more bitter than to have borrowed L5,000 of his children's
+trust money, and sunk it. His son's marriage would expose him; lawyers
+would peer into trusts, etc.
+
+When his son announced his attachment to a young lady living in a
+suburban villa it was a terrible blow, but if Alfred had told him hard
+cash in five figures could be settled by the bride's family on the young
+couple, he would have welcomed the wedding with a secret gush of joy,
+for he could then have thrown himself on Alfred's generosity, and been
+released from that one corroding debt.
+
+He had for months spent his days poring over the books, fabricating and
+maturing a false balance-sheet. Suspecting that the cashier was watching
+him, he one day handed him his dismissal, polite but peremptory, and
+went on cooking his accounts with surpassing dignity. Rage supplying the
+place of courage, the cashier let him know that he--poor, despised Noah
+Skinner--had kept genuine books while he had been preparing false ones.
+
+He was at the mercy of his servant, and bowed his pride to flatter
+Skinner, and soon saw this was the way to make him a clerk of wax. He
+became his accomplice, and on this his master told him everything it was
+impossible to keep from him. At this moment Captain Dodd was announced.
+Mr. Hardie explained to his new ally the danger that threatened him from
+Miss Julia Dodd.
+
+"And now," said he, "the women have sent the father to soften me. I
+shall be told his girl will die if she can't have my boy."
+
+But, instead of the heartbroken father he expected, in came the gallant
+sailor, with a brown cheek reddened with triumph and excitement, who
+held out his hand cordially, almost shouting in a jovial voice, "Well,
+sir, here I am, just come ashore, and visiting you before my very wife;
+what d'ye think of that?"
+
+Hardie stared, and remained on his guard, puzzled; while David Dodd
+showed his pocket-book, and in the pride of his heart, and the fever in
+his blood--for there were two red spots on his cheeks all the time--told
+the cold pair its adventures in a few glowing words; the Calcutta
+firm--the two pirates--the hurricane--the wrecks, the land-sharks he had
+saved it from. "And here it is safe, in spite of them all, and you must
+be good enough to take care of it for me."
+
+He then opened the pocket-book, and Mr. Hardie ran over the notes and
+bills, and said the amount was L14,010 12s. 6d.
+
+Dodd asked for a receipt, and while it was written poor Dodd's heart
+overflowed.
+
+"It's my children's fortune, you see; I don't look on a sixpence of it
+as mine. It belongs to my little Julia, bless her, she's a rosebud if
+ever there was one; and my boy Edward, he's the honestest young chap you
+ever saw; but how could they miss either good looks or good hearts, and
+her children? Here's a Simple Simon vaunting his own flesh and blood,
+but you know how it is with us fathers; our hearts are so full of the
+little darlings, out it must come. You can imagine how joyful I feel at
+saving their fortune from land-sharks, and landing it safe in an honest
+man's hands."
+
+Skinner gave him the receipt.
+
+"All right, little gentleman; now my heart is relieved of such a weight.
+Good-bye, shake hands. God bless you! God bless you both!" And with this
+he was out and making ardently for Albion Villa.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later the door burst open, and David Dodd stood on the
+threshold, looking terrible. He seemed black and white with anger and
+anxiety. Making a great effort to control his agitation, he said, "I
+have changed my mind, sir; I want my money back."
+
+Mr. Hardie said faintly, "Certainly; may I ask----"
+
+"No matter," cried Dodd. "Come! My money! I must and will have it."
+
+Hardie drew himself up majestically; and Dodd said, "Well, I beg your
+pardon, but I can't help it!"
+
+The banker's mind went into a whirl. It was death to part with this
+money and get nothing by it. He made excuses. Dodd eyed him sternly, and
+said quietly, "So you can't give me my money because your cashier has
+carried it away. It is not in this room, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What, not in that safe there?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Hardie stoutly.
+
+"My money! My money!" cried David fiercely. "No more words. I know you
+now. I _saw_ you put it in that safe. You want to steal my children's
+money. My money, ye pirate, or I'll strangle you!"
+
+While Hardie unlocked the safe with trembling hands, Dodd stood like a
+man petrified; the next moment his teeth gnashed loudly together, and he
+fell headlong on the floor in a fit. So the L14,000 remained with the
+banker.
+
+Not many days after this a crowd stood in front of the old bank, looking
+at the shutters, and a piece of paper announcing a suspension, only for
+a month or so.
+
+Many things now came to Alfred Hardie's knowledge till he began to
+shudder at his own father, and was troubled with dark, mysterious
+surmises, and wandered alone, or sat brooding and dejected. Richard
+Hardie's anxiety to know whether David Dodd was to live or die
+increased. He was now resolved to fly to the United States with his
+booty, and cheat his son with the rest. On his putting a smooth inquiry
+to Alfred, his face flushed with shame or anger, and he gave a very
+short, obscure reply. So he invited the doctor to dinner, and elicited
+the information that David's life indeed was saved, but he was a maniac;
+and his sister, a sensible, resolute woman, had signed the certificate,
+and he was now in a private asylum.
+
+Mr. Hardie smiled, and sipped his tea luxuriously; he would not have to
+go to a foreign land after all. Who would believe a lunatic? He said, "I
+presume, Alfred, you are not so far gone as to insist on propagating
+insanity by a marriage with Captain Dodd's daughter now?"
+
+Alfred ground his teeth, and replied that his father should be the last
+man to congratulate himself on the affliction that had fallen on that
+family he aspired to enter, all the more now they had calamities for him
+to share.
+
+"More fool you," put in Mr. Hardie calmly.
+
+"For I much fear you are the cause of that calamity."
+
+"I really don't know what you allude to."
+
+The son fixed his eyes on his father, and said, "The fourteen thousand
+pounds, sir!"
+
+One unguarded look confirmed Alfred's suspicions; he could not bear to
+go on exposing his father, and wandered out, sore perplexed and nobly
+wretched, into the night.
+
+
+_III.--Alfred in Confinement_
+
+
+At last Alfred decided that justice _must_ be done, and confided his
+suspicions to the Dodds. Edward's good commonsense at once settled that,
+as the man who married Julia would be the greatest sufferer by Hardie
+senior's fraud, Hardie junior should settle his own L10,000 on her, and
+marry her as soon as he came of age. Alfred joyfully agreed, privately
+arranging that the money should be settled on Julia's parents, and
+preparations went on apace.
+
+But on the wedding-day the bridal party waited in vain for the
+bridegroom, and Edward ran to his lodgings to fetch him.
+
+He came back alone, white with wrath, hurried the insulted bride and her
+mother into the carriage, and they went home as if from a funeral. Aye,
+and a funeral it was; for the sweetest girl in England buried her hopes,
+her laugh, her May of youth that day.
+
+As soon as possible this heartbroken trio removed to London, where Mrs.
+Dodd became a dressmaker, and Edward a fireman.
+
+It was true Alfred _had_ received a letter in a female hand, but it was
+from a discharged servant of his father's, offering information about
+the L14,000 if he would come to a house about ten miles off the next
+morning. He calculated he could do so, and still be in the church in
+time, and drove there with all his luggage, only to find himself shut up
+in a lunatic asylum.
+
+He made a desperate resistance, but was soon overpowered and left
+handcuffed, hobbled, and strapped down, more helpless than a swaddled
+infant. He lay mute as death in his gloomy cell; deeper horror grew and
+grew, gusts of rage swept over him, gusts of despair. What would his
+Julia think? He shouted, he screamed, he prayed. He saw her, lovelier
+than ever, all in white, waiting for him, with sweet concern in her
+peerless face. Half-past ten struck. He struggled, he writhed, he made
+the very room shake, and lacerated his flesh, but that was all. No
+answer, no help, no hope.
+
+By-and-by his good wit told him his only chance was calmness; they could
+not long confine him as a madman, being sane. But all his efforts to
+convince his keepers that he was sane were useless; his letters seemed
+to go, but he got no answers; his appeals to visiting justices were in
+vain. The responsibility rested with the people who signed the
+certificates, and he could not even find out who they were. After months
+of softening hearts and buying consciences, he was on the point of
+escape, when he was moved to another asylum. Here there was no
+brutality, but constant watchfulness; and he had almost prevailed on the
+doctor to declare him cured when he was again moved to a still more
+brutal place, if possible, than the first.
+
+One day he found himself locked in his room. This was unusual, for
+though they called him a lunatic in words, they called him sane by all
+their acts. He thought the commissioners must be in the house; had he
+known who really was in the house he would have beaten himself to pieces
+against the door.
+
+At dinner there was a new patient, very mild and silent, with a
+beautiful mild brown eye like some gentle animal's. Alfred contrived to
+say some kind word to him; and the newcomer handled his forelock, and
+announced himself as William Thompson, adding, with simple pride, "Able
+seaman, just come aboard, your honour."
+
+At night Alfred dreamed he heard Julia's sweet, mellow voice speaking to
+him; and lo, it was the able seaman. He slept no more, but lay sighing.
+
+The matron told him this was David Dodd, Alfred redoubled his efforts to
+escape, and at last one of the keepers consented to help him off. He was
+sitting on his bed full dressed, full of hope, his money in his pocket,
+waiting for his liberator. Every moment he expected to hear the key in
+the door.
+
+Then came a smell of burning, and feet ran up and down. "Fire!" rang
+from men's voices. Fire cracked above his head; he sprang up at the
+window, and dashed his hand through it, and fell back. He sprang again,
+and caught the woodwork; it gave way, and he fell back, nearly stunning
+himself. The flames roared fearfully now, and David, thinking it was a
+tempest, shouted appropriate orders. Alfred implored him, and got him to
+kneel down with him, and prayed. He gave up all hope, and prepared to
+die.
+
+Crash! As if discharged from a cannon, came bursting through the window
+a helmeted figure, rope in hand, and alighted erect and commanding on
+the floor. All three faces came together, and Edward recognised his
+father and Alfred Hardie. Edward clawed his rope to the bed, and hauled
+up a rope ladder, crying, "Now, men, quick for your lives!" But poor
+David called that deserting the ship, and demurred, till Alfred assured
+him the captain had ordered it. He then touched his forelock to Edward,
+and went down the ladder. Alfred followed.
+
+They were at once overpowered with curiosity and sympathy, and had to
+shake a hundred hands.
+
+"Gently, good friends; don't part us," said Alfred.
+
+"He's the keeper," said one of the crowd, and all helped them to the
+back door.
+
+Alfred ran off across country for bare life. To his horror, David
+followed him, shouting cheerily, "Go ahead, messmate, I smell blue
+water."
+
+"Come on, then!" cried Alfred, half mad himself; and the pair ran
+furiously the livelong night. Free!
+
+
+_IV.--Into Smooth Waters_
+
+
+Exhilarated by freedom, Alfred began to nurse aspiring projects; he
+would indict his own father and the doctor, and wipe off the stigma they
+had cast on him. Meantime, he would cure David and restore him to his
+family. They bowled along towards blue water with a perfect sense of
+security. But at Folkestone, David disappeared, and Alfred, hearing as
+he ran wildly all over the place that there was "another party on the
+same lay"--the mad gentleman's wife--took the first train to London,
+dispirited and mortified. David was in good hands, however, and Alfred
+had glorious work on hand--love and justice.
+
+He at once put his affairs into a lawyer's hands, and thought of love
+alone. After a violent encounter with his late keepers and a narrow
+escape from capture, in the midst of Elysium with Julia, her mother
+returned in despair. David had completely disappeared. Again these
+lovers were separated, and again Edward's commonsense came to the
+rescue. Alfred went back to Oxford to read for his first class, and
+Julia to her district visiting, while the terrible delays of the law
+went on. Alfred had begun to believe trial by jury would never be
+allowed him, and when at last, after many postponements, the trial did
+come on, he was being examined in the schools, and refused to come till
+his counsel had actually opened the case. Mr. Thomas Hardie, Alfred's
+uncle, was the defendant, for it was proved he had authorised Alfred's
+arrest.
+
+A detective had been employed to find Mr. Barkington, a little man in
+Julia's district, whom the lawyers suspected might be useful; and when
+the trial was half over, he led them all in great excitement to the back
+slums of Westminster. Mr. Barkington, _alias_ Noah Skinner, was wanted
+by another client of his.
+
+The room was full of an acrid vapour, and a mummified figure sat at the
+table, dead this many a day of charcoal fumes; in his hand a banker's
+receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for L14,000. The lawyer was handing it to
+Julia, having just found a will bequeathing all Skinner had in the world
+to her, with his blessing, when a solemn voice said: "No; it is mine."
+
+A keen cry from Julia's heart, and in an instant she was clinging round
+her father's neck. Edward could only get at his hand. Instinct told them
+Heaven had given them back their father, mind and all.
+
+Alfred Hardie slipped out, and ran like a deer to tell Mrs. Dodd.
+
+Husband and wife met alone in Mrs. Dodd's room. No eyes ventured to
+witness a scene so strange, so sacred.
+
+They all thought in their innocence that Hardie _v_. Hardie was now at
+an end, with Captain Dodd ready to prove Alfred's sanity; but the lawyer
+advised them not to put the captain to the agitation of the witness-box.
+
+Mr. Thomas Hardie, the defendant, won the case for Alfred by admitting
+in the witness-box that his brother Richard had declared that "if you
+don't put Alfred in a madhouse, I will put you in one."
+
+The jury found for the plaintiff, Alfred Hardie, and gave the damages at
+L3,000. The verdict was received with acclamation by the people, and in
+the midst of this Alfred's lawyer announced that the plaintiff had just
+gained his first class at Oxford.
+
+Mr. Richard Hardie restored the L14,000, and a few years later died a
+monomaniac, believing himself penniless when he possessed L60,000.
+
+Alfred married Julia, and, with the consent of his wife, took his father
+to live with them. Then Alfred determined to pay in full all who had
+been ruined by the bank failure, and in time the old bank was reopened
+with Edward Dodd as managing partner. In the end, no creditor of Richard
+Hardie was left unpaid. Alfred went in for politics and became an M.P.
+for Barkington; whence to dislodge him I pity anyone who tries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+It Is Never Too Late to Mend
+
+
+     "It is Never Too Late to Mend, a Matter-of-Fact Romance,"
+     published in 1856, is, like "Hard Cash," a story with a
+     purpose, the object in this instance being to illustrate the
+     abuses of prison discipline in England and Australia. Many of
+     the passages describing Australian life are exceptionally
+     vivid and imaginative, and exhibit Charles Reade, if not in
+     the front rank of novelists of his day, at least occupying a
+     high position.
+
+
+_I.--In Berkshire_
+
+
+George Fielding, assisted by his brother William, tilled The Grove--as
+nasty a little farm as any in Berkshire. It was four hundred acres, all
+arable, and most of it poor, sour land. A bad bargain, and the farmer
+being sober, intelligent, proud, sensitive, and unlucky, is the more to
+be pitied.
+
+Susanna Merton was beautiful and good; George Fielding and she were
+acknowledged lovers, but latterly old Merton had seemed cool whenever
+his daughter mentioned the young man's name.
+
+William Fielding, George's brother, was in love with his brother's
+sweetheart, but he never looked at her except by stealth; he knew he had
+no business to love her.
+
+While George Fielding had been going steadily down-hill, till even the
+bank declined to give him credit, Mr. Meadows, who had been a carter,
+was, at forty years of age, a rich corn-factor and land surveyor.
+
+This John Meadows was not a common man. He had a cool head, and an iron
+will; and he had the soul of business--method.
+
+Meadows was generally respected; by none more than by old Merton. In
+fact, it seemed to Merton that John Meadows would make a better
+son-in-law than George Fielding.
+
+The day came when a distress was issued against Fielding's farm for the
+rent, and as it happened on that very day Susan and her father had come
+to dinner at The Grove. Old Merton, knowing how things stood, spoke his
+mind to George.
+
+"You are too much of a man, I hope, to eat a woman's bread; and if you
+are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it. If Susan marries you
+she will have to keep you instead of you her."
+
+"Is this from Susanna, as well as you?" said George, with a trembling
+lip.
+
+"Susan is an obedient daughter. What I say she'll stand to."
+
+This was blow number two for George Fielding. The third stroke on that
+day was the arrest of Mr. Robinson who had been staying at The Grove as
+a lodger. Mr. Robinson dressed well, too well, perhaps, but somehow the
+rustics wouldn't accept him for a gentleman. George had taken a great
+liking to his lodger, and Mr. Robinson was equally sincere in his
+friendship for Fielding. And now it turned out that the fools who had
+disparaged Robinson were right, and he, George Fielding, wrong. Before
+his eyes, and amidst the grins of a score of gaping yokels, Thomas
+Robinson, alias Scott, a professional thief, was handcuffed and carried
+off to the county gaol.
+
+This finished George. An invitation to go out to Australia with the
+younger son of a neighbouring landowner, hitherto disregarded, was now
+accepted.
+
+Old Merton approved the decision, and when his daughter implored him not
+to let George go, he replied plainly, to both of them:
+
+"Susan! Mayhap the lad thinks me his enemy, but I'm not. My daughter
+shall not marry a bankrupt farmer, but you bring home a thousand
+pounds--just one thousand pounds--to show me you are not a fool, and you
+shall have my daughter, and she shall have my blessing." And the old
+farmer gave George his hand upon it.
+
+Meadows exulted, thinking, with George in Australia, he could secure his
+own way with Susan and old Merton. He had forgotten one man; old Isaac
+Levi, of whom he had made an implacable enemy, by insisting on his
+turning out of the house where he lived. Meadows, having bought the
+house, intended to live in it himself, and treated the prayers and
+entreaties of the old Jew with contempt. Only the interference of George
+Fielding, on the day of his own ruin, had saved old Levi from personal
+violence at the hands of Meadows; and so while George was sinking under
+the blows of fortune, he had made a friend in Isaac Levi.
+
+Before George sailed William promised that he would think no more of
+Susan as a sweetheart.
+
+"She's my sister from this hour--no more, no less," he declared. "And
+may the red blight fall on my arm and my heart if I or any man takes her
+from you--any man! Sooner than a hundred men should take her from you
+while I am here I'd die at their feet a hundred times."
+
+William kept his eye on Meadows, but Meadows soon had William in his
+clutches. For John Meadows lent money upon ricks, waggons, leases, and
+such things, to farmers in difficulties, employing as his agent in these
+transactions a middle-aged, disreputable lawyer named Peter Crawley--a
+cunning fool and a sot.
+
+First William Fielding, and then old Merton were heavy debtors to Peter
+Crawley, that is to John Meadows; for Merton, a solid enough farmer, was
+beguiled into rash and ruinous speculations by a friend of Meadows'.
+
+And now George Fielding is gone to Australia to make a thousand pounds
+by farming and cattle-feeding, so that he may marry Susan. Susan, at
+home, is often pensive and always anxious, but not despondent. Meadows
+is falling deeper and deeper in love, but keeping it jealously secret;
+on his guard against Isaac Levi, and on his guard against William;
+hoping everything from time and accidents, and from George's incapacity
+to make money; and watching with keen eye and working with subtle
+threads to draw everybody into his power who could assist or thwart him
+in his object. William Fielding is going down the hill, Meadows was
+mounting; getting the better of his passion, and gradually substituting
+a brother-in-law's regard. Within eighteen months William was happily
+married to another farmer's daughter in the neighbourhood.
+
+
+_II.--In Gaol_
+
+
+Under Governor Hawes the separate and silent system flourished in ----
+gaol, and the local justices entirely approved the system. In the view
+of Hawes and the justices severe punishment of mind and body was the
+essential object of a gaol.
+
+Now Tom Robinson had not been in gaol these four years, and though he
+had heard much of the changes in gaol treatment, they had not yet come
+home to him. When, therefore, instead of being greeted with the
+boisterous acclamations of other spirits as bad as himself, he was
+ushered into a cell white as driven snow, and his duties explained to
+him, the heavy penalty he was under should a speck of dirt ever be
+discovered on the walls or floor, Thomas looked blank and had a
+misgiving. To his dismay he found that the silent cellular system was
+even carried out in the chapel, where each prisoner had a sort of
+sentry-box to himself, and that the hour's promenade for exercise
+conversation was equally impossible.
+
+The turnkeys were surly and forbidding, and the hours dragged wearily to
+this active-minded prisoner. Robinson was driven to appeal to the
+governor to put him on hard labour.
+
+"We'll choose the time for that," said the governor, with a knowing
+smile. "You'll be worse before you are better, my man."
+
+On the tenth day Robinson tried to exchange a word with a prisoner in
+chapel, and for this he was taken to the black-hole.
+
+Now Robinson was a man of rare capacity, full of talent and the courage
+and energy that show in action, but not rich in the fortitude that bears
+much. When they took him out of the black-hole, after six hours'
+confinement, he was observed to be white as a sheet, and to tremble
+violently all over.
+
+The day after this the doctor reported No. 19--this was Robinson--to be
+sinking, and on this Hawes put him to garden work. The man's life and
+reason were saved by that little bit of labour. Then for a day or two he
+was employed in washing the corridors, and in making brushes; after
+that, came the crank. This was a machine consisting of a vertical post
+with an iron handle, and it was worked as villagers draw a bucket up
+from a well.
+
+"Eighteen hundred revolutions per hour, and two hours before dinner,"
+was the order given to No. 19, a touch of fever a few days later made it
+impossible for him to get through his task, and Hawes brutally had the
+unfortunate prisoner placed in the jacket.
+
+This horrible form of torture consisted of a stout waistcoat, with a
+rough-edged collar. Robinson knew resistance was useless. He was jammed
+in the jacket, pinned tight to the collar, and throttled in the collar.
+Weakened by fever, he succumbed sooner than the torturers had calculated
+upon, and a few minutes later No. 19 would have been a corpse if he had
+not been released.
+
+Water was dashed over him, and then Hawes shouted: "I never was beat by
+a prisoner yet, and I never will be," and had him put back again. Every
+time he fainted, water was thrown over him.
+
+The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so
+that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket. "He
+will break out before long," said Hawes to himself, "and then--"
+
+Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side
+of his prudence. This bitter struggle in the thief's heart harmed his
+soul more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny. All the
+vices of the old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical
+effect of solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs. He made a
+desperate appeal to the chaplain: "We have no friends here, sir, but
+you--not one. Have pity on us."
+
+But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man--unequal to the task of
+standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and
+governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.
+
+Robinson now became a far worse man. He hated the human race, and said
+to himself, "From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!"
+
+It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office,
+and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.
+
+Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the
+punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners,
+and in the end triumphed handsomely. Hawes, in the face of an official
+inquiry by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane
+regime was instituted in the gaol.
+
+For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but
+when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the
+darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson's sanity
+preserved,--the man's heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn
+to honesty.
+
+Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the
+promise of an early ticket-of-leave. Mr. Eden, anxious for the man's
+future, thought of George Fielding. Taking Sunday duty in the parish
+where Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted
+with Susan, and had learnt her story. He now wrote to her: "Thomas
+Robinson goes to Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave
+almost immediately. I have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that
+poor Robinson with such a companion would be as honest as the day, and a
+useful friend, for he is full of resources. So I want you to do a
+Christian act, and write a note to Mr. Fielding, and let this poor
+fellow take it to him."
+
+Susan's letter came by return of post. Robinson sailed in the convict
+ship for Australia, and in due time was released. He found George
+Fielding at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan,
+and his own readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between
+the two men.
+
+
+_III.--Between Australia and Berkshire_
+
+
+Meadows, having the postmaster at Farnborough under his thumb, read all
+George's letters to Susan before they were delivered. As long as George
+was in difficulties--and the thousand pounds seemed as far off as ever
+until Tom Robinson struck gold and shared the luck with his partner--the
+letters gave Meadows no uneasiness. With the discovery of gold he
+decided Susan must hear no more from her lover, and that Fielding must
+not return. By this time, old Merton was heavily in debt to Meadows, and
+saw escape from bankruptcy only in Meadows becoming his son-in-law,
+while Susan was kindly disposed to Meadows because he said nothing of
+love, and was willing to talk about Australia.
+
+Meadows confided his plan to Peter Crawley.
+
+"My plan has two hands; I must be one, you the other. _I_ work thus: I
+stop all letters from him to her. Presently comes a letter from
+Australia telling how George Fielding has made his fortune and married a
+girl out there. She won't believe it at first, perhaps, but when she
+gets no more letters from him she will. Of course, I shall never mention
+his name, but I make one of my tools hang gaol over old Merton. Susan
+thinks George married. I strike upon her pique and her father's
+distress. I ask him for his daughter; offer to pay my father-in-law's
+debts and start him afresh. Susan likes me already. She will say no,
+perhaps, three or four times, but the fifth she will say yes. Crawley,
+the day that John and Susan Meadows walk out of church man and wife I
+put a thousand pounds into your hand and set you up in any business you
+like; in any honest business, that is. But suppose, Crawley, while I am
+working, this George Fielding were to come home with money in both
+pockets?"
+
+"He would kick it all down in a moment."
+
+"Crawley, George Fielding must not come back this year with a thousand
+pounds. That paper will prevent him; it is a paper of instructions. My
+very brains lie in that paper; put it in your pocket. You are going a
+journey, and you will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month."
+
+"When am I to start, sir? Where am I to go to?"
+
+"To-morrow morning. To Australia."
+
+A dead silence on both sides followed these words, as the two colourless
+faces looked into one another's eyes across the table.
+
+To Australia Peter Crawley went, and with half-a-dozen of the most
+villainous ruffians on earth in his pay, it seemed impossible for
+Fielding and Robinson to escape. But here the ex-thief's alertness came
+to George Fielding's aid, and the two men managed to get the better of
+all the robbers and assassins who attacked their tent. Robinson, in
+fact, not only saved his own and his partner's lives, by common consent
+he was elected captain at the gold-diggings, and by his authority some
+sort of law and order were established throughout the camp, and all
+thefts were heavily punished.
+
+The finding of a large nugget by Robinson ended gold-digging for these
+two men. The nugget was taken to Sydney and fetched L3,800, and when
+Crawley, who had pursued them from the camp, reached the city, he found
+they had already sailed for England.
+
+George Fielding went to Australia to make L1,000, and by industry,
+sobriety, and cattle, he did not make L1,000; but, with the help of a
+converted thief, he did by gold-digging, industry, and sobriety, make
+several thousand pounds, and take them safe away home, spite of many
+wicked devices and wicked men.
+
+Mr. Meadows flung out Peter Crawley, his left hand, into Australia to
+keep George from coming back to Susan with L1,000, and his left hand
+failed, and failed completely. But his right hand?
+
+
+_IV.--George Fielding's Return_
+
+
+One market day a whisper passed through Farnborough that George Fielding
+had met with wonderful luck. That he had made his fortune by gold, and
+was going to marry a young lady out in Australia. Farmer Merton brought
+the whisper home; Meadows was sure he would.
+
+When eight months had elapsed without a letter from George, Susan could
+no longer deceive herself with hopes. George was either false to her or
+dead. She said as much to Meadows, and this inspired him with the idea
+of setting about a report that George was dead. Susan's mind had long
+been prepared for bitter tidings, and when old Merton tried in a clumsy
+way to prepare her for sad news, she fixed her eyes on him, and said,
+"Father, George is dead."
+
+Old Merton hung his head, and made no reply. Susan crept from the room
+pale as ashes.
+
+Then Meadows contradicted this report, and showed a letter he had
+received, saying that "George Fielding was married yesterday to one of
+the prettiest girls in Sydney. I met them walking in the street to-day."
+
+"He is alive!" Susan said. "Thank God he is alive. I will not cry for
+another woman's husband."
+
+It was not pique that made Susan accept John Meadows, it was to save her
+father from ruin. She said plainly that she could not pretend affection,
+and that it was only her indifference that made her consent. She tried
+to give happiness, and to avoid giving pain, but her heart of hearts was
+inaccessible.
+
+The return of Crawley with the news that Fielding and Robinson were at
+hand, drove Meadows to persuade Susan to hasten the marriage. The
+following Monday had been fixed, Susan agreed to let it take place the
+preceding Thursday.
+
+The next thing was Meadows himself recognised Fielding and Robinson;
+they were staying the night at the King's Head, in Farnborough, where
+Meadows was taking a glass of ale. He promptly decided on his game. The
+travellers called for hot brandy-and-water, and while the waiter left it
+for a moment, Meadows dropped the contents of a certain white paper into
+the liquor. In the dead of night he left his bedroom, and crept to the
+room where Robinson slept. The drug had done its work. Meadows found
+L7,000 under the sleeper's pillow, and carried the notes off undetected.
+
+He returned in the early morning to his own house, he explained to
+Crawley why he had done this. "Don't you see that I have made George
+Fielding penniless, and that now old Merton won't let him have his
+daughter. He can't marry her at all now, and when the writ is served on
+old Merton he will be as strong as fire for me and against George
+Fielding. I am not a thief, and the day I marry Susan L7,000 will be put
+in George Fielding's hand; he won't know by whom, but you and I shall
+know. I am a sinner, but not a villain."
+
+He lit a candle and placed it in the grate. "Come now," Meadows said
+coolly, "burn them; then they will tell no tale."
+
+Crawley shrieked: "No, no, sir! Don't think of it, give them to me, and
+in twelve hours I will be in France!"
+
+Meadows hesitated, and then agreed to give him the notes on condition
+Crawley went to France that very day.
+
+Crawley kept faith. He hugged his treasure to his bosom, and sat down at
+the railway-station waiting for the train.
+
+Old Isaac Levi was there, and a police officer whom Crawley knew.
+
+"You have L7,000 about you, Mr. Crawley," whispered Isaac in his ear.
+"Stolen! Give it up to the police officer. Stolen by him, received by
+you. Give it up unless you prefer a public search. Here is a search
+warrant from the mayor."
+
+"I won't without Mr. Meadows' authority. Send for Mr. Meadows, if you
+dare!"
+
+"Well, we will take you to Mr. Meadows. Keep the money till you see him,
+but we must secure you. Let us go in a carriage."
+
+Meantime, Mr. Meadows had gone to the bank, and had made over the sum of
+L7,000 to George Fielding and Thomas Robinson. Then he hastened to the
+church, for it was his wedding-day, and every delay was dangerous.
+
+The parson was late, and while Meadows stood waiting outside the church,
+along with old Merton and his daughter, and a crowd of neighbours,
+George Fielding and Robinson came up.
+
+"Susan!" cried a well-known voice behind her. The bride turned, and
+forgot everything at the sight of George's handsome, honest face, and
+threw herself into his arms. George kissed the bride.
+
+"What have you done?" cried Susan. "You are false to me! You never wrote
+me a letter for twelve months, and you are married to a lady in
+Bathurst! Oh, George!"
+
+"Who has been telling her I have ever had a thought of any girl but
+her?" said George sternly. "Here is the ring you gave me, Susan."
+
+"Miss Merton and I are to be married to-day," said Meadows.
+
+"I was there before you, Mr. Meadows, but I won't stand upon that, and I
+wouldn't give a snap of the finger to have her if her will was toward
+another. So please yourself, Susan, my lass; only this must end. Choose
+between John Meadows and George Fielding."
+
+Susan looked up in astonishment.
+
+"What choice can there be? The moment I saw your face I forgot there was
+a John Meadows in the world!" With that she bolted off home.
+
+George turned to old Merton.
+
+"I crossed the seas on the faith of your promise, and I have brought
+back the thousand pounds."
+
+"John," said old Merton, "I must stand to my word, and I will--it is
+justice."
+
+It was then that Robinson, producing his pocket-book, found they had
+been robbed. Despair fell upon George. But Meadows was promptly hindered
+from pursuing any advantage by the arrival of Isaac Levi, with a
+magistrate and police officers. Presently Crawley was produced. The game
+was up. Levi had overheard all that had passed between Meadows and
+Crawley. Crawley turned upon Meadows, and the magistrate had no choice
+but to commit Meadows for trial, while the notes were returned to their
+rightful owners.
+
+A month later George and Susan were married, and Farmer Merton's debts
+paid.
+
+Robinson wisely went back to Australia, and more wisely married an
+honest serving-maid. He is respected for his intelligence and good
+nature, and is industrious and punctilious in business.
+
+When the assizes came on neither Robinson nor George was present to
+prosecute, and their recognisances were forfeited. Meadows and Crawley
+were released, and Meadows went to Australia. His mother, who hated her
+son's sins, left her native land at seventy to comfort him and win him
+to repentance.
+
+"Even now his heart is softening," she said to herself. "Three times he
+has said to me 'That George Fielding is a better man than I am.' He will
+repent; he bears no malice, he blames none but himself. It is never too
+late to mend."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+The Cloister and the Hearth
+
+
+     "The Cloister and the Hearth" a Tale of the Middle Ages, is by
+     common consent the greatest of all Charles Reade's stories. A
+     portion of it originally appeared in 1859 in "Once a Week,"
+     under the title of "A Good Fight," and such was its success in
+     this guise that it increased the circulation of that
+     periodical by twenty thousand. During the next two years
+     Reade, recognising its romantic possibilities, expanded it to
+     its present length. As a picture of the manners and customs of
+     the times it is almost unsurpassable; yet pervading the whole
+     is the strong, clear atmosphere of romantic drama never
+     allowing the somewhat ample descriptions to predominate the
+     thrilling interest with which the story is charged. Sir Walter
+     Besant regarded it as the "greatest historical novel in the
+     language." Swinburne remarked of it that "a story better
+     conceived, better constructed, or better related, it would be
+     difficult to find anywhere."
+
+
+_I.--Gerard Falls in Love_
+
+
+It was past the middle of the fifteenth century when our tale begins.
+
+Elias, and Catherine his wife, lived in the little town of Tergon in
+Holland. He traded, wholesale and retail, in cloth and curried leather,
+and the couple were well to do. Nine children were born to them; four of
+these were set up in trade, one, Giles, was a dwarf, another, little
+Catherine, was a cripple. Cornelis, the eldest, and Sybrandt, the
+youngest, lived at home, too lazy to work, waiting for dead men's shoes.
+
+There remained young Gerard, a son apart and distinct, destined for the
+Church. The monks taught him penmanship, and continued to teach him,
+until one day, in the middle of a lesson, they discovered he was
+teaching them. Then Gerard took to illuminating on vellum, and in this
+he was helped by an old lady, Margaret Van Eyck, sister of the famous
+brothers Van Eyck, who had come to end her days near Tergon. When Philip
+the Good, Count of Flanders, for the encouragement of the arts, offered
+prizes for the best specimens of painting on glass and illumination on
+vellum, Gerard decided to compete. He sent in his specimens, and his
+mother furnished him with a crown to go to Rotterdam and see the work of
+his competitors and the prize distribution. Gerard would soon be a
+priest, she argued; it seemed hard if he might not enjoy the world a
+little before separating himself from it for life.
+
+It was on the road to Rotterdam, within a league of the city, that
+Gerard found an old man sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a
+comely young woman holding his hand. The old man wore a gown, and a fur
+tippet, and a velvet cap--sure signs of dignity; but the gown was rusty,
+and the fur old--sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed in
+plain russet cloth, yet snow-white lawn covered her neck.
+
+"Father, I fear you are tired," said Gerard bashfully.
+
+"Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man; "and faint for lack of
+food."
+
+The girl whispered, "Father, a stranger--a young man!" But Gerard, with
+simplicity, and as a matter of course, was already gathering sticks for
+a fire. This done, he took down his wallet, and brought his tinder-box
+and an iron flask his careful mother had put in.
+
+Ghysbrecht Van Swikten, the burgomaster of Tergon, an old man redolent
+of wealth, came riding by while Gerard was preparing a meal of soup and
+bread by the roadside. He reined in his steed and spoke uneasily: "Why,
+Peter--Margaret--what mummery is this?" Then, seeing Gerard, he cast a
+look of suspicion on Margaret, and rode on. The wayfarers did not know
+that more than half the wealth of the burgomaster belonged to old Peter
+Brandt, now dependent on Gerard for his soup; but Ghysbrecht knew it,
+and carried it in his heart, a scorpion of remorse that was not
+penitence.
+
+From that hour Gerard was in love with Margaret, and now began a pretty
+trouble. For at Rotterdam, thanks to a letter from Margaret Van Eyck,
+Gerard won the favour of the Princess Marie, who, hearing that he was to
+be a priest, promised him a benefice. And yet no sooner was Gerard
+returned home to Tergon than he must needs go seeking Margaret, who
+lived alone with her father, old Peter Brandt, at Sevenbergen.
+Ghysbrecht's one fear was that if Gerard married Margaret the youth
+would sooner or later get to hear about certain documents in the
+burgomaster's possession, documents which established Brandt's right to
+lands held by the burgomaster, and which old Peter had long forgotten.
+
+So Ghysbrecht went to Eli and Catherine and showed them a picture Gerard
+had made of Margaret Brandt, and said that if Eli ordered it his son
+should be locked up until he came to his senses. Henceforth there was no
+longer any peace in the little house at Tergon, and at last Eli declared
+before the whole family that he had ordered the burgomaster to imprison
+his son Gerard in the Stadthouse rather than let him marry Margaret.
+Gerard turned pale at this, and his father went on to say, "and a priest
+you shall be before this year is out, willy-nilly."
+
+"Is it so?" cried Gerard. "Then hear me all. By God and St. Bavon, I
+swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives. Since force is to
+decide it, and not love and duty, try force, father. And the day I see
+the burgomaster come for me I leave Tergon for ever, and Holland too,
+and my father's house, where it seems I am valued only for what is to be
+got out of me."
+
+And he flung out of the room white with anger and desperation.
+
+"There!" cried Catherine. "That comes of driving young folk too hard.
+Now, heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or single."
+
+Gerard went to his good friend Margaret Van Eyck, who advised him to go
+to Italy, where painters were honoured like princes, and to take the
+girl he loved with him. Ten golden angels she gave him besides to take
+him to Rome.
+
+Gerard decided to marry Margaret Brandt at once, and a day or two later
+they stood before the altar of Sevenbergen Church. But the ceremony was
+never concluded, although Gerard got a certificate from the priest, for
+Ghysbrecht getting wind of what was afoot, sent his servants, who
+stopped the marriage, and carried Gerard off to the burgomaster's
+prison. In the room where he was confined were very various documents,
+which the prisoner got hold of.
+
+Gerard escaped from the prison, and vowing he had done with Tergon, bade
+farewell to Margaret, and set off for Italy. Once across the frontier in
+Germany he was safe from Ghysbrecht's malice. He also had in his keeping
+the piece of parchment which gave certain lands to Peter Brandt, and
+which Ghysbrecht had hitherto held.
+
+
+_II.--To Rome_
+
+
+It is likely Gerard would never have reached Rome but for his faithful
+comrade Denys, a soldier making his way home to Burgundy, whom he met
+early on the road. Gerard, at first, was for going on alone, but his
+companion would not be refused.
+
+"You will find me a dull companion, for my heart is very heavy," said
+Gerard, yielding.
+
+"I'll cheer you, mon gars."
+
+"I think you would," said Gerard sweetly; "and sore need have I of a
+kindly voice in mine ear this day."
+
+"Oh, no soul is sad alongside me. I lift up their poor little hearts
+with my consigne; 'Courage, tout le monde, le diable est mort.' Ha! Ha!"
+
+"So be it, then," said Gerard. "We will go together as far as Rhine, and
+God go with us both!"
+
+"Amen!" said Denys, and lifted up his cap.
+
+The pair trudged manfully on, and Denys enlivened the weary way. He
+chattered about battles and sieges, and things which were new to Gerard;
+and he was one of those who _make_ little incidents wherever they go. He
+passed nobody without addressing him. "They don't understand it, but it
+wakes them up," said he. But, whenever they fell in with a monk or
+priest, he pulled a long face and sought the reverend father's blessing,
+and fearlessly poured out on him floods of German words in such order as
+not to produce a single German sentence. He doffed his cap to every
+woman, high or low, he caught sight of, and complimented her in his
+native tongue, well adapted to such matters; and at each carrion crow or
+magpie down came his crossbow, and he would go a furlong off the road to
+circumvent it; and indeed he did shoot one old crow with laudable
+neatness, and carried it to the nearest hen-roost, and there slipped in
+and sat it upon a nest. "The good-wife will say, 'Alack, here is
+Beelzebub a hatching of my eggs.'"
+
+But the time came for parting and Denys, with a letter from Gerard to
+Margaret Brandt, reached Tergon, and found Eli and Catherine and gave
+them news of their son. "Many a weary league we trode together," said
+Denys. "Never were truer comrades; never will be while earth shall last.
+First I left my route a bit to be with him, then he his to be with me.
+We talked of Sevenbergen and Tergon a thousand times, and of all in this
+house. We had our troubles on the road, but battling them together made
+them light. I saved his life from a bear, he mine in the Rhine; for he
+swims like a duck, and I like a hod o' bricks; and we saved one
+another's lives at an inn in Burgundy, where we two held a room for a
+good hour against seven cut-throats, and crippled one and slew two; and
+your son met the stoutest champion I ever countered, and spitted him
+like a sucking-pig, else I had not been here. And at our sad parting,
+soldier though I be, these eyes did rain salt, scalding tears, and so
+did his, poor soul. His last word to me was: 'Go, comfort Margaret!' So
+here I be. Mine to him was: 'Think no more of Rome. Make for Rhine, and
+down stream home.'"
+
+Margaret Brandt had removed to Rotterdam, and there was no love lost
+between her and Catherine; but Gerard's letter drew them to a
+reconciliation, and from that day Catherine treated Margaret as her own
+daughter, and made much of Gerard's child when it was born. Eli and his
+son Richart, now a wealthy merchant, decided that Gerard must be bidden
+return home on the instant, for they longed to see him, and since he was
+married to Margaret, it was useless for any further strife on the
+matter.
+
+But Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster, knew by this time that Gerard had
+obtained the parchment relating to Peter Brandt's lands, and was anxious
+that Gerard should not return. Cornelis and Sybrandt were also against
+their brother, and willing to aid the burgomaster in any diabolical
+adventure. So a letter was concocted and Margaret Van Eyck's signature
+forged to it, and in this letter it was said that Margaret Brandt was
+dead.
+
+In the meantime, Gerard had reached Rome. The ship he sailed in was
+wrecked off the coast between Naples and Rome, and here Gerard was
+nearly drowned. He and a Dominican friar clung to a mast when the ship
+had struck.
+
+It was a terrible situation; one moment they saw nothing, and seemed
+down in a mere basin of watery hills; the next they caught glimpses of
+the shore speckled bright with people, who kept throwing up their arms
+to encourage them.
+
+When they had tumbled along thus a long time, suddenly the friar said
+quietly: "I touched the ground."
+
+"Impossible, father," said Gerard. "We are more than a hundred yards
+from shore. Prythee, leave not our faithful mast."
+
+"My son," said the friar, "you speak prudently. But know that I have
+business of Holy Church on hand, and may not waste time floating, when I
+can walk in her service. There, I felt it with my toes again! Thy
+stature is less than mine; keep to the mast; I walk." He left the mast
+accordingly, and extending his powerful arms, rushed through the water.
+Gerard soon followed him. At each overpowering wave the monk stood like
+a tower, and, closing his mouth, threw his head back to encounter it,
+then emerged and ploughed lustily on. At last they came close to the
+shore, and then the natives sent stout fishermen into the sea, holding
+by long spears, and so dragged them ashore.
+
+The friar shook himself, bestowed a short paternal benediction on the
+natives, and went on to Rome, without pausing.
+
+Gerard grasped every hand upon the beach. They brought him to an
+enormous fire, left him to dry himself, and fetched clothes for him to
+wear.
+
+Next day, towards afternoon, Gerard--twice as old as last year, thrice
+as learned in human ways, a boy no more, but a man who had shed blood in
+self-defence, and grazed the grave by land and sea--reached the Eternal
+City.
+
+
+_III.--The Cloister_
+
+
+Gerard stayed in Rome, worked hard, and got money for his illuminations.
+He put by money of all he earned, and Margaret seemed nearer and nearer.
+Then came the day when the forged letter reached him. "Know that
+Margaret Brandt died in these arms on Thursday night last. The last
+words on her lips was 'Gerard!' She said: 'Tell him I prayed for him at
+my last hour, and bid him pray for me.'" The letter was signed with
+Margaret Van Eyck's signature, sure enough.
+
+Gerard staggered against the window sill and groaned when he read this.
+His senses failed him; he ran furiously about the streets for hours.
+Despair followed.
+
+On the second day he was raving with fever on the brain, and on his
+recovery from the fever a dark cloud fell on Gerard's noble mind.
+
+His friend Fra Jerome, the same Dominican friar who had escaped from the
+wreck with him, exhorted him to turn and consecrate his gifts to the
+Church.
+
+"Malediction on the Church!" cried Gerard. "But for the Church I should
+not lie broken here, and she lie cold in Holland." Fra Jerome left him
+at this.
+
+Gerard's pure and unrivalled love for Margaret had been his polar star.
+It was quenched, and he drifted on the gloomy sea of no hope. He rushed
+fiercely into pleasure, and in those days, more than now, pleasure was
+vice. The large sums he had put by for Margaret gave him ample means for
+debauchery, and he sought for a moment's oblivion in the excitements of
+the hour. "Ghysbrecht lives; Margaret dies!" he would try out. "Curse
+life, curse death, and whosoever made them what they are!"
+
+His heart deteriorated along with his morals, and he no longer had
+patience for his art, as the habits of pleasure grew on him.
+
+Then life itself became intolerable to Gerard, and one night, in
+resolute despair, he flung himself into the river. But he was not
+allowed to drown, and was carried, all unconscious, to the Dominican
+convent. Gerard awoke to find Father Jerome by his bedside.
+
+"Good Father Jerome, how came I hither?" he inquired.
+
+"By the hand of Heaven! You flung away God's gift. He bestowed it on you
+again. Think of it! Hast tried the world and found its gall. Now try the
+Church! The Church is peace. Pax vobiscum!"
+
+Gerard learnt that the man who had saved him from drowning was a
+professional assassin.
+
+Saved from death by an assassin!
+
+Was not this the finger of Heaven--of that Heaven he had insulted,
+cursed, and defied?
+
+He shuddered at his blasphemies. He tried to pray, but found he could
+only utter prayers, and could not pray.
+
+"I am doomed eternally!" he cried. "Doomed, doomed!" Then rose the
+voices of the choir chanting a full service. Among them was one that
+seemed to hover above the others--a sweet boy's voice, full, pure,
+angelic.
+
+He closed his eyes and listened. The days of his own boyhood flowed back
+upon him.
+
+"Ay," he sighed, "the Church is peace of mind. Till I left her bosom I
+ne'er knew sorrow, nor sin."
+
+And the poor torn, worn creature wept; and soon was at the knees of a
+kind old friar, confessing his every sin with sighs and groans of
+penitence.
+
+And, lo! Gerard could pray now, and he prayed with all his heart.
+
+He turned with terror and aversion from the world, and begged
+passionately to remain in the convent. To him, convent nurtured, it was
+like a bird returning wounded, wearied, to its gentle nest.
+
+He passed his novitiate in prayer and mortification and pious reading
+and meditation.
+
+And Gerard, carried from the Tiber into that convent a suicide, now
+passed for a young saint within its walls.
+
+Upon a shorter probation than usual, he was admitted to priests' orders,
+and soon after took the monastic vows, and became a friar of St.
+Dominic.
+
+Dying to the world, the monk parted with the very name by which he had
+lived in it, and so broke the last link of association with earthly
+feelings. Here Gerard ended, and Brother Clement began.
+
+The zeal and accomplishments of Clement, especially his rare mastery of
+language, soon transpired, and he was destined to travel and preach in
+England, corresponding with the Roman centre.
+
+It was rather more than twelve months later when Clement and Jerome set
+out for England. They reached Rotterdam, and here Jerome, impatient
+because his companion lingered on the way, took ship alone, and advised
+Clement to stop awhile and preach to his own countrymen.
+
+Clement was shocked and mortified at this contemptuous desertion. He
+promised to sleep at the convent and preach whenever the prior should
+appoint, and then withdrew abruptly. Shipwrecked with Jerome, and saved
+on the same fragment of the wreck; his pupil, and for four hundred miles
+his fellow traveller in Christ; and to be shaken off like dirt, the
+first opportunity. "Why, worldly hearts are no colder nor less trusty
+than this," said he. "The only one that ever really loved me lies in a
+grave hard by at Sevenbergen, and I will go and pray over it."
+
+
+_IV.--Cloister and Hearth_
+
+
+Friar Clement, preaching in Rotterdam, saw Margaret in the church and
+recognised her. Within a day or two he learnt from the sexton, who had
+been in the burgomaster's service, the story of the trick that had been
+played upon him by his brothers, in league with Ghysbrecht.
+
+That same night a Dominican friar, livid with rage, burst into the room
+when Eli and Catherine were collected with their family round the table
+at supper.
+
+Standing in front of Cornelius and Sybrandt he cursed them by name, soul
+and body, in this world and the next. Then he tore a letter out of his
+bosom, and flung it down before his father.
+
+"Read that, thou hard old man, that didst imprison thy son, read, and
+see what monsters thou has brought into the world! The memory of my
+wrongs, and hers dwell with you all for ever! I will meet you again at
+the judgement day; on earth ye will never see me more!"
+
+And in a moment, as he had come, so he was gone, leaving them stiff and
+cold, and white as statues, round the smoking board.
+
+Eli drove Cornelis and Sybrandt out of doors at the point of a sword
+when he understood their infamy, and heavy silence reigned in his house
+that night.
+
+And where was Clement?
+
+Lying at full length upon the floor of the convent church, with his lips
+upon the lowest step of the altar, in an indescribable state of terror,
+misery, penitence, and self-abasement; through all of which struggled
+gleams of joy that Margaret was alive.
+
+Then he suddenly remembered that he had committed another sin besides
+intemperate rage. He had neglected a dying man. He rose instantly, and
+set out to repair the omission.
+
+The house he was called to was none other than the Stadthouse, and the
+dying man was his old enemy Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster.
+
+Clement trembled a little as he entered, and said in a low voice "Pax
+vobiscum." Ghysbrecht did not recognise Gerard in the Dominican friar,
+and promised in his sickness to make full restitution to Margaret Brandt
+for the withholding of her property from her.
+
+As soon as he was quite sure Margaret had her own, and was a rich woman,
+Friar Clement disappeared.
+
+The hermit of Gouda had recently died, and Clement found his cell amidst
+the rocks, and appropriated it. The news that he had been made vicar of
+Gouda never reached his ears to disturb him.
+
+It was Margaret who discovered Clement's hiding-place and sought him
+out, and begged him to leave the dismal hole he inhabited, and come to
+the vacant vicarage.
+
+"My beloved," said he, with a strange mixture of tenderness and dogged
+resolution, "I bless thee for giving me one more sight of thy sweet
+face, and may God forgive thee, and bless thee, for destroying in a
+minute the holy place it hath taken six months of solitude to build. I
+am a priest, a monk, and though my heart break I must be firm. My poor
+Margaret, I seem cruel; yet I am kind; 'tis best we part; ay, this
+moment."
+
+But Margaret went away, and, determined to drive Clement from his
+hermitage, returned again with their child, which she left in the cell
+in its owner's absence. Now, Clement was fond of children, and, thinking
+the infant had been deserted by some unfortunate mother, he at once set
+to work to comfort it.
+
+"Now bless thee, bless thee sweet innocent! I would not change thee for
+e'en a cherub in heaven," said Clement. Soon the child was nestling in
+the hermit's arms.
+
+"I ikes oo," said the little boy. "Ot is oo? Is oo a man?"
+
+"Ay, little heart, and a great sinner to boot"
+
+"I ikes great tingers. Ting one a tory."
+
+Clement chanted a child's story in a sort of recitative. The boy
+listened with rapture, and presently succumbed to sleep.
+
+Clement began to rock his new treasure in his arms, and to crone over
+him a little lullaby well known in Tergon, with which his own mother had
+often set him off.
+
+He sighed deeply, and could not help thinking what might have been but
+for a piece of paper with a lie in it.
+
+The next moment the moonlight burst into his cell, and with it, and in
+it, Margaret Brandt was down at his knee with a timorous hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Gerald, you do not reject us. You cannot."
+
+The hermit stared from the child to her in throbbing amazement.
+
+"Us?" he gasped at last.
+
+Margaret was surprised in her turn.
+
+"What!" she cried. "Doth not a father know his own child? Fie, Gerard,
+to pretend! 'Tis thine own flesh and blood thou holdest to thine heart."
+
+Long they sat and talked that night, and the end of it was Clement
+promised to leave his cave for the manse at Gouda. But once the new
+vicar was installed Margaret kept away from the parsonage. She left
+little Gerard there to complete the conquest her maternal heart ascribed
+to him, and contented herself with stolen meetings with her child.
+
+Then the new vicar of Gouda, his beard close shaved, and in a grey frock
+and large felt hat, came to bring her to the vicarage.
+
+"My sweet Margaret!" he cried. "Why is this? Why hold you aloof from
+your own good deed? We have been waiting and waiting for you every day,
+and no Margaret."
+
+And Margaret went to the manse, and found Catherine, Clement's mother,
+there; and next day being Sunday the two women heard the Vicar of Gouda
+preach in his own church. It was crammed with persons, who came curious,
+but remained. Never was Clement's gift as a preacher displayed more
+powerfully. In a single sermon, which lasted two hours, and seemed to
+last but twenty minutes, he declared the whole scripture.
+
+The two women in a corner sat entranced, with streaming eyes.
+
+As soon as they were by themselves, Margaret threw her arms round
+Catherine's neck and kissed her.
+
+"Mother, mother, I am not quite a happy woman, but oh! I am a proud
+one."
+
+And she vowed on her knees never by word or deed to let her love come
+between this young saint and heaven.
+
+The child, who lived to become the great Erasmus, was already winning a
+famous name at school, when Margaret was stricken with the plague and
+died. A fortnight later and Clement left his vicarage and entered the
+Dominican convent to end life as he began it. A few days later and he,
+too, was dead, and the convent counted him a saint.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SAMUEL RICHARDSON
+
+
+Pamela
+
+
+     Samuel Richardson, the son of a joiner, was born at some place
+     not identified in Derbyshire, England, 1689. After serving an
+     apprenticeship to a stationer, he entered a printing office as
+     compositor and corrector of the press. In 1719 Richardson,
+     whose career throughout was that of the industrious
+     apprentice, took up his freedom, and began business as printer
+     and stationer in Salisbury Court, London. Success attended his
+     venture; he soon published a newspaper, and also obtained the
+     printing of the journals of the House of Commons. "Pamela, or
+     Virtue Rewarded," was written as the result of a suggestion by
+     two booksellers that Richardson should compose a volume of
+     familiar letters for illiterate country folk. It was published
+     towards the end of 1740, and its vogue, in an age particularly
+     coarse and robust, was extraordinary. Of the many who
+     ridiculed his performance the most noteworthy was Fielding,
+     who produced what Richardson and his friends regarded as the
+     "lewd and ungenerous engraftment of 'Joseph Andrews.'" The
+     story has many faults, but the portrayal of Pamela herself is
+     accomplished with the success of a master hand. Richardson
+     died July 4, 1761.
+
+
+_I.--Pamela to her Parents_
+
+
+MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I have great trouble, and some comfort, to
+acquaint you with. The trouble is that my good lady died of the illness
+I mention'd to you, and left us all griev'd for the loss of her; for she
+was a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants. Much I fear'd,
+that as I was taken by her ladyship to wait upon her person, I should be
+quite destitute again, and forc'd to return to you and my poor mother,
+who have enough to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my lady's goodness
+had put me to write and cast accounts, and made me a little expert at my
+needle, and otherwise qualify'd above my degree, it was not every family
+that could have found a place that your poor Pamela was fit for. But
+God, whose graciousness to us we have so often experienc'd, put it into
+my good lady's heart, on her death-bed, just an hour before she expir'd,
+to recommend to my young master all her servants, one by one; and when
+it came to my turn to be recommended (for I was sobbing and crying at
+her pillow) she could only say, "My dear son!" and so broke off a
+little; and then recovering--"remember my poor Pamela!" and those were
+some of her last words! O, how my eyes overflow! Don't wonder to see the
+paper so blotted!
+
+Well, but God's will must be done, and so comes the comfort, that I
+shall not be obliged to return back to be a burden to my dear parents!
+For my master said, "I will take care of you all, my good maidens; and
+for you, Pamela (and took me by the hand before them all), for my dear
+mother's sake I will be a friend to you, and you shall take care of my
+linen." God bless him! and pray with me, my dear father and mother, for
+a blessing upon him, for he has given mourning and a year's wages to all
+my lady's servants; and I, having no wages as yet, my lady having said
+she would do for me as I deserv'd, ordered the housekeeper to give me
+mourning with the rest, and gave me with his own hand four guineas and
+some silver, which were in my lady's pocket when she died; and said if I
+was a good girl, and faithful and diligent, he would be a friend to me,
+for his mother's sake. And so I send you these four guineas for your
+comfort. I send them by John, our footman, who goes your way; but he
+does not know what he carries; because I seal them up in one of the
+little pill-boxes which my lady had, wrapp'd close in paper, that they
+may not chink, and be sure don't open it before him.
+
+Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be--
+
+                                                Your dutiful Daughter.
+
+I have been scared out of my senses, for just now, as I was folding up
+this letter in my lady's dressing-room, in comes my young master! Good
+sirs, how I was frightened! I went to hide the letter in my bosom, and
+he, seeing me tremble, said smiling, "To whom have you been writing,
+Pamela?" I said, in my confusion, "Pray your honour, forgive me! Only to
+my father and mother." "Well, then, let me see what a hand you write."
+He took it without saying more, and read it quite through, and then gave
+it me again. He was not angry, for he took me by the hand and said, "You
+are a good girl to be kind to your aged father and mother; tho' you
+ought to be wary what tales you send out of a family." And then he said,
+"Why, Pamela, you write a pretty hand, and _spell_ very well, too. You
+may look into any of my mother's books to improve yourself, so you take
+care of them."
+
+But I am making another long letter, so will only add to it, that I
+shall ever be your dutiful daughter.
+
+                                                        PAMELA ANDREWS
+
+
+_II.--Twelve Months Later_
+
+
+MY DEAR MOTHER,--You and my good father may wonder you have not had a
+letter from me in so many weeks; but a sad, sad scene has been the
+occasion of it. But yet, don't be frightened, I am honest, and I hope
+God, in his goodness, will keep me so.
+
+O this angel of a master! this fine gentleman! this gracious benefactor
+to your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the prayer of his
+good, dying mother! This very gentleman (yes, I _must_ call him
+gentleman, though he has fallen from the merit of that title) has
+degraded himself to offer freedoms to his poor servant; he has now
+showed himself in his true colours, and, to me, nothing appears so black
+and so frightful.
+
+I have not been idle; but had writ from time to time, how he, by sly,
+mean degrees, exposed his wicked views, but somebody stole my letter,
+and I know not what is become of it. I am watched very narrowly; and he
+says to Mrs. Jervis, the housekeeper, "This girl is always scribbling; I
+think she may be better employed." And yet I work very hard with my
+needle upon his linen and the fine linen of the family; and am, besides,
+about flowering him a waistcoat. But, oh, my heart's almost broken; for
+what am I likely to have for any reward but shame and disgrace, or else
+ill words and hard treatment!
+
+As I can't find my letter, I'll try to recollect it all. All went well
+enough in the main, for some time. But one day he came to me as I was in
+the summer-house in the little garden at work with my needle, and Mrs.
+Jervis was just gone from me, and I would have gone out, but he said,
+"Don't go, Pamela, I have something to say to you, and you always fly me
+when I come near you, as if you were afraid of me."
+
+I was much out of countenance you may well think, and began to tremble,
+and the more when he took me by the hand, for no soul was near us.
+
+"You are a little fool," he said hastily, "and know not what's good for
+yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you if you are
+obliging, and don't stand in your own light." And so saying, he put his
+arm about me and kiss'd me.
+
+Now, you will say, all his wickedness appear'd plainly. I burst from
+him, and was getting out of the summer-house, but he held me back, and
+shut the door.
+
+I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, "I'll do you no
+harm, Pamela; don't be afraid of me."
+
+I sobb'd and cry'd most sadly. "What a foolish hussy you are!" said he.
+"Have I done you any harm?" "Yes, sir," said I, "the greatest harm in
+the world; you have taught me to forget myself, and have lessen'd the
+distance that fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself to be
+so free to a poor servant. I am honest, though poor; and if you were a
+prince I would not be otherwise than honest."
+
+He was angry, and said, "Who, little fool, would have you otherwise?
+Cease your blubbering. I own I have undervalued myself; but it was only
+to try you. If you can keep this matter secret, you'll give me the
+better opinion of your prudence. And here's something," added he,
+putting some gold in my hand, "to make you amends for the fright I put
+you in. Go, take a walk in the garden, and don't go in till your
+blubbering is over."
+
+"I won't take the money, indeed, sir," said I, and so I put it upon the
+bench. And as he seemed vexed and confounded at what he had done, I took
+the opportunity to hurry out of the summer-house.
+
+He called to me, and said, "Be secret, I charge you, Pamela; and don't
+go in yet."
+
+O how poor and mean must those actions be, and how little they must make
+the best of gentlemen look, when they put it into the power of their
+inferiors to be greater than they!
+
+Pray for me, my dear father and mother; and don't be angry that I have
+not yet run away from this house, so late my comfort and delight, but
+now my terror and anguish. I am forc'd to break off hastily.
+
+                                     Your dutiful and honest DAUGHTER.
+
+
+_III.--Pamela in Distress_
+
+
+O my dearest Father and Mother,--Let me write and bewail my miserable
+fate, though I have no hope that what I write can be convey'd to your
+hands! I have now nothing to do but write and weep and fear and pray!
+But I will tell you what has befallen me, and some way, perhaps, may be
+opened to send the melancholy scribble to you. Alas, the unhappy Pamela
+may be undone before you can know her hard lot!
+
+Last Thursday morning came, when I was to set out and return home to
+you, my dearest parents. I had taken my leave of my fellow-servants
+overnight, and a mournful leave it was to us all, for men, as well as
+women servants, wept to part with me; and for _my_ part, I was
+overwhelmed with tears on the affecting instances of their love.
+
+My master was above stairs, and never ask'd to see me. False heart, he
+knew that I was not to be out of his reach! Preserve me, heaven, from
+his power, and from his wickedness!
+
+I look'd up when I got to the chariot, and I saw my master at the
+window, and I courtsy'd three times to him very low, and pray'd for him
+with my hands lifted up; for I could not speak. And he bow'd his head to
+me, which made me then very glad he would take such notice of me.
+
+Robin drove so fast that I said to myself, at this rate of driving I
+shall soon be with my father and mother. But, alas! by nightfall he had
+driven me to a farmhouse far from home; and the farmer and his wife, he
+being a tenant of Mr. B., my master, while they treated me kindly, would
+do nothing to aid me in flight. And next day he drove me still further,
+and when we stopped at an inn in a town strange to me, the mistress of
+the inn was _expecting_ me, and immediately called out for her sister,
+Jewkes. Jewkes! thought I. That is the name of the housekeeper at my
+master's house in Lincolnshire.
+
+Then the wicked creature appear'd, and I was frighted out of my wits.
+The wretch would not trust me out of her sight, and soon I was forced to
+set out with her in the chariot. Now I gave over all thoughts of
+redemption.
+
+Here are strange pains, thought I, taken to ruin a poor, innocent,
+helpless young female. This plot is laid too deep to be baffled, I fear.
+
+About eight at night we enter'd the courtyard of this handsome, large,
+old, lonely mansion, that looked to me then as if built for solitude and
+mischief. And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the scene of my
+ruin, unless God protect me, Who is all-sufficient.
+
+I was very ill at entering it, partly from fatigue, and partly from
+dejection of spirits. Mrs. Jewkes seem'd mighty officious to welcome me,
+and call'd me _madam_ at every word.
+
+"Pray, Mrs. Jewkes," said I, "don't _madam_ me so! I am but a silly,
+poor girl, set up by the gambol of fortune for a May-game. Let us,
+therefore, talk upon afoot together, and that will be a favour done me.
+I am now no more than a poor desolate creature, and no better than a
+prisoner."
+
+"Ay, ay," says she, "I understand something of the matter. You have so
+great power over my master that you will soon be mistress of us all; and
+so I will oblige you, if I can. And I must and will call you madam, for
+such are the instructions of my master, and you may depend upon it I
+shall observe my orders."
+
+"You will not, I hope," replied I, "do an unlawful or wicked thing for
+any master in the world."
+
+"Look ye!" said she. "He is my master, and if he bids me do a thing that
+I _can_ do, I think I _ought_ to do it; and let him, who has power to
+command me, look to the _lawfulness_ of it."
+
+"Suppose," said I, "he should resolve to ensnare a poor young creature
+and ruin her, would you assist him in such wickedness? And do you not
+think that to rob a person of her virtue is worse than cutting her
+throat?"
+
+"Why, now," said she, "how strangely you talk! Are not the two sexes
+made for each other? And is it not natural for a man to love a pretty
+woman?" And then the wretch fell a-laughing, and talk'd most
+impertinently, and show'd me that I had nothing to expect either from
+her virtue or compassion.
+
+_I am now come to the twenty-seventh day of my imprisonment_. One
+stratagem I have just thought of, though attended with this discouraging
+circumstance that I have neither friends, nor money, nor know one step
+of the way were I actually out of the house. But let bulls and bears and
+lions and tigers and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful man
+stand in my way, I cannot be in more danger than I now think myself in.
+
+Mrs. Jewkes has received a letter. She tells me, as a secret, that she
+has reason to think my master has found a way to satisfy my scruples. It
+is by marrying me to his dreadful Swiss servant, Colbrand, and buying me
+of him on the wedding-day for a sum of money! Was ever the like heard?
+She says it will be my duty to obey my husband, and that when my master
+has paid for me, and I am surrender'd up, the Swiss is to go home again,
+with the money, to his former wife and children; for, she says, it is
+the custom of these people to have a wife in every nation.
+
+But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing!
+
+_Friday, the thirty-sixth day of imprisonment_. Mercy on me! What will
+become of me? Here is my master come in his fine chariot! What shall I
+do? Where shall I hide myself?
+
+He has entered and come up!
+
+He put on a stern and a haughty air. "Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful
+creature, you do well, don't you, to give me all this trouble and
+vexation?"
+
+I could not speak, but sobb'd and sigh'd, as if my heart would break.
+"Sir," I said, "permit me to return to my parents. That is all I have to
+ask."
+
+He flew into a violent passion. "Is it thus," said he, "I am to be
+answered? Begone from my sight!"
+
+The next day he sent me up by Mrs. Jewkes his proposals. They were seven
+in number, and included the promise of an estate of L250 a year in Kent,
+to be settled on my father; and a number of suits of rich clothing and
+diamond rings were to be mine if I would consent to be his mistress.
+
+My answer was that my parents and their daughter would much rather
+choose to starve in a ditch or rot in a noisome dungeon, than accept of
+the fortune of a monarch upon such wicked terms.
+
+Mrs. Jewkes now tells me he is exceedingly wroth, and that I must quit
+the house, and may go home to my father and mother.
+
+_Sunday night_. Well, my dear parents, here I am at an inn in a little
+village. And Robin, the coachman, assures me he has orders to carry me
+to you. O, that he may say truth and not deceive me again!
+
+"I have proofs," said my master to Mrs. Jewkes, when I left the house,
+"that her virtue is all her pride. Shall I rob her of that? No, let her
+go, perverse and foolish as she is; but she deserves to go away
+virtuous, and she shall."
+
+I think I was loth to leave the house. Can you believe it? I felt
+something so strange and my heart was so heavy.
+
+
+_IV.--Virtue Triumphant--Pamela's Journal_
+
+
+_Monday Morning, eleven o'clock._ We are just come in here, to the inn
+kept by Mr. Jewkes's relations.
+
+Just as I sat down, before setting out to pursue my journey, comes my
+master's groom, all in a foam, man and horse, with a letter for me, as
+follows:
+
+"I find it in vain, my Pamela, to struggle against my affection for you,
+and as I flatter myself you may be brought to _love_ me, I begin to
+regret parting with you; but, God is my witness, from no dishonourable
+motives, but the very contrary.
+
+"You cannot imagine the obligation your return will lay me under to your
+goodness, and if you are the generous Pamela I imagine you to be let me
+see by your compliance the further excellency of your disposition. Spare
+me, my dearest girl, the confusion of following you to your father's,
+which I must do if you go on--for I find I cannot live without you, and
+I must be--
+
+                                              "Yours, and only yours."
+
+What, my dear parents, will you say to this letter? I am resolved to
+return to my master, and am sending this to you by Thomas the coachman.
+
+It was one o'clock when we reach'd my master's gate. Everybody was gone
+to rest. But one of the helpers got the keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and
+open'd the gates. I was so tired when I went to get out of the chariot
+that I fell down, and two of the maids coming soon after helped me to
+get up stairs.
+
+It seems my master was very ill, and had been upon the bed most of the
+day; but being in a fine sleep, he heard not the chariot come in.
+
+_Tuesday Morning_. Mrs. Jewkes, as soon as she got up, went to know how
+my master did, and he had had a good night. She told him he must not be
+surprised--that Pamela was come back. He raised himself up.
+
+"Can it be?" said he. "What, already? Ask her if she will be so good as
+to make me a visit. If she will not, I will rise and attend her."
+
+Mrs. Jewkes came to tell me, and I went with her. As soon as he saw me,
+he said:
+
+"Oh, my Pamela, you have made me quite well!"
+
+How kind a dispensation is sickness sometimes! He was quite easy and
+pleased with me.
+
+The next day my master was so much better that he would take a turn
+after breakfast in the chariot, handing me in before all the servants,
+as if I had been a lady. At first setting out, he kissed me a little too
+often, that he did; but he was exceedingly kind to me in his words as
+well.
+
+At last, he said:
+
+"My sister, Lady Davers, threatens to renounce me, and I shall incur the
+censures of the world if I act up to my present intentions. For it will
+be said by everyone that Mr. B. has been drawn in by the eye, to marry
+his mother's waiting maid. Not knowing, perhaps, that to her mind, to
+her virtue, as well as to the beauties of her person, she owes her
+well-deserved conquest; and that there is not a lady in the kingdom who
+will better support the condition to which she will be raised if I
+should marry her." And added he, putting his arm round me: "I pity my
+dear girl, too, for her part in this censure, for here she will have to
+combat the pride and slights of the neighbouring gentry all around us.
+Lady Davers and the other ladies will not visit you; and you will, with
+a merit superior to them all, be treated as if unworthy their notice.
+Should I now marry my Pamela, how will my girl relish all this? Will not
+these be cutting things to my fair one?"
+
+"Oh, sir," said I, "your poor servant has a much greater difficulty than
+this to overcome."
+
+"What is that?" said he a little impatiently. "I will not forgive your
+doubts now."
+
+"No, sir," said I, "I cannot doubt; but it is, how I shall _support_,
+how I shall _deserve, your_ goodness to me!"
+
+"Dear girl!" said he, and press'd me to his bosom. "I was afraid you
+would again have given me reason to think you had doubts of my honour,
+and this at a time when I was pouring out my whole soul to you, I could
+not so easily have forgiven."
+
+"But, good sir," said I, "my greatest concern will be for the rude jests
+you will have yourself to encounter for thus stooping beneath yourself.
+For as to _me_ I shall have the pride to place more than half the ill
+will of the ladies to their envying my happiness."
+
+"You are very good, my dearest girl," said he. "But how will you bestow
+your _time_, when you will have no visits to receive or pay? No parties
+of pleasure to join in? No card-tables to employ your winter evenings?"
+
+"In the first place, sir, if you will give me leave, I will myself look
+into all such parts of the family management as may befit the mistress
+of it to inspect. Then I will assist your housekeeper, as I used to do,
+in the making of jellies, sweetmeats, marmalades, cordials; and to pot
+and candy and preserve, for the use of the family; and to make myself
+all the fine linen of it. Then, sir, if you will indulge me with your
+company, I will take an airing in your chariot now and then; and I have
+no doubt of so behaving as to engage you frequently to fill up some part
+of my time in your instructive conversation."
+
+"Proceed, my dear girl," said he. "I love to hear you talk !"
+
+"Music, which my good lady also had me instructed in, will also fill up
+some intervals if I should have any. Then, sir, you know, I love reading
+and scribbling, and tho' most of the latter will be employed in the
+family accounts, yet reading, in proper books, will be a pleasure to me,
+which I shall be unwilling to give up for the best company in the world
+when I cannot have yours."
+
+"What delight do you give me, my beloved Pamela, in this sweet foretaste
+of my happiness! I will now defy the saucy, busy censures of the world."
+
+_Ten days later_. Your happy, thrice happy Pamela, is at last married,
+my dearest parents.
+
+This morning we entered the private chapel at this house, and my master
+took my hand and led me up to the altar. Mr. Peters, the good rector,
+gave me away, and the curate read the service. I trembled so, I could
+hardly stand.
+
+And thus the dear, once haughty, assailer of Pamela's innocence, by a
+blessed turn of Providence, is become the kind, the generous protector
+and rewarder of it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Clarissa Harlowe
+
+
+     "Clarissa Harlowe," written after "Pamela," brought Richardson
+     a European reputation. The first four volumes of the novel
+     appeared in 1747, the last four in 1748, and during the next
+     few years translations were being executed in French and
+     German. Like "Pamela," the story itself is thin and simple,
+     but the characters are drawn with a bolder and surer touch.
+     "No work had appeared before," says Scott, "perhaps none has
+     appeared since, containing so many direct appeals to the
+     passions." Yet opinions were singularly divided as to its
+     merits. Dr. Johnson said that the novel "enlarged the
+     knowledge of human nature."
+
+
+_I.--At Harlowe Place_
+
+
+CLARISSA is persecuted by her family to marry Mr. Roger Solmes, but
+favours Richard Lovelace, who is in love with her. That her grandfather
+had left Clarissa a considerable estate accounts mainly for the
+hostility of the family to Clarissa's desire for independence.
+
+Clarissa writes to her friend, Miss Howe:
+
+"_January_ 15. The moment, my dear, that Mr. Lovelace's visits were
+mentioned to my brother on his arrival from Scotland he expressed his
+disapprobation, declaring he had ever hated him since he had known him
+at college, and would never own me for a sister if I married him.
+
+"This antipathy I have heard accounted for in this manner:
+
+"Mr. Lovelace was always noted for his vivacity and courage, and for the
+surprising progress he made in literature, while for diligence in study
+he had hardly his equal. This was his character at the university, and
+it gained him many friends, while those who did not love him, feared
+him, by reason of the offence his vivacity made him too ready to give,
+and of the courage he showed in supporting it. My brother's haughtiness
+could not bear a superiority; and those whom we fear more than love we
+are not far from hating. Having less command of his passions than the
+other, he was evermore the subject of his ridicule, so that they never
+met without quarrelling, and everybody siding with Lovelace, my brother
+had an uneasy time of it, while both continued in the same college.
+
+"Then on my brother's return he found my sister (to whom Lovelace had
+previously paid some attention) ready to join him in his resentment
+against the man he hated. She utterly disclaimed all manner of regard
+for him.
+
+"Their behaviour to him when they could not help seeing him was very
+disobliging, and at last they gave such loose rein to their passion
+that, instead of withdrawing when he came, they threw themselves in his
+way to affront him.
+
+"Mr. Lovelace, you may believe, ill brooked this, but contented himself
+by complaining to me, adding that, but for my sake, my brother's
+treatment of him was not to be borne.
+
+"After several excesses, which Mr. Lovelace returned with a haughtiness
+too much like that of the aggressor, my brother took upon himself to
+fill up the doorway once when he came, as if to oppose his entrance;
+and, upon his asking for me, demanded what his business was with his
+sister.
+
+"The other, with a challenging air, told him he would answer a gentleman
+_any_ question. Just then the good Dr. Lewin, the clergyman, came to the
+door, and, hearing the words, interposed between, both gentlemen having
+their hands upon their swords, and, telling Mr. Lovelace where I was,
+the latter burst by my brother to come to me, leaving him chafing, he
+said, like a hunted boar at bay.
+
+"After this, my father was pleased to hint that Mr. Lovelace's visits
+should be discontinued, and I, by his command, spoke a great deal
+plainer; but no absolute prohibition having been given, things went on
+for a while as before, till my brother again took occasion to insult Mr.
+Lovelace, when an unhappy recontre followed, in which my brother was
+wounded and disarmed, and on being brought home and giving us ground to
+suppose he was worse hurt than he was, and a fever ensuing, everyone
+flamed out, and all was laid at my door.
+
+"Mr. Lovelace sent twice a day to inquire after my brother, and on the
+fourth day came in person, and received great incivilities from my two
+uncles, who happened to be there.
+
+"I fainted away with terror, seeing everyone so violent; hearing his
+voice swearing he could not depart without seeing me, my mamma
+struggling with my papa, and my sister insulting me. When he was told
+how ill I was, he departed, vowing vengeance.
+
+"He was ever a favourite with our domestics; and on this occasion they
+privately reported his behaviour in such favourable terms that those
+reports and my apprehensions of the consequences, induced me to 'read a
+letter' he sent me that night imploring me 'to answer' it some days
+after.
+
+"To this unhappy necessity is owing our correspondence; meantime I am
+extremely concerned to find that I am become the public talk."
+
+"_February_ 20. Alas, my dear, I have sad prospects! My brother and
+sister have found another lover for me; he is encouraged by everybody.
+Who do you think it is? No other than that Solmes. They are all
+determined too, my mother with the rest.
+
+"Yesterday, Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony
+presented him as a gentleman he had a particular friendship for. My
+father said, 'Mr. Solmes is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe.' My mother
+looked at him, and at me; and I at her, with eyes appealing for pity,
+while my brother and sister sir'd him at every word."
+
+"_February_ 24. They drive on at a furious rate. The man lives here.
+Such terms, such settlements. That's the cry. I have already stood the
+shock of three of this man's visits.
+
+"What my brother and sister have said of me, I cannot tell. I am in
+heavy disgrace with my papa.
+
+"_March_ 9. I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace, although I have not
+answered his former one. He knows all that passes here, and is
+excessively uneasy upon what he hears, and solicits me to engage my
+honour to him never to have Mr. Solmes. I think I can safely promise him
+that.
+
+"I am now confined to my room; my maid has been taken away from me. In
+answer to my sincere declaration, that I would gladly compound to live
+single, my father said angrily that my proposal was an artifice. Nothing
+but marrying Solmes should do."
+
+"_April_ 5. I must keep nothing by me now; and when I write lock myself
+in that I may not be surprised now they think I have no pen and ink.
+
+"I found another letter from this diligent man, and he assures me they
+are more and more determined to subdue me.
+
+"He sends me the compliments of his family, and acquaints me with their
+earnest desire to see me amongst them. Vehemently does he press for my
+quitting this house while it is in my power to get away, and again
+craves leave to order his uncle's chariot-and-six to attend my commands
+at the stile leading to the coppice adjoining to the paddock.
+
+"Settlements he again offers; Lord M. and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty to
+be guarantees of his honour.
+
+"As to the disgrace a person of my character may be apprehensive of on
+quitting my father's house, he observes, too truly I doubt, that the
+treatment I meet with is in everybody's mouth, that all the disgrace I
+can receive they have given me. He says he will oppose my being sent
+away to my uncle's. He tells me my brother and sister and Mr. Solmes
+design to be there to meet me; that my father and mother will not come
+till the ceremony is over, and then to try to reconcile me to my odious
+husband.
+
+"How, my dear, am I driven!"
+
+_April_ 8. Whether you will blame me or not I cannot tell. I have
+deposited a letter to Mr. Lovelace confirming my resolution to leave
+this house on Monday next. I tell him I shall not bring any clothes than
+those I have on, lest I be suspected. That it will be best to go to a
+private lodging near Lady Betty Lawrance's that it may not appear to the
+world I have refuged myself with his family; that he shall instantly
+leave me nor come near me but by my leave, and that if I find myself in
+danger of being discovered and carried back by violence, I will throw
+myself into the protection of Lady Betty or Lady Sarah.
+
+"Oh, my dear, what a sad thing is the necessity forced upon me for all
+this contrivance!"
+
+
+_II.--In London_
+
+
+Clarissa, after staying in lodgings at St. Albans, is persuaded by
+Lovelace that she will be safer from her family in London. After
+refusing a proposal for an immediate marriage, she therefore moves to
+London to lodge in a house recommended as thoroughly respectable by
+Lovelace, but which in reality is kept by a widow, Mrs. Sinclair, of no
+good repute, who is in the pay of Lovelace.
+
+Clarissa to her friend, Miss Howe:
+
+"_April 26._ At length, my dear, I am in London. My lodgings are neatly
+furnished, and though I like not the old gentlewoman, yet she seems
+obliging, and her kinswomen are genteel young people.
+
+"I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace, and have great reason
+to be so. He began by letting me know that he had been to inquire the
+character of the widow. It was well enough, he said, but as she lived by
+letting lodgings and had other rooms in the houses which might be taken
+by the enemy, he knew no better way than to take them all, unless I
+would remove to others.
+
+"It was easy to see he spoke the slighter of the widow to have a
+pretence to lodge here himself, and he frankly owned that if I chose to
+stay here he could not think of leaving me for six hours together. He
+had prepared the widow to expect that we should be here only a few days,
+till we could fix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition.
+
+"'Fix _ourselves_ in a house, Mr. Lovelace?' I said. 'Pray in what
+light?'
+
+"'My dearest life, hear me with patience. I am afraid I have been too
+forward, for my friends in town conclude me to be married.'
+
+"'Surely, sir, you have not presumed----'
+
+"'Hear me, dearest creature. You have received with favour my addresses,
+yet, by declining my fervent tender of myself you have given me
+apprehension of delay. Your brother's schemes are not given up. I have
+taken care to give Mrs. Sinclair a reason why two apartments are
+necessary for us in our retirement.'
+
+"I raved at him. I would have flung from him, yet where could I go?
+
+"Still, he insisted upon the propriety of appearing to be married. 'But
+since you dislike what I have said, let me implore you,' he added, 'to
+give a sanction to it by naming an early day--would to Heaven it were
+to-morrow!'
+
+"What could I say? I verily believe, had he urged me in a proper way, I
+should have consented to meet him at a more sacred place than the
+parlour below.
+
+"The widow now directs all her talk to me as 'Mrs. Lovelace,' and I,
+with a very ill-grace, bear it."
+
+"_April 28._ Mr. Lovelace has returned already. 'My dearest life,' said
+he. 'I cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I
+should. Spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your friends
+till we are married. When they know we are married, your brother's plots
+will be at an end, and they must all be reconciled to you. Why, then,
+would you banish me from you? Why will you not give the man who has
+brought you into difficulties, and who so honourably wishes to extricate
+you from them, the happiness of doing so?'
+
+"But, my dear although the opportunity was so inviting, he urged not for
+the _day_. Which is the _more extraordinary_, as he was so pressing for
+marriage before we came to town."
+
+After some weeks, Clarissa succeeds in escaping from Mrs. Sinclair's
+house and takes lodgings at Hampstead. But Lovelace finds out her
+refuge, and sends two women, who pretend to be his relatives, Lady Betty
+and Lady Sarah, and Clarissa is beguiled back to Mrs. Sinclair's for an
+interview. Once inside the house, however, she is not allowed to leave
+it. Her health is now seriously injured, and her letters home have been
+answered by her father's curse.
+
+Lovelace to his friend, John Belford:
+
+"_June 18._ I went out early this morning, and returned just now, when I
+was informed that my beloved, in my absence, had taken it into her head
+to attempt to get away.
+
+"She tripped down, with a parcel tied up in a handkerchief, her hood on,
+and was actually in the entry, when Mrs. Sinclair saw her.
+
+"'Pray, madam,' whipping between her and the street-door, 'be pleased to
+let me know whither you are going?'
+
+"'Who has a right to control me?' was the word.
+
+"'I have, madam, by order of your spouse, and I desire you will be
+pleased to walk up again.'
+
+"She would have spoken, but could not; and, bursting into tears, turned
+back, and went to her chamber.
+
+"That she cannot fly me, that she must see me, are circumstances greatly
+in my favour. What can she do but rave and exclaim?
+
+"To-night, as I was sitting with my pen in my chamber, she entered the
+dining-room with such dignity in her manner as struck with me great awe,
+and prepared me for the poor figure I made in the subsequent
+conversation. But I will do her justice. She accosted me with an air I
+never saw equalled.
+
+"'You see before you, sir, the wretch whose preference of you to all
+your sex you have rewarded as it _deserved_ to be rewarded. Too evident
+is it that it will not be your fault, villainous man, if the loss of my
+soul as well as my honour, which you have robbed me of, will not be
+completed. But, tell me--for no doubt thou hast _some_ scheme to
+pursue,--since I am a prisoner in the vilest of houses, and have not a
+friend to protect me, what thou intendest shall become of the remnant of
+a life not worth keeping; tell me if there are more evils reserved for
+me, and whether thou hast entered into a compact with the grand
+deceiver, in the person of the horrid agent of this house, and if the
+ruin of my soul is to complete the triumphs of so vile a confederacy?
+Say, if thou hast courage to speak out to her whom thou hast ruined;
+tell me what further I am to suffer from thy barbarity.'
+
+"I had prepared myself for raving and execrations. But such a majestic
+composure--seeking me--whom yet, it is plain, by her attempt to get
+away, she would have avoided seeing. How could I avoid looking like a
+fool, and answering in confusion?
+
+"'I--I--I--cannot but say--must own--confess--truly sorry--upon my soul
+I am--and--and--will do all--do everything--all that--all that you
+require to make amends!'
+
+"'Amends, thou despicable wretch! And yet I hate thee not, base as thou
+art, half as much as I hate myself, that I saw thee not sooner in thy
+proper colours, that I hoped either morality, gratitude, or humanity
+from one who defies moral sanction. What amends hast _thou_ to propose?
+What amends can such a one as thou make to a person of spirit or common
+sense for the evils thou hast made me suffer?'
+
+"'As soon, madam; as soon as----'
+
+"'I know what thou wouldst tell me. But thinkest thou that marriage will
+satisfy for a guilt like thine? Destitute as thou hast made me both of
+friends and fortune, I too much despise the wretch who could rob himself
+of his wife's honour, to endure the thoughts of thee in the light thou
+seemest to hope I will accept thee. Had I been able to account for
+myself and your proceedings, a whole week should not have gone over my
+head before I had told you what I now tell you, that the man who has
+been the villain to me you have been shall never make me his wife. All
+my prospects are shut in. I give myself up for a lost creature as to
+this world. Hinder me not from entering upon a life of penitence. Let me
+try to secure the only hope I have left. This is all the amends I ask of
+you. I repeat, am I now at liberty to dispose of myself as I please?'
+
+"Now comes the fool, the miscreant, hesitating in his broken answer. 'My
+dearest love, I am quite confounded. There is no withstanding your
+eloquence. If you can forgive a repentant villain, I vow by all that's
+sacred--and may a thunderbolt strike me dead at your feet if I am not
+sincere--that I will, by marriage, before to-morrow noon, without
+waiting for anybody, do you all the justice I can. And you shall ever
+after direct me as you please till you have made me more worthy of your
+angelic purity. Nor will I presume so much as to touch your garment till
+I can call so great a blessing lawfully mine.'
+
+"'Oh, thou guileful betrayer! Hadst thou not seemed beyond the
+possibility of forgiveness, I might have been induced to think of taking
+a wretched chance with a man so profligate. But it would be criminal to
+bind my soul in covenant to a man allied to perdition.'
+
+"'_Allied to perdition_, madam?'
+
+"But she would not hear me, and insisted upon being at her own disposal
+for the remainder of her short life. She abhorred me in every light; and
+more particularly in that in which I offered myself to her acceptance.
+
+"And saying this she flung from me, leaving me shocked and confounded at
+her part of a conversation which she began with such severe composure,
+and concluded with such sincere and unaffected indignation. Now, Jack,
+to be thus hated and despised."
+
+
+_III.--The Death of Clarissa_
+
+
+In the absence of Lovelace from London Clarissa manages to escape from
+Mrs. Sinclair's, and takes refuge in the house of Mrs. Smith, who keeps
+a glove shop in King Street, Covent Garden. Her health is now ruined
+beyond recovery, and she is ready to die. Belford discovers her retreat,
+and protects her from Lovelace.
+
+Mr. Mowbray, a friend, to Robert Lovelace, Esq.:
+
+"_June 29._ Dear Lovelace,--I have plaguey news to acquaint thee with.
+Miss Harlowe is gone off. Here's the devil to pay. I heartily condole
+with thee. But it may turn out for the best. They tell me thou wouldst
+have married her had she staid. But I know thee better.
+
+                                                      "Thine heartily,
+
+                                                    "RICHARD MOWBRAY."
+
+Belford to Lovelace:
+
+"_June 29._ Thou hast heard the news. Bad or good I know not which thou
+wilt deem it.
+
+"How strong must be her resentment of the barbarous treatment she has
+received, that has made her _hate_ the man she once _loved_, and rather
+than marry him to expose her disgrace to the world!"
+
+Lovelace to Belford:
+
+"_June 30._ I am ruined, undone, destroyed.
+
+"If thou canst find her out, and prevail upon her to consent, I will, in
+thy presence, marry her. She cannot be long concealed; I have set all
+engines at work to find her out, and if I do, who will care to embroil
+themselves with a man of my figure, fortune, and resolution?"
+
+Belford to Lovelace:
+
+"_August 31._ When I concluded my last, I hoped that my next attendance
+upon this surprising lady would furnish me with some particulars as
+agreeable as now could be hoped for from the declining way she is in;
+but I think I was never more shocked in my life than on the occasion I
+shall mention.
+
+"When I attended her about seven in the evening, she had hardly spoken
+to me, when she started, and a blush overspread her sweet face on
+hearing, as I also did, a sort of lumbering noise upon the stairs, as if
+a large trunk were bringing up between two people. 'Blunderers!' said
+she. 'They have brought in something two hours before the time. Don't be
+surprised, sir, it is all to save _you_ trouble.'
+
+"Before I could speak in came Mrs. Smith. 'Oh, madam,' said she, 'what
+have you done?'
+
+"' Lord have mercy upon me, madam,' cried I, 'what have you done?' For
+she, stepping at the instant to the door, Mrs. Smith told me it was a
+coffin. Oh, Lovelace that thou hadst been there at the moment! Thou, the
+causer of all these shocking scenes! Surely thou couldst not have been
+less affected than I, who have no guilt as to _her_ to answer for.
+
+"With an intrepidity of a piece with the preparation, having directed
+them to carry it into her bed-chamber, she returned to us. 'They were
+not to have brought it till after dark,' said she. 'Pray excuse me, Mr.
+Belford; and don't you be concerned, Mrs. Smith. Why should you? There
+is nothing more in it than the unusualness of the thing. Why may we not
+be as reasonably shocked at going to the church where are the monuments
+of our ancestors, as to be moved at such a sight as this.'
+
+"How reasonable was all this. But yet we could not help being shocked at
+the thoughts of the coffin thus brought in; the lovely person before our
+eyes who is in all likelihood so soon to fill it."
+
+Belford to Lovelace:
+
+"_September 7._ I may as well try to write, since were I to go to bed I
+should not sleep; and you may be glad to know the particulars of her
+happy exit. All is now hushed and still. At four o'clock yesterday I was
+sent for. Her cousin, Colonel Mordern, and Mrs. Smith were with her. She
+was silent for a few minutes. Her breath grew shorter. Her sweet voice
+and broken periods methinks still fill my ears, and never will be out of
+my memory. 'Do you, sir,' turning her head towards me, 'tell your friend
+that I forgive him, and I pray to God to forgive him. Let him know how
+happily I die, and that such as my own I wish to be his last hour.'
+
+"With a smile of charming serenity overspreading her face, she expired.
+
+"Oh, Lovelace, but I can write no more."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Sir Charles Grandison
+
+
+     "Sir Charles Grandison, and the Honourable Miss Byron, in a
+     Series of Letters," published in 1753, was the third and last
+     of Samuel Richardson's novels. Like its predecessors, it is of
+     enormous length (it first appeared in seven volumes) and is
+     written in the form of a series of letters. The idea of the
+     author was to "present to the public, in Sir Charles
+     Grandison, the example of a man acting uniformly well through
+     a variety of trying scenes, because all his actions are
+     regulated by one steady principle--a man of religion and
+     virtue, of liveliness and spirit, accomplished and agreeable,
+     happy in himself and a blessing to others." Such a portrait of
+     "a man of true honour" provoked the highest enthusiasm in the
+     eighteenth century; but to-day we have little patience for the
+     faultless diction and exemplary conduct of Sir Charles, and,
+     of the two, Miss Byron, the heroine, is by far the more
+     interesting. The "advertisement" to the edition of 1818
+     proclaimed the book "the most perfect work of its kind that
+     ever appeared in this or any other language," and we may
+     accept that verdict without admiring "the kind."
+
+
+_I.--Miss Lucy Selby to Her Cousin, Miss Harriet Byron_
+
+
+_Ashby-Cannons, January 10._ Your resolution to accompany your cousin,
+Mrs. Reeves, to London, has greatly alarmed your three lovers, and two
+of them, at least, will let you know that it has. Such a lovely girl as
+my Harriet must expect to be more accountable for her steps than one
+less excellent and less attractive.
+
+Mr. Greville, in his usual resolute way, threatens to follow you to
+London; and there, he says, he will watch the motions of every man who
+approaches you; and, if he finds reason for it, will _early_ let such
+man know _his_ pretensions, and the danger he may run into if he pretend
+to be his competitor. But let me not do him injustice; though he talks
+of a rival thus harshly, he speaks of you more highly than man ever
+spoke of woman.
+
+Mr. Fenwick, in less determined manner, declares that he will follow you
+to town, if you stay there above _one_ fortnight.
+
+The gentle Orme sighs his apprehensions, and wishes you would change
+your purpose. Though hopeless, he says, it is some pleasure to him that
+he can think himself in the same county with you; and, much more, that
+he can tread in your footsteps to and from church every Sunday, and
+behold you there. He wonders how your grandmamma, your aunt, your uncle,
+can spare you. Your cousin Reeves's surely, he says, are very happy in
+their influences over us all.
+
+Each of the gentlemen is afraid that by increasing the number of your
+admirers, you will increase his difficulties; but what is that to them,
+I asked, when they already know that you are not inclined to favour any
+of the three?
+
+Adieu, my dearest Harriet. May angels protect and guide you withersoever
+you go!
+
+                                                           LUCY SELBY.
+
+
+_II.--Miss Byron to Miss Selby_
+
+
+_Grosvenor Street, London, February 3._ We are returned from a party at
+Lady Betty's. She had company with her, to whom she introduced us, and
+presented me in a very advantageous character. But mutual civilities had
+hardly passed when Lady Betty, having been called out, returned,
+introducing as a gentleman who would be acceptable to everyone, Sir
+Hargrave Pollexfen. "He is," whispered she to me, as he saluted the rest
+of the company in a very gallant manner, "a young baronet of a very
+large estate; the greatest part of which has lately come to him by the
+death of relatives, all very rich." Let me give you a sketch of him, my
+Lucy.
+
+Sir Hargrave Pollexfen is handsome and genteel; pretty tall, about
+twenty-eight or thirty. He has remarkably bold eyes, rather approaching
+to what we would call goggling, and he gives himself airs with them, as
+if he wished to have them thought rakish; perhaps as a recommendation,
+in his opinion, to the ladies. With all his foibles he is said to be a
+man of enterprise and courage, and young women, it seems, must take care
+how they laugh with him, for he makes ungenerous constructions to the
+disadvantage of a woman whom he can bring to seem pleased with his
+jests.
+
+The taste of the present age seems to be dress; no wonder, therefore,
+that such a man as Sir Hargrave aims to excel in it. What can be
+misbestowed by a man on his person who values it more than his mind? But
+what a length I have run!
+
+
+_III.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_
+
+
+We found at home, waiting for Mr. Reeves's return, Sir John Allestree, a
+worthy, sensible man, of plain and unaffected manners, upwards of fifty.
+
+Mr. Reeves mentioning to him our past entertainment and company, Sir
+John gave us such an account of Sir Hargrave as let me know that he is a
+very dangerous and enterprising man. He says that, laughing and light as
+he is in company, he is malicious, ill-natured, and designing, and
+sticks at nothing to carry a point on which he has once set his heart.
+He has ruined, Sir John says, three young creatures already, under vows
+of marriage.
+
+Could you have thought, my Lucy, that this laughing, fine-dressing man,
+could have been a man of malice, and of resentment, a cruel man, yet Sir
+John told two very bad stories of him.
+
+But I had no need of these stories to determine me against receiving his
+addresses. What I saw of him was sufficient.
+
+
+_IV.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_
+
+
+_Wednesday, February 8._ Sir Hargrave came before six o'clock. He was
+richly dressed. He asked for my cousin Reeves, I was in my chamber,
+writing.
+
+He excused himself for coming so early on the score of his impatience.
+
+Shall I give you, from my cousins, an account of the conversation before
+I went down? You know Mrs. Reeves is a nice observer.
+
+He had had, he told my cousins, a most uneasy time of it, ever since he
+saw me. He never saw a woman before whom he could love as he loved me.
+By his soul, he had no view but what was strictly honourable. He gloried
+in the happy prospects before him, and hoped, as none of my little
+_army_ of admirers had met encouragement from me, that _he_ might be the
+happy man.
+
+"I told you, Mr. Reeves," said he, "that I will give you _carte blanche_
+as to settlements. I will lay before you, or before any of Miss Byron's
+friends, my rent-rolls. There never was a better conditioned estate. She
+shall live in town, or in the country, as she thinks fit."
+
+On a message that tea was near ready, I went down.
+
+"Charming Miss Byron," said he, addressing me with an air of kindness
+and freedom, "I hope you are all benignity and compassion." He then
+begged I would hear him relate the substance of what had passed between
+him and Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, referred to the declaration he had made,
+boasted of his violent passion, and besought my favour with the utmost
+earnestness.
+
+As I could not think of encouraging his addresses, I thought it best to
+answer him without reserve.
+
+"Sir Hargrave, you may expect nothing from me but the simplest truth. I
+thank you, sir, for your good opinion of me, but I cannot encourage your
+addresses."
+
+"You _cannot_, madam, _encourage my addresses!_" He stood silent a
+minute or two, looking upon me as if he said, "Foolish girl! Knows she
+whom she refuses?" "I have been assured, madam, that your affections are
+not engaged. But surely, it must be a mistake; some happy man----"
+
+"Is it," I interrupted, "a necessary consequence that the woman who
+cannot receive the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen must be engaged?"
+
+"Why, madam, as to that, I know not what to say, but a man of my
+fortune----" He paused. "What, madam, can be your objection? Be so good
+as to name it, that I may know whether I can be so happy as to get over
+it."
+
+"We do not, we _cannot_, all like the same person. There is _something_
+that attracts or disgusts us."
+
+"_Disgusts!_ Madam--disgusts! Miss Byron!"
+
+"I spoke in general, sir; I dare say, nineteen women out of twenty would
+think themselves favoured in the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen."
+
+"But _you_, madam, are the twentieth that I must love; and be so good as
+to let me know----"
+
+"Pray, sir, ask me not a reason for a _peculiarity_. You may have more
+merit, perhaps, than the man I may happen to approve of better;
+but--_shall_ I say?--you do not--you do not hit my fancy, sir."
+
+"_Not hit your fancy_, madam! Give me leave to say" (and he reddened
+with anger) "that my fortune, my descent, and my ardent affection for
+you ought to avail with me. Perhaps, madam, you think me too airy a man.
+You have doubts of my sincerity. You question my honour."
+
+"That, sir, would be to injure myself," and making a low courtesy, I
+withdrew in haste.
+
+My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin another letter.
+
+
+_V.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_
+
+
+Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Hargrave again called, and renewed
+his addresses, making vehement professions of love, and offering me
+large settlements. To all of which I answered as before; and when he
+insisted upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly told him that I had
+not the opinion of his morals that I must have of those of the man to
+whom I gave my hand in marriage.
+
+"Of my _morals_, madam!" (and his colour went and came). "My _morals_,
+madam!" He arose from his seat and walked about the room muttering. "You
+have no opinion of my morals? By heaven, madam! But I will bear it
+all--yet, 'No opinion of my morals!' I cannot bear that."
+
+He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his head; and, snatching up
+his hat, bowed to the ground, his face crimsoned over, and he withdrew.
+
+Mr. Reeves attended him to the door. "Not like my morals!" said he. "I
+have _enemies_, Mr. Reeves. Miss Byron treats politely everybody but me,
+sir. Her scorn may be repaid--would to God I could say, with scorn, Mr.
+Reeves! Adieu!"
+
+And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the glasses with violence; and
+rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swelling. And away it
+drove.
+
+A fine husband for your Harriet would this half madman make! Drawn in by
+his professions of love, and by L8,000 a year, I might have married him;
+and when too late found myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and madman
+for the remainder of my life.
+
+
+_VI.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq._
+
+
+_Friday, February 17_. No one, at present, but yourself, must see the
+contents of what I am going to write.
+
+You must not be too much surprised. But how shall I tell you the news;
+the dreadful news!
+
+O, my cousin Selby! We know not what has become of our dearest Miss
+Byron.
+
+We were last night at the masked ball in the Hay-market.
+
+Between two and three we all agreed to go home. The dear creature was
+fatigued with the notice everybody took of her. Everybody admired her.
+
+I waited on her to her chair, and saw her in it, before I attended Lady
+Betty and my wife to theirs.
+
+I saw that neither the chair, nor the chairmen were those who brought
+her. I asked the meaning and was told that the chairmen we had engaged
+had been inveigled away to drink somewhere. She hurried into it because
+of her dress, and being warm; no less than four gentlemen followed her
+to the very chair.
+
+I ordered Wilson, my, cousin's servant, to bid the chairmen stop, when
+they had got out of the crowd till Lady Betty's chair and mine, and my
+wife's joined them.
+
+I saw her chair move, and Wilson, with his lighted flambeaux, before it,
+and the four masks who followed her to the chair return into the house.
+
+When our servants could not find that her chair had stopped, we supposed
+that, in the hurry, the fellow heard not my orders; and directed our
+chairmen to proceed, not doubting but that we should find her got home
+before us.
+
+But what was our consternation at finding her not arrived, and that Lady
+Betty (to whose house we thought she might have been carried) had not
+either seen or heard of her!
+
+I had half a suspicion of Sir Hargrave, as well from the character given
+us of him by a friend, as because of his impolite behaviour to the dear
+creature on her rejecting him; and sent to his house in Cavendish Square
+to know if he were at home: and if he were, at what time he returned
+from the ball.
+
+Answer was brought that he was in bed, and they supposed would not be
+stirring till dinner-time; and that he returned from the ball between
+four and five this morning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+O, my dear Mr. Selby! We _have_ tidings! The dear creature is living and
+in honourable hands. Read the enclosed letter, directed to me.
+
+"Sir,--Miss Byron is in safe hands. She has been cruelly treated, and
+was many hours speechless. But don't frighten yourselves; her fits,
+though not less frequent, are weaker and weaker. The bearer will
+acquaint you who my brother is; to whom you owe the preservation and
+safety of the loveliest woman in England, and he will direct you to a
+house where you will be welcome, with your lady (for Miss Byron cannot
+be removed) to convince yourself that all possible care is taken of her
+by _your humble servant_,
+
+                                                "CHARLOTTE GRANDISON."
+
+What we learnt from the honest man who brought the letter is, briefly,
+as follows:
+
+His master is Sir Charles Grandison; a gentleman who has not been long
+in England.
+
+Sir Charles was going to town in his chariot and six when he met our
+distressed cousin.
+
+Sir Hargrave is the villain.
+
+Sir Charles had earnest business in town, and he proceeded thither,
+after he had rescued the dear creature and committed her to the care of
+his sister. God forever bless him!
+
+
+_VII.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq.: In Continuation_
+
+
+_February_ 18. I am just returned from visiting my beloved cousin, who
+is still weak, but is more composed than she has hitherto been, the
+amiable lady, Miss Grandison tells me.
+
+Sir Charles Grandison is, indeed, a fine figure. He is the bloom of
+youth. I don't know that I have ever seen a handsomer or genteeler man.
+Well might his sister say that if he married he would break a score of
+hearts.
+
+I will relate all he said in the first person, as nearly in his own
+words as possible.
+
+"About two miles on this side Hounslow," said he, "I saw a chariot and
+six driving at a great rate.
+
+"The coachman seemed inclined to dispute the way with mine. This
+occasioned a few moments' stop to both. I ordered my coachman to break
+the way. I don't love to stand on trifles. My horses were fresh and I
+had not come far.
+
+"The curtain of the chariot we met was pulled down. I knew by the arms
+it was Sir Hargrave Pollexfen's.
+
+"There was in it a gentleman who immediately pulled up the canvas.
+
+"I saw, however, before he drew it up another person wrapped up in a
+man's scarlet cloak.
+
+"'For God's sake, help--help!' cried out the person. 'For God's sake,
+help!'
+
+"I ordered my coachman to stop.
+
+"'Drive on!' said the gentleman, cursing his coachman. 'Drive on when I
+bid you I'
+
+"'Help!' again cried she, but with a voice as if her mouth was half
+stopped.
+
+"I called to my servants on horseback to stop the postilion of the other
+chariot; and I bid Sir Hargrave's coachman proceed at his peril. Then I
+alighted, and went round to the other side of the chariot.
+
+"Again the lady endeavoured to cry out. I saw Sir Hargrave struggle to
+pull over her mouth a handkerchief, which was tied around her head. He
+swore outrageously.
+
+"The moment she beheld me, she spread out both her hands--'For God's
+sake!'
+
+"'Sir Hargrave Pollexfen,' said I, 'by the arms. You are engaged, I
+doubt, in a very bad affair.'
+
+"'I _am_ Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, and am carrying a fugitive wife.'
+
+"'Your _own_ wife, Sir Hargrave?'
+
+"'Yes, by heaven!' said he. 'And she was going to elope from me at a
+damned masquerade!'
+
+"'Oh, no, no, no!' said the lady.
+
+"'Let me ask the lady a question, Sir Hargrave. Are you, madam, Lady
+Pollexfen?' said I.
+
+"'Oh, no, no, no!' was all she could say.
+
+"Two of my servants came about me; a third held the head of the horse on
+which the postilion sat. Three of Sir Hargrave's approached on their
+horses, but seemed as if afraid to come too near, and parleyed together.
+
+"'Have an eye to those fellows,' said I. 'Some base work is on foot.
+Sirrah!'--to the coachman--'proceed at your peril!'
+
+"Sir Hargrave then, with violent curses and threatenings, ordered him to
+drive over everyone that opposed him.
+
+"'Oh, sir--sir,' cried the lady, 'help me, for I am in a villain's
+hands! Trick'd--vilely trick'd!'
+
+"'Do you,' said I to my servants, 'cut the traces if you cannot
+otherwise stop this chariot! Leave Sir Hargrave to me!'
+
+"The lady continued screaming, and crying out for help. Sir Hargrave
+drew his sword, and then called upon his servants to fire at all that
+opposed his progress.
+
+"'My servants, Sir Hargrave, have firearms as well as yours. They will
+not dispute my orders. Don't provoke me to give the word.' Then,
+addressing the lady: 'Will you, madam, put yourself into my protection?'
+
+"'Oh, yes, yes, with my whole heart! Dear, good sir, protect me!'
+
+"I opened the chariot door. Sir Hargrave made a pass at me.
+
+"'Take _that_ for your insolence, scoundrel!' said he.
+
+"I was aware of his thrust, and put it by; but his sword a little raked
+my shoulder. My sword was in my hand, but undrawn.
+
+"The chariot door remaining open. I seized him by the collar before he
+could recover himself from the pass he had made at me, and with a jerk
+and a kind of twist, laid him under the hind wheel of his chariot. I
+wrenched his sword from him, and snapped it, and flung the two pieces
+over my head.
+
+"His coachman cried out for his master. Mine threatened _his_ if he
+stirred. The postilion was a boy. My servant had made him dismount
+before he joined the other two. The wretches, knowing the badness of
+their cause, were becoming terrified.
+
+"One of Sir Hargraves's legs, in his sprawling, had got between the
+spokes of his chariot-wheel. I thought this was fortunate for preventing
+farther mischief. I believe he was bruised with the fall; the jerk was
+violent.
+
+"I had not drawn my sword. I hope I never shall be provoked to do it in
+a private quarrel. I should not, however, have scrupled to draw it on
+such an occasion as this had there been an absolute necessity for it.
+
+"The lady, though greatly terrified, had disengaged herself from the
+man's cloak. I offered my hand, and your lovely cousin threw herself
+into my arms, as a frighted bird pursued by a hawk has flown into the
+bosom of a man passing by. She was ready to faint. She could not, I
+believe, have stood. I carried the lovely creature round, and seated her
+in my chariot.
+
+"'Be assured, madam,' said I, 'that you are in honourable hands. I will
+convey you to my sister, who is a young lady of honour and virtue.'
+
+"I shut the chariot door. Sir Hargrave was now on his legs, supported by
+his coachman; his other servants had fled.
+
+"I bid one of my servants tell him who I was. He cursed me, and
+threatened vengeance.
+
+"I then stepped back to my chariot, and reassured Miss Byron, who had
+sunk down at the bottom of it. What followed, I suppose, Charlotte"--
+bowing to his sister--"you told Mr. Reeves?"
+
+"I can only say, my brother," said Miss Grandison, "that you have
+rescued an angel of a woman, and you have made me as happy by it as
+yourself."
+
+
+_VIII.--Mr. Deane to Sir Charles Grandison_
+
+
+_Selby House, October_ 3. An alliance more acceptable, were it with a
+prince, could not be proposed, than that which Sir Charles Grandison, in
+a manner so worthy of himself, has proposed with a family who have
+thought themselves under obligation to him ever since he delivered the
+darling of it from the lawless attempts of a savage libertine. I know to
+whom I write; and will own that it has been _my_ wish in a most
+particular manner. As to the young lady, I say nothing of her, yet how
+shall I forbear? Oh, sir, believe me, she will dignify your choice. Her
+duty and her inclination through every relation of life were never
+divided.
+
+Excuse me, sir. No parent was ever more fond of his child than I have
+been from her infancy of this my daughter by adoption.
+
+
+_IX.--Miss Byron to Lady G. (Formerly Charlotte Grandison)_
+
+
+_October_ 14. Sir Charles came a little after eleven. He addressed us
+severally with his usual politeness, and my grandmother particularly,
+with such an air of reverence as did himself credit, because of her
+years and wisdom.
+
+Presently my aunt led me away to another chamber, and then went away,
+but soon returned, and with her the man of men.
+
+She but turned round, and saw him take my hand, which he did with a
+compliment that made me proud, and left us together.
+
+Oh, my dear, your brother looked the humble, modest lover, yet the man
+of sense, of dignity, in love. I could not but be assured of his
+affection.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On one knee he dropped, and taking my passive hand between his, and
+kissing it, he said:
+
+"My dear Miss Byron, you are goodness itself. I approached you with
+diffidence and with apprehension. May blessings attend my future life,
+as my grateful heart shall acknowledge this goodness!"
+
+Again he kissed my hand, rising with dignity. I could have received his
+vows on my knees, but I was motionless; yet how was I delighted to be
+the cause of joy to him! Joy to your brother--to Sir Charles Grandison!
+
+He saw me greatly affected, and considerately said:
+
+"I will leave you, my dear Miss Byron, to entitle myself to the
+congratulations of all our friends below. From this moment I date my
+happiness!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER
+
+
+Hesperus
+
+
+     Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, who was born at Wunsiedel, in
+     Bavaria, on March 21, 1763, and died on November 14, 1825, was
+     the son of a poor but highly accomplished schoolmaster, who
+     early in his career became a Lutheran pastor at Schwarzenbach,
+     on the Saale. Young Richter entered Leipzig University in
+     1780, specially to study theology, but became one of the most
+     eccentric and erratic of students, a veritable literary gypsy,
+     roaming over vast fields of literature, collating and noting
+     immense stores of scientific, artistic, historic, and
+     philosophic facts. Driven to writing for subsistence, he only
+     won a reputation by slow degrees, but so great at last was the
+     esteem in which his countrymen held him that he is typically
+     styled "Der Einzige" ("The Unique"). The turning point proved
+     to be the issue of "The Invisible Lodge" ("Die Unsichtbare
+     Loge") in 1793, a romance founded on some of his academic
+     experiences. Then followed a brilliant series of works which
+     have made Richter's name famous. Among these was "Hesperus,"
+     published in 1794, which made him one of the most famous of
+     German writers. Fanciful and extravagant as the work is, and
+     written without any regard to the laws of composition, it is
+     nevertheless stamped with genius. In all Richter's stories the
+     plot goes for nothing; it is on the thoughts that he strikes
+     out by the way that his fame depends.
+
+
+_I.--Friendship_
+
+
+"Victor," said Flamin, to the young Englishman, "give me this night thy
+friendship for ever, and swear to me that thou wilt never disturb me in
+my love to thee. Swear thou wilt never plunge me in misfortune and
+despair!"
+
+The two friends were standing at midnight in the mild, sweet air of May,
+alone on the watch-tower of the little watering place of St. Luna. It
+was their first meeting for eight years. Flamin was the son of Chaplain
+Eymann, who had retired from the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen;
+Victor was the heir of Lord Horion, a noble Englishman who lived at
+Flachsenfingen and directed all the affairs of the prince. The two boys
+had been sent in their infancy to London and brought up together there
+for twelve years; then for six years they had lived with Chaplain Eymann
+at St. Luna, and Victor had naturally conceived a great affection for
+the old clergyman and a deep love for his son. When, however, Victor was
+eighteen years of age, Lord Horion had sent him to Goettingen to study
+medicine, and he had remained at that university for eight years.
+Everybody wondered why a great English nobleman should want to bring his
+son up as a physician; but Horion was a politician and his ways were
+dark and secret. Neither Chaplain Eymann nor the wife of that worthy
+pastor ever understood why his lordship should have been so anxious that
+Flamin and Victor should be brought up together and united by the
+closest ties of friendship; but being good, simple souls, they accepted
+the favours showered upon their son without seeking to discover if there
+were any reason for them. Eight years' absence had not diminished
+Victor's affection for them, but the young English nobleman was alarmed
+by the strange, wild passion which Flamin displayed as soon as they were
+alone together.
+
+"You know I love you, Flamin, more than I love myself," he said,
+clasping his friend in his arms, and leading him to a seat on the
+watch-tower. "Of course, I swear never to overwhelm you in misfortune,
+or desert you or hate you. What is it that brings such gloomy thoughts
+into your mind?"
+
+"I will tell thee everything now, Victor!" exclaimed his friend. "I will
+open all my heart to thee."
+
+At first he was too much overcome by his feelings to speak. For a long
+time the two young men remained silent, gazing into the dark blue depths
+of the night The Milky Way ran, like the ring of eternity, around the
+immensity of space; below it glided the sharp sickle of the moon,
+cutting across the brief days and the brief joys of men. But clear among
+the stars shone the Twins, those ever-burning, intertwined symbols of
+friendship; westward they rose, and on the right of them blazed the
+heart of the Lion. The two friends had studied astronomy together, and
+when Victor pointed out the happy sign in the midnight sky, Flamin began
+to tell him his troubles. He, a poor clergyman's son, had fallen wildly
+in love with Clotilda, the beautiful daughter of Prince January, of
+Flachsenfingen. She was living at the country seat of the Lord
+Chamberlain Le Baut, at St. Luna; so poor Flamin was able to see her
+every day. Knowing that he could neither forget her nor win her, he was
+tortured by a strange, hopeless jealousy, and he now confessed that,
+instead of looking forward with joy to Victor's return to his home, he
+had been consumed with fear lest his brilliant, noble, handsome friend
+should utterly eclipse him in the sight of his beloved lady.
+
+"Cannot I do anything to help you?" said Victor, tenderly.
+
+"Your father has immense influence over Prince January," said Flamin,
+"could you beg him to get me some court position at Flachsenfingen? If
+only I could make my way in the world, perhaps I might be able to hope
+to win at last the hand of my lady."
+
+Victor at once promised to do all in his power; and the two friends,
+newly reattached to each other, came down from the watch-tower, and,
+with their arms lovingly entwined, they returned to the parsonage.
+
+
+_II.--Love_
+
+
+The next day Chamberlain Le Baut gave a garden party in honour of the
+son of the great English minister.
+
+"Take good care!" said the chaplain's wife as Victor set off; "she is
+very beautiful."
+
+Victor had no need to ask who "she" was.
+
+"I shall take care not to take care," he replied, with a smile.
+
+Victor was too much of a man of the world to fall in love at first
+sight. But when he entered the garden, and a sweet, tall, and lovely
+figure came forward to greet him from behind the foliage, he felt as if
+all his blood had been driven in his face. It was Clotilda. She spoke to
+him, but he listened to the melody of her voice, instead of to her
+words, so that he did not understand what she was saying. Her quiet,
+reserved eyes, however, brought him to his senses; but still he could
+not help feeling glad that, as Flamin's friend, he had some claim upon
+her attention and her society. It seemed to him as if everything that
+she did was done by her for the first time in life; and he would no
+doubt have shown a strange embarrassment in her company if the Lord
+Chamberlain and his wife and a throng of guests had not come into the
+garden and surrounded him and distracted him by their compliments.
+Recovering his self-possession, he concealed his real feelings by giving
+full play to his faculty for malicious and witty sayings. But though he
+succeeded in amusing the company, he displeased Clotilda; for the talk
+fell on the topic of women.
+
+"The thing which a girl most easily forgets," said the Lord Chamberlain,
+"is how she looks; that is why she is always gazing into a mirror."
+
+"Perhaps that is also the reason," said Victor, "why no woman regards
+another as more beautiful than she is. The most that a woman will admit
+is that her rival is younger than herself."
+
+Nothing fell upon Clotilda--and this is always found in the best of her
+sex--more keenly than satire upon womankind, and though she concealed
+the fact that she both endured and despised this sort of wit, she began
+to distrust the lips and the heart of the young Englishman, and treated
+him during this time with such cold civility, that he had to exaggerate
+his wild gaiety in order to conceal the grief that he felt.
+
+But as she was walking at evening in the garden, a loose leaf blew out
+of a book that she was holding, and Victor picked it up and read: "On
+this earth man has only two and a half minutes--one to smile, one to
+sigh, and a half a one to love; for in the midst of it he dies."
+
+"Dahore! This is a saying of Dahore!" exclaimed Victor. "Clotilda, do
+you know my beloved master Dahore?" Clotilda turned towards him, her
+face transfigured with a lovely radiance. Their two noble souls
+discovered at last their affinity in their common love for the wise and
+gracious spirit who had nourished their young souls. For some strange
+reason Lord Horion, as they found out as soon as they began to converse
+together in a sweet and sincere intimacy, had had them brought up by the
+same master; and Dahore, an eccentric, lovable man with a profound
+wisdom, had made them, in both mind and soul, comrades to each other,
+though he educated one in London and the other at St. Luna.
+
+"He taught Flamin and me at the same time," said Victor, looking to see
+what effect the name of his friend had on Clotilda. She smiled sweetly,
+but mysteriously, when he went on to speak of his loving friendship for
+the son of Chaplain Eymann.
+
+The next day he knew why her smile was so mysterious. Lord Horion
+arrived from Flachsenfingen with some extraordinary news. Flamin had
+been appointed a counsellor to Prince January. Never had Victor in his
+wildest dreams of his friend's advancement, imagined that he would
+obtain at a leap so high an important position as this. The young
+Englishman himself had been sent to study at Goettingen in order that he
+might be qualified to act as the prince's physician; but Flamin, without
+any labour, had suddenly obtained a place of authority almost equal to
+that occupied by Lord Horion.
+
+Late that evening, however, Lord Horion revealed to his son a strange
+secret, in the light of which everything was explained. The Prince of
+Flachsenfingen was a man of a rather weak and evil character, over whom
+Horion ruled by sheer force of will. Prince January had had two
+children, a boy and a girl, and the English lord had had them brought up
+far away from the malicious influences of the court. In order that
+January might not interfere in the education of the heir, Horion had
+told him that the boy had perished in infancy in London. As a matter of
+fact, the child had been brought up with Victor.
+
+"So Flamin is the heir to the throne of Flachsenfingen!" exclaimed
+Victor.
+
+"Yes," said Horion, "and I have trained you to guide and direct him in
+the same way as I guide and direct his father. For the present, however,
+I must have complete control of the matter. Swear that you will not
+divulge the secret of Flamin's birth to him or to any one else, before I
+give you permission."
+
+For a moment Victor hesitated. He remembered the promise that Flamin had
+wrung from him on the watch-tower, and this, he was beginning to see,
+might involve him in a perilous misunderstanding.
+
+"Does Clotilda know?" he said.
+
+"I revealed the secret to her when she came to St. Luna," said Horion,
+"under the same conditions that I am now revealing it to you. She swore
+to reveal it under no circumstances whatever, and you must do the same
+before you leave this spot."
+
+So Victor took the oath with a strange mixture of misgiving and joy. As
+he walked back, slowly and thoughtfully, to the chaplain's house, he at
+last admitted to himself that he was deeply in love with Clotilda.
+Instead of returning to England and leaving Flamin in possession of the
+field, as he had resolved on doing, he was now at liberty to try and win
+the beautiful, noble girl. On the other hand, Flamin would misunderstand
+his actions, and this would bring both of them into great danger.
+
+The next day Victor received his appointment as physician to the Prince
+of Flachsenfingen, and he was summoned to the court, together with
+Clotilda. He now divined what his father's intentions were in regard to
+him and the lovely young girl. Instead, however, of going with her to
+Flachsenfingen, he dressed himself in poor attire and set out on an
+aimless journey through Europe, without telling anyone where he was
+going.
+
+
+_III.--Enmity_
+
+
+Victor had a profound aversion from the wild and yet vacant kind of life
+that men pursued at the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen. He was
+comforted in his separation by the thought that so long as it lasted he
+was spared from disturbing the delusions of her jealous brother. But
+when he at last came to Flachsenfingen, he was grieved to find that his
+beautiful lady had grown pale and sorrowful. Like a sweet flower taken
+from the clear fresh air of the forest and placed in a hot, closed room,
+she was pining in the close, heavy atmosphere of the court, which was so
+crowded and yet so lonely. At the sight of her distress, Victor forgot
+his promise to Flamin. Meeting her at evening in the forest near the
+palace, he sank on his knees before her in the dewy grass, and told her
+all his love for her, and of the promise he had made to Flamin. Clotilda
+stooped and clasped his hand, and drew him up, and he folded her to his
+breast.
+
+"We must part, dearest," he said, "until my father sees fit to reveal to
+your brother the secret of his birth."
+
+A nightingale broke out into a passion of song as Victor gathered up his
+courage to bid her farewell. The call of the nightingale was suddenly
+answered by another nightingale. It kept flying as it sang, and, with
+its voice muffled by the thick blossoms on the trees, it sent a
+languishing melody flowing out of a dim, flowering dell a hundred paces
+away. The two lovers, who dreaded and delayed to part, wandered
+confusedly after the receding nightingale into the hollow of the forest;
+they knew not that they were alone, for in their hearts was God. At last
+Clotilda recovered herself, and as the nightingale ceased, she turned
+round to say good-bye. But Victor lingered, and took both of her hands,
+though for very grief he could not bear to look upon her. With tears in
+his eyes he murmured, "Good-bye, my dearest. My heart is too heavy. I
+can say no more. Do not sorrow, darling. Nothing can part us
+now--neither life nor death."
+
+Like a transfigured spirit bending down to an angel, he stooped and
+touched her sweet mouth. In a gentle kiss, in which their hovering souls
+only glided tremorously from afar to meet each other with fluttering
+wings, he took from her yielding lips the seal of her pure love. As he
+did so, there came a crashing sound from the dark trees around them.
+
+"You scoundrel!" cried Flamin, rushing down into the hollow, his eyes
+gleaming in the moonlight, and his face white with anger. "Take it, take
+it! I will have your blood for this!"
+
+He had two pistols in his hand, and he thrust one fiercely towards
+Victor. The Englishman drew Clotilda aside, and then went up to his
+friend, saying, "I have not wronged you. Believe me, Flamin, I remember
+the oath I gave you, and I swear that I have been faithful to you. Only
+wait until I see my father, and everything will be explained."
+
+"I want no explanation, you faithless scoundrel," shouted Flamin, "Take
+it, or I will kill you where you stand."
+
+In his blind fury he was pointing the muzzle of the pistol at the
+trembling form of Clotilda, and Victor snatched the weapon from him in
+order to save her.
+
+"I will have blood for this--blood, blood!" Flamin kept saying, reeling
+about the floor of the dell like a drunken man.
+
+"You are my brother, my brother!" cried Clotilda. "Don't you hear? You
+are my brother!"
+
+She ran up to Flamin to take the pistol from him, but reeled and fell to
+the ground in a swoon. Victor looked at her wildly, and thinking that
+she was dead, turned upon Flamin.
+
+"If you want blood," he said sternly, "take mine."
+
+"You fire first," exclaimed Flamin.
+
+Victor lifted his pistol up into the air and shot at the top of a tree;
+then he stood calm and silent waiting for Flamin to fire. His old friend
+pointed the pistol straight at his heart, but hesitated; and Clotilda
+recovered her senses and staggered to her feet, and threw herself before
+her lover. Flamin looked at them in gloomy wonder without lowering his
+pistol. He would have liked to kill them both with one shot, but the
+instinct of a life-long friendship unnerved him. He hurled his pistol
+away, saying, "It isn't worth troubling to kill a scoundrel like you,"
+and then turned and strode fiercely through the forest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some weeks afterwards Victor was standing on the watch-tower at St. Luna
+alone, with a letter from Lord Horion in his hand. He looked down from
+the height, and he was tempted to throw himself over. He had regained
+the friendship of Flamin, but it seemed to him that he had now lost all
+hope of winning Clotilda. For Lord Horion had explained the whole of the
+strange, tortuous policy which he had used in regard to Prince January.
+He informed Victor that he had introduced Flamin to the prince, and had
+proved to him that the young man was his heir. "They asked me, my dear
+Victor," Horion went on to say in his letter, "a question which I was
+surprised at your not asking. If Flamin is the son of the prince, where
+is the son of Chaplain Eymann whom I took to London to be educated with
+him? My dear boy, I have no son, and you really are the child of Eymann
+and his good wife. This secret I felt bound to reveal to the prince at
+the same time that I was forced to reveal the secret of Flamin's birth.
+It was because I wished to postpone the revelations until you were
+established in the prince's good graces that I made you take the oath
+that you took so unwillingly."
+
+Victor felt that what the heir to a great English nobleman might aspire
+to, the son of a poor country clergyman could never hope to attain. By a
+strange vicissitude of fortune he now found himself in the same position
+as that in which Flamin had been when they met on the watch-tower after
+their long separation. His mournful meditations were suddenly
+interrupted by two figures who had silently crept up the stairs of the
+tower. They were Flamin and Clotilda, and each of them put an arm around
+Victor and led him to the parsonage. On the way he learnt that Clotilda
+had known all along that he was the son of Chaplain Eymann.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Titan
+
+
+     The climax of Jean Paul Richter's inspiration, and of his
+     obscurity, was reached in "Titan," published during 1801-3. He
+     meant it to be his greatest romance, and posterity has
+     confirmed his judgement. Of all his works, it is the most
+     characteristic of its author. It has all the peculiarities of
+     his style, peculiarities that are reflected in the prose of
+     Thomas Carlyle, his most eminent British admirer and
+     interpreter. The book itself took ten years to write, and
+     according to his correspondence, Richter intended to call it
+     "Anti-Titan," having in view his attacks on the material
+     selfishness of the age which, to gain its own ends, would move
+     mountains. The motive--a comparison between a man of moral
+     grandeur and one of grandiose immorality--came to Richter
+     while he was engaged on "Hesperus," a fact that explains why
+     certain characters from the earlier romance reappear in
+     "Titan."
+
+
+_I.--Liana_
+
+
+For many years Albano, the young Spanish Count Cesara, had lived within
+sight of the capital city of the state of Hohenfliess; yet he had never
+entered it--his mother, so his father told him, had shut it against him,
+desiring that he should be reared in the Carthusian monastery of rural
+life, not sullied in his youth by mingling with courtiers and men of the
+world.
+
+And now the gates of Pestitz were open to him. Contemplate the heated
+face of my hero, who at last is riding into the streets, built up in his
+fancy of temples of the sun, where who knows but that at every long
+window, on every balcony, his beloved Liana may be standing?
+
+Gaspard, Count Cesara, Knight of the Fleece, had met his son, for the
+first time in Albano's memory, at Lake Maggiore, and Albano had come
+away from the meeting with a feeling of chill that poisoned his heart,
+eager as it was to love and be loved, and a vague, discomposing sense
+that in his birth there was a mystery. But the thought of his father's
+coldness, all thoughts that troubled and confused, were forgotten on his
+entry into Pestitz, in the eager hope of seeing Liana, his beloved, and
+his friend, her brother, Charles Roquairol; for neither his beloved nor
+her brother had he ever yet in his life beheld.
+
+The love and the friendship were of the imagination, and the imagination
+was begotten of the accounts given by Von Falterle, the
+accomplishments-master of Albano in the village of Bluemenbuhl, and of
+his former pupil Liana, daughter of the Minister von Froulay. It was his
+wont to paste up long altar-pieces of Liana's charms, charms which her
+father had sought to enhance by means of delicate and almost meagre
+fare, by shutting up his orangery, whose window he seldom lifted off
+from this flower of a milder clime--until she had become a tender
+creature of pastil-dust, which the gusts of fate and monsoons of climate
+could almost blow to pieces. In Albano's silent heart, therefore, there
+was to be seen a saintly image of Liana, the ascending Raphael's Mary,
+but, like the pictures of the saints in Passion-week, hanging behind a
+veil.
+
+And as for her brother, the madcap Roquairol, who in his thirteenth year
+had shot at himself with suicidal intent because the little Countess
+Linda de Romeiro, Albano's father's ward, had turned her back upon him,
+could our hero's admiration be withheld from a youth of his own age who
+already possessed all the accomplishments and had tasted all the
+passions?
+
+When Albano entered Pestitz, eager that his dreams of love and
+friendship should be realised, the aged Prince of Hohenfliess had just
+departed this life, and Liana, intimate friend of the Princess Julienne,
+daughter of the dead prince, was smitten with temporary blindness, due
+to emotion and consequent headache. Albano first beheld her in the
+garden of her father, the minister, standing in the glimmer of the moon.
+The blest youth saw irradiated the young, open, still Mary's-brow, and
+the delicate proportions, which, like the white attire, seemed to exalt
+the form. Thou too fortunate man!--to whom the only visible goddess,
+Beauty, appears so suddenly, in her omnipotence!
+
+Ah, why must a deep, cold cloud steal through this pure and lofty
+heaven?
+
+The inauguration of the new prince was held--of the enfeebled Prince
+Luigi--upon whose expected speedy decease the neighbouring princely
+house of Haarkaar founded its hopes of acquiring the dominions of
+Hohenfliess. It was on the night of an inauguration ball that Albano,
+having poured out his heart to Roquairol in a letter, met his
+long-hoped-for friend, and sealed their affections by declaring that he
+would never wed Linda de Romeiro, whom it was thought Count Gaspard had
+designed for his son's bride, and for whom Roquairol's youthful passion
+had not been extinguished.
+
+When Liana recovered her sight, she was sent to Bluemenbuhl for
+restoration of health--to the home of Albano's foster-father, the
+provincial-director Wehrfritz. Thither often came Albano; thither also
+came Roquairol, to bask in the wondering admiration that Rabette,
+Albano's foster-sister, bestowed on him with all the fervour of her
+innocent rural mind. Albano's dream was fulfilled; he loved Liana in
+realty as he had loved her in imagination. Roquairol thought he loved
+Rabette; in truth, her simplicity was to this experienced conqueror of
+feminine hearts but a new and, for the moment, overmastering sensation.
+
+On a glorious evening Albano and Liana stood on a sloping
+mountain-ridge; overhead was a heaven filled with a life-intoxicated,
+tumultuous creation, as the sun-god stalked away over his evening-world.
+He seized Liana's hands and pressed them wildly to his breast; flames
+and tears suffused his eyes and his cheeks, and he stammered, "Liana, I
+love thee!"
+
+She stepped back, and drew her white veil over her face.
+
+"Wouldst thou love the dead?" she said.
+
+He knew her meaning. Her friend Caroline, whom she had loved and who had
+died, had appeared in a vision, and announced that she would die in the
+next year.
+
+"The vision was not true!" cried Albano.
+
+"Caroline, answer him!" Liana folded her hands as if in prayer; then she
+raised the veil, looked at him tenderly, and said, in a low tone, "I
+will love thee, good Albano, if I do not make thee miserable."
+
+"I will die with thee!" said he.
+
+Charles appeared with Rabette; he, also, had spoken frantic words of
+love, and Rabette clung around him compassionately, as a mother around
+her child.
+
+A few more days of joyous life at Bluemenbuhl, and Liana returned to her
+home at Pestitz. Then for weeks Albano saw nothing of her, heard nothing
+of her. Liana was in sore trouble. Her father had disapproved of the
+match; what mattered much more to her, her mother also. The mother's
+opposition was on the quite decisive ground that she could not endure
+Albano.
+
+The Minister von Froulay had more specific reasons for his hostility--
+the most specific of all being that he had designed his daughter for one
+Bouverot, a disreputable court intriguer, his leaning towards Bouverot
+being based on financial liabilities, and stimulated by financial
+expectations. The minister's lady detested Bouverot, but in desiring
+separation between Liana and Albano, she was her husband's ally. Behold,
+then, Liana torn between duty towards her mother and love for Albano.
+
+Once Albano saw her, but heard no explanation. The prince was wedded to
+the Princess of Haarbaar, and it was at a wedding festivity in the
+grounds of the pleasure palace of Lilar that Albano looked upon his
+beloved. But she was pledged for the time to tell him nothing, and she
+told him nothing. The princess looked curiously at her, for Liana
+exactly resembled the princess's younger sister, the philanthropic
+Idoine, who devoted herself to the idyllic happiness of her peasantry in
+the Arcadian village that it was her whim to rule.
+
+To the aged and saintly court chaplain, Spener, Liana at last brought
+her perplexities. Here the history moves in veils. How he extorted from
+her the promise to renounce her Albano for ever is a mystery watched and
+hidden by the Great Sphinx of the oath she swore to him.
+
+On the next day Albano was summoned, and stood with quivering lips
+before the beloved.
+
+"I am true to you--even unto death," she said; "but all is over."
+
+He looked upon her, wild, wondering.
+
+"I have resigned you," she said; "and my parents are not to blame. There
+is a mystery that has constrained me--"
+
+"Oh, God!" he cried. "Is it thus with external fidelity and love?" In
+whirling, cruel passion he pictured his love, her coldness, his pain,
+her violated oath.
+
+"I did not think thou wert so hard," she said. "Oh, it grows dark to me;
+let me to my mother!"
+
+Albano gazed into the groping, timid face, and guessed all--her
+blindness had returned!
+
+The mother rushed up. "May God bring you retribution for this!" cried
+Albano to her. "Farewell, unhappy Liana!"
+
+For many days Albano lived without love or hope, in bitter
+self-reproach; every recollection darted into him a scorpion-sting. And
+to him in his agony came the tormenting news that the fickle Roquairol
+had deserted Rabette. He drove the false one from his presence; sister
+and brother, beloved and friend, were now utterly lost to him.
+
+At length he learned that Liana had recovered her sight, and that she
+was dying. Once more, for the last time, he was admitted to her
+presence. She reclined in an easy-chair, white-clad, with white, sunken
+cheeks.
+
+"Welcome, Albano!" she said feebly, but with the old smile. "Some day
+thou wilt know why I parted from thee. On this, my dying day, I tell
+thee my heart has been true to thee." She handed him a sheet with a
+sketch she had made with trembling hand of the noble head of Linda de
+Romeiro. "It is my last wish that them shouldst love her," she said.
+"She is more worthy of thee."
+
+"Ah, forgive, forgive!" sobbed Albano.
+
+"Farewell, beloved!" she said calmly, while her feeble hand pressed his.
+For a while she was silent. Suddenly she said, with a low tone of
+gladness, "Caroline! Here, here, Caroline! How beautiful thou art!"
+Liana's fingers ceased to play; she lay peaceful and smiling, but dead.
+
+
+_II.--Linda De Romeiro_
+
+
+Albano's state for a long time was one of fever. He lay dressed in bed,
+unable to walk, in a burning heat, talking wildly, and as each hour
+struck on the clock, springing up to kneel down and utter the prayer,
+"Liana, appear, and give me peace!" to the high, shut-up heavens.
+
+"Poor brother!" said Schoppe the librarian, his old preceptor and dear
+friend. "I swear to thee thou shalt get thy peace to-day."
+
+He went to Linda de Romeiro, now in Pestitz after long wandering, and
+placed his design before her. Would the Princess Idoine, Liana's
+likeness, appear before Albano as a vision and give him peace? Linda
+consented to plead with Idoine. But Idoine made a difficulty. It was not
+the unusualness and impropriety of the thing that she dreaded, but the
+untruthfulness and unworthiness of playing false with the holy name of a
+departed soul, and cheating a sick man with a superficial similarity.
+
+At length Idoine gave her decision. "If a human life hangs upon this, I
+must conquer my feeling."
+
+As eight o'clock struck, Albano knelt in the dusk, crying, "Peace,
+peace!"
+
+Idoine trembled as she heard him; but she entered, clothed in white, the
+image of the dead Liana.
+
+"Albano, have peace!" she said, in a low and faltering tone.
+
+"Liana!" he groaned, weeping.
+
+"Peace!" cried she more strongly, and vanished.
+
+"I have my peace now, good Schoppe," said Albano softly, "and now I will
+sleep."
+
+Time gradually unfolded Albano's grief instead of weakening it. His life
+had become a night, in which the moon is under the earth, and he could
+not believe that Luna would gradually return with an increasing bow of
+light. Not joys, but only actions--those remote stars of night--were now
+his aim. As he travelled with his father in Italy after his recovery,
+the news of the French Revolution gave an object to his eagerness.
+
+"Take here my word," he wrote to Schoppe, "that as soon as the probable
+war of Gallic freedom breaks out I take my part decidedly in it, for
+it."
+
+But at Ischia, Albano was dazzled by a wonder; he saw Linda de Romeiro.
+When she raised her veil, beauty and brightness streamed out of a rising
+sun; delicate, maidenly colours, lovely lines and sweet fullness of
+youth played like a flower garland about the brow of a goddess, with
+soft blossoms around the holy seriousness and mighty will on brow and
+lip, and around the dark glow of the large eye.
+
+As Albano and Linda walked on the mountain Epomeo, looking upon the
+coasts and promontories of that rare region, upon cities and sea, upon
+Vesuvius without flame or thunder, white with sand or snow, Albano's
+heart was an asbestos leaf written over and cast into the fire--burning,
+not consuming; his whole former life went out, the leaf shone fiery and
+pure for Linda's hand. He gazed into her face lovingly and serenely as a
+sun-god in morning redness, and pressed her hands. "Give them to me for
+ever!" said he earnestly.
+
+She inclined modestly her beautiful head upon his breast, but
+immediately raised it again, with its large, moist eyes, and said
+hurriedly, "Go now! Early to-morrow come, Albano! Adio! Adio!"
+
+Count Gaspard bestowed his paternal consent on the union, and the lovers
+returned separately to Hohenfliess. A difference arose; Albano was still
+bent on warring for France, Linda sought to dissuade him. They
+quarrelled, and parted in anger.
+
+On the day after the quarrel Linda received a letter in Albano's
+handwriting begging forgiveness, and asking for a meeting in the gardens
+of Lilar. She went there at the appointed evening hour, although, owing
+to the night-blindness from which, like many Spaniards, she often
+suffered, she could not see her lover. But she kissed him, and heard his
+burning words of love.
+
+But Albano had not written, and had not entered Lilar. Roquairol's old
+passion for Linda was undiminished; his rage at Albano was beyond
+bounds. He could mimic Albano's writing and voice; he knew of Linda's
+night-blindness. On the next night, in the presence of Albano and Linda,
+he slew himself with his own hand.
+
+The death of Roquairol lay like a blight between the lovers. They parted
+for ever.
+
+
+_III.--Idoine_
+
+
+"War!" This word alone gave Albano peace. He made himself ready for a
+journey to France, and ere he set forth he sought out the little spot of
+earth, beneath a linden-tree, where reposed the gentle Liana, the
+friendly, lovely angel of peace.
+
+Suddenly, with a shudder, he beheld the white form of Liana herself
+leaning against the linden. He believed some dream had drawn down the
+airy image from heaven, and he expected to see it pass away. It
+lingered, though quiet and mute. Kneeling down, he exclaimed,
+"Apparition, comest thou from God? Art thou Liana?"
+
+Quickly the white form looked round, and saw the youth. She rose slowly,
+and said, "My name is Idoine. I am innocent of the cruel deception, most
+unhappy youth." Then he covered his eyes, from a sudden, sharp pang at
+the return of the cold, heavy reality. Thereupon he looked at her again,
+and his whole being trembled at her glorified resemblance to the
+departed--prouder and taller her stature, paler her complexion, more
+thoughtful the maidenly brow. She could not, when he looked upon her so
+silently and comparingly, repress her sympathy; she wept, and he too.
+
+"Do I, too, distress you?" said he, in the highest emotion.
+
+"I only weep," she innocently said, "that I am not Liana."
+
+"Noble princess," he replied, "this holy spot takes away all sense of
+mutual strangeness. Idoine, I know that you once gave me peace, and here
+I thank you."
+
+"I did it," she said, "without knowing you, and therefore could allow
+myself the use of a fleeting resemblance."
+
+He looked at her sharply; everything within him loved her, and his whole
+heart, opened by wounds, was unfolded to the still soul. But a stern
+spirit closed it. "Unhappy one, love no one again; for a dark,
+destroying angel goes with poisoned sword behind thy love."
+
+Idoine turned to go. He knelt, pressed her hand to his bosom, and only
+said, "Peace, all-gracious one!" Idoine, after a few swift steps, passed
+out of his sight.
+
+Albano hastened preparations for his journey; but ere the preparations
+were ended, a letter was brought to him that caused him to abandon the
+project altogether. It was a letter from the long-dead Princess
+Eleonore, wife of the old prince who had died when Albano had first
+entered Pestitz. Now, in the fullness of time, was the letter placed
+before Albano's eyes and the token of the fullness of time was the
+death, without issue, of Prince Luigi, and the seeming inheritance of
+his dominions by the House of Haarkaar.
+
+Thus the letter began:
+
+"My son,--Hear thine own history from the mouth of thy mother; from no
+other will it come to thee more acceptably.
+
+"The birth of thy brother Luigi at a late period of our married life
+annihilated the hopes of succession of the house of Haarkaar. But Count
+Cesara discovered proofs of some dark actions which were to cost thy
+poor brother his life. 'They will surely get the better of us at last,'
+said thy father.
+
+"Madame Cesara and I loved each other; we were both of romantic spirit.
+She had just borne a lovely daughter, called Linda. We made the singular
+contract that, if I bore a son, we would exchange; with her, my son
+could grow up without incurring the danger which had always threatened
+thy brother in my house.
+
+"Soon afterwards I brought forth thee and thy sister Julienne at a
+birth. 'I keep' I said, to the countess, 'my daughter, thou keepest
+thine; as to Albano, let the prince decide.' Thy father allowed that
+thou shouldst be brought up as son of the count. The documents of thy
+genealogy were thrice made out, and I, the count, and the court chaplain
+Spener, were put in possession of them. The Countess Cesara went off
+with Linda to Valencia, and took the name Romeiro. By this change of
+names all would be covered up as it now stands.
+
+"Ah, I shall not live to be permitted openly to clasp thy son in my
+arms! May it go well with thee, dearest child! God guide all our weak
+expedients for the best.
+
+                                                 "Thy faithful mother,
+
+                                                            "ELEONORE"
+
+Albano stood for a long time speechless. Joy of life, new powers and
+plans, delight in the prospect of the throne, the images of new
+relations, and displeasure at the past, stormed through each other in
+his spirit.
+
+He went out, and in the twilight stood upon the mountains, whence he
+could overlook, but with other eyes than once, the city which was to be
+the circus and theatre of his powers. He belongs now to a German house,
+the people around him are his kinsmen; the prefiguring ideals, which he
+had once sketched to himself at the coronation of his brother, of the
+warm rays wherewith a prince as a constellation can enlighten and enrich
+lands, were now put into his hands for fulfilment. His pious father,
+still blessed by the grandchildren of the country, pointed to him the
+pure sun-track of his princely duty: only actions give life strength,
+only moderation gives it a charm.
+
+He descended to Bluemenbuhl. The funeral bell of the little church of
+Bluemenbuhl tolled for Luigi. Albano joined his sister Julienne, and they
+betook themselves with Idoine and Rabette to the church. At the bright
+altar was the venerable Spener; the long coffin of the brother stood
+before the altar between rows of lights. Here, near such altar-lights,
+had once the oppressed Liana knelt while swearing the renunciation of
+her love. The whole constellation of Albano's shining past had gone down
+below the horizon, and only one bright star of all the group stood
+glimmering still above the earth--Idoine.
+
+After the solemn service, Idoine addressed herself to him oftener; her
+sweet voice was more tender, though more tremulous; her maidenly shyness
+of the resemblance to Liana seemed conquered or forgotten. Her existence
+had decided itself within her, and on her virgin love, as on a spring
+soil by one warm evening rain, all buds had been opened into bloom.
+
+"How many a time, Albano," said Julienne, "hast thou here, in thy
+long-left youthful years, looked toward the mountains for thine own
+ones--for thy hidden parents, and brothers and sisters--for thou hadst
+always a good heart!"
+
+Here Idoine unconsciously looked at him with inexpressible love, and his
+eyes met hers.
+
+"Idoine," said he, "I have that heart still; it is unhappy, but
+unstained."
+
+Then Idoine hid herself quickly and passionately in Julienne's bosom,
+and said, scarcely audibly, "Julienne, if Albano rightly knows me, then
+be my sister!"
+
+"I do know thee, holy being!" said Albano, and clasped his bride to his
+bosom.
+
+"Look up at the fair heaven!" cried Julienne. "The rainbow of eternal
+peace blooms there, and the tempests are over, and the world's all so
+bright and green. Wake up, my brother and sister!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+PETER ROSEGGER
+
+
+The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster
+
+
+     In Austrian literature the "story in dialect" is a modern
+     development. Its founder and most distinguished exponent is
+     Peter Kettenfeier Rosegger, who was born at Alpel, near
+     Krieglach, on July 31, 1843, and who has spent his lifetime
+     among the people of the Styrian Alps. Mr. Rosegger first
+     attracted attention in 1875 with a volume of short stories,
+     bearing the general title of "Schriften des
+     Waldschulmeisters," or "Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster,"
+     and since then he has written a large number of similar tales,
+     all more or less sentimental in tone, and all dealing with
+     certain aspects of peasant life. "The Papers of the Forest
+     Schoolmaster," which takes the form of a diary, is not only
+     one of the most winsome idylls that has come from Herr
+     Rosegger's pen, but it exhibits a delicacy of touch, a keen
+     penetration into the mysteries of human life, and a deep
+     insight into nature in her various moods; and under all there
+     is a strong current of romance and a great sense of the poetry
+     of things--qualities that have made its author one of the
+     foremost prose poets in recent German literature.
+
+
+Mist and rain made it impossible for me to ascend the "Grey Tooth" for
+some days after I had arrived at Winkelsteg, the highest village in the
+remotest valley, and I was temporarily lodged in the schoolhouse, which
+had been deserted since the schoolmaster, who--so I was told--had lived
+in this out-of-the-way corner for fifty years, had disappeared last
+Christmas. The whole next day the rain continued to beat against the
+window. There was nothing to be done, and I spent my time in arranging
+the scattered but numbered sheets of the vanished schoolmaster's
+manuscript, which I found littered in the drawer allotted to me for my
+scant belongings. And then I began to read that strange man's diary, the
+first page of which only bore the words:
+
+
+_The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster_
+
+
+So I am at last settled in this wilderness. And I will write it all
+down, although I know not for whom. My father died when I was seven, and
+I was taken charge of by an itinerant umbrella-maker who taught me his
+trade, and on his death left me his stock of some two dozen umbrellas,
+which I took to the market. A heavy shower just at midday helped me to
+sell them rapidly, and I only retained one for my own protection and for
+that of an elegant gentleman who, unable to secure a carriage, made me
+accompany him to town to save him from getting drenched. He made me tell
+him all about myself, and offered to take me as apprentice in his
+bookshop. He was a kind master. When he discovered' that I was more
+interested in the contents of his books than in my work he secured me
+admission in a college. I studied hard, and obtained my meals at the
+houses of private pupils whom I undertook to coach. My friend Henry, a
+clothmaker's son, had procured me a post as teacher to Hermann, the son
+of the Baron von Schrankenheim. I was treated with every consideration
+in his house, and became deeply attached to my pupil's sister. Of
+course, the case was hopeless then; but in a few years, when I should
+have passed my examinations and taken my degrees--who knows?
+
+An indiscreet speech, which offended my teachers, made an end to all my
+dreams. I was ploughed, and I resolved at once to leave the town, and to
+seek my fortune in the world. I first enlisted with Andreas Hofer to
+fight the French invaders, and was carried off a prisoner into France.
+Then only I learnt that the Tyrolese were rebels against their own
+emperor, that I had fought for a bad cause; and to atone for it I took
+service with the great Napoleon's army. I was among those who escaped
+from the Russian disaster, and, in my enthusiasm for Napoleon, whom I
+regarded as the liberator of the peoples, fought for him against my own
+country. At Leipzig I shot Henry, my best friend, whom I only recognised
+when in his agony he called me by my name. Then only my eyes were
+opened. Failure had dogged my every step. A hermit's life in the
+wilderness was all that was left for me. This resolve I communicated to
+the Baron von Schrankenheim, who, after vain attempts to dissuade me
+from my purpose, spoke to me of this wilderness, his property, where I
+could do real good among the rough wood-cutters, poachers, shepherds and
+charcoal-burners, who, cut off from the rest of the world, eked out
+their existence without priest or doctor or schoolmaster. Winkelsteg was
+to be my hermitage; and now I am here, a schoolmaster without a school.
+I shall have to study these rough folk and gain their confidence before
+I can set to work.
+
+
+_The Forest Folk_
+
+
+Strange trades are carried on in this wilderness. These people literally
+dig their bread out of earth and stone and ant-heaps, scrape it off the
+trees, distill it out of uneatable fruit. There is the root-digger,
+whose booty of mountain ovens is said to go to far Turkey to be turned
+into scent. He would long have given up digging, to live entirely on
+poaching, but for his hope to unearth some day treasure of gold and
+jewels. One of these "forest-devils" has just died. He never worked at
+all. His profession was eating. He went from village to village and from
+fair to fair, eating cloth and leather, nails, glass, stones, to the
+amazement of his audience. He died from eating a poisonous root given
+him by some unknown digger--they say it was the devil himself. His
+funeral oration was delivered by a pale, bent, quiet man, known as the
+Solitary, of whose life nobody can give one any information.
+
+Then there is the pitch-boiler. You can smell him from afar, and see him
+glitter through the thicket. His pitch-oil is bought by the wood-cutter
+for his wounds, by the charcoal-burner for his burns, by the carter for
+his horse, by the brandy-distiller for his casks. It is a remedy for all
+ailments. The most dangerous of all the forest-devils is the
+brandy-distiller. He is better dressed than the others, has a kind word
+for everybody, and plays the tempter with but too great success.
+
+Black Matthias is dying in his miserable hut. His little boy and girl
+are playing around him, and his wife bids them be silent. "Let them
+shout," says Matthias; "but try and keep down Lazarus' temper." On his
+death-bed Matthias told me the story of his life--how he, a jolly, happy
+fellow, fell into the recruiting-officers' trap, escaped from their
+clutches, was betrayed by his own village people, and flogged through
+the line, and how they rubbed vinegar and salt into his wounded back;
+how he escaped from the battlefield and found refuge in this
+wilderness--a changed man, quarrelsome, with an uncontrollable temper,
+which led him into many a brawl; and how, under great provocation, he
+had stabbed a wood-burner at the inn, and had been beaten within an inch
+of his life by the wood-cutters. His life was now ebbing away fast, and
+he had good reason to fear that his uncontrollable temper would live in
+his son. Hence his exhortation to his wife. Black Matthias died a few
+hours after he had told me of his sad life.
+
+And so I get to know them all, and make friends with them all,
+especially with the children, and with the shepherd lad Berthold and the
+poor milkmaid Aga. There was a wedding down at Heldenichlag, where they
+have a parish church, and dancing and merrymaking at the inn all night.
+Next morning Berthold went to the priest. He wanted to marry Aga, but
+the priest told him he was too young, too poor; he could come back again
+in ten years! The poor lad is left speechless and does not know how to
+explain _why_ he wants to be united for ever with his Aga. Sadly he
+leaves the room, but out in the open air his spirit returns to him. On
+the second day of the wedding feast there was no holding him. He was the
+wildest and merriest of the lot. In the afternoon we all returned to
+Winkelsteg in the forest.
+
+                                                                 1815.
+
+I know I must begin with a church. And at last I have obtained the
+baron's consent. I have designed the plan myself--it must be large
+enough to hold all who are in need of comfort here, and bright and
+cheerful, for there is darkness enough in the forest. And the steeple
+must be slender like a finger pointing heavenwards. Three bells there
+must be to announce the Trinity of God in one Person, and to sing the
+song of faith, hope, and love. And an organ there must be, but no
+pictures and gilding and show.
+
+                                                       _Autumn_, 1816.
+
+I have been taking a census. How very limited is their range of names.
+They have no family names, and only some half dozen Christian names!
+This must be altered. I must invent names for them, according to their
+occupation or dwelling or character: Sepp Woodcutter, Hiesel
+Springhutter, and so forth. They like their new names; only Berthold
+gets angry and refuses to take a name. "A name for me? I want no name; I
+am nobody. The priest won't let me marry. Call me Berthold Misery, or
+call me Satan!"
+
+                                                          _May_, 1817.
+
+I have been ill--the result of being snowed up on the way home from a
+visit to a forester who had been wounded by a poacher. The danger is
+over now, but my eyes continue to suffer. The forest folk have been very
+good to me, and much concerned about my progress. And now I am able to
+go out again. To-day I was watching a spider in the thicket, when I saw
+Aga rushing towards me. "Ah, it's you!" she cried. "You must help us. We
+want to live in honour and decency. The priest won't marry us. You can
+ask for our blessing." The next moment Berthold had joined her and they
+were kneeling before me. And I pronounced the words which I had no right
+to pronounce. I married them in the heart of the green forest.
+
+                                              _St. James's Day_, 1817.
+
+Matthias's widow is in despair. Lazarus has disappeared. In a fit of
+temper he threw a stone at her, then gave a wild yell and rushed away.
+"It was a _small_ stone, but there is a heavy stone upon my heart,"
+laments the mother; "his running away is the biggest stone he could have
+thrown."
+
+                                          _St. Catherine's Day_, 1817.
+
+Lazarus' sister found a letter pinned on to a stick on her father's
+grave, which she often visits. It was from her brother, and told them
+not to worry--he is "in the school of the Cross." And then there was
+another letter to say that he was well, and thinking of them all. They
+answered, imploring him to return, and fixed the note and a little cross
+on the tomb. It is still there, and has never been opened.
+
+                                                        _March_, 1818.
+
+Berthold is gone among the wood-cutters, and has got his hut. A little
+girl was born to Aga yesterday, and I was sent for to baptise it. I am
+no priest, and must not steal a name from the calendar. So I called her
+Forest Lily, and baptised her with the water of the priest.
+
+                                                       _Summer_, 1818.
+
+The first Sunday in these forests! The church is finished, and the bells
+have summoned the people from the whole neighbourhood. The priest has
+come from Heldenichlag to dedicate the church, and the schoolmaster to
+play the organ. But some of the folk grumble because there is no inn by
+the church; and I hear that the _grassteiger_ has applied for a spirit
+license. This is the shadow of the church!
+
+In the evening, as I went back to the church, I saw a youth, apparently
+at prayer, who took to his heels the moment he found he was discovered.
+I caught him up and recognised. Lazarus! But I could not get a word out
+of him. I rang the church bells, and soon the lad was surrounded by the
+astonished villagers. He only murmured, "Paulus, Paulus!" and refused to
+take the proffered food, though he looked half starved. I took him back
+to his mother the same evening.
+
+                                                     _December_, 1818.
+
+Lazarus must have been through a miraculous school. He has completely
+lost his evil temper, but he refuses to speak clearly of his life during
+the past year, though he mumbles of a rock-cave, a good dark man, of
+penance, and of a crucifix. We have no priest. I have to look after the
+church, ring the bells, play the organ, sing and conduct prayer on
+Sundays. I hear bad news of Hermann, my old pupil. He is said to be
+leading a wild life in the capital. I cannot believe it.
+
+                                                       _Summer_, 1819.
+
+And now we have a priest--as strange and mysterious as the altar
+crucifix which I had taken to the church from the rock valley. On the
+last day of the hay-month, when I entered the church to ring the bells,
+I found "the Solitary" reading mass on the highest step of the altar. I
+asked for an explanation, and he answered with a rusty voice that he
+would tell me all next Saturday at a desolate place he appointed in the
+forest.
+
+The Solitary has told me the whole sad story of his life. He was born in
+a palace, and had been rocked in a golden cradle. He had drained the cup
+of pleasure to the very dregs, and then, prompted by his tutor, had
+joined a religious order, taken the binding vow, and renounced his
+fortune to the order. A girl, whom he had known before, implored him not
+to leave her and her child in distress. It was too late--he was now
+penniless and irrevocably bound. She drowned herself and haunted his
+dreams, even after he had become a priest under the name of Paulus.
+Blind obedience was exacted from him by his order, and when he refused
+to betray a king's confession he was sent as missionary to India. After
+his return he became a zealot, exacting severe penance from sinners, and
+through his severity driving a man to suicide. In his remorse he, too,
+had sought refuge in this wilderness, where no one knew him, and where
+one day he found Lazarus, took him to his cave, and taught him to tame
+his quick temper. I had always thought the first pastor at Winkelsteg
+should be a repentant sinner, and not a just man. We have now our
+priest.
+
+                                                       _Winter_, 1830.
+
+For more than ten years I have neglected my diary, partly because I was
+no longer alone, but had a friend and companion in "the Solitary,"
+partly because I was busy with the building of the schoolhouse. I have
+my own ideas on education. The child is a book in which we read, and
+into which we ought to write. They ought to hear of nought but the
+beautiful, the good, the great. They ought to learn patriotism--not the
+patriotism which makes them die, but that which makes them live for
+their country.
+
+Berthold has become a poacher. I have already had to intercede for him
+with the gamekeeper. Then, one winter's night, Forest Lily, his
+daughter, was sent out to beg some milk for the babies. Snow fell
+heavily, and she did not return. For three days they searched, and
+finally found her huddled up with a whole herd of deer in a snow-covered
+thicket of dry branches--kept alive by the animals' warmth and the pot
+of milk she was taking home. When Berthold heard that the forest animals
+had saved his child, he smashed his gun against a rock, and shouted,
+"Never again! never again!"
+
+                                                _Carnival Time_, 1832.
+
+In the parsonage lies a farm-hand with a broken jaw. Drink and quarrel
+and fight--it is ever the same. The priest has warned them often enough.
+He has called the brandy-distiller a poison-brewer, and a few days ago
+the distiller came to the parsonage, armed with a heavy stick. He poured
+out his complaints. The priest was spoiling his honest business. What
+was he to do? He took up a threatening attitude. "So you have come at
+last," said Father Paulus; "I was going to come to you. So you won't
+give them any more spirits--you are a benefactor of the community! I
+quite agree with you. You will prepare medicines and oils and ointments
+from the roots and resin? I'll help you, and in a few years you will be
+a well-to-do man."
+
+The distiller was speechless. He had said nothing of the sort, but it
+all seemed so reasonable to him. He grumbled a few words, stumbled
+across the threshold, and threw his stick away as far as it would fly.
+
+                                                     _March 22_, 1832.
+
+Our priest died to-day.
+
+I can scarcely believe it. But there is no knocking at the window as I
+pass the parsonage--no friendly face smiling at me. And I can scarcely
+believe that he has gone.
+
+                                                _Ascension Day_, 1835.
+
+A few days ago I had a letter from my former pupil, our present master.
+He was ill, tired of the world, and wanted to find peace and rest in the
+mountains. He remembered his old teacher, and asked me to be his guide.
+I went to meet him, and he behaved so strangely that I thought I was
+walking with a madman. On the second day he seemed better. He wanted to
+ascend at once the highest peak, known as the "Grey Tooth." And as we
+passed the dark mountain lake, we saw a beautiful young woman bathing.
+She looked like a water-nymph. But when she saw us she disappeared under
+the water, and did not show herself again. Was she drowning herself from
+very modesty? I pulled her out of the water, we dressed her; then fear
+gave her strength, she jumped up and ran away. It was my "Forest Lily."
+
+Hermann no longer insisted on climbing the mountain. He came with me to
+Winkelsteg, remained three days, made Berthold gamekeeper, and arranged
+that he should forthwith marry Aga in our church. Before he left he said
+to me: "She thought more of her maidenhood than of her life. I never
+knew there were such women. This is a new world for me--I, too, belong
+to the forest. I entrust her to you--teach her if she wants to learn,
+and take care of her. And keep the secret If I can be cured, I shall
+return."
+
+                                                       _Summer_, 1837.
+
+It has come to pass. Schrankenheim has broken through class prejudice.
+Two days ago he was married to Forest Lily in our church. They have left
+us, and have gone to the beautiful city of Salzburg.
+
+The years pass in loneliness and monotony. Yet they have brought a great
+change. A prosperous village now surrounds the church, and orchards
+surround the village. And the folk are no longer savages. How smartly
+they are now dressed on Sundays! The young people have more knowledge
+than the old, but too little reverence for the old. But they still smoke
+tobacco and drink spirits. What can an old schoolmaster do quite by
+himself?
+
+                                                       _Spring_, 1848.
+
+Hermann's beautiful sister, she who turned my head so many years ago, is
+coming here to seek refuge from the troubles in town, where they are
+building barricades. I must see that everything is made pleasant and
+comfortable for her.
+
+                                                         _June_, 1848.
+
+To-day she gave a dinner party, and invited the parson and the
+innkeeper. And I was sent a piece of meat and a glass of wine. I gave it
+to a beggar. So two beggars have received alms to-day. I hear they spoke
+of me during dinner. She said I received charity from her father when I
+was a poor student; then I ran away from school and returned as a
+vagabond. So you know it now, Andreas Erdmann!
+
+                                                _Christmas Eve_, 1864.
+
+I have not left the forest for fifty years. If I could only see the sea.
+They say on a clear day you can see it from the "Grey Tooth."
+To-morrow----
+
+Here the diary broke off abruptly. The next day being bright and sunny,
+I engaged a lad to guide me on the deferred ascent. It was glorious. And
+whilst my eyes were searching the far distance, my companion gave a
+sudden scream, and pointed--at a human head protruding from the snow. He
+recognised the schoolmaster. We dug him out of the hard snow and found
+in his pocket a paper on which a shaky hand had written in pencil:
+"Christmas Day. At sunset I beheld the sea and lost my eyesight"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
+
+
+The New Heloise
+
+
+     Jean Jacques Rousseau, born at Geneva on June 28, 1712, tells
+     the story of his own life in the "Confessions" (see LIVES AND
+     LETTERS, Vol. X). All his dreams of felicity having been
+     shattered, he took up his abode in Paris, where he made a poor
+     living by copying music. Hither, again, he returned after a
+     short stay in Venice, where he acted as secretary in the
+     Embassy. He now secured work on the great Encyclopaedia, and
+     became known, in 1749, by an essay on the arts and sciences,
+     in which he attacked all culture as an evidence and cause of
+     social degeneration. A successful opera followed in 1753; and
+     to the same year belongs his "Essay on Inequality among Men"
+     ("Discours sur l'inegalite parmi les Hommes"), in which he
+     came forward as the apostle of the state of nature, and of
+     anarchy. His revolutionary ideas were viewed with great
+     displeasure by the authorities, and he fled in 1764 to
+     Switzerland; and in 1766, under the auspices of David Hume, to
+     England. Rousseau wrote "The New Heloise" ("La Nouvelle
+     Heloise") in 1756-7, while residing at the Hermitage at
+     Montmorency--an abode where, in spite of certain quarrels and
+     emotional episodes, he passed some of the most placid days of
+     his life. This book, the title of which was founded on the
+     historic love of Abelard and Heloise (see Vol. IX), was
+     published in 1760. Rousseau's primary intention was to reveal
+     the effect of passion upon persons of simple but lofty nature,
+     unspoiled by the artificialities of society. The work may be
+     described as a novel because it cannot very well be described
+     as anything else. It is overwhelmingly long and diffuse; the
+     slender stream of narrative threads its way through a
+     wilderness of discourses on the passions, the arts, society,
+     rural life, religion, suicide, natural scenery, and nearly
+     everything else that Rousseau was interested in--and his
+     interests were legion. "The New Heloise" is thoroughly
+     characteristic of the wandering, enthusiastic,
+     emotional-genius of its author. Several brilliant passages in
+     it are ranked among the classics of French literature; and of
+     the work as a whole, it may be said, judicially and without
+     praise or censure, that there is nothing quite like it in any
+     literature. Rousseau died near Paris, July 2, 1778.
+
+
+_I.--"The Course of True Love"_
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+I must escape from you, mademoiselle. I must see you no more.
+
+You know that I entered your house as tutor to yourself and your cousin,
+Mademoiselle Claire, at your mother's invitation. I did not foresee the
+peril; at any rate, I did not fear it. I shall not say that I am now
+paying the price of my rashness, for I trust I shall never fail in the
+respect due to your high birth, your beauty, and your noble character.
+But I confess that you have captured my heart. How could I fail to adore
+the touching union of keen sensibility and unchanging sweetness, the
+tender pity, all those spiritual qualities that are worth so much more
+to me than personal charms?
+
+I have lost my reason. I promise to strive to recover it. You, and you
+alone, can help me. Forbid me from appearing in your presence, show this
+letter if you like to your parents; drive me away. I can endure anything
+from you. I am powerless to escape of my own accord.
+
+
+FROM JULIE
+
+I must, then, reveal my secret! I have striven to resist, but I am
+powerless. Everything seems to magnify my love for you; all nature seems
+to be your accomplice; every effort that I make is in vain. I adore you
+in spite of myself.
+
+I hope and I believe that a heart which has seemed to me to deserve the
+whole attachment of mine will not belie the generosity that I expect of
+it; and I hope, also that if you should prove unworthy of the devotion I
+feel for you, my indignation and contempt will restore to me the reason
+that my love has caused me to lose.
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+Oh, how am I to realise the torrent of delights that pours into my
+heart? And how can I best reassure the alarms of a timid and loving
+woman? Pure and heavenly beauty, judge more truly, I beseech you, of the
+nature of your power. Believe me, if I adore your loveliness, it is
+because of the spotless soul of which that loveliness is the outward
+token. When I cease to love virtue, I shall cease to love you, and I
+shall no longer ask you to love me.
+
+
+FROM JULIE
+
+My friend, I feel that every day I become more attached to you; the
+smallest absence from you is insupportable; and when you are not with me
+I must needs write you, so that I may occupy myself with you
+unceasingly.
+
+My mind is troubled with news that my father has just told me. He is
+expecting a visit from his old friend, M. de Wolmar; and it is to M. de
+Wolmar, I suspect, that he designs that I should be married. I cannot
+marry without the approval of those who gave me life; and you know what
+the fury of my father would be if I were to confess my love for you--for
+he would assuredly not suffer me to be united to one whom he deems my
+inferior in that mere worldly rank for which I care nothing. Yet I
+cannot marry a man I do not love; and you are the only man I shall ever
+love.
+
+It pains me that I must not reveal our secret to my dear mother, who
+esteems you so highly; but would she not reveal it, from a sense of
+duty, to my father? It is best that only my inseparable Cousin Claire
+should know the truth.
+
+
+FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE
+
+I have bad news for you, my dear cousin. First of all, your love affair
+is being gossipped about; secondly, this gossip has indirectly brought
+your lover into serious danger.
+
+You have met my lord Edouard Bomston, the young English noble who is now
+staying at Vevay. Your lover has been on terms of such warm friendship
+with him ever since they met at Sion some time ago that I could not
+believe they would ever have quarrelled. Yet they quarrelled last night,
+and about you.
+
+During the evening, M. d'Orbe tells me, mylord Edouard drank freely, and
+began to talk about you. Your lover was displeased and silent. Mylord
+Edouard, angered at his coldness, declared that he was not always cold,
+and that somebody, who should be nameless, caused him to behave in a
+very different manner. Your lover drew his sword instantly; mylord
+Edouard drew also, but stumbled in his intoxication, and injured his
+leg. In spite of M. d'Orbe's efforts to reconcile them, a meeting was
+arranged to take place as soon as mylord Edouard's leg was better.
+
+You must prevent the duel somehow, for mylord Edouard is a dangerous
+swordsman. Meanwhile, I am terrified lest the gossip about you should
+reach your father's ears. It would be best to get your lover to go away
+before any mischief comes to pass.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+I am told that you are about to fight the man whom I love--for it is
+true that I love him--and that he will probably die by your hand. Enjoy
+in advance, if you can, the pleasure of piercing the bosom of your
+friend, but be sure that you will not have that of contemplating my
+despair. For I swear that I shall not survive by one day the death of
+him who is to me as my life's breath. Thus you will have the glory of
+slaying with a single stroke two hapless lovers who have never willingly
+committed a fault towards you, and who have delighted to honour you.
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+Have no fear for me, dearest Julie. Read this, and I am sure that you
+will share in my feelings of gratitude and affection towards the man
+with whom I have quarrelled.
+
+This morning mylord Edouard entered my room, accompanied by two
+gentlemen. "I have come," he said, "to withdraw the injurious words that
+intoxication led me to utter in your presence. Pardon me, and restore to
+me your friendship. I am ready to endure any chastisement that you see
+fit to inflict upon me."
+
+"Mylord," I replied, "I acknowledge your nobility of spirit. The words
+you uttered when you were not yourself are henceforth utterly
+forgotten." I embraced him, and he bade the gentlemen withdraw.
+
+When we were alone, he gave me the warmest testimonies of friendship;
+and, touched by his generosity, I told him the whole story of our love.
+He promised enthusiastically to do what he could to further our
+happiness; and this is the nobler in him, inasmuch as he admitted that
+he had himself conceived a tender admiration for you.
+
+
+FROM JULIE
+
+Dearest, the worst has happened. My father knows of our love. He came to
+me yesterday pale with fury; in his wrath he struck me. Then, suddenly,
+he took me in his arms and implored my forgiveness. But I know that he
+will never consent to our union; I shall never dare to mention your name
+in his presence. My love for you is unalterable; our souls are linked by
+bonds that time cannot dissolve. And yet--my duty to my parents! How can
+I do right by wronging them? Oh, pity my distraction!
+
+It seems that mylord Edouard impulsively asked my father for his consent
+to our union, telling him how deeply we loved each other, and that he
+would mortally injure his daughter's happiness if he denied her wishes.
+My father replied, in bitter anger, that he would never suffer his child
+to be united to a man of humble birth. Mylord Edouard hotly retorted
+that mere distinctions of birth were worthless when weighed in the scale
+with true refinement and true virtue. They had a long and violent
+argument, and parted in enmity.
+
+I must take counsel with Cousin Claire, who never suffers her reason to
+be clouded with those heart-torments of which I am the unhappy victim.
+
+
+FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE
+
+On learning of your distress, dear cousin, I made up my mind that your
+lover must go away, for your sake and his own; I summoned M. d'Orbe and
+mylord Edouard. I told M. d'Orbe that the success of his suit to me
+depended on his help to you. You know that my friendship for you is
+greater than any love can be. Mylord Edouard acted splendidly. He
+promised to endow your lover with a third of his estate, and to take him
+to Paris and London, there to win the distinction that his talents
+deserve.
+
+M. d'Orbe went to order a chaise, and I proceeded to your lover and told
+him that it was his duty to leave at once. At first he passionately
+refused, then he yielded to despair; then he begged to be allowed to see
+you once more. I refused; I urged that all delays were dangerous. His
+agony brought tears to my eyes, but I was firm. M. d'Orbe led him away;
+mylord Edouard was waiting with the chaise, and they are now on the way
+to Besancon and Paris.
+
+
+_II.--The Separation_
+
+
+TO JULIE
+
+Why was I not allowed to see you before leaving? Did you fear that the
+parting would kill me? Be reassured. I do not suffer--I think of you--I
+think of the time when I was dear to you. Nay, you love me yet, I know
+it. But why so cruelly drive me away? Say one word, and I return like
+the lightning. Ah, these babblings are but flung into empty air. I shall
+live and die far away from you--I have lost you for ever!
+
+
+FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE
+
+Deep depression has succeeded violent grief in the mind of your lover.
+But I can count upon his heart, it is a heart framed to fight and to
+conquer.
+
+I have a proposition to make which I hope you will carefully consider.
+In your happiness and your lover's I have a tender and inextinguishable
+interest, since between you I perceive a deeper harmony than I have ever
+known to exist between man and woman. Your present misfortunes are due
+to my indiscretion; let me do what I can to repair the fault.
+
+I have in Yorkshire an old castle and a large estate. They are yours and
+your lover's, Julie, if you will accept them. You can escape from Vevay
+with the aid of my valet, when I have left there; you can join your
+lover, be wedded to him, and spend the rest of your days happily in the
+place of refuge I have designed for you.
+
+Reflect upon this, I beseech you. I should add that I have said nothing
+of this project to your lover. The decision rests with you and you
+alone.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+Your letter, mylord, fills me with gratitude and admiration. It would
+indeed be joy for me to gain happiness under the auspices of so generous
+a friend, and to procure from his kindness the contentment that fortune
+has denied me.
+
+But could contentment ever be granted to me if I had the consciousness
+of having pitilessly abandoned those who gave me birth? I am their only
+living child; all their pleasure, all their hope is in me. Can I deliver
+up their closing days to shame, regrets, and tears? No, mylord,
+happiness could not be bought at such a price. I dare brave all the
+sorrows that await me here; remorse I dare not brave.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO HER LOVER
+
+I have just returned from the wedding of Claire and M. d'Orbe. You will,
+I know, share my pleasure in the happiness of our dearest friend; and
+such is the worth of the friendship that joins us, that the good fortune
+of one of us should be a real consolation for the sorrows of the other
+two.
+
+Continue to write me from Paris, but let me tell you that I am not
+pleased with the bitterness of your letters--a bitterness unworthy of my
+philosophic tutor of the happy bygone days at Vevay. I wish my true love
+to see all things clearly, and to be the just and honest man I have
+always deemed him--not a cynic who seeks a sorry comfort in misfortune
+by carping at the rest of mankind.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER
+
+I am about to ask of you a great sacrifice; but I know you will perceive
+it to be a necessary sacrifice, and I think that your devotion to
+Julie's true happiness will endure even this final test.
+
+Julie's mother has died, and Julie has tormented herself with the idea
+that her love troubles have hastened her parent's end. Since then she
+has had a serious illness, and is now in a depressed state both
+physically and mentally. Nothing, I am convinced, can cure her save
+absolute oblivion of the past, and the beginning of a new life--a
+married life.
+
+M. de Wolmar is here once more, and Julie's father will insist upon her
+union with him. This quiet, emotionless, observant man cannot win her
+love, but he can bring her peace. Will you cease from all correspondence
+with her, and renounce all claim to her? Remember that Julie's whole
+future depends upon your answer. Her father will force her to obey him;
+prove that you are worthy of her love by removing all obstacles to her
+obedience.
+
+
+FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO HER FATHER
+
+I hereby renounce all claims upon the hand of Julie d'Etange, and
+acknowledge her right to dispose of herself in matrimony without
+consulting her heart.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER
+
+Julie is married. Give thanks to the heaven that has saved you both.
+Respect her new estate; do not write to her, but wait to hear from her.
+Now is the time when I shall learn whether you are worthy of the esteem
+I have ever felt for you.
+
+
+FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE'S LOVER
+
+A squadron is fitting out at Plymouth for the tour of the globe, under
+the command of my old friend George Anson. I have obtained permission
+for you to accompany him. Will you go?
+
+
+FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO MADAME D'ORBE
+
+I am starting, dear and charming cousin, for a voyage round the
+world--to seek in another hemisphere the peace that I cannot enjoy in
+this. Adieu, tender and inseparable friends, may you make each other's
+happiness!
+
+
+_III.--The Philosophic Husband_
+
+
+FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX (PSEUDONYM OF JULIE'S LOVER)
+
+I learn that you have returned to Europe after all these years of
+travel. Although I have not as yet the pleasure of knowing you, permit
+me nevertheless to address you. The wisest and dearest of women has
+opened her heart to me. I believe that you are worthy of having been
+loved by her, and I invite you to our home. Innocence and peace reign
+within it; you will find there friendship, hospitality, esteem, and
+confidence.
+
+                                                               WOLMAR.
+
+P.S.--Come, my friend; we wait you with eagerness. Do not grieve me by a
+refusal.
+
+                                                                JULIE.
+
+
+FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+I have seen her, mylord! She has called me her friend--her dear friend.
+I am happier than ever I was in my life.
+
+Yet when I approached M. de Wolmar's house at Clarens, I was in a state
+of frantic nervousness. Could I bear to see my old love in the
+possession of another? Would I not be driven to despair? As the carriage
+neared Clarens, I wished that it would break down. When I dismounted I
+awaited Julie in mortal anxiety. She came running and calling out to me,
+she seized me in her arms. All my terrors were banished, I knew no
+feeling but joy.
+
+M. de Wolmar, meanwhile, was standing beside us. She turned to him, and
+introduced me to him as her old friend. "If new friends have less ardour
+than old ones," he said to me as he embraced me, "they will be old
+friends in their turn, and will yield nothing to others." My heart was
+exhausted, I received his embraces passively.
+
+When we reached the drawing-room she disappeared for a moment, and
+returned--not alone. She brought her two children with her, darling
+little boys, who bore on their countenances the charm and the
+fascination of their mother. A thousand thoughts rushed into my mind, I
+could not speak; I took them in my arms, and welcomed their innocent
+caresses.
+
+The children withdrew, and M. de Wolmar was called away. I was alone
+with Julie. I was conscious of a painful restraint; she was seemingly at
+ease, and I became gradually reassured. We talked of my travels, and of
+her married life; there was no mention of our old relations.
+
+I came to realise how Julie was changed, and yet the same. She is a
+matron, the happy mother of children, the happy mistress of a prosperous
+household. Her old love is not extinguished; but it is subdued by
+domestic peace and by her unalterable virtue--let me add, by the trust
+and kindness of her elderly husband, whose unemotional goodness has been
+just what was needed to soothe her passion and sorrow. I am her old and
+dear friend; I can never be more. And, believe me, I am content.
+Occasionally, pangs of regret tear at my heart, but they do not last
+long; my passion is cured, and I can never experience another.
+
+How can I describe to you the peace and felicity that reign in this
+household? M. de Wolmar is, above all things, a man of system; the life
+of the establishment moves with ordered regularity from the year's
+beginning to its end. But the system is not mechanical; it is founded on
+wide experience of men, and governed by philosophy. In the home life of
+Julie and her husband and children luxury is never permitted; even the
+table delicacies are simple products of the country. But, without
+luxury, there is perfect comfort and perfect confidence. I have never
+known a community so thoroughly happy, and it is a deep joy to me to be
+admitted as a cherished member of it.
+
+One day M. de Wolmar drew Julie and myself aside, and where do you think
+he took us? To a plantation near the house, which Julie had never
+entered since her marriage. It was there that she had first kissed me.
+She was unwilling to enter the place, but he drew her along with him,
+and bade us be seated. Then he began:
+
+"Julie, I knew the secret of your love before you revealed it to me. I
+knew it before I married you. I may have been in the wrong to marry you,
+knowing that your heart was elsewhere; but I loved you, and I believed I
+could make you happy. Have I succeeded?"
+
+"My dear husband," said Julie, in tears, "you know you have succeeded."
+
+"One thing only," he went on, "was necessary to prove to you that your
+old passion was powerless against your virtue, and that was the presence
+of your old lover. I trusted you; I believed, from my knowledge of you,
+that I could trust him. I invited him here, and since then I have been
+quietly watching. My high anticipations of him are justified. And as for
+you, Julie, the haunting fears that your virtue would fail before the
+test inflicted by the return of your lover have, once and for all, been
+put to rest. Past wounds are healed. Monsieur," he added, turning to me,
+"you have proved yourself worthy of our fullest confidence and our
+warmest friendship."
+
+What could I answer? I could but embrace him in silence.
+
+Madame d'Orbe, now a widow, is about to come here to take permanent
+charge of the household, leaving Julie to devote herself to the training
+of the children.
+
+Hasten to join us, mylord; your coming is anxiously awaited. For my own
+part, I shall not be content until you have looked with your own eyes
+upon the peaceful delights of our life at Clarens.
+
+
+FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD
+
+Madame d'Orbe is now with us. We look to you to complete the party. When
+you have made a long stay at Clarens, I shall be ready to join you in
+your projected journey to Rome.
+
+Julie has revealed to me the one trouble of her life. Her husband is a
+freethinker. Will you aid me in trying to convince him of his error, and
+thus perfecting Julie's happiness?
+
+
+_IV.--The Veil_
+
+
+FROM SAINT PREUX TO MADAME D'ORBE
+
+Mylord Edouard and I, after leaving you all yesterday, proceeded no
+farther than Villeneuve; an accident to one of mylord's attendants
+delayed us, and we spent the night there.
+
+As you know, I had parted from Julie with regret, but without violent
+emotion. Yet, strangely enough, when I was alone last night the old
+grief came back. I had lost her! She lived and was happy; her life was
+my death, her happiness my torment! I struggled with these ideas. When I
+lay down, they pursued me in my sleep.
+
+At length I started up from a hideous dream. I had seen Julie stretched
+upon her death-bed. I knew it was she, although her face was covered by
+a veil. I advanced to tear it off; I could not reach it. "Be calm, my
+friend," she said feebly; "the veil of dread covers me, no hand can
+remove it." I made another effort, and awoke.
+
+Again I slept, again I dreamt the dream. A third time I slept, a third
+time it appeared to me. This was too much. I fled from my room to mylord
+Edouard's.
+
+At first, he treated the dream as a jest; but, seeing my panic-stricken
+earnestness, he changed his tune. "You will have a chance of recovering
+your reason to-morrow," he said. Next morning we set out on our journey,
+as I thought. Brooding over my dream, I never noticed that the lake was
+on the left-hand of the carriage, that we were returning. When I roused
+myself, I found that we were back again at Clarens!
+
+"Now, go and see her again; prove that the dream was wrong," said
+Edouard.
+
+I went nervously, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself. I could hear you
+and Julie talking in the garden. I was cured in an instant of my
+superstitious folly; it fled from my mind. I retired without seeing her,
+feeling a man again. I rejoined mylord Edouard, and drove back to
+Villeneuve. We are about to resume the journey to Rome.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX
+
+Why did you not come to see us, instead of merely listening to our
+voices? You have transfixed the terror of your dream to me. Until your
+return, I shall never look upon Julie without trembling, lest I should
+lose her.
+
+M. de Wolmar has let you know his wish that you should remain
+permanently with us and superintend the education of his children. I am
+sure you will accept Rejoin us swiftly, then; I shall not have an easy
+moment until you are amongst us once more.
+
+
+FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX
+
+It has come to pass. You will never see her more! The veil! The veil!
+Julie is dead!
+
+
+FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX
+
+I have allowed your first hours of grief to pass in silence. I was in no
+condition to give details, nor you to receive them. Now I may write, and
+you may read.
+
+We were on a visit to the castle of Chillon, guests of the bailli of
+Vevay. After dinner the whole party walked on the ramparts, and our
+youngest son slipped and fell into the deep water. Julie plunged in
+after him. Both were rescued; the child was soon brought round, but
+Julie's state was critical. When she had recovered a little, she was
+taken back to Clarens. The doctor told her she had but three days to
+live. She spent those three days in perfect cheerfulness and
+tranquillity of spirit, conversing with Madame D'Orbe, the pastor, and
+myself, expressing her content that her life should end at a time when
+she had attained complete happiness. On the fourth morning we found her
+lifeless.
+
+During the three days she wrote a letter, which I enclose. Fulfil her
+last requests. There yet remains much for you to do on earth.
+
+
+FROM JULIE TO SAINT PREUX
+
+All is changed, my dear friend; let us suffer the change without a
+murmur. It was not well for us that we should rejoin each other.
+
+For it was an illusion that my love for you was cured; now, in the
+presence of death, I know that I still love you. I avow this without
+shame, for I have done my duty. My virtue is without stain, my love
+without remorse.
+
+Come back to Clarens; train my children, comfort their noble father,
+lead him into the light of Christian faith. Claire, like yourself, is
+about to lose the half of her life; let each of you preserve the other
+half by a union that in these latter days I have often wished to bring
+about.
+
+Adieu, sweet friend, adieu!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+BERNARDIN DE ST. PIERRE
+
+
+Paul and Virginia
+
+
+     Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint Pierre was born at Havre on
+     January 19, 1737. Like many boys that are natives of seaports,
+     he was anxious to become a sailor; but a single voyage cured
+     him of his desire for a seafaring life, although not of his
+     love for travel. For some years afterwards he was a rolling
+     stone, sometimes soldier and sometimes engineer, visiting one
+     European country after another. In 1771 he obtained a
+     government appointment in Mauritius, a spot which was the
+     subject of his first book (see TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, Vol.
+     XIX), and which was afterwards made the scene of "Paul and
+     Virginia." In his "Nature Studies," 1783, he showed an
+     enthusiasm for nature that contrasted vividly with the
+     artificiality of most eighteenth-century writers; but his fame
+     was not established until he had set all the ladies of France
+     weeping with his "Paul and Virginia," perhaps the most
+     sentimental book ever written. It was published in 1787, and
+     although it does not cause in modern readers the tearful
+     raptures that it provoked on its first appearance, its fame
+     has survived as the most notable work of a romantic and
+     nature-loving sentimentalist with remarkable powers of
+     narration. Saint Pierre died on January 21, 1814.
+
+
+_I.--The Home Among the Rocks_
+
+
+On the eastern declivity of the mountain which rises behind Port Louis,
+in the Isle of France, are still to be seen, on a spot of ground
+formerly cultivated, the ruins of two little cottages. They are situated
+almost in the midst of a basin formed by enormous rocks, with only one
+opening, from which you may look upon Port Louis and the sea.
+
+I took pleasure in retiring to this place, where one can at once enjoy
+an unbounded prospect and profound solitude. One day, as I was sitting
+near the cottages, an elderly man approached me. His hair was completely
+white, his aspect simple and majestic. I saluted him, and he sat down
+beside me.
+
+"Can you inform me, father," I asked, "to whom these two cottages
+belonged?"
+
+"My son," replied he, "these ruins were inhabited by two families, which
+there found the means of true happiness. But who will deign to take an
+interest in the history, however affecting, of a few obscure
+individuals?"
+
+"Father," I replied, "relate to me, I beseech you, what you know of
+them; and be assured that there is no man, however depraved by
+prejudices, but loves to hear of the felicity which nature and virtue
+bestow."
+
+Upon this the old man related what follows.
+
+In the year 1735 there came to this spot a young widow named Madame de
+la Tour. She was of a noble Norman family; but her husband was of
+obscure birth. She had married him portionless, and against the will of
+her relations, and they had journeyed here to seek their fortune. The
+husband soon died, and his widow found herself destitute of every
+possession except a single negro woman. She resolved to seek a
+subsistence by cultivating a small plot of ground, and this was the spot
+that she chose.
+
+Providence had one blessing in store for Madame de la Tour--the blessing
+of a friend. Inhabiting this spot was a sprightly and sensible woman of
+Brittany, named Margaret. She, like madame, had suffered from the
+sorrows of love; she had fled to the colonies, and had here established
+herself with her baby and an old negro, whom she had purchased with a
+poor, borrowed purse.
+
+When Madame de la Tour had unfolded to Margaret her former condition and
+her present wants the good woman was moved with compassion; she tendered
+to the stranger a shelter in her cottage and her friendship. I knew them
+both, and went to offer them my assistance. The territory in the
+rock-basin, amounting to about twenty acres, I divided equally between
+them. Margaret's cottage was on the boundary of her own domain, and
+close at hand I built another cottage for Madame de la Tour. Scarcely
+had I completed it when a daughter was born to madame. She was called
+Virginia; the infant son of Margaret bore the name of Paul.
+
+The two friends, so dear to each other in spite of their difference in
+rank, spun cotton for a livelihood. They seldom visited Port Louis, for
+fear of the contempt with which they were treated on account of the
+coarseness of their dress. But if they were exposed to a little
+suffering when abroad, they returned home with so much more additional
+satisfaction. They found there cleanliness and freedom, blessings which
+they owed entirely to their own industry, and to servants animated with
+zeal and affection. As for themselves, they had but one will, one
+interest, one table. They had everything in common.
+
+Their mutual love redoubled at the sight of their two children. Nothing
+was to be compared with the attachment which the babes showed for each
+other. If Paul complained, they brought Virginia to him; at the sight of
+her he was pacified. If Virginia suffered, Paul lamented; but Virginia
+was wont to conceal her pain, that her sufferings might not distress
+him. All their study was to please and assist each other. They had been
+taught no religion but that which instructs us to love one another; and
+they raised toward heaven innocent hands and pure hearts, filled with
+the love of their parents. Thus passed their early infancy, like a
+beautiful dawn, which seems to promise a still more beautiful day.
+
+Madame de la Tour had moments of uneasiness during her daughter's
+childhood; sometimes she used to say to me: "If I should die what would
+become of Virginia, dowerless as she is?" She had an aunt in France, a
+woman of quality, rich, old, and a devotee, to whom she had written at
+the time of Virginia's birth. Not until 1746--eleven years later--did a
+reply reach her. Her aunt told her that she merited her condition for
+having married an adventurer; that the untimely death of her husband was
+a just chastisement of God; that she had done well not to dishonour her
+country by returning to France; and that after all she was in an
+excellent country, where everybody made fortunes except the idle.
+
+She added, however, that in spite of all this she had strongly
+recommended her to the governor of the island, M. de la Bourdonaye. But,
+conformably to a custom too prevalent, in feigning to pity she had
+calumniated her; and, consequently, madame was received by the governor
+with the greatest coolness.
+
+Returning to the plantation with a bitter heart, madame read the letter
+tearfully to all the family. Margaret clasped her to her arms; Virginia,
+weeping, kissed her hands; Paul stamped with rage; the servants hearing
+the noise, ran in to comfort her.
+
+Such marks of affection soon dissipated madame's anguish.
+
+"Oh, my children!" she cried. "Misfortune only attacks me from afar;
+happiness is ever around me!"
+
+
+_II--Nature's Children_
+
+
+As the years went on, Paul and Virginia grew up together in purity and
+contentment. Every succeeding day was to them a day of happiness. They
+were strangers to the torments of envy and ambition. By living in
+solitude, so far from degenerating into savages, they had become more
+humane. If the scandalous history of society did not supply them with
+topics of discourse, nature filled their hearts with transports of
+wonder and delight. They contemplated with rapture the power of that
+Providence which, by aid of their hands, had diffused amid these barren
+rocks abundance, beauty, and simple and unceasing pleasures.
+
+When the weather was fine, the families went on Sundays to mass at the
+church of Pamplemousses. When mass was over, they ministered to the sick
+or gave comfort to the distressed. From these visits Virginia often
+returned with her eyes bathed in tears, but her heart overflowing with
+joy, for she had been blessed with an opportunity of doing good.
+
+Paul and Virginia had no clocks nor almanacs nor books of history or
+philosophy; the periods of their lives were regulated by those of
+nature. They knew the hour of the day by the shadow of the trees; the
+seasons by the times when the trees bore flowers or fruits; and years by
+the number of the harvests.
+
+"It is dinner-time," Virginia would say to the family; "the shadows of
+the banana-trees are at their feet." Or, "Night approaches, for the
+tamarinds are closing their leaves."
+
+When asked about her age and that of Paul, "My brother," she would
+answer, "is the same age with the great coconut-tree of the fountain,
+and I the same age with the small one. The mango-trees have yielded
+their fruit twelve times, and the orange-trees have opened their
+blossoms twenty-four times since I came into the world."
+
+Thus did these two children of nature advance in life; hitherto no care
+had wrinkled their foreheads, no intemperance had corrupted their blood,
+no unhappy passion had depraved their hearts; love, innocence, piety
+were daily unfolding the beauties of their souls in graces ineffable, in
+their features, their attitude, and their movements.
+
+Nevertheless, in time Virginia felt herself disturbed by a strange
+malady. Serenity no longer sat upon her forehead, nor smiles upon her
+lips. She withdrew herself from her innocent amusements, from her sweet
+occupations, and from the society of her family.
+
+Sometimes, at the sight of Paul, she ran up to him playfully, when all
+of a sudden an unaccountable embarrassment seized her; a lively red
+coloured her cheeks, and her eyes no longer dared to fix themselves on
+his.
+
+Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame de la Tour, "Why should we not marry
+our children? Their passion for each other is extreme, although my son
+is not sensible of it."
+
+"Not yet," answered madame; "they are too young, and too poor. But if we
+send Paul to India for a short time, commerce will supply him with the
+means of buying some slaves. On his return we will marry him to
+Virginia, for I am certain that no one can make my daughter so happy as
+your son Paul. Let us consult our neighbour about it."
+
+So they discussed the matter with me, and I approved of their plan. But
+when I opened the business to Paul, I was astonished when he replied,
+"Why would you have me quit my family for a visionary project of
+fortune? If we wish to engage in trade, cannot we do so by carrying our
+superfluities to the city, without any necessity for my rambling to
+India? What if any accident should befall my family during my absence,
+more especially Virginia, who even now is suffering? Ah, no! I could
+never make up my mind to quit them."
+
+I durst not hint to him that Virginia was lovesick, and that the voyage
+had been projected that the two might be separated until they had grown
+a little older.
+
+
+_III.--Virginia's Departure_
+
+
+Just at this time a letter came to Madame de la Tour from her aunt, who
+had just recovered from a dangerous illness, and whose obdurate heart
+had been softened by the fear of death. She requested her niece to
+return to France; or, if the state of her health prevented her from
+undertaking the voyage, to send Virginia thither, on whom she intended
+to bestow a good education, a place at court, and a bequest of all her
+possessions. The return of her favour, she added, depended entirely on
+compliance with these injunctions.
+
+The letter filled the family with utter consternation.
+
+"Can you leave us?" Margaret asked, in deep anxiety.
+
+"No," replied madame, "I will never leave you. With you I have lived,
+and with you I mean to die."
+
+At these words tears of joy bedewed the cheeks of the whole household,
+and the most joyous of all, although she gave the least testimony to her
+pleasure, was Virginia.
+
+But next morning they were surprised to receive a visit from the
+governor. He, too, had heard from madame's aunt. "Surely," he said, "you
+cannot without injustice deprive your young and beautiful daughter of so
+great an inheritance." Taking madame aside, he told her that a vessel
+was on the point of sailing, and that a lady who was related to him
+would take care of her daughter. He then placed upon the table a large
+bag of piastres, which one of his slaves had brought. "This," he said,
+"is what your aunt has sent to make the preparations for the voyage."
+
+After the governor had left, madame urged her daughter to go. But wealth
+had no temptations for Virginia. She thought only of her family, and of
+her love for Paul. "Oh, I shall never have resolution to quit you!" she
+cried.
+
+But in the evening came her father confessor, sent by the governor. "My
+children," said he as he entered, "there is wealth in store for you now,
+thanks to Heaven. You have at length the means of gratifying your
+benevolent feeling by ministering to the unhappy. We must obey the will
+of Providence," he continued, turning to Virginia. "It is a sacrifice, I
+grant, but it is the command of the Almighty."
+
+Virginia, with downcast eyes and trembling voice, replied, "If it is the
+command of God that I should go, God's will be done." And burst into
+tears.
+
+I was with the family at supper that evening. Little was eaten, and
+nobody uttered a syllable.
+
+After supper Virginia rose first, and went out. Paul quickly followed
+her. The rest of us went out soon afterwards, and we sat down under the
+banana-trees. Paul and Virginia were not far off, and we heard every
+word they said.
+
+"You are going to leave us," began Paul, "for the sake of a relation
+whom you have never seen!"
+
+"Alas!" replied Virginia. "Had I been allowed to follow my own
+inclinations, I should have remained here all my days. But my mother
+wishes me to go. My confessor says it is the will of God that I should
+go."
+
+"Ah!" said Paul. "And do you say nothing of the attractions of wealth?
+You will soon find another on whom you can bestow the name of brother
+among your equals--one who has riches and high birth, which I cannot
+offer you. But whither can you go to be more happy than where you are?
+Cruel girl! How will our mothers bear this separation? What will become
+of me? Oh, since a new destiny attracts you, since you seek fortune in
+far countries, let me at least go with you! I will follow you as your
+slave."
+
+Paul's voice was stifled with sobs. "It is for your sake that I go!"
+cried Virginia tearfully. "You have laboured daily to support us. By my
+wealth I shall seek to repay the good you have done to us all. And would
+I choose any brother but thee! Oh, Paul, Paul, you are far dearer to me
+than a brother!"
+
+At these words he clasped her in his arms. "I shall go with her. Nothing
+shall shake my resolution!" he declared, in a terrible voice.
+
+We ran towards them, and Paul turned savagely on Madame de la Tour. "Do
+you act the part of a mother," he cried, "you who separate brother and
+sister? Pitiless woman! May the ocean never give her back to your arms!"
+His eyes sparkled; sweat ran down his countenance.
+
+"Oh, my friend," cried Virginia to him in terror, "I swear by all that
+could ever unite two unhappy beings that if I remain here I will only
+live for you; and if I depart, I will one day return to be yours!"
+
+His head drooped; a torrent of tears gushed from his eyes.
+
+"Come to-night to my home, my friend," I said. "We will talk this matter
+over to-morrow."
+
+"I cannot let her go!" cried madame, in distraction.
+
+Paul accompanied me in silence. After a restless night he arose at
+daybreak, and returned to his own home.
+
+Virginia had gone! The vessel had sailed at daybreak, and she was on
+board.
+
+By intricate paths Paul climbed to the summit of a rock cone, from which
+a vast area of sea was visible. From here he perceived the vessel that
+bore away Virginia; and here I found him in the evening, his head
+leaning against the rock, his eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+When I had persuaded him to return home, he bitterly reproached madame
+with having so cruelly deceived him. She told us that a breeze had
+sprung up in the early morning, and that the governor himself, his
+officers, and the confessor has come and carried Virginia off in spite
+of all their tears and protests, the governor declaring that it was for
+their good that she was thus hurried away.
+
+Paul wandered miserably among all the spots that had been Virginia's
+favourites. He looked at her goats, and at the birds that came
+fluttering to be fed by the hand of her who had gone. He watched the dog
+vainly searching, following the scent up and down. He cherished little
+things that had been hers--the last nosegay she had worn, the coconut
+cup out of which she was accustomed to drink.
+
+At length he began to labour in the plantation again. He also besought
+me to teach him reading and writing, so that he might correspond with
+Virginia; and geography and history, that he might learn the situation
+and character of the country whither she had gone.
+
+We heard a report that Virginia had reached France in safety; but for
+two years we heard no other news of her.
+
+
+_IV.--Virginia's Return_
+
+
+When at length a letter arrived from Virginia it appeared that she had
+written several times before, but as she had received no replies, she
+feared that her great-aunt had intercepted her former letters.
+
+She had been placed in a convent school, and although she lived in the
+midst of riches, she had not the disposal of a single farthing. She was
+not allowed to mention her mother's name, and was bidden to forget the
+land of savages where she was born; but she would sooner forget herself.
+
+To Paul she sent some flower-seeds in a small purse, on which were
+embroidered the letters "P" and "V" formed of hair that he knew to be
+Virginia's.
+
+But reports were current that gave him great uneasiness. The people of
+the vessel that had brought the letter asserted that Virginia was about
+to be married to a great nobleman; some even declared that the wedding
+was already over.
+
+But soon afterwards his disquietude ceased at the news that Virginia was
+about to return.
+
+On the morning of December 24, 1752, Paul saw a signal indicating that a
+vessel was descried at sea, and he hastened to the city. A pilot went
+out to reconnoitre her according to the custom of the port; he came back
+in the evening with the news that the vessel was the Saint Gerard, and
+that her captain hoped to bring her to anchor off Port Louis on the
+following afternoon. Virginia was on board, and sent by the pilot a
+letter to her mother which Paul, after kissing it with transport,
+carried hurriedly to the plantation.
+
+Virginia wrote that her great-aunt had tried to force her into marriage,
+had disinherited her on her refusal, and had sent her back to the
+island. Her only wish now was once more to see and embrace her dear
+family.
+
+Paul, in his excitement, rushed to tell me the news, although it was
+late at night. As we walked together we were overtaken by a breathless
+negro.
+
+"A vessel from France has just cast anchor under Amber Island," he said.
+"She is firing distress guns, for the sea is very heavy."
+
+"That will be Virginia's vessel," I said. "Let us go that way to meet
+her."
+
+The heat was stifling, and the flashes of lightning that illumined the
+dense darkness revealed masses of thick clouds lowering over the island.
+In the distance we heard the boom of the distress-gun. We quickened our
+pace without saying a word, not daring to communicate our anxiety to
+each other.
+
+When we reached the coast by Amber Island, we found several planters
+gathered round a fire, discussing whether the vessel could enter the
+channel in the morning and find safety.
+
+Soon after dawn the governor arrived with a detachment of soldiers, who
+immediately fired a volley. Close at hand came the answering boom of the
+ship's gun; in the dim light we could see her masts and yards, and hear
+the voices of the sailors. She had passed through the channel, and was
+secure--save from the hurricane.
+
+But the hurricane came. Black clouds with copper edging hung in the
+zenith; seabirds made their way, screaming, to shelter in the island.
+Then fearful noises as of torrents were heard from the sea; the mists of
+the morning were swept away and the storm was upon us.
+
+The vessel was now in deadly peril, and ere long what we had feared took
+place. The cables on her bows snapped, and she was dashed upon the rocks
+half a cable's length from the shore. A cry of grief burst from every
+breast.
+
+Paul was about to fling himself into the sea, when I seized him by the
+arm.
+
+"Oh. let me go to her rescue," he cried, "or let me die!"
+
+I tied a rope round his waist, and he advanced toward the ship,
+sometimes walking, sometimes swimming. He hoped to get on board the
+vessel, for the sea in its irregular movements left her almost dry. But
+presently it returned with redoubled fury, and the unhappy Paul was
+hurled back upon the shore, bleeding, bruised, and senseless.
+
+The ship was now going to pieces, and the despairing crew were flinging
+themselves into the sea. On the stern gallery stood Virginia, stretching
+out her arms towards the lover who sought to save her. When he was
+thrust back she waved her hand towards us, as if bidding us an eternal
+farewell.
+
+One sailor remained with her, striving to persuade her to undress and
+try to swim ashore. With a dignified gesture she repelled him. Then a
+prodigious mountain of water swept towards the vessel. The sailor sprang
+off, and was carried ashore. Virginia vanished from our sight.
+
+We found her body on the beach of a bay near at hand, whither much of
+the wreckage had been carried. Her eyes were closed, but her countenance
+showed perfect calm; only the pale violet of death blended itself upon
+her cheeks with the rose of modesty. One of her hands was firmly closed.
+I disengaged from it, with much difficulty, a little casket; within the
+casket was a portrait of Paul--a gift from him which she had promised
+never to part with while she lived.
+
+Paul was taken home stretched on a palanquin. His coming brought a ray
+of comfort to the unhappy mothers; the tears, which had been till then
+restrained through excess of sorrow, now began to flow, and, nature
+being thus relieved, all the three bereaved ones fell into a lethargic
+repose.
+
+It was three weeks ere Paul was sufficiently recovered to walk. For day
+after day, when his strength was restored, he wandered among the places
+endeared to him by memories of Virginia. His eyes grew hollow, his
+colour faded, his health gradually but visibly declined. I strove to
+mitigate his feelings by giving him change of scene, by taking him to
+the busy inhabited parts of the island. My efforts proving quite
+ineffectual, I tried to console him by reminding him that Virginia had
+gained eternal happiness.
+
+"Since death is a blessing, and Virginia is happy," he replied
+mournfully, "I will die, also, that I may again be united to her."
+
+Thus, the consolation I sought to administer only aggravated his
+despair.
+
+Paul died two months after his beloved Virginia, whose name was ever on
+his lips to the last. Margaret survived her son only by a week, and
+Madame de la Tour, who had borne all her terrible losses with a
+greatness of soul beyond belief, lived but another month.
+
+By the side of Virginia, at the foot of the bamboos near the church of
+Pamplemousses, Paul was laid to rest. Close at hand the two mothers were
+buried. No marble is raised over their humble graves, no inscriptions
+record their virtues, but in the hearts of those who loved them, they
+have left a memory that time can never efface.
+
+With these words the old man, tears flowing from his eyes, arose and
+went away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE SAND
+
+
+Consuelo
+
+
+     The life of the great French novelist, George Sand, is as
+     romantic as any of the characters in her novels. She was born
+     at Paris in July, 1804, her real name being Armandine Lucile
+     Aurore Dupin. At eighteen she married the son of a colonel and
+     baron of the empire, by name Dudevant, but after nine years
+     she separated from her husband, and, bent upon a literary
+     career, made her way to Paris. Success came quickly. Entering
+     into a literary partnership with her masculine friend, Jules
+     Sandeau, the chief fruit of their joint enterprise was "Rose
+     et Blanche." This was followed by her independent novel,
+     "Indiana," a story that brought her the enthusiastic praises
+     of the reading public, and the warm friendship of the most
+     distinguished personages in French literary society. A few
+     years later her relations with the poet Alfred De Musset
+     provided the matter for what is now an historic episode. Her
+     literary output was enormous, consisting of a hundred or more
+     volumes of novels and stories, four volumes of autobiography,
+     and six of correspondence. Yet everything that she wrote is
+     marked by that richness, delicacy and power of style and of
+     thought which constitutes her genius. "Consuelo," which
+     appeared in 1844, is typical of all these in its sparkling
+     dialogue, flowing narrative, and vivid description. George
+     Sand died on June 7, 1876.
+
+
+_I.--In Venice_
+
+
+Little Consuelo, at the age of fourteen, was the best of all the pupils
+of the Maestro Porpora, a famous Italian composer, of the eighteenth
+century.
+
+At that time in Venice a certain number of children received a musical
+education at the expense of the state, and it was Porpora, the great
+musician--then a soured and disappointed man--who trained the voices of
+the girls. They were not equally poor, these young ladies, and among
+them were the daughters of needy artists, whose wandering existence did
+not permit them a long stay in Venice. Of such parentage was little
+Consuelo, born in Spain, and arriving in Italy by the strange routes of
+Bohemians. Not that Gonsuelo was really a gipsy. She was of good Spanish
+blood, and had a calmness of mind and manner quite foreign to the
+wandering races. A rare and happy temperament was hers, and, in spite of
+poverty and orphanhood--for her mother, who brought her to Venice, was
+dead--Consuelo worked on with Porpora, finding the labour an enjoyment,
+and overcoming the difficulties of her art as if by some invisible
+instinct.
+
+When Consuelo was eighteen Count Zustiniani, having heard her sing in
+Porpora's choir, decided she must come out as a prima donna in his
+theatre. For the fame and success of this theatre Zustiniani cared more
+than for anything else in the world--not that he was eager for money,
+but because he was an enthusiast for music--a man of taste, an amateur,
+whose great business in life was to gratify his taste. He liked to be
+talked about and to have his theatre and his magnificence talked about.
+
+The success of Consuelo was assured when she appeared for the first time
+in Gluck's "Ipermnestra." The debutante was at once self-possessed and
+serious, receiving the applause of the audience without fear or
+humility. For her art itself, and not the results of art, were the main
+thing, and her inward satisfaction in her performance did not depend on
+the amount of approbation manifested by the public.
+
+But Zustiniani, gratified as he was by the triumph of his new prima
+donna, was not content with Consuelo's success on the stage; he also
+wanted her for himself. Consuelo gravely refused the jewels and
+ornaments he offered her, and the count was strangely annoyed. He was
+thrilled with unknown emotions by Consuelo's singing, and his patrician
+soul could not realise that this poor little pupil of Porpora's was not
+to be won by the ordinary methods, which he had hitherto employed
+successfully in the conquest of opera singers.
+
+Porpora saved Consuelo from the count's threatening attentions.
+
+The prima donna suddenly disappeared, and it was said she had gone to
+Vienna, that she had been engaged for the emperor's theatre, and that
+Porpora was also going there to conduct his new opera.
+
+Count Zustiniani was particularly embarrassed by Consuelo's flight. He
+had led all Venice to believe this wonderful new singer favoured his
+addresses. Some, indeed, maintained for a time that, jealous of his
+treasure, the count had hidden her in one of his country houses. But
+when they heard Porpora say, with a blunt openness which could never
+deceive, that he had advised his pupil to go to Germany and wait for
+him, there was nothing left but to try and find out the motives for this
+extraordinary decision.
+
+To all inquiries addressed to him Porpora answered that no one should
+ever know from him where Consuelo was to be found.
+
+In real truth, it was not only Zustiniani who had driven Consuelo away.
+A youth named Anzoleto, who had grown up in Venice with Consuelo so that
+the two were as brother and sister, and who lacked both heart and
+constancy, made life too hard for Consuelo. Anxious to get all the
+advantages of Consuelo's friendship, and to be known as her betrothed,
+so that he could procure an engagement in the opera through her generous
+influence, he yet made love to another singer, a former favourite of
+Zustiniani's. Learning of Anzoleto's heartless unfaithfulness, and
+pressed by Zustiniani, Consuelo had turned to her old master for help,
+and had not been disappointed.
+
+
+_II.--In Bohemia_
+
+
+Among the mountains which separate Bohemia from Bavaria stood an old
+country house, known as the Castle of the Giant, the residence of the
+Lords of Rudolstadt. A strange mystery reigned over this ancient family.
+Count Christian Rudolstadt, the head of the house, a widower, his elder
+sister, the Canoness Wenceslawa, a venerable lady of seventy, and Count
+Albert, the only son and heir, lived alone with their retainers, never
+associating with their neighbours. The count's brother, Baron Frederick
+Rudolstadt, with his daughter Amelia, had for some time past taken up
+their abode in the Castle of the Giants, and it was the hope of the two
+brothers that Albert and Amelia would become betrothed. But the silence
+and gloom of the place were hateful to Amelia, and Albert's deep
+melancholy and absent-mindedness were not the tokens of a lover.
+
+Albert, in fact, had so brooded over the horrors of the old wars between
+Catholic and Protestant in Bohemia, that when the fit was on him he
+believed himself living and acting in those terrible times, and it was
+this kind of madness in his son which made Count Christian shun all
+social intercourse. Albert was now thirty, and the doctors had predicted
+that this year he would either conquer the fancies which took such
+fierce hold on him, or succumb entirely.
+
+One night, when the family were assembled round the hearth, the castle
+bell rang, and presently a letter was brought in. It was from Porpora to
+Count Christian, and the count, having read it, passed it on to Amelia.
+
+It seemed that Christian had written to Porpora, whom he had long known
+and respected, to ask him to recommend him a companion for Amelia, and
+the letter now arrived not only recommended Consuelo, but Consuelo
+herself had brought it.
+
+The old count at once hastened with his niece to welcome Porporpina, as
+the visitor was called, and the terror which the journey to the castle
+and the first impressions of the gloomy place had struck upon the young
+singer only melted at the warmth of Christian's praises of her old
+master, Porpora.
+
+From the first the whole household treated Consuelo with every kindness,
+and Amelia very soon confided in her new friend all that she knew of the
+family history, explaining that her cousin Albert was certainly mad.
+
+Albert himself seemed unaware of Consuelo's presence until one day when
+he heard her sing. Amelia's singing always made him uneasy and restless,
+but the first time Consuelo sang--she had chosen a religious piece from
+Palestrina--Albert suddenly appeared in the room, and remained
+motionless till the end. Then, falling on his knees, his large eyes
+swimming in tears, he exclaimed, in Spanish: "Oh, Consuelo, Consuelo! I
+have at last found thee!"
+
+"Consuelo?" cried the astonished girl, replying in the same language.
+"Why, senor, do you call me by that name?"
+
+"I call you Consolation, because a consolation has been promised to my
+desolate life, and because you are that consolation which God at last
+grants to my solitary and gloomy existence. Consuelo! If you leave me,
+my life is at an end, and I will never return to earth again!" Saying
+this he fell at her feet in a swoon; and the two girls, terrified,
+called the servants to carry him to his room and restore him to
+consciousness. But hardly had Albert been left alone before his
+apartment was empty, and he had disappeared.
+
+Days passed, and the anxiety at the castle remained unrelieved. It was
+not the first time Albert had disappeared, but now his absence was
+longer than usual. Consuelo found out the secret of his hiding-place--a
+vaulted hall at the end of a long gallery in a cave in the forest was
+Albert's hermitage, and a secret passage from the moat of the castle
+enabled him to pass unseen to his solitude. She traced him to the
+chamber in the recesses of the cavern.
+
+Already Consuelo had discovered the two natures in Albert--the one wise,
+the other mad; the one polished, tender, merciful; the other strange,
+untamed and violent She saw that sympathy and firmness were both needed
+in dealing with this lonely and unfortunate man--sympathy with his
+religious mysticism, and firmness in urging him not to yield to the
+images of his mind.
+
+That Albert was in love with her, Consuelo understood; but to his
+pleadings she had but one answer:
+
+"Do not speak of love, do not speak of marriage. My past life, my
+recollections, make the first impossible. The difference in our
+conditions would render the second humiliating and insupportable to me.
+Let it be enough that I will be your friend and your consoler, whenever
+you are disposed to open your heart to me."
+
+And with this Albert, for a time, professed to be content. So determined
+was he, however, to win Consuelo's heart, that he readily obeyed her
+advice, and even promised never to return to his hermitage without first
+asking her to accompany him.
+
+Gentle old Count Christian himself came later to plead his son's cause
+with Consuelo. Amelia and her father had left the Castle of the Giants,
+and Christian realised how much Consuelo had already done for the
+restoration of his son's health.
+
+"You were afraid of me, dear Consuelo," said the old man. "You thought
+that the old Rudolstadt, with his aristocratic prejudices, would be
+ashamed to owe his son to you. But you are mistaken, and I go to bring
+my son to your feet, that together we may bless you for extending his
+happiness."
+
+"Oh, stop, my dear lord!" said Consuelo, amazed. "I am not free. I have
+an object, a vocation, a calling. I belong to the art to which I have
+devoted myself since my childhood. I could only renounce all this--if--
+if I loved Albert. That is what I must find out. Give me at least a few
+days, that I may learn whether I have this love for him within my
+heart."
+
+The arrival of the worthless Anzoleto at the Castle of the Giants drove
+Consuelo once more to flight. Anzoleto had enjoyed some success at
+Venice, but having incurred the wrath of Zustiniani, he was escaping to
+Prague. Passing through Bohemia, the fame of a beautiful singer at the
+castle of the Rudolstadts came to his ears, and Anzoleto resolved to
+recover the old place he had once held in Consuelo's heart. He gave
+himself out as Consuelo's brother, and was at once admitted to the
+castle and treated kindly. For Consuelo, the only course open now was to
+flee to Vienna, and take refuge with Porpora, and this she did, leaving
+in the dead of night, after writing explanations to Christian and
+Albert.
+
+
+_III.--In Vienna_
+
+
+The greater part of the journey to Vienna was accomplished on foot, and
+Consuelo had for her travelling companion a humble youth, whose name was
+Joseph Haydn, and whose great musical genius was yet to be recognized by
+the world.
+
+Many months had elapsed since Consuelo had seen her master and
+benefactor, and to the joy which she experienced in pressing old Porpora
+in her arms a painful feeling soon succeeded. Vexation and sorrow had
+imprinted their marks on the brow of the old maestro. He looked far
+older, and the fire of his countenance seemed chilled by age. The
+unfortunate composer had flattered himself that he would find in Vienna
+fresh chances of success and fortune; but he was received there with
+cold esteem, and happier rivals were in possession of the imperial
+favour and the public admiration. Being neither a flatterer nor an
+intriguer, Porpora's rough frankness was no passport to influence, and
+his ill-humour made enemies rather than friends. He held out no hopes to
+Consuelo.
+
+"There are no ears to listen, no hearts to comprehend you in this place,
+my child," he said sadly. "If you wish to succeed, you would do well to
+follow the master to whom they owe their skill and their fortune."
+
+But when Consuelo told him of the proposal made by Count Albert, and of
+Count Christian's desire for her marriage with his son, the tyrannical
+old musician at once put his foot down.
+
+"You must not think of the young count!" he said fiercely. "I positively
+forbid you! Such a union is not suitable. Count Christian would never
+permit you to become an artist again. I know the unconquerable pride of
+these nobles, and you cannot hesitate for an instant between the career
+of nobility and that of art."
+
+So resolute was Porpora that Consuelo should not be tempted from the
+life he had trained her for, that he did not hesitate to destroy,
+unread, her letters to the Rudolstadts, and letters from Count Christian
+and Albert. He even wrote to Christian himself, declaring that Consuelo
+desired nothing but the career of a public singer.
+
+But when, after many disappointments and rebuffs, Consuelo at last was
+appointed to take the prima donna's place for six days at the imperial
+opera house, she was frightened at the prospect of the toils and
+struggles before her feverish arena of the theatre seemed to her a place
+of terror and the Castle of the Giants a lost paradise, an abode of
+peace and virtue.
+
+Consuelo's triumph at the opera had been indisputable. Her voice was
+sweeter and richer than when she sang in Venice, and a perfect storm of
+flowers fell upon the stage at the end of the performance. Amid these
+perfumed gifts Consuelo saw a green branch fall at her feet, and when
+the curtain was lowered for the last time she picked it up. It was a
+bunch of cypress, a symbol of grief and despair.
+
+To add to her distress, she was now conscious that her love for Albert
+was a reality, and no answer had come from him or from Count Christian
+to the letters she had sent. Twice in the six days at the opera she had
+caught a glimpse, so it seemed to her, of Count Albert, but on both
+occasions the figure had melted away without a word, and unobserved by
+all at the theatre.
+
+No further engagement followed at the opera, and Consuelo's thoughts
+turned more and more to the Rudolstadts. If only she could hear from
+Christian or his son, she would know whether she was free to devote
+herself absolutely to her art. For she had made her promise to Count
+Christian that she would send him word should she feel sure of being in
+love with Albert; and now that word had been sent, and no reply had
+come.
+
+Porpora, with a promise of an engagement at the royal theatre in Berlin,
+and anxious to take Consuelo with him, had confessed, in answer to her
+objection to leaving Vienna before hearing from Christian, that letters
+had come from the Rudolstadts, which he had destroyed.
+
+"The old count was not at all anxious to have a daughter-in-law picked
+up behind the scenes," said Porpora, "and so the good Albert sets you at
+liberty."
+
+Consuelo never suspected her master of this profound deceit, and, taking
+the story he had invented for truth, signed an agreement to go to Berlin
+for two months.
+
+
+_IV.--The Return to Bohemia_
+
+
+The carriage containing Porpora and Consuelo had reached the city of
+Prague, and was on the bridge that spans the Moldau, when a horseman
+approached and looked in at the window, gazing with a tranquil
+curiosity. Porpora pushed him back, exclaiming:
+
+"How dare you stare at ladies so closely."
+
+The horseman replied in Bohemian, and Consuelo, seeing his face, called
+out:
+
+"Is it the Baron Frederick of Rudolstadt?"
+
+"Yes, it is I, signora!" replied the baron, in a dejected tone. "The
+brother of Christian, the uncle of Albert. And in truth, is it you
+also?"
+
+The baron accompanied them to a hotel, and there explained to Consuelo
+that he had received a letter from the canoness, his sister, bidding
+him, at Albert's request, be on the bridge of Prague at seven o'clock
+that evening.
+
+"The first carriage that passes you will stop; if the first person you
+see in it can leave for the castle that same evening, Albert, perhaps,
+will be saved. At least, he says it will give him a hold on eternal
+life. I do not know what he means, but he has the gift of prophecy and
+the perception of hidden things. The doctors have given up all hope for
+his life."
+
+"Is the carriage ready, sir?" Consuelo said, when the latter was
+finished. "If so I am ready also, and we can set out instantly."
+
+"I shall follow you," said Porpora. "Only we must be in Berlin in a
+week's time."
+
+The carriage and horses were already in the courtyard, and in a few
+minutes the baron and Consuelo were on their journey to the castle of
+the Rudolstadts.
+
+At the doorway of the castle they were met by the aged canoness, who,
+seizing Consuelo by the arm, said:
+
+"We have not a moment to lose. Albert begins to grow impatient. He has
+counted the hours and minutes till your arrival, and announced your
+approach before we heard the sound of the carriage wheels. He was sure
+of your coming; but, he said, if any accident detained you, it would be
+too late. Signora, in the name of Heaven, do not oppose any of his
+wishes; promise all he asks; pretend to love him. Albert's hours are
+numbered; his life is close. All we ask of you is to soothe his
+sufferings." Then, as they approached the great saloon, she added, "Take
+courage, signora. You need not be afraid of surprising him, for he
+expects you, and has seen you coming hours ago."
+
+The door opened and Consuelo darted forward to her lover. Albert was
+seated in a large arm-chair before the fire. It was no longer a man, it
+was a spectre, Consuelo saw. His face, still beautiful, was as a face of
+marble. There was no smile on his lips, no ray of joy in his eyes.
+Consuelo knelt before him; he looked fixedly at her, and then, giving a
+sign to the canoness, she placed his arms on Consuelo's shoulders. Then
+she made the young girl lay her head on Albert's breast, and the dying
+man whispered in her ear: "I am happy." With another sign, he made the
+canoness understand that she and his father were to kiss his betrothed.
+
+"From my very heart!" exclaimed the canoness, with emotion. The old
+count who had been holding his brother's hand in one of his and
+Porpora's in the other, left them to embrace Consuelo fervently.
+
+The doctor urged an immediate marriage.
+
+"I can answer positively for nothing," he said, "but I venture to think
+much good may come of it. Your excellency consented to this marriage
+formerly----"
+
+"I always consented to it. I never opposed it," said the count. "It was
+Master Porpora who wrote to say that he would never consent, and that
+she likewise had renounced all idea. Alas, it was the death-blow to my
+unhappy child!"
+
+"Do not grieve," murmured Albert to Consuelo. "I have understood for
+many days now that you were faithful. I know that you have endeavoured
+to love me, and have succeeded. But we have been deceived, and you must
+forgive your master, as I forgive him."
+
+Consuelo looked at Porpora, and the old musician reproached himself for
+homicide, and burst into tears. Only Consuelo's consent was necessary,
+and this was given.
+
+The marriage was hastened on. Porpora and the doctor served as
+witnesses. Albert found strength to pronounce a decisive "Yes," and the
+other responses in the service in a clear voice, and the family from
+this felt a new hope for his recovery. Hardly had the chaplain recited
+the closing prayer over the newly-married couple, before Albert arose
+and threw himself into his father's arms; then, seating himself again in
+his arm-chair, he pressed Consuelo to his heart, and exclaimed:
+
+"I am saved!"
+
+"It is nature's last effort," said the doctor.
+
+Albert's arms loosed their hold, and fell forward on his knees. His gaze
+was riveted on Consuelo; gradually the shade crept from his forehead to
+his lips, and covered his face with a snowy veil.
+
+"It is the hand of Death!" said the doctor, breaking the silence.
+
+Consuelo would take neither her husband's title nor his riches.
+
+"Stay with us, my daughter?" cried the canoness, "for you have a lofty
+soul and a great heart!"
+
+But Consuelo tore herself away after the funeral, though her heart was
+wrung with grief. As she crossed the drawbridge with Porpora, Consuelo
+did not know that already the old count was dead, and that the Castle of
+the Giants, with its riches and its sufferings, had become the property
+of the Countess of Rudolstadt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Mauprat
+
+
+     It was while George Sand was pleading for a separation from
+     her husband, on the ground of incompatibility of temperament,
+     that "Mauprat" was written, and the powerful story, full of
+     storm, sentiment, and passion, bears the marks of its
+     tumultuous birth.
+
+
+_I.--Bernard Mauprat's Childhood_
+
+
+In the district of Varenne, within a gloomy ravine, stands the ruined
+castle of Roche-Mauprat. It is a place I never pass at night without
+some feeling of uneasiness; and now I have just learnt its history from
+Bernard Mauprat, the last of the line.
+
+Bernard Mauprat is eighty-four and no man is more represented in the
+province. Passing his house with a friend who knew the old man, we
+ventured to call, and were received with stately welcome. Later Mauprat
+told us his story in the following words:
+
+There were formerly two branches of the Mauprat family and I belonged to
+the elder. My grandfather was that Tristan de Mauprat whose crimes are
+still remembered. My father was his eldest son, and on his death, which
+occurred at a shooting party, the only living member of the younger
+branch, the chevalier, Hubert de Mauprat, a widower with an infant
+daughter, begged that he might be allowed to adopt me, promising to make
+me his heir. My grandfather refused the offer, and when I was seven
+years old and my mother died--poisoned some said by my grandfather--I
+was carried off by that terrible man to his house at Roche-Mauprat. I
+only knew afterwards that my father was the only son of Tristan's who
+had married and that consequently I was the heir to the property.
+
+It was a terrible journey I made with my grandfather but more terrible
+still was the life led at Roche-Mauprat by Tristan and his eight sons.
+Beset by creditors, the Mauprats with a dozen peasants and poachers
+defied the civil laws as they had already broken all moral laws. They
+formed themselves into a body of adventurers, levying blackmail on the
+small farms of the neighbourhood, intimidating the tax-collectors and at
+times not hesitating from petty thefts at fairs. Masters and servants
+were united in bonds of infamy. Debauchery, extortion, fraud, and
+cruelty were the precept and example of my youth. All notions of justice
+were scoffed at, and the civilisation, the light of education, and the
+philosophy of social equality, then spreading in France and preparing
+the way for the convulsion of the Revolution, found no entrance at
+Roche-Mauprat.
+
+The eight sons, the pride and strength of old Mauprat, all resembled him
+in physical vigour, brutality of manners, and in a cunning ill-nature.
+They gave themselves the airs of knights of the twelfth century. What
+elsewhere was called assassination and robbery I was taught to call
+battle and conquest. The frightful tortures heaped upon prisoners by my
+uncles gave me a horrible uneasiness, but what kept me from admiring the
+savagery that surrounded me was the ill-usage I received myself. I grew
+up without conceiving any liking for vice, but a tendency to hatred was
+fostered. Of virtue or simple human affection I knew nothing, and a
+blind and brutal anger was nourished in my breast.
+
+As the years went by Roche-Mauprat became more and more isolated. People
+left the neighbourhood to escape our violent depredations, and in
+consequence we had to go farther afield for plunder. I joined in the
+robberies as a soldier serves in a campaign, but on more than one
+occasion I helped some unfortunate man who had been knocked down to get
+up and escape.
+
+My grandfather died when I was fifteen. A year later and so threatened
+were we by crown officers, private creditors and infuriated peasants,
+that it was a question of either fleeing the country or bracing
+ourselves for a decisive struggle, and if needs be finding a grave under
+the ruins of the castle.
+
+
+_II.--Meet my Cousin Edmee_
+
+
+One night, when wind and rain beat fiercely against the old walls of the
+castle and I sat at supper with my uncles, a horn was heard at the
+portcullis. I had been drinking heavily, and boasting that I would make
+a conquest of the first woman brought to Roche-Mauprat--for I had been
+rallied on my modesty--when a second blast of the horn announced that it
+was my Uncle Lawrence bringing in a prize.
+
+"If it is a woman," cried my Uncle Antony, as he went out to the
+portcullis, "I swear by the soul of my father that she shall be yours,
+and we'll see if your courage is equal to your conceit."
+
+When the door opened again a woman entered, and one of the Mauprats
+whispered to me that the young lady had lost her way at a wolf hunt and
+that Lawrence, meeting her in the forest, had promised to escort her to
+Rochemaure where she had friends. Never having seen the face of one of
+my uncles, and little dreaming she was near their haunt, for she had
+never had a glimpse of Roche-Mauprat, she was led into the castle
+without having the least suspicion of the trap into which she had
+fallen. When I beheld this woman, so young and so beautiful, with her
+expression of calm sincerity and goodness, it seemed to me I was
+dreaming.
+
+My uncles withdrew, for Antony had pledged his word, and I was left
+alone with the stranger. For a moment I felt more bewildered and
+stupefied than pleased. With the fumes of wine in my head I could only
+suppose this lady was some acquaintance of Lawrence's, and that she had
+been told of my drunken boast and was willing to put my gallantry to the
+proof. I got up and bolted and double-locked the door.
+
+She was sitting close to the fire, drying her wet garments, without
+noticing what I had done. I made up my mind to kiss her, but no sooner
+had she raised her eyes to mine than this familiarity became impossible.
+All I could say, was:
+
+"Upon my word, mademoiselle, you are a charming creature, and I love
+you--as true as my name is Bernard Mauprat."
+
+"Bernard Mauprat!" she cried, springing up; "you are Bernard Mauprat,
+you? In that case learn to whom you are speaking, and change your
+manners."
+
+"Really!" I said with a grin, "but let my lips meet yours, and you shall
+see if I am not as nicely mannered as those uncles of mine."
+
+Her lips grew white. Her agony was manifest in every gesture. I
+shuddered myself, and was in a state of great perplexity.
+
+This woman was beautiful as the day. I do not believe that there has
+ever lived a woman as lovely as she. And this was the first trial of her
+life.
+
+She was my young cousin, Edmee de Mauprat, daughter of M. Hubert de
+Mauprat, the chevalier. She was of my age, for we were both seventeen,
+and I ought to have protected her against the world at the peril of my
+life.
+
+"I swear by Christ," she said, taking my hands in hers, "that I am
+Edmee, your cousin, your prisoner--yes, and your friend, for I have
+always felt an interest in you."
+
+Her words were cut short by the report of a gun outside; more shots were
+heard and the alarm trumpet sounded.
+
+I heard my Uncle Lawrence shouting violently at the door. "Where is that
+coward? Where is that wretched boy? Bernard, the mounted police are
+attacking us, and you are amusing yourself by making love while our
+throats are being cut. Come and help us, Bernard."
+
+"May the devil take the lot of you," I cried, "if I believe a single
+word of all this."
+
+But the shots rang out louder and for half an hour the fighting was most
+desperate. Our band amounted to twenty-four all told, and the enemy were
+fifty soldiers in addition to a score of peasants.
+
+As soon as I learnt that we were really being attacked, I had taken my
+weapons and done what I called my duty, after leaving Edmee locked in
+the room.
+
+After three assaults had been repulsed there was a long lull, and I
+returned to my captive. The fear lest my uncles should get possession of
+Edmee made me mad. I kept on telling her I loved her and wanted her for
+myself, and seeing what an animal it was she had to deal with, my cousin
+made up her mind accordingly. She threw her arms round me, and let me
+kiss her. "Do you love me?" she asked.
+
+From this moment the victory was hers. The wolf in me was conquered, and
+the man rose in its place.
+
+"Yes, I love you! Yes, I love you!"
+
+"Well, then," she said distractedly, "let us love each other and escape
+together."
+
+"Yes; let us escape," I answered. "I loathe this house, and I loathe my
+uncles. I have long wanted to escape. And yet I shall only be hanged,
+you know." For I knew I had as much to fear from the besiegers as from
+the besieged.
+
+"They won't hang you," she rejoined with a laugh; "my betrothed is a
+lieutenant-general."
+
+"Your betrothed!" I burst out in a fit of jealousy. "You are going to be
+married?"
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Swear that you will not marry before I die. Swear that you will be mine
+sooner than this lieutenant-general's," I cried.
+
+Edmee swore as I asked her, and she made me swear in return that her
+promise should be a secret. Then I clasped her in my arms, and we
+remained motionless until fresh shots announced that the fight had begun
+again. Every moment of delay was dangerous now. I seized a torch, and
+lifting a trap door made her descend with me to the cellar. Thence we
+passed into a subterranean passage, and finally hurried forth into the
+open, holding each other's hands as a sign of mutual trust. I found a
+horse that had belonged to my grandfather in the forest, and this animal
+carried us some miles from Roche-Mauprat, before it stumbled and threw
+us. Edmee was unhurt but my ankle was badly sprained. Fortunately we
+were near a lonely building called Gayeau Tower, the dwelling place of a
+remarkable man called Patience, a peasant who was both a hermit and a
+philosopher, and who, like Edmee, was filled with the new social gospel
+of Rousseau. Between these two a warm friendship existed.
+
+"The lamb in the company of the wolf," cried Patience when he saw us.
+
+"My friend," replied Edmee, "welcome him as you welcome me. I was a
+prisoner at Roche-Mauprat, and it was he who rescued me."
+
+At that Patience took me by the arm and led me in. A few days later I
+was carried to the chateau of the chevalier, M. Hubert de Mauprat, at
+Sainte-Severe, and there I learnt that Roche-Mauprat had been taken,
+that five of my uncles were dead, and that two, John and Antony, had
+disappeared.
+
+"Bernard," added the chevalier, "I owe to you the life I hold dearest in
+the world. All my own life shall be devoted to giving you proofs of my
+gratitude and esteem. Bernard, we are both of us victims of a vicious
+family. The wrong that has been done you shall be repaired. They have
+deprived you of education, but your soul has remained pure. Bernard, you
+will restore the honour of your family, promise me this."
+
+
+_III.--I Go to America and Return_
+
+
+For a long time I am sure my presence was a source of utter discomfort
+to the kind and venerable chevalier, and to his daughter. I was boorish
+and illiterate and Edmee was one of the most perfect women to be found
+in France. She found her happiness in her own family, and the sweetest
+simplicity crowned her mental powers and lofty virtues. Brute like, at
+that time I saw her only with the eyes of the body, and believed I loved
+her because she was beautiful. Her fiance, M. de la Marche, the
+lieutenant-general, a shallow and frigid Voltairean, understood her but
+little better. A day came when I could understand her--the day when M.
+de la Marche could have understood her would never have come.
+
+The first step was taken on my part when I realised that I was ignorant
+and savage, and I applied to the Abbe Aubert, the chaplain, whose
+offices I had hitherto despised, to instruct me. I learnt quickly, and
+soon vanity at my rapid progress became the bane of my life.
+
+With Edmee I was so passionately in love that jealousy would awaken the
+old brutality that I thought dead, and I would gladly have killed de la
+Marche in a duel. Then after an outburst remorse would overtake me.
+
+My cousin at last told me plainly that while she would be true to her
+word, and not marry anyone before me, she would not marry me, and that
+on her father's death a convent should be her refuge. I knew my
+boorishness was responsible for this, and resolved to leave her.
+
+Lafayette was taking out volunteers to help the United States in their
+war of independence. I told him I would go with him, and crossed hastily
+into Spain, whence he was going to sail to America.
+
+I left a note to my uncle, and wrote to Edmee that, as far as I was
+concerned, she was free, and that, while I would not thwart a wish of
+hers, it was impossible for me to witness a rival's triumph.
+
+Before we sailed came the following reply from Edmee:
+
+"You have done well, Bernard. Go where honour and love of truth call
+you. Return when your mission is accomplished; you will find me neither
+married nor in a convent."
+
+I cannot describe the American war. I stayed till peace was declared,
+and then chafing at my long absence from France, for I was away six
+years--and more in love with Edmee than ever, at last set sail and in
+due time landed at Brest.
+
+I had not sent any letter to announce my coming, and when I reached the
+Chateau of Sainte-Severe I almost feared to cross the threshold. Then I
+rushed forward and entered the drawing room. The chevalier was asleep
+and did not wake. Edmee, bending over her tapestry, did not hear my
+steps.
+
+For a few seconds I stood looking at her, then I fell at her feet
+without being able to say a word. She uttered no cry, no exclamation of
+surprise, but took my head in her two arms, and held it for sometime
+pressed to her bosom. The good chevalier, who had waked with a start,
+stared at us in astonishment; then he said:
+
+"Well, well! what is the meaning of this?"
+
+He could not see my face, hidden as it was in Edmee's breast. She pushed
+me towards him, and the old man clasped me in his feeble arms with a
+burst of generous affection.
+
+Never shall I forget the welcome they gave me. An immense change had
+taken place in me during those years of the war. I had learnt to bring
+my instincts and desires into harmony with my affections, my reason, and
+I had greatly developed my power of acquiring learning.
+
+Edmee was not surprised at my intellectual progress, but she rejoiced at
+it. I had shown it in my letters, she said.
+
+My good uncle, the chevalier, now took a real liking for me, and where
+formerly natural generosity and family pride had made him adopt me, a
+genuine sympathy made him give me his friendship. He did not disguise
+from me that his great desire, before falling into the sleep that knows
+no waking, was to see me married to Edmee; and when I told him this was
+the one wish of my soul, the one thought of my life, he said:
+
+"I know, I know. Everything depends on her, and I think she can no
+longer have any reasons for hesitation.... At all events," he added, "I
+cannot see any that she could allege at present."
+
+From these words I concluded that he himself had long been favourable to
+my suit, and that any obstacle which might exist lay with Edmee. But so
+much did I stand in awe of Edmee's sensitive pride and her unspeakable
+goodness that I dared not ask her point-blank to decide my fate. M. de
+la Marche I knew had left France, and all thought of an engagement on
+his part with Edmee was at an end. In a proud struggle to conceal the
+poverty of his estate, all his fortune had gone, and he had not been
+long in following me to America.
+
+The chevalier insisted on my visiting my property of Roche-Mauprat.
+Thanks to my uncle, great improvements had been accomplished in my
+absence, and the land was being well cultivated by good tenants. I knew
+that I ought not to neglect my duty, and though I had not set foot on
+the accursed soil since the day I left it with Edmee, I set out and was
+away two days.
+
+I stayed in the gloomy old house and the only remarkable thing about the
+visit was that I had a vision of my wicked uncle John Mauprat.
+
+
+_IV.--My Trial and Happiness_
+
+
+We had gone on a hunting party one day after my return, and Edmee and I
+were separated from the rest. Somehow the old unbridled passions rose up
+within me and I succeeded in affronting Edmee with my fierce speech.
+Then I hastened away, ashamed and fearful.
+
+I had not gone more than thirty paces when I heard the report of a gun
+from the spot where I had left Edmee. I stopped, petrified with horror,
+and then retraced my steps. Edmee was lying on the ground, rigid and
+bathed in blood. Patience was standing by her side with his arms crossed
+on his breast, and his face livid. For myself, I could not understand
+what was taking place. I fancy that my brain, already bewildered by my
+previous emotions, must have been paralyzed. I sat down on the ground by
+Edmee's side. She had been shot in the breast in two places, and the
+Abbe Aubert was endeavouring to staunch the blood with his handkerchief.
+
+"Dead, dead," said Patience, "and there is the murderer! She said so as
+she gave up her pure soul to God; and Patience will avenge her! It is
+very hard but it must be so! It is God's will, since I alone was here to
+learn the truth!"
+
+"Horrible, horrible!" exclaimed the Abbe.
+
+Edmee was carried away to the chateau, and I followed and for several
+days remained in a state of prostration. When strength and consciousness
+returned I learnt that she was not dead, but that everybody believed me
+guilty of attempted murder. Patience himself told me the only thing for
+me to do was to leave that part of the country. I swore I was innocent
+and would not be saddled with the crime.
+
+Then, one evening, I saw mounted police in the courtyard.
+
+"Good!" I said, "let my destiny take its course." But before quitting
+the house, perhaps forever, I wished to see Edmee again for the last
+time. I walked straight to her room, and there I found the Abbe and the
+doctor. I heard the latter declare that the wounds in themselves were
+not mortal, and the only danger was from a violent disturbance in the
+brain.
+
+I approached the bed, and took Edmee's cold and lifeless hand. I kissed
+it a last time, and, without saying a single word to the others, went
+and gave myself up to the police.
+
+I was immediately thrown into prison and in a few days my trial began at
+the assizes. I was convicted, but through the efforts of certain friends
+a revision of my sentence was granted, and I was allowed a new trial.
+
+At this trial Patience appeared and declared that, while he had believed
+from what Edmee had said that I was guilty, it had come into his head
+that some other Mauprat might have fired the shot. It appeared that John
+Mauprat was now living in the neighbourhood, as a penitent Trappist
+monk, and he had been seen in company with another monk who was not to
+be found since the attack on Edmee. "So I put myself on the track of
+this wandering monk," Patience concluded, "and I have discovered who he
+is. He is the would-be murderer of Edmee de Mauprat, and his name is
+Antony Mauprat."
+
+It then turned out that Antony's plot was to kill Edmee, get me hanged
+for the murder, and then, when the chevalier was dead, claim the
+estates. John Mauprat knew of his brother's intentions but denied all
+complicity and was eventually sent back to his monastery. Antony was
+subsequently convicted and broken on the wheel.
+
+But before I was finally acquitted Edmee herself gave evidence for me.
+She was still far from well but answered clearly all the irritating and
+maddening questions that were put to her. When she said to the president
+of the court, "Everything which to you seems inexplicable in my conduct
+finds its justification in one word: I love him!" I could not help
+crying out, "Let them take me to the scaffold now; I am king of all the
+earth."
+
+But as I have said, it was proved that Antony Mauprat was the criminal;
+and no sooner was I acquitted and set at liberty, with my character
+completely cleared, than I hastened to Edmee.
+
+I arrived in time to witness my great-uncle's last moments. He
+recognised me, clasped me to his breast, blessed me at the same time as
+Edmee, and put my hand into his daughter's.
+
+After we had paid the last tribute of affection to our noble and
+excellent relative, we left the province for sometime and paid a visit
+to Switzerland, Patience and the Abbe Aubert bearing us company.
+
+At the end of Edmee's mourning we returned. This was the time that had
+been fixed for our marriage, which was duly celebrated in the village
+chapel.
+
+The years of happiness with my wife beggar description. She was the only
+woman I ever loved, and though she has now been dead ten years I feel
+her loss as keenly as on the first day, and seek only to make myself
+worthy of rejoining her in a better world after I have completed my
+probation here.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+MICHAEL SCOTT
+
+
+Tom Cringle's Log
+
+
+     Michael Scott was a merchant who turned an unquestioned
+     literary faculty to excellent account. Born at Cowlairs, near
+     Glasgow, Scotland, Oct. 30, 1789, at the age of seventeen
+     Scott was sent to Jamaica to manage a small estate of his
+     father's, and a few years later entered business at Kingstown.
+     Both of these occupations necessitated frequent journeys, by
+     land and by sea, and the experiences gained thereby form the
+     basis of "Tom Cringle's Log." The story appeared anonymously
+     at intermittent intervals in "Blackwood's Magazine" (1829-33),
+     being published in book form in 1834. Its authorship was
+     attributed, among others, to Captain Marryatt, and so
+     successfully did Scott himself conceal his identity with it
+     that the secret was not known until after his death, which
+     occurred at Glasgow on November 7, 1835. Of its kind, "Tom
+     Cringle's Log" is a veritable masterpiece. Humour and pathos
+     and gorgeous descriptions are woven into a thrilling
+     narrative. Scott wrote many other things beside "Tom Cringle,"
+     but only one story, "The Cruise of the Midge" (1836), is in
+     any way comparable with his first and most famous romance.
+
+
+_I.--The Quenching of the Torch_
+
+
+The evening was closing in dark and rainy, with every appearance of a
+gale from the westward, and the red and level rays of the setting sun
+flashed on the black hull and tall spars of his Britannic Majesty's
+sloop Torch. At the distance of a mile or more lay a long,
+warlike-looking craft, rolling heavily and silently in the trough of the
+sea.
+
+A flash was seen; the shot fell short, but close to us, evidently thrown
+from a heavy cannon.
+
+Mr. Splinter, the first lieutenant, jumped from the gun he stood on, and
+dived into the cabin to make his report.
+
+Captain Deadeye was a staid, wall-eyed veteran, with his coat of a
+regular Rodney cut, broad skirts, long waist, and stand-up collar, over
+which dangled either a queue, or marlinspike with a tuft of oakum at the
+end of it--it would have puzzled old Nick to say which. His lower spars
+were cased in tight unmentionables of what had once been white
+kerseymere, and long boots, the coal-scuttle tops of which served as
+scuppers to carry off the drainings from his coat-flaps in bad weather;
+he was, in fact, the "last of the sea-monsters," but, like all his
+tribe, as brave as steel, and, when put to it, as alert as a cat.
+
+He no sooner heard Splinter's report, than he sprang up the ladder.
+
+"Clear away the larboard guns!" I absolutely jumped off the deck with
+astonishment--who could have spoken it? The enemy was a heavy American
+frigate, and it appeared such downright madness to show fight under the
+very muzzles of her guns, half a broadside from which was sufficient to
+sink us. It was the captain, however, and there was nothing for it but
+to obey.
+
+"Now, men, mind your aim; our only chance is to wing him." The men--with
+cutlasses buckled round their waists, and many with nothing but their
+trousers on--instinctively cheered. Blaze went our cannonades and long
+gun in succession, and down came the fore-topsail; the head of the
+topmast had been shot away. "That will do; now knock off, my boys, and
+let us run for it. Make all sail."
+
+Jonathan was for an instant paralysed by our impudence; but he yawed and
+let drive his whole broadside; and fearfully did it transmogrify us.
+Half an hour before we were as gay a little sloop as ever floated, with
+a crew of 120 as fine fellows as ever manned a British man-of-war. The
+iron-shower sped--ten of the 120 never saw the sun rise again; 17 more
+were wounded, three mortally; our hull and rigging were regularly cut to
+pieces.
+
+But we had the start, crippled and be-devilled though we were; and as
+the night fell, we contrived to lose sight of our large friend, and
+pursue our voyage to Jamaica.
+
+A week later, and the hurricane fell upon us. Our chainplates, strong
+fastenings, and clenched bolts, drew like pliant wires, shrouds and
+stays were torn away, and our masts and spars were blown clean out of
+the ship into the sea. Had we shown a shred of the strongest sail in the
+vessel, it would have been blown out of the bolt-rope in an instant.
+With four men at the wheel, one watch at the pumps, and the other
+clearing the wreck, we had to get her before the wind.
+
+Our spirits were soon dashed, when the old carpenter, one of the coolest
+and bravest men in the ship, rose through the forehatch pale as a ghost,
+with his white hairs streaming out in the wind. He did not speak to any
+of us, but clambered aft, towards the capstan, to which the captain had
+lashed himself.
+
+"The water is rushing in forward like a mill-stream, sir; she is fast
+settling down by the head."
+
+The brig, was, indeed, rapidly losing her buoyancy.
+
+"Stand by, to heave the guns overboard."
+
+Too late, too late! Oh, God, that cry! I was stunned and drowning, a
+chaos of wreck was beneath me and around me and above me, and blue,
+agonised, gasping faces and struggling arms, and colourless clutching
+hands, and despairing yells for help, where help was impossible; when I
+felt a sharp bite on the neck, and breathed again. My Newfoundland dog,
+Sneezer, had snatched at me, and dragged me out of the eddy of the
+sinking vessel.
+
+For life, dear life, nearly suffocated, amidst the hissing spray, we
+reached the cutter, the dog and his helpless master.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For three miserable days I had been exposed, half naked and bareheaded,
+in an open boat, without water, or food, or shade. The third fierce West
+Indian noon was long passed, and once more the dry, burning sun sank in
+the west, like a red hot shield of iron. I glared on the noble dog as he
+lay at the bottom of the boat, and would have torn at his throat with my
+teeth, not for food, but that I might drink his hot blood; but as he
+turned his dull, gray, glazing eye on me, the pulses of my heart
+stopped, and I fell senseless.
+
+When my recollection returned, I was stretched on some fresh plantain
+leaves, in a low, smoky hut, with my faithful dog lying beside me,
+whining and licking my hands and face. Underneath the joists, that bound
+the rafters of the roof together, lay a corpse, wrapped in a boatsail,
+on which was clumsily written with charcoal, "The body of John Deadeye,
+Esq., late commander of his Britannic Majesty's sloop Torch."
+
+There was a fire on the floor, at which Lieutenant Splinter, in his
+shirt and trousers, drenched, unshorn, and death-like, was roasting a
+joint of meat, whilst a dwarfish Indian sat opposite to him fanning the
+flame with a palm-leaf. I had been nourished during my delirium; for the
+fierceness of my sufferings were assuaged, and I was comparatively
+strong. I anxiously inquired of the lieutenant the fate of our
+shipmates.
+
+"All gone down in the old Torch; and had it not been for the launch and
+our four-footed friend there, I should not have been here to have told
+it. All that the sharks have left of the captain and five seamen came
+ashore last night. I have buried the poor fellows on the beach where
+they lay, as well as I could, with an oar-blade for a shovel, and the
+_bronze ornament_ there," pointing to the Indian, "for an assistant."
+
+
+_II.--Perils on Land_
+
+
+I was awakened by the low growling and short bark of the dog. The night
+was far spent, and the amber rays of the yet unrisen sun were shooting
+up in the east.
+
+"That's a musket shot," said the lieutenant. The Indian crept to the
+door, and placed his open palms behind his ears. The distant wail of a
+bugle was heard, then three or four dropping shots again, in rapid
+succession. Mr. Splinter stooped to go forth, but the Indian caught him
+by the leg, uttering the single word "Espanoles" (Spaniards).
+
+On the instant a young Indian woman, with a shrieking infant in her
+arms, rushed to the door. There was a blue gunshot wound in her neck,
+and her features were sharpened as if in the agony of death. Another
+shot, and the child's small, shrill cry blended with the mother's death
+shriek; falling backwards the two rolled over the brow of the hill out
+of sight. The ball had pierced the heart of the parent through the body
+of her offspring. By this time a party of Spanish soldiers had
+surrounded the hut, one of whom, kneeling before the low door, pointed
+his musket into it. The Indian, who had seen his wife and child shot
+down before his face, fired his rifle and the man fell dead.
+
+Half a dozen musket balls were now fired at random through the wattles
+of the hut, while the lieutenant, who spoke Spanish well, sung out
+lustily that we were English officers who had been shipwrecked.
+
+"Pirates!" growled the officer of the party. "Pirates leagued with
+Indian bravos; fire the hut, soldiers, and burn the scoundrels!"
+
+There was no time to be lost; Mr. Splinter made a vigorous attempt to
+get out, in which I seconded him with all the strength that remained to
+me, but they beat us back again with the butts of their muskets.
+
+"Where are your commissions, your uniforms, if you be British officers?"
+We had neither, and our fate appeared inevitable.
+
+The doorway was filled with brushwood, fire was set to the hut, and we
+heard the crackling of the palm thatch, while thick, stifling white
+smoke burst in upon us through the roof.
+
+"Lend a hand, Tom, now or never." We laid our shoulders to the end wall,
+and heaved at it with all our might; when we were nearly at our last
+gasp it gave way, and we rushed headlong into the middle of the party,
+followed by Sneezer, with his shaggy coat, full of clots of tar, blazing
+like a torch. He unceremoniously seized, _par le queue_, the soldier who
+had throttled me, setting fire to the skirts of his coat, and blowing up
+his cartridge-box. I believe, under Providence, that the ludicrousness
+of this attack saved us from being bayoneted on the spot. It gave time
+for Mr. Splinter to recover his breath, when, being a powerful man, he
+shook off the two soldiers who had seized him, and dashed into the
+burning hut again. I thought he was mad, especially when I saw him
+return with his clothes and hair on fire, dragging out the body of the
+captain. He unfolded the sail it was wrapped up in, and pointing to the
+remains of the naval uniform in which the mutilated corpse was dressed,
+he said sternly to the officer, "We are in your power, and you may
+murder us if you will; but _that_ was my captain four days ago, and you
+see at least _he_ was a British officer--satisfy yourself."
+
+The person he addressed, a handsome young Spaniard, shuddered at the
+horrible spectacle.
+
+When he saw the crown and anchor, and his Majesty's cipher on the
+appointments of the dead officer, he became convinced of our quality,
+and changed his tone.
+
+"'Tis true, he is an Englishman. But, gentlemen, were there not three
+persons in the hut?"
+
+There were, indeed, and the Indian perished in the flames, making no
+attempt to escape.
+
+The officer, who belonged to the army investing Carthagena, now treated
+us with great civility; he heard our story, and desired his men to
+assist us in burying the remains of our late commander.
+
+We stayed that night with the captain of the outpost, who received us
+very civilly at a temporary guard-house, and apologised for the
+discomfort under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he
+had, and that was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us
+into the hut, where we found a rough deal coffin, lying on the very
+bench that was to be our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness
+in the world, saying, "It was only one of his people who had died that
+morning of yellow fever."
+
+"Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we
+have had of it, Tom!"
+
+
+_III.--The Piccaroon_
+
+
+From the Spanish headquarters at Torrecilla we were allowed to go to the
+village of Turbaco, a few miles distant from the city for change of air.
+
+"Why, Peter," said Mr. Splinter, addressing a negro who sat mending his
+jacket in one of the enclosures near the water gate of the arsenal,
+"don't you know me?"
+
+"Cannot say dat I do," rejoined the negro, very gravely. "Have not de
+honour of your acquaintance, sir."
+
+"Confound you, sir! But I know you well enough, my man; and you can
+scarcely have forgotten Lieutenant Splinter of the Torch, one would
+think?"
+
+The name so startled the poor fellow, that in his hurry to unlace his
+legs, as he sat tailor-fashion, he fairly capsized and toppled down on
+his nose.
+
+"Eh!--no--yes, him sure enough! And who is de piccaniny hofficer? Oh! I
+see, Massa Tom Cringle! Where have you dropped from, gentlemen? Where is
+de old Torch? Many a time hab I, Peter Mangrove, pilot to him Britannic
+Majesty's squadron, taken de old brig in and through amongst de keys at
+Port Royal."
+
+"She will never give you that trouble again, my boy--foundered--all
+hands lost, Peter, but the two you see before you."
+
+"Werry sorry, Massa 'Plinter, werry sorry. What? de black cook's-mate
+and all? But misfortune can't be help. Stop till I put up my needle, and
+I will take a turn wid you. Proper dat British hofficers in distress
+should assist one anoder--we shall consult togeder. How can I serve
+you?"
+
+"Why, Peter, if you could help us to a passage to Port Royal, it would
+be serving us most essentially. Here we have been for more than a month,
+without a single vessel belonging to the station having looked in; our
+money is running short, and in another six weeks we shall not have a
+shot left in the locker."
+
+The negro looked steadfastly at us, and then carefully around before he
+answered.
+
+"You see, Massa 'Plinter, I am desirable to serve you; it is good for me
+at present to make some friend wid the hofficer of de squadron, being as
+how dat I am absent widout leave. If you will promise dat you will stand
+my friends, I will put you in de way of getting a shove across to de
+east end of Jamaica; and I will go wid you, too, for company. But you
+must promise dat you will not seek to know more of de vessel, nor of her
+crew, than dey are willing to tell you, provided you are landed safe."
+
+Mr. Splinter agreed and presently Peter Mangrove went off in a canoe to a
+large, shallow vessel, to reappear with another blackamoor, of as
+ungainly an exterior as could well be imagined.
+
+"Pray, sir, are you the master of that vessel?" said the lieutenant.
+
+"No, sir, I am the mate; and I learn you are desirous of a passage to
+Jamaica." This was spoken with a broad Scotch accent.
+
+"Yes, we do," said I, in very great astonishment; "but we will not sail
+with the devil; and who ever saw a negro Scotchman before?"
+
+The fellow laughed. "I am black, as you see; so were my father and
+mother before me. But I was born in the good town of Glasgow,
+notwithstanding; and many a voyage I have made as cabin-boy and cook
+with worthy old Jock Hunter. But here comes our captain. Captain
+Vanderbosh, here are two shipwrecked British officers who wish to be put
+ashore in Jamaica; will you take them, and what will you charge for
+their passage?"
+
+The man he spoke to was a sun-burnt, iron-visaged veteran.
+
+"Vy for von hundred thaler I will land dem safe in de bay."
+
+The bargain was ratified, and that same evening we set sail. When off
+the San Domingo Gate two boats full of men joined us, and our crew was
+strengthened by about forty as ugly Christians, of all ages and
+countries, as I ever set eyes on. From the moment they came on board
+Captain Vanderbosh sank into the petty officer, and the Scottish negro
+took the command, evincing great coolness, energy, and skill.
+
+When night had fallen the captain made out a sail to windward.
+Immediately every inch of canvas was close furled, every light carefully
+extinguished, a hundred and twenty men with cutlasses at quarters, and
+the ship under bare poles. The strange sail could be seen through the
+night-glasses; she now burned a blue light--without doubt an old
+fellow-cruiser of ours, the Spark.
+
+"She is from Santa Martha with a freight of specie, I know," said
+Williamson. "I will try a brush with her."
+
+"I know the craft," Splinter struck in, "a heavy vessel of her class,
+and you may depend on hard knocks and small profit if you do take her;
+while, if she takes you----"
+
+"I'll be hanged if she does," said Williamson, and he grinned at the
+conceit; "or, rather, I will blow the schooner up with my own hand
+before I strike; better that than have one's bones bleached in chains on
+a quay at Port Royal. But you cannot control us, gentlemen; so get down
+below, and take Peter Mangrove with you. I would not willingly see those
+come to harm who have trusted me."
+
+However, there was no shot flying as yet, and we stayed on deck. All
+sail was once more made, and presently the cutter saw us, tacked, and
+stood towards us. Her commander hailed: "Ho, the brigantine, ahoy! What
+schooner is that?"
+
+"Spanish schooner, Caridad," sung out Williamson.
+
+"Heave-to, and send your boat on board."
+
+"We have none that will swim, sir."
+
+"Very well, bring to, and I will send mine."
+
+We heard the splash of the jolly-boat touching the water; then the
+measured stroke of the oars, and a voice calling out, "Give way, my
+lads."
+
+The character of the vessel we were on board of was now evident; and the
+bitter reflection that we were, as it were, chained to the stake on
+board of a pirate, on the eve of a fierce contest with one of our own
+cruisers, was aggravated by the consideration that a whole boat's crew
+would be sacrificed before a shot was fired.
+
+The officer in the boat had no sooner sprung on board than he was caught
+by two strong hands, gagged, and thrown down the main hatchway.
+
+"Heave," cried a voice, "and with a will!" and four cold 32-pound shot
+were hove at once into the boat alongside, which, crashing through her
+bottom, swamped her in a moment, precipitating the miserable crew into
+the boiling sea. Their shrieks rang in my ears as they clung to the oars
+and some loose planks of the boat.
+
+"Bring up the officer, and take out the gag," said Williamson.
+
+Poor Malcolm, who had been an old messmate of mine, was now dragged to
+the gangway, his face bleeding, and heavily ironed, when the blackamoor,
+clapping a pistol to his head, bade him, as he feared instant death,
+hail the cutter for another boat.
+
+The young midshipman turned his pale mild countenance upwards as he said
+firmly, "Never!" The miscreant fired, and he fell dead.
+
+"Fire!" The whole broadside was poured in, and we could hear the shot
+rattle and tear along the cutter's deck, and the shrieks and groans of
+the wounded.
+
+We now ranged alongside, and close action commenced; never do I expect
+to see such an infernal scene again. Up to this moment all had been
+coolness and order on board the pirate; but when the yards locked, the
+crew broke loose from all control--they ceased to be men--they were
+demons, for they threw their own dead and wounded indiscriminately down
+the hatchways, to get clear of them. They had stripped themselves almost
+naked; and although they fought with the most desperate courage, yelling
+and cursing, each in his own tongue, yet their very numbers, pent up in
+a small vessel, were against them. Amidst the fire and smoke we could
+see that the deck had become a very shamble; and unless they soon
+carried the cutter by boarding, it was clear that the coolness and
+discipline of the service must prevail. The pirates seemed aware of this
+themselves, for they now made a desperate attempt at boarding, led on by
+the black captain. While the rush forward was being made, by a sudden
+impulse, Splinter and I, followed by Peter, scrambled from our shelter,
+and in our haste jumped down, knocking over the man at the wheel.
+
+There was no time to be lost; if any of the crew came aft we were dead
+men; so we tumbled down through the cabin skylight, and stowed ourselves
+away in the side berths. The noise on deck soon ceased--the cannon were
+again plied--gradually the fire slackened, and we could hear that the
+pirate had scraped clear and escaped. Some time after this, the
+lieutenant commanding the cutter came down. We both knew him well, and
+he received us cordially.
+
+In a week we were landed at Port Royal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was a midshipman when I began my log, but before I finally left the
+West Indies I was promoted to the rank of commander, and appointed to
+the Lotus Leaf, under orders for England.
+
+Before I set sail, however, I was married to my cousin Mary in Jamaica;
+and when we got to Old England, where the Lotus Leaf was paid off, I
+settled for a time on shore, the happiest, etc., until some years
+afterwards, when the wee Cringles began to tumble home so fast that I
+had to cut and run, and once more betake myself to the salt sea.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+
+The Antiquary
+
+
+     Sir Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh on August 15, 1771. As
+     a child he was feeble and sickly, and very early he was
+     smitten with lameness which remained with him through life,
+     although he matured into a man of robust health. He was
+     educated for the law, which he began to practise in 1792.
+     Although he had fair success in his profession, he soon began
+     to occupy his leisure time with literature, and his first work
+     was published in 1796. The first of the "Waverley" series made
+     its appearance anonymously in 1814. As the series progressed,
+     it became known that Walter Scott was the author of the famous
+     novels, and he became the idol of the hour. In 1820 a
+     baronetcy was bestowed upon him. Six years later he joined an
+     old friend in the establishment of a large printing and
+     publishing business in Edinburgh, but the venture was not
+     successful, and Scott soon found himself a bankrupt. Here his
+     manhood and proud integrity were most nobly shown. With stern
+     and unfaltering resolution, he set himself to the task of
+     paying his debts from the profits of his pen. Within a space
+     of two years he realised for his creditors the amazing sum of
+     nearly forty thousand pounds, but the limits of endurance had
+     been reached, and in 1830 he was smitten down with paralysis,
+     from which he never thoroughly rallied. He died at Abbotsford
+     on September 31, 1832. As a lyrist Scott especially excelled,
+     and as a novelist he takes rank among the foremost. Although
+     many of his works are lax and careless in structure, yet if a
+     final test in greatness in the field of novel writing be the
+     power to vitalise character, very few writers can be held to
+     surpass Sir Walter Scott. According to Basil Hall, "The
+     Antiquary" was Scott's own favourite romance. It was published
+     in May, 1816, the third of the Waverley Novels, and in it the
+     author intended to illustrate the manners of Scotland during
+     the last ten years of the eighteenth century. "I have been
+     more solicitous," he writes, "to describe manners minutely,
+     than to arrange in any case an artificial and combined
+     narrative, and have but to regret that I felt myself unable to
+     unite these two requisites of a good novel." Scott took
+     considerable pains to point out that old Edie Ochiltree, the
+     wandering mendicant with his blue gown, was by no means to be
+     confounded with the utterly degraded class of beings who now
+     practise that wandering trade. Although "The Antiquary" was
+     not so well received on its first appearance as "Waverley" or
+     "Guy Mannering," it soon rose to equal, and with some readers,
+     superior popularity.
+
+
+_I.--Travelling Companions_
+
+
+It was early on a fine summer's day, near the end of the eighteenth
+century, when a young man of genteel appearance, journeying towards the
+north-east of Scotland, provided himself with a ticket in one of those
+public carriages which travel between Edinburgh and the Queensferry, at
+which place there is a passage-boat for crossing the Firth of Forth.
+
+The young gentleman was soon joined by a companion, a good-looking man
+of the age of sixty, perhaps older, but his hale complexion and firm
+step announced that years had not impaired his strength of health. This
+senior traveller, Mr. Jonathan Oldenbuck (by popular contraction
+Oldbuck), of Monkbarns, was the owner of a small property in the
+neighbourhood of a thriving seaport town on the north-eastern coast of
+Scotland, which we shall denominate Fairport. His tastes were
+antiquarian, his wishes very moderate. The burghers of the town regarded
+him with a sort of envy, as one who affected to divide himself from
+their rank in society, and whose studies and pleasures seemed to them
+alike incomprehensible. Some habits of hasty irritation he had
+contracted, partly from an early disappointment in love, but yet more by
+the obsequious attention paid to him by his maiden sister and his orphan
+niece.
+
+Mr. Oldbuck, finding his fellow-traveller an interested and intelligent
+auditor, plunged at once into a sea of discussion concerning urns,
+vases, and Roman camps, and when they reached Queensferry, and stopped
+for dinner at the inn, he at once made some advances towards
+ascertaining the name, destination, and quality of his young companion.
+
+His name, the young gentleman said, was Lovel. His father was a north of
+England gentleman. He was at present travelling to Fairport, and if he
+found the place agreeable, might perhaps remain there for some weeks.
+
+"Was Mr. Lovel's excursion solely for pleasure?"
+
+"Not entirely."
+
+"Perhaps on business with some of the commercial people of Fairport?"
+
+"It was partly on business, but had no reference to commerce."
+
+Here he paused, and Mr. Oldbuck, having pushed his inquiries as far as
+good manners permitted, was obliged to change the conversation.
+
+The mutual satisfaction which they found in each other's society induced
+Mr. Oldbuck to propose, and Lovel willingly to accept, a scheme for
+travelling together to the end of their journey. A postchaise having
+been engaged, they arrived at Fairport about two o'clock on the
+following day.
+
+Lovel probably expected that his travelling companion would have invited
+him to dinner on his arrival; but his consciousness of a want of ready
+preparation for unexpected guests prevented Oldbuck from paying him that
+attention. He only begged to see him as early as he could make it
+convenient to call in a forenoon, and recommended him to a widow who had
+apartments to let.
+
+A few days later, when his baggage had arrived from Edinburgh, Mr. Lovel
+went forth to pay his respects at Monkbarns, and received a cordial
+welcome from Mr. Oldbuck. They parted the best of friends, but the
+antiquary was still at a loss to know what this well-informed young man,
+without friends, connections, or employment, could have to do as a
+resident at Fairport. Neither port wine nor whist had apparently any
+charms for him. A coffee-room was his detestation, and he had as few
+sympathies with the tea-table. There was never a Master Lovel of whom so
+little positive was known, but nobody knew any harm of him.
+
+"A decent, sensible lad," said the Laird of Monkbarns to himself, when
+these particulars of Lovel had been reported to him. "He scorns to enter
+into the fooleries and nonsense of these idiot people at Fairport. I
+must do something for him--I must give him a dinner, and I will write to
+Sir Arthur to come to Monkbarns to meet him. I must consult my
+womankind."
+
+Accordingly, such consultation having been held, the following letter
+was sent to Sir Arthur Wardour, of Knockwinnock Castle:
+
+"Dear Sir Arthur,--On Tuesday, the 17th inst, I hold a symposium at
+Monkbarns, and pray you to assist thereat, at four o'clock precisely. If
+my fair enemy, Miss Isabel, can and will honour us by accompanying you,
+my womankind will be but too proud. I have a young acquaintance to make
+known to you, who is touched with some stain of a better spirit than
+belong to these giddy-paced times, reveres his elders, and has a pretty
+notion of the classics. And as such a youth must have a natural contempt
+for the people about Fairport, I wish to show him some rational as well
+as worshipful society. I am, dear Sir Arthur, etc., etc."
+
+In reply to this, at her father's request, Miss Wardour intimated, "her
+own and Sir Arthur's compliments, and that they would have the honour of
+waiting upon Mr. Oldbuck. Miss Wardour takes this opportunity to renew
+her hostility with Mr. Oldbuck, on account of his long absence from
+Knockwinnock, where his visits give so much pleasure."
+
+
+_II.--The Treacherous Sands_
+
+
+Sir Arthur and his daughter had set out, on leaving Monkbarns, to return
+to Knockwinnock by the turnpike road; but when they discerned Lovel a
+little before them Miss Wardour immediately proposed to her father that
+they should take another direction, and walk home by the sands.
+
+Sir Arthur acquiesced willingly, and the two left the high road, and
+soon attained the side of the ocean. The tide was by no means so far out
+as they had computed; but this gave them no alarm; there was seldom ten
+days in the year when it approached so near the cliffs as not to leave a
+dry passage.
+
+As they advanced together in silence a sudden change of weather made
+Miss Wardour draw close to her father. As the sun sank the wind rose,
+and the mass of waters began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink
+in deeper furrows. Presently, through the drizzling rain, they saw a
+figure coming towards them, whom Sir Arthur recognised as the old
+blue-gowned beggar, Edie Ochiltree.
+
+"Turn back! Turn back!" exclaimed the vagrant. "The tide is running on
+Halket-head, like the Fall of Fyers! We will maybe get back by Ness
+Point yet. The Lord help us--it's our only chance! We can but try."
+
+The waves had now encroached so much upon the beach, that the firm and
+smooth footing which they had hitherto had on the sand must be exchanged
+for a rougher path close to the foot of the precipice, and in some
+places even raised upon its lower ledges. It would have been utterly
+impossible for Sir Arthur Wardour or his daughter to have found their
+way along these shelves without the guidance and encouragement of the
+beggar, who had been there before in high tides, though never, he
+acknowledged, "in sae awsome a night as this."
+
+It was indeed a dreadful evening. The howling of the storm mingled with
+the shrieks of the sea-fowl. Each minute the raging tide gained ground
+perceptibly. The three still struggled forward; but at length they
+paused upon the highest ledge of rock to which they could attain, for it
+seemed that any farther attempt to advance could only serve to
+anticipate their fate.
+
+The fearful pause gave Isabella Wardour time to collect the powers of a
+mind naturally strong and courageous.
+
+"Must we yield life," she said, "without a struggle? Is there no path,
+however dreadful, by which we could climb the crag?"
+
+"I was a bold cragsman," said Ochiltree, "once in my life; but it's lang
+syne, and nae mortal could speel them without a rope. But there was a
+path here ance--His name be praised!" he ejaculated suddenly, "there's
+ane coming down the crag e'en now! there's ane coming down the crag e'en
+now!" Then, exalting his voice, he halloo'd out to the daring adventurer
+such instructions as his former practice forced upon his mind.
+
+The adventurer, following the directions of old Edie, flung him down the
+end of the rope, which he secured around Miss Wardour. Then, availing
+himself of the rope, which was made fast at the other end, Ochiltree
+began to ascent the face of the crag, and after one or two perilous
+escapes, was safe on the broad flat stone beside our friend Lovel. Their
+joint strength was able to raise Isabella to the place of safety which
+they had attained, and the next thing was to raise Sir Arthur beyond the
+reach of the billows.
+
+The prospect of passing a tempestuous night upon a precipitous piece of
+rock, where the spray of the billows flew high enough to drench them,
+filled old Ochiltree with apprehension for Miss Wardour.
+
+"I'll climb up the cliff again," said Lovel, "and call for more
+assistance."
+
+"If ye gang, I'll gang too," said the bedesman.
+
+"Hark! hark!" said Lovel. "Did I not hear a halloo?"
+
+The unmistakable shout of human voices from above was soon augmented,
+and the gleam of torches appeared.
+
+On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled.
+Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with
+unwonted desperation to the very brink of the crag. Some fishermen had
+brought with them the mast of a boat, and this was soon sunk in the
+ground and sufficiently secured. A yard, across the upright mast, and a
+rope stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed
+an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair
+down to the flat shelf on which the sufferers had roosted.
+
+Lovel bound Miss Wardour to the back and arms of the chair, while
+Ochiltree kept Sir Arthur quiet.
+
+"What are ye doing wi' my bairn? She shall not be separated from me!
+Isabel, stay with me, I command you!"
+
+"Farewell, my father!" murmured Isabella; "farewell, my--my friends!"
+and, shutting her eyes, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those
+who were above.
+
+A loud shout announced the success of the experiment. The chair was
+again lowered, and Sir Arthur made fast in it; and after Sir Arthur had
+been landed safe and sound, old Ochiltree was brought up; finally Lovel
+was safely grounded upon the summit of the cliff. As he recovered from a
+sort of half-swoon, occasioned by the giddiness of the ascent, he cast
+his eyes eagerly around. The object for which they sought was already in
+the act of vanishing. Her white garment was just discernible as she
+followed on the path which her father had taken. She had lingered till
+she saw the last of their company rescued from danger, but Lovel was not
+aware that she had expressed in his fate even this degree of interest.
+
+
+_III.--The Duel_
+
+
+Some few weeks after the perilous escape from the tide, Sir Arthur
+invited Mr. Lovel and the Monkbarns family to join him on a visit to the
+ruins of a certain priory in the neighbourhood. Lovel at once accepted,
+and Mr. Oldbuck decided that there would be room for his niece in a
+postchaise. This niece, Mary M'Intyre, like her brother Hector, was an
+orphan. They were the offspring of a sister of Monkbarns, who had
+married one Captain M'Intyre, a Highlander. Both parents being dead, the
+son and daughter were left to the charge of Mr. Oldbuck. The nephew was
+now a captain in the army, the niece had her home at Monkbarns.
+
+All went happily at Sir Arthur's party at the ruins, until the
+unexpected arrival of Hector M'Intyre. This newcomer, a handsome young
+man about five-and-twenty, had ridden to Monkbarns, and learning his
+uncle's absence had come straight on to join the company. On his
+introduction to Lovel the young soldier bowed with more reserve than
+cordiality, and Lovel was equally frigid and haughty in return.
+
+Miss Wardour's obvious determination not to allow Captain M'Intyre an
+opportunity for private conversation with her drove Hector to speak to
+his sister.
+
+"Pray who is this Mr. Lovel, whom our old uncle has at once placed so
+high in his good graces?"
+
+"If you mean how Mr. Lovel comes to visit at Monkbarns you must ask my
+uncle; and you must know that Mr. Lovel rendered Miss Wardour and him a
+service of the most important kind."
+
+"What! that romantic story is true, then? And does the valorous knight
+aspire to the hand of the young lady whom he redeemed from peril? I did
+think that she was uncommonly dry to me as we walked together."
+
+"Dear Hector," said his sister, "do not continue to nourish any
+affection for Miss Wardour. Your perseverance is hopeless. Above all, do
+not let this violent temper of yours lead you to lose the favour of our
+uncle, who has hitherto been all that is kind and paternal to us."
+
+Captain M'Intyre promised to behave civilly, and returned to the
+company.
+
+On Lovel mentioning, in the course of conversation, that he was an
+officer in a certain regiment, M'Intyre could not refrain from declaring
+that he knew the officers of that regiment, and had never heard of the
+name of Lovel.
+
+Lovel blushed deeply, and taking a letter out of an envelope, handed it
+to M'Intyre. The latter acknowledged the handwriting of General Sir
+----, but remarked that the address was missing.
+
+"The address, Captain M'Intyre," answered Lovel, "shall be at your
+service whenever you choose to inquire after it."
+
+"I certainly shall not fail to do so," rejoined Hector.
+
+The party broke up, Lovel returned to Fairport, and early next morning
+was waited upon by a military friend of Captain M'Intyre. Upon Lovel
+declining to give his name the captain insisted on his fighting, and
+that very evening the duel was arranged to take place in a valley close
+by the ruins of St. Ruth.
+
+Captain M'Intyre's ball grazed the side of his opponent, but did not
+draw blood. That of Lovel was more true, and M'Intyre reeled and fell.
+
+The grasp of old Ochiltree, who had appeared on the scene, roused Lovel
+to movement, and leaving M'Intyre to the care of a surgeon, he followed
+the bedesman into the recesses of the wood, in order to get away by boat
+the following morning.
+
+Amid the secret passages of the ruins, well known to Ochiltree, Lovel
+was to pass the night; but all rest was impossible by the discovery of
+two human figures, one of whom Lovel made out to be a German named
+Donsterswivel, a swindling impostor who promised discoveries of gold to
+Sir Arthur Wardour, gold buried in the ruins, and only to be unearthed
+by magic and considerable expenditure of ready money.
+
+"That other ane," whispered Edie, "maun be, according to a' likelihood,
+Sir Arthur Wardour. I ken naebody but himself wad come here at this time
+wi' that German blackguard."
+
+Donsterswivel, with much talk of planetary influences, and spirits, and
+"suffumigation," presently set fire to a little pile of chips, and when
+the flame was at the highest flung in a handful of perfumes, which
+produced a strong and pungent odour.
+
+A violent explosion of sneezing, which the mendicant was unable to
+suppress, accompanied by a grunting, half-smothered cough, confounded
+the two treasure-seekers.
+
+"I was begun to think," said the terrified German, "that this would be
+bestermost done in de daylight; we was bestermost to go away just now."
+
+"You juggling villain!" said the baronet; "this is some legerdemain
+trick of yours to get off from the performance of your promise, as you
+have so often done before. You shall show me that treasure, or confess
+yourself a knave."
+
+Here Edie, who began to enter into the humour of the scene, uttered an
+extraordinary howl. Donsterswivel flung himself on his knees. "Dear Sir
+Arthur, let us go, or let me go!"
+
+"No, you cheating scoundrel!" said the knight, unsheathing his sword. "I
+will see this treasure before you leave this place, or, by heaven, I'll
+run this sword through you though all the spirits of the dead should
+rise around us!"
+
+"For de lofe of heaven, be patient, mine honoured patron; do not speak
+about de spirits--it makes dem angry."
+
+Donsterswivel at length proceeded to a corner of the building where lay
+a flat stone upon the ground. With great trepidation he removed the
+stone, threw out a shovelful or two of earth, and produced a small case
+or casket. This was at once opened by the baronet, and appeared to be
+filled with coin.
+
+"This is being indeed in good luck," said Sir Arthur; "and if you think
+it omens proportional success upon a larger venture, I will hazard the
+necessary advance."
+
+But the German's guilty conscience and superstitious fears made him
+anxious to escape, and accordingly he hurried Sir Arthur from the spot.
+
+"Saw onybody e'er the like o' that!" said Edie to Lovel.
+
+"His faith in the fellow is entirely restored," said Lovel, "by this
+deception, which he had arranged beforehand."
+
+"Ay, ay; trust him for that. He wants to wile him out o' his last
+guinea, and then escape to his own country, the land-louper."
+
+But thanks to old Edie's efforts, Donsterswivel was checked in his
+scheme for the plunder of Sir Arthur Wardour.
+
+
+_IV.--The Secret is Disclosed_
+
+
+Captain M'Intyre's wound turned out to be not so dangerous as was at
+first suspected, and after some six weeks' nursing at Monkbarns, the
+hot-tempered soldier was once more in full health.
+
+It was during those weeks that the Antiquary met after an interval of
+more than twenty years, the Earl of Glenallan, a neighbouring laird.
+Lord Glenallan and Mr. Oldbuck had both loved the same lady, Eveline
+Neville, and against the commands of the old countess, his mother,
+Glenallan had married Miss Neville. Driven by the false taunts of the
+countess to believe, as her husband did, the marriage invalid, the
+unhappy Eveline had thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea, and the
+child born to her had been kept in concealment in England by her
+brother, Geraldin Neville. The countess died, and an old fish woman,
+once the countess's confidential maid, when dying, demanded to see Lord
+Glenallan, and on her death-bed told him the truth, and that his child
+was living.
+
+The scare of a French invasion brought Lord Glenallan, with Mr. Oldbuck,
+and Sir Arthur Wardour, to Fairport, and to his uncle's surprise and
+satisfaction, Captain M'Intyre acted as military adviser to the
+volunteers with remarkable presence of mind, giving instructions calmly
+and wisely.
+
+The arrival of an officer from headquarters was eagerly expected in
+Fairport, and at length a cry among the people announced "There's the
+brave Major Neville come at last!" A postchaise and four drove into the
+square, amidst the huzzas of the volunteers and inhabitants, and what
+was the surprise of all present, but most especially that of the
+Antiquary, when the handsome uniform and military cap disclosed the
+person and features of the pacific Lovel! A warm embrace was necessary
+to assure him that his eyes were doing him justice. Sir Arthur was no
+less surprised to recognise his son, Captain Wardour, as Major Neville's
+companion.
+
+The first words of the young officers were a positive assurance to all
+present that their efforts were unnecessary, that what was merely an
+accidental bonfire had been taken for a beacon.
+
+The Antiquary found his arm pressed by Lord Glenallan, who dragged him
+aside. "For God's sake, who is that young gentleman who is so strikingly
+like----"
+
+"Like the unfortunate Eveline," interrupted Oldbuck. "I felt my heart
+warm to him from the first. Formerly I would have called him Lovel, but
+now he turns out to be Major Neville."
+
+"Whom my brother brought up as his natural son--whom he made his
+heir--the child of my Eveline!"
+
+Mr. Oldbuck at once determined to make further investigation, and
+returned to Major Neville, who was now arranging for the dispersion of
+the force which had been assembled.
+
+"Pray, Major Neville, leave this business for a moment to Captain
+Wardour and to Hector, with whom, I hope, you are thoroughly
+reconciled"--Neville laughed, and shook hands with Hector across the
+table--"and grant me a moment's audience."
+
+"You have every claim on me," said Neville, "for having passed myself
+upon you under a false name. But I am so unfortunate as to have no
+better right to the name of Neville, than that of Lovel."
+
+"I believe I know more of your birth than you do yourself, and to
+convince you of it, you were educated and known as a natural son of
+Geraldin Neville, of Neville's-burg, in Yorkshire."
+
+"I did believe Mr. Geraldin Neville was my father, but during the war in
+French Flanders, I found in a convent near where we were quartered, a
+woman who spoke good English--a Spaniard. She discovered who I was, and
+made herself known to me as the person who had charge of me in my
+infancy, and intimated that Mr. Geraldin Neville was not my father. The
+convent was burned by the enemy, and several nuns perished, among others
+this woman. I wrote to Mr. Neville, and on my return implored him to
+complete the disclosure. He refused, and, on my importunity, indignantly
+upbraided me with the favours he had already conferred. We parted in
+mutual displeasure. I renounced the name of Neville, and assumed that of
+Lovel. It was at this time, when residing with a friend in the north of
+England, that I became acquainted with Miss Wardour, and was romantic
+enough to follow her to Scotland. When I was at Fairport, I received
+news of Mr. Neville's death. He had made me his heir, but the possession
+of considerable wealth did not prevent me from remembering Sir Arthur's
+strong prejudices against illegitimacy. Then came my quarrel with
+Captain M'Intyre, and my compelled departure from Fairport."
+
+"Well, Major Neville, you must, I believe, exchange both of your aliases
+for the style and title of the Honourable William Geraldin, commonly
+called Lord Geraldin."
+
+The Antiquary then went through the strange and melancholy circumstances
+concerning his mother's death. "And now, my dear sir," said he, in
+conclusion, "let me have the pleasure of introducing a son to a father."
+
+We will not attempt to describe such a meeting. The proof on all sides
+was found to be complete, for Mr. Neville had left a distinct account of
+the whole transaction with his confidential steward in a small packet,
+which was not to be opened until the death of the old countess.
+
+In the evening of that day, the yeomanry and volunteers of Glenallan
+drank prosperity to their young master; and a month afterwards, Lord
+Glenallan was married to Miss Wardour.
+
+Hector is rising rapidly in the army, and rises proportionally high in
+his uncle's favour.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Guy Mannering
+
+
+     "Guy Mannering, or, the Astrologer," the second of the
+     Waverley series, represents the labour of six weeks. Although
+     the novel was completed in so short a period, neither
+     story--if one or two instances of evidences of haste is
+     ignored--nor characterisation has suffered. For the main theme
+     Scott was indebted to an old legend of the horoscope of a
+     new-born infant. In common with nearly all his tales, several
+     of the characters in "Guy Mannering" were founded on real
+     persons; Meg Merrilies was the prototype of a gipsy named
+     Jennie Gordon, and many of the personal features of Dominie
+     Sampson were obtained from a clergyman who once acted as tutor
+     at Abbotsford. The hero was at once recognised by Hogg, the
+     Ettrick shepherd, as a portrait of Scott himself.
+
+
+_I.--The Astrologer_
+
+
+It was in the month of November, 17--, when a young English gentleman,
+who had just left the University of Oxford, being benighted while
+sightseeing in Dumfriesshire, sought shelter at Ellangowan, on the very
+night the heir was born. Our hero, Guy Mannering, entering into the
+simple humour of Mr. Bertram, his host, agreed to calculate the infant's
+horoscope by the stars, having in early youth studied with an old
+clergyman who had a firm belief in astrology.
+
+Mannering had once before tried a similar piece of foolery, at the
+instance of the young lady to whom he was betrothed, and now found that
+the result of the scheme in both cases presaged misfortune in the same
+year to the infant as to her. To the baby, three periods would be
+particularly hazardous--his fifth, his tenth, his twenty-first year.
+
+He mentally relinquished his art for ever, and to prevent the child
+being supposed to be the object of evil prediction, he gave the paper
+into Mr. Bertram's hand, and requested him to keep it for five years
+with the seal unbroken, after which period he left him at liberty,
+trusting that the first fatal year being safely overpast, no credit
+would be paid to its farther contents.
+
+When Mrs. Bertram was able to work again, her first employment was to
+make a small velvet bag for the scheme of nativity; and though her
+fingers itched to break the seal, she had the firmness to enclose it in
+two slips of parchment, and put it in the bag aforesaid, and hang it
+round the neck of the infant.
+
+It was again in the month of November, more than twenty years after the
+above incident, that a loud rapping was heard at the door of the Gordon
+Arms at Kippletringan.
+
+"I wish, madam," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, where several
+neighbours were assembled, "you would give me leave to warm myself here,
+for the night is very cold."
+
+His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous effect in
+his favour. The landlady installed her guest comfortably by the
+fireside, and offered what refreshment her house afforded.
+
+"A cup of tea, ma'am, if you will favour me." Mrs. MacCandlish bustled
+about, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace, explaining that
+she had a very nice parlour, and everything agreeable for gentlefolks;
+but it was bespoke to-night for a gentleman and his daughter, that were
+going to leave this part of the country.
+
+The sound of wheels was now heard, and the postilion entered. "No, they
+canna' come at no rate, the laird's sae ill."
+
+"But God help them," said the landlady. "The morn's the term--the very
+last day they can bide in the house--a' things to be roupit."
+
+"Weel, I tell you, Mr. Bertram canna be moved."
+
+"What Mr. Bertram?" said the stranger. "Not Mr. Bertram of Ellangowan, I
+hope?"
+
+"Just e'en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye've come at a
+time when he's sair bested."
+
+"I have been abroad for many years. Is his health so much deranged?"
+
+"Ay, and his affairs an' a'. The creditors have entered into possession
+o' the estate, and it's for sale. And some that made the maist o' him,
+they're sairest on him now. I've a sma' matter due mysell, but I'd
+rather have lost it than gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and
+him just dying."
+
+"Ay, but," said the parish clerk, "Factor Glossin wants to get rid of
+the auld laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the heir-male should
+cast up; for if there's an heir-male, they canna sell the estate for
+auld Ellangowan's debt."
+
+"He had a son born a good many years ago," said the stranger. "He is
+dead, I suppose?"
+
+"Dead! I'se warrant him dead lang syne. He hasna' been heard o' these
+twenty years."
+
+"I wat weel it's no twenty years," said the landlady. "It's no abune
+seventeen in this very month. It made an unco noise ower a' this
+country. The bairn disappeared the very day that Supervisor Kennedy came
+by his end. He was a daft dog! Oh, an' he could ha' handen' off the
+smugglers! Ye see, sir, there was a king's sloop down in Wigton Bay, and
+Frank Kennedy, he behoved to have her up to chase Dirk Hatteraick's
+lugger. He was a daring cheild, and fought his ship till she blew up
+like peelings of ingans."
+
+"And Mr. Bertram's child," said the stranger, "what is all this to him?"
+
+"Ou, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi' the supervisor, and it was
+generally thought he went on board the vessel with him."
+
+"No, no; you're clean out there, Luckie! The young laird was stown awa'
+by a randy gipsy woman they ca'd Meg Merrilies," said the deacon.
+
+But the presenter would not have this version, and told a tale of how an
+astrologer, an ancient man, had appeared at the time of the heir's
+birth, and told the laird that the Evil One would have power over the
+knave bairn, and he charged him that the bairn should be brought up in
+the ways of piety, and should aye hae a godly minister at his elbow; and
+the aged man vanished away, and so they engaged Dominie Sampson to be
+with him morn and night. But even that godly minister had failed to
+protect the child, who was last seen being carried off by Frank Kennedy
+on his horse to see a king's ship chase a smuggler. The excise-man's
+body was found at the foot of the crags at Warroch Point, but no one
+knew what had become of the child.
+
+A smart servant entered with a note for the stranger, saying, "The
+family at Ellangowan are in great distress, sir, and unable to receive
+any visits."
+
+"I know it," said his master. "And now, madam, if you will have the
+goodness to allow me to occupy the parlour----"
+
+"Certainly, sir," said Mrs. MacCandlish, and hastened to light the way.
+
+"And wha' may your master be, friend?"
+
+"What! That's the famous Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East Indies."
+
+"What, him we read of in the papers?"
+
+"Lord safe us!" said the landlady. "I must go and see what he would have
+for supper--that I should set him down here."
+
+When the landlady re-entered, Colonel Mannering asked her if Mr. Bertram
+lost his son in his fifth year.
+
+"O ay, sir, there's nae doubt of that; though there are many idle
+clashes about the way and manner. And the news being rashly told to the
+leddy cost her her life that saym night; and the laird never throve from
+that day, was just careless of everything. Though when Miss Lucy grew up
+she tried to keep order. But what could she do, poor thing? So now
+they're out of house and hauld."
+
+
+_II.--Vanbeest Brown's Reappearance_
+
+
+Early next morning, Mannering took the road to Ellangowan. He had no
+need to inquire the way; people of all descriptions streamed to the sale
+from all quarters.
+
+When the old towers of the ruin rose upon his view, thoughts thronged
+upon the mind of the traveller. How changed his feelings since he lost
+sight of them so many years before! Then life and love were new, and all
+the prospect was gilded by their rays. And now, disappointed in
+affection, sated with fame, goaded by bitter and repentant
+recollections, his best hope was to find a retirement in which to nurse
+the melancholy which was to accompany him to his grave. About a year
+before, in India, he had returned from a distant expedition to find a
+young cadet named Brown established as the habitual attendant on his
+wife and daughter, an arrangement which displeased him greatly, owing to
+the suggestions of another cadet, though no objection could be made to
+the youth's character or manners. Brown made some efforts to overcome
+his colonel's prejudice, but feeling himself repulsed, and with scorn,
+desisted, and continued his attentions in defiance. At last some trifle
+occurred which occasioned high words and a challenge. They met on the
+frontiers of the settlement, and Brown fell at the first shot. A horde
+of Looties, a species of banditti, poured in upon them, and Colonel
+Mannering and his second escaped with some difficulty. His wife's death
+shortly after, and his daughter's severe illness, made him throw up his
+command and come home. She was now staying with some old friends in
+Westmoreland, almost restored to her wonted health and gaiety.
+
+When Colonel Mannering reached the house he found his old acquaintance
+paralysed, helpless, waiting for the postchaise to take him away.
+Mannering's evident emotion at once attained him the confidence of Lucy
+Bertram. The laird showed no signs of recognising Mannering; but when
+the man, Gilbert Glossin, who had brought him to this pass, had the
+effrontery to make his appearance, he started up, violently reproaching
+him, sank into his chair again, and died almost without a groan.
+
+A torrent of sympathy now poured forth, the sale was postponed, and
+Mannering decided on making a short tour till it should take place, but
+he was called back to Westmoreland, and, owing to the delay of his
+messenger, the estate passed into the hands of Glossin. Lucy and Dominie
+Sampson, who would not be separated from his pupil, found a temporary
+home in the house of Mr. MacMorlan, the sheriff-substitute, a good
+friend of the family.
+
+Colonel Mannering lost no time in hiring for a season a large and
+comfortable mansion not far from Ellangowan, having some hopes of
+ultimately buying that estate. Besides a sincere desire to serve the
+distressed, he saw the advantage his daughter Julia might receive from
+the company of Lucy Bertram, whose prudence and good sense might be
+relied on, and therefore induced her to become the visitor of a season,
+and the dominie thereupon required no pressing to accept the office of
+librarian. The household was soon settled in its new quarters, and the
+young ladies followed their studies and amusements together.
+
+Society was quickly formed, most of the families in the neighbourhood
+visited Colonel Mannering, and Charles Hazlewood soon held a
+distinguished place in his favour and was a frequent visitor, his
+parents quite forgetting their old fear of his boyish attachment to
+penniless Lucy Bertram in the thought that the beautiful Miss Mannering,
+of high family, with a great fortune, was a prize worth looking after.
+They did not know that the colonel's journey to Westmoreland was in
+consequence of a letter from his friend there expressing uneasiness
+about serenades from the lake beside the house. However, he had returned
+without making any discovery or any advance in his daughter's
+confidence, who might have told him that Brown still lived, had not her
+natural good sense and feeling been warped by the folly of a misjudging,
+romantic mother, who had called her husband a tyrant until she feared
+him as such.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Vanbeest Brown had escaped from captivity and attained the rank of
+captain after Mannering left India, and his regiment having been
+recalled home, was determined to persevere in his addresses to Julia
+while she left him a ray of hope, believing that the injuries he had
+received from her father might dispense with his using much ceremony
+towards him.
+
+So, soon after the Mannerings' settlement in Scotland, he was staying in
+the inn at Kippletringan; and, as the landlady said, "a' the hoose was
+ta'en wi' him, he was such a frank, pleasant young man." There had been
+a good deal of trouble with the smugglers of late, and one day Brown met
+the young ladies with Charles Hazlewood. Julia's alarm at his appearance
+misled that young man, and he spoke roughly to Brown, even threatening
+him with his gun. In the confusion the gun went off, wounding Hazlewood.
+
+
+_III.--Glossin's Villainy_
+
+
+Gilbert Glossin, Esq., now Laird of Ellangowan, and justice of the
+peace, saw an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the country
+gentry, and exerted himself to discover the person by whom young Charles
+Hazlewood had been wounded. So it was with great pleasure he heard his
+servants announce that MacGuffog, the thief-taker, had a man waiting his
+honour, handcuffed and fettered.
+
+The worthy judge and the captive looked at each other steadily. At
+length Glossin said:
+
+"So, captain, this is you? You've been a stranger on these coasts for
+some years."
+
+"Stranger!" replied the other. "Strange enough, I should think, for hold
+me der teyvil, if I have ever been here before."
+
+Glossin took a pair of pistols, and loaded them.
+
+"You may retire," said he to his clerk, "and carry the people with you,
+but wait within call." Then: "You are Dirk Hatteraick, are you not?"
+
+"Tousand teyvils! And if you know that, why ask me?"
+
+"Captain, bullying won't do. You'll hardly get out of this country
+without accounting for a little accident at Warroch Point a few years
+ago."
+
+Hatteraick's looks grew black as midnight.
+
+"For my part," continued Glossin. "I have no wish to be hard on an old
+acquaintance, but I must send you off to Edinburgh this very day."
+
+"Poz donner! you would not do that?" said the prisoner. "Why, you had
+the matter of half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vanbruggen!"
+
+"It was an affair in the way of business," said Glossin, "and I have
+retired from business for some time."
+
+"Ay, but I have a notion I could make you go steady about, and try the
+old course again," said Dirk Hatteraick. "I had something to tell you."
+
+"Of the boy?" said Glossin eagerly.
+
+"Yaw, mynheer," replied the captain coolly.
+
+"He does not live, does he?"
+
+"As lifelich as you or me," said Hatteraick.
+
+"Good God! But in India?" exclaimed Glossin.
+
+"No, tousand teyvils, here--on this dirty coast of yours!" rejoined the
+prisoner.
+
+"But, Hatteraick, this--that is, if it be true, will ruin us both, for
+he cannot but remember."
+
+"I tell you," said the seaman, "it will ruin none but you, for I am done
+up already, and if I must strap for it, all shall out."
+
+Glossin paused--the sweat broke upon his brow; while the hard-featured
+miscreant sat opposite coolly rolling his tobacco in his cheek.
+
+"It would be ruin," said Glossin to himself, "absolute ruin, if the heir
+should reappear--and then what might be the consequences of conniving
+with these men?"
+
+"Hark you, Hatteraick, I can't set you at liberty, but I can put you
+where you can set yourself at liberty. I always like to assist an old
+friend."
+
+So he gave him a file.
+
+"There's a friend for you, and you know the way to the sea, and you must
+remain snug at the point of Warroch till I see you."
+
+"The point of Warroch?" Hatteraick's countenance fell. "What--in the
+cave? I would rather it was anywhere else. They say he walks. But donner
+and blitzen! I never shunned him alive, and I won't shun him dead!"
+
+The justice dismissed the party to keep guard for the night in the old
+castle with a large allowance of food and liquor, with the full hope and
+belief that they would spend the night neither in watching nor prayer.
+Next morning great was the alarm when the escape of the prisoner was
+discovered. When the officers had been sent off in all directions
+(except the right one), Glossin went to Hatteraick in the cave. A light
+soon broke upon his confusion of ideas. This missing heir was Vanbeest
+Brown who had wounded young Hazlewood. He hastily explained to Dick
+Hatteraick that his goods which had been seized were lying in the
+Custom-house at Portanferry, and there to the Bridewell beside it be
+would send this younker, when he had caught him; would take care that
+the soldiers were dispersed, and he, Dick Hatteraick, could land with
+his crew, receive his own goods, and carry the younker Brown back to
+Flushing.
+
+"Ay, carry him to Flushing," said the captain, "or to America, or--to
+Jericho?"
+
+"Psha! Wherever you have a mind."
+
+"Ay, or pitch him overboard?"
+
+"Nay, I advise no violence."
+
+"Nein, nein! You leave that to me Sturm-wetter; I know you of old. But,
+hark ye, what am I, Dirk Hatteraick, to be the better for this?"
+
+Glossin made him understand it would not be safe for either of them if
+young Ellangowan settled in the country, and their plans were soon
+arranged. None of the old crew were alive but the gipsy who had sent the
+news of Brown's whereabouts and identity.
+
+Brown, or, as we may now call him, Harry Bertram, had retreated into
+England, but now, hearing that Hazlewood's wound was trifling, returned
+and landed at Ellangowan Bay; he approached the castle, unconscious as
+the most absolute stranger, where his ancestors had exercised all but
+regal dominion.
+
+Confused memories thronged his mind, and he paused by a curious
+coincidence on nearly the same spot on which his father had died, just
+as Glossin came up the bank with an architect, to whom he was talking of
+alterations; Bertram turned short round upon him, and said:
+
+"Would you destroy this fine old castle, sir?"
+
+He was so exactly like his father in his best days that Glossin thought
+the grave had given up its dead. He staggered back, but instantly
+recovered, and whispered a few words in the ear of his companion, who
+immediately went towards the house, while Glossin talked civilly to
+Bertram. By the next evening he was safely locked up in the Bridewell at
+Portanferry, until Sir Charles Hazlewood, the injured youth's father, to
+whom Glossin had conducted him, could make inquiries as to the truth of
+his story.
+
+
+_IV.--Bertram's Restoration_
+
+
+Bertram, unable to sleep, gazing out of the window of his prison, saw a
+long boat making for the quay. About twenty men landed and disappeared,
+and soon a miscellaneous crowd came back, some carrying torches, some
+bearing packages and barrels, and a red glare illuminated land and sea,
+and shone full on them, as with ferocious activity they loaded their
+boats. A fierce attack was made on the prison gates; they were soon
+forced, and three or four smugglers hurried to Bertram's apartment. "Der
+teyvil," said the leader, "here's our mark!" And two of them seized on
+Bertram, and one whispered, "Make no resistance till you are in the
+street."
+
+They dragged him along, and in the confusion outside the gang got
+separated. A noise as of a body of horse advancing seemed to add to the
+disturbance, the press became furiously agitated, shots were fired, and
+the glittering swords of dragoons began to appear. Now came the warning
+whisper: "Shake off that fellow, and follow me!"
+
+Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly, easily burst from the other
+man's grasp, and dived through a narrow lane after his guide, at the end
+of which stood a postchaise with four horses.
+
+"Get into it," said the guide. "You will soon be in a place of safety."
+
+They were driven at a rapid rate through the dark lanes, and suddenly
+stopped at the door of a large house. Brown, dizzied by the sudden glare
+of light, almost unconsciously entered the open door, and confronted
+Colonel Mannering; interpreting his fixed and motionless astonishment
+into displeasure at his intrusion, hastened to say it was involuntary.
+
+"Mr. Brown, I believe?" said Colonel Mannering.
+
+"Yes, sir," said the young man modestly but firmly. "The same you knew
+in India, and who ventures to hope that you would favour him with your
+attestation to his character as a gentleman and man of honour."
+
+At this critical moment appeared Mr. Pleydell, the lawyer who had
+conducted the inquiry as to the disappearance of Harry Bertram, who
+happened to be staying with Colonel Mannering, and he instantly saw the
+likeness to the late laird.
+
+Bertram was as much confounded at the appearance of those to whom he so
+unexpectedly presented himself as they were at the sight of him. Mr.
+Pleydell alone was in his element, and at once took upon himself the
+whole explanation. His catechism had not proceeded far before Dominie
+Sampson rose hastily, with trembling hands and streaming eyes, and
+called aloud:
+
+"Harry Bertram, look at me!"
+
+"Yes," said Bertram, starting from his seat--"yes, that was my name, and
+that is my kind old master."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When they parted for the night Colonel Mannering walked up to Bertram,
+gave him joy of his prospects, and hoped unkindness would be forgotten
+between them. It was he who had sent the postchaise to Portanferry in
+consequence of a letter he had received from Meg Merrilies; it was she
+who had sent back the soldiers so opportunely, and through her the next
+day Dirk Hatteraick was captured; but, unhappily, she was killed by that
+ruffian at the moment of the fulfilment of her hopes for the family of
+Ellangowan.
+
+Glossin also met the fate he deserved at the hands of Hatteraick, who
+had claims to no virtue but fidelity to his shipowners.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Pleydell carried through his law business successfully, and we leave
+him and the colonel examining plans for a new house for Julia and
+Bertram on the estate of Ellangowan. Another house on the estate was to
+be repaired for the other young couple, Lucy and Hazlewood, and called
+Mount Hazlewood.
+
+"And see," said the colonel, "here's the plan of my bungalow, with all
+convenience for being separate and sulky when I please."
+
+"And you will repair the tower for the nocturnal contemplation of the
+heavenly bodies. Bravo, colonel!"
+
+"No, no, my dear Pleydell! Here ends the astrologer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+The Heart of Midlothian
+
+
+     John Ruskin coupled "Rob Roy" and "The Heart of Midlothian" as
+     the best of all the "Waverley Novels." The latter,
+     constituting the second series in the "Tales of My Landlord,"
+     was published in 1818, and was composed during a period of
+     recurrent fits of intense bodily pain. The romance gets its
+     name from Midlothian, or Middle Lothian, an Edinburgh prison
+     which in days gone by used to mark the centre of the district
+     of Lothian, between the Tweed and the Forth, now the County of
+     Edinburgh. According to Scott himself, the story of the
+     heroism of Jeannie Deans was founded on fact. Her prototype
+     was one Helen Walker, the daughter of a small Dumfriesshire
+     farmer, who in order to get the Duke of Argyle to intercede to
+     save her sister's life got up a petition and actually walked
+     to London barefoot to present it to his grace. Helen Walker
+     died in 1791, and on the tombstone of this unassuming heroine
+     is an inscription by Scott himself.
+
+
+_I.--In the Tolbooth_
+
+
+In former times England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims of
+justice were conducted in solemn procession; and in Edinburgh, a large
+oblong square, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same purpose.
+This place was crowded to suffocation on the day when John Porteous,
+captain of the City Guard, was to be hanged, sentenced to death for
+firing on the crowd on the occasion of the execution of a popular
+smuggler.
+
+The grim appearance of the populace conveyed the impression of men who
+had come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. When the news that
+Porteous was respited for six weeks was announced, a roar of rage and
+mortification arose, but speedily subsided into stifled mutterings as
+the people slowly dispersed.
+
+That night the mob broke into the Tolbooth, the prison, commonly called
+the Heart of Midlothian, dragged the wretched Porteous from the chimney
+in which he had concealed himself, and carried him off to the
+Grassmarket, where, as the leader of the rioters, a tall man dressed in
+woman's clothes said he had spilled the blood of so many innocents.
+
+"Let no man hurt him," continued the speaker. "Let him make his peace
+with God, if he can; we will not kill both soul and body."
+
+A young minister named Butler, whom the rioters had met and compelled to
+come with them, was brought to the prisoner's side, to prepare him for
+instant death. With a generous disregard of his own safety, Butler
+besought the crowd to consider what they did. But in vain. The unhappy
+man was forced to his fate with remorseless rapidity, and Butler,
+separated from him by the press, and unnoticed by those who had hitherto
+kept him prisoner, escaped the last horror, and fled from the fatal
+spot.
+
+His first purpose was instantly to take the road homewards, but other
+fears and cares, connected with news he had that day heard, induced him
+to linger till daybreak.
+
+Reuben Butler was the grandson of a trooper in Monk's army, and had been
+brought up by a grandmother, a widow, a cotter who struggled with
+poverty and the hard and sterile soil on the land of the Laird of
+Dumbiedikes. She was helped by the advice of another tenant, David
+Deans, a staunch Presbyterian, and Jeannie, his little daughter, and
+Reuben herded together the handful of sheep and the two or three cows,
+and went together to the school; where Reuben, as much superior to
+Jeannie Deans in acuteness of intellect as inferior to her in firmness
+of constitution, was able to requite in full the kindness and
+countenance with which, in other circumstances, she used to regard him.
+
+While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the university the knowledge
+necessary for a clergyman, David Deans, by shrewdness and skill, gained
+a footing in the world and the possession of some wealth. He had married
+again, and another daughter had been born to him. But now his wife was
+dead, and he had left his old home, and become a dairy farmer about half
+a mile from Edinburgh, and the unceasing industry and activity of
+Jeannie was exerted in making the most of the produce of their cows.
+
+Effie, his youngest daughter, under the tend guileless purity of
+thought, speech, and action, as by her uncommon loveliness of person.
+The news that this girl was in prison on suspicion of the murder of her
+child was what kept Reuben Butler lingering on the hills outside
+Edinburgh, until a fitting time should arrive to wait upon Jeannie and
+her father. Effie denied all guilt of infanticide; but she had concealed
+the birth of a child, and the child had disappeared, so that by the law
+she was judged guilty.
+
+His limbs exhausted with fatigue, Butler dragged himself up to St.
+Leonard's crags, and presented himself at the door of Deans' habitation,
+with feelings much akin to the miserable fears of its inhabitants.
+
+"Come in," answered the low, sweet-toned voice he loved best to hear, as
+he tapped at the door. The old man was seated by the fire with his
+well-worn pocket Bible in his hands, and turned his face away as Butler
+entered and clasped the extended hand which had supported his orphan
+infancy, wept over it, and in vain endeavoured to say more than "God
+comfort you! God comfort you!"
+
+"He will--He doth, my friend," said Deans. "He doth now, and He will yet
+more in His own gude time. I have been ower proud of my sufferings in a
+gude cause, Reuben, and now I am to be tried with those whilk will turn
+my pride and glory into a reproach and a hissing."
+
+Butler had too much humanity to do anything but encourage the good old
+man as he reckoned up with conscious pride the constancy of his
+testimony and his sufferings, but seized the opportunity as soon as
+possible of some private conversation with Jeannie. He gave her the
+message he had received from a stranger he had met an hour or two
+before, to the effect that she must meet him that night alone at
+Muschat's cairn at moonrise.
+
+"Tell him," said Jeannie hastily, "I will certainly come"; and to all
+Butler's entreaties and expostulations would give no explanation. They
+were recalled--"ben the house," to use the language of the country--by
+the loud tones of David Deans, and found the poor old man half frantic
+between grief and zealous ire against proposals to employ a lawyer on
+Effie's behalf, they being, all, in his opinion, carnal, crafty
+self-seekers.
+
+But when the poor old man, fatigued with the arguments and presence of
+his guests, retired to his sleeping apartment, the Laird of Dumbiedikes
+said he would employ his own man of business, and Butler set off
+instantly to see Effie herself, and try to get her to give him the
+information that she had refused to everyone.
+
+"Farewell, Jeannie," said he. "Take no _rash steps_ till you hear from
+me."
+
+Butler was at once recognised by the turnkey when he presented himself
+at the Tolbooth, and detained as having been connected with the riots
+the night before. One of the prisoners had recognised Robertson, the
+leader of the rioters, and seen him trying to persuade Effie Deans to
+escape and to save himself from the gallows, being a well-known thief
+and prison-breaker, gave information, hoping, as he candidly said, to
+obtain the post of gaoler himself.
+
+It became obvious that the father of Effie's child and the slayer of
+Porteous were one and the same person, and on hearing from Butler, who
+had no reason to conceal his movements, of the stranger he had met on
+the hill, the procurator fiscal, otherwise the superintendent of police,
+with a strong body-guard, interrupted Jeannie's meeting with the
+stranger that night; but he had made her understand that her sister's
+life was in her hands before, hearing men approaching, he plunged into
+the darkness and was lost to sight.
+
+
+_II.--Effie's Trial_
+
+
+Soon afterwards, Ratcliffe, the prisoner who had recognised Robertson,
+received a full pardon, and becoming gaoler, was repeatedly applied to,
+to procure an interview between the sisters; but the magistrates had
+given strict orders to the contrary, hoping that they might, by keeping
+them apart, obtain some information respecting the fugitive. But Jeannie
+knew nothing of Robertson, except having met him that night by
+appointment to give her some advice respecting her sister's concern, the
+which, she said, was betwixt God and her conscience. And Effie was
+equally silent. In vain they offered, even a free pardon, if she would
+confess what she knew of her lover.
+
+At length the day was fixed for Effie's trial, and on the preceding
+evening Jeannie was allowed to see her sister. Even the hard-hearted
+turnkey could not witness the scene without a touch of human sympathy.
+
+"Ye are ill, Effie," were the first words Jeannie could utter. "Ye are
+very ill."
+
+"O, what wad I gie to be ten times waur, Jeannie!" was the reply. "O
+that I were lying dead at my mother's side!"
+
+"Hout, lassie!" said Ratcliffe. "Dinna be sae dooms downhearted as a'
+that. There's mony a tod hunted that's no killed. They are weel aff has
+such a counsel and agent as ye have; ane's aye sure of fair play."
+
+But the mourners had become unconscious of his presence. "O Effie," said
+her elder sister, "how could you conceal your situation from me? O
+woman, had I deserved this at your hand? Had ye but spoke ae word----"
+
+"What gude wad that hae dune?" said the prisoner. "Na, na, Jeannie; a'
+was ower whan once I forgot what I promised when I turned down the leaf
+of my Bible. See, the Book aye opens at the place itsell. O see,
+Jeannie, what a fearfu' Scripture!"
+
+"O if ye had spoken ae word again!" sobbed Jeannie. "If I were free to
+swear that ye had said but ae word of how it stude wi' you, they couldna
+hae touched your life this day!"
+
+"Could they na?" said Effie, with something like awakened interest.
+"Wha' tauld ye that, Jeannie?"
+
+"It was ane that kenned what he was saying weel eneugh," said Jeannie.
+
+"Hout!" said Ratcliffe. "What signifies keeping the poor lassie in a
+swither? I'se uphand it's been Robertson that learned ye that doctrine."
+
+"Was it him?" cried Effie. "Was it him, indeed? O I see it was him, poor
+lad! And I was thinking his heart was as hard as the nether millstane,
+and him in sic danger on his ain part. Poor George! O, Jeannie, tell me
+every word he said, and if he was sorry for poor Effie!"
+
+"What needs I tell ye onything about 't?" said Jeannie. "Ye may be sure
+he had ower muckle about onybody beside."
+
+"That's no' true, Jeannie, though a saint had said it," replied Effie.
+"But ye dinna ken, though I do, how far he put his life in venture to
+save mine." And looking at Ratcliffe, checked herself and was silent.
+
+"I fancy," said he, "the lassie thinks naebody has een but hersell.
+Didna I see Gentle Geordie trying to get other folk out of the Tolbooth
+forbye Jock Porteous? Ye needna look sae amazed. I ken mair things than
+that, maybe."
+
+"O my God, my God!" said she, throwing herself on her knees before him.
+"D'ye ken where they hae putten my bairn? O my bairn, my bairn! Tell me
+wha has taen't away, or what they hae dune wi't!"
+
+As his answer destroyed the wild hope that had suddenly dawned upon her,
+the unhappy prisoner fell on the floor in a strong convulsion fit.
+
+Jeannie instantly applied herself to her sister's relief, and Ratcliffe
+had even the delicacy to withdraw to the other end of the room to render
+his official attendance as little intrusive as possible; while Jeannie
+commenced her narrative of all that had passed between her and
+Robertson. After a long pause:
+
+"And he wanted you to say something to you folks that wad save my young
+life?" said Effie.
+
+"He wanted," said Jeannie, "that I shuld be mansworn!"
+
+"And you tauld him," said Effie, "that ye wadna hear o' coming between
+me and death, and me no aughteen year auld yet?"
+
+"I dinna deserve this frae ye, Effie," said her sister, feeling the
+injustice of the reproach and compassion for the state of mind which
+dictated it.
+
+"Maybe no, sister," said Effie. "But ye are angry because I love
+Robertson. Sure am I, if it had stude wi' him as it stands wi' you----"
+
+"O if it stude wi' me to save ye wi' the risk of _my_ life!" said
+Jeannie.
+
+"Ay, lass," said her sister, "that's lightly said, but no sae lightly
+credited frae ane that winna ware a word for me; and if it be a wrang
+word, ye'll hae time enough to repent o' 't."
+
+"But that word is a grievous sin."
+
+"Well, weel, Jeannie, never speak mair o' 't," said the prisoner. "It's
+as weel as it is. And gude-day, sister. Ye keep Mr. Ratcliffe waiting
+on. Ye'll come back and see me, I reckon, before----"
+
+"And are we to part in this way," said Jeannie, "and you in sic deadly
+peril? O, Effie, look but up and say what ye wad hae me do, and I could
+find it in my heart amaist to say I wad do 't."
+
+"No, Jeannie," said her sister, with an effort. "I'm better minded now.
+God knows, in my sober mind, I wadna' wuss any living creature to do a
+wrang thing to save my life!"
+
+But when Jeannie was called to give her evidence next day, Effie, her
+whole expression altered to imploring, almost ecstatic earnestness of
+entreaty, exclaimed, in a tone that went through all hearts:
+
+"O Jeannie, Jeannie, save me, save me!"
+
+Jeannie suddenly extended her hand to her sister, who covered it with
+kisses and bathed it with tears; while Jeannie wept bitterly.
+
+It was some time before the judge himself could subdue his own emotion
+and administer the oath: "The truth to tell, and no truth to conceal, in
+the name of God, and as the witness should answer to God at the great
+Day of Judgement." Jeannie, educated in devout reverence for the name of
+the Deity, was awed, but at the same time elevated above all
+considerations save those to which she could, with a clear conscience,
+call him to witness. Therefore, though she turned deadly pale, and
+though the counsel took every means to make it easy for her to bear
+false witness, she replied to his question as to what Effie had said
+when questioned as to what ailed her, "Alack! alack! she never breathed
+a word to me about it."
+
+A deep groan passed through the court, and the unfortunate father fell
+forward, senseless. The secret hope to which he had clung had now
+dissolved. The prisoner with impotent passion, strove with her guard.
+"Let me gang to my father! He is dead! I hae killed him!" she repeated
+in frenzied tones.
+
+Even in that moment of agony Jeannie did not lose that superiority that
+a deep and firm mind assures to its possessor. She stooped, and began
+assiduously to chafe her father's temples.
+
+The judge, after repeatedly wiping his eyes, gave directions that they
+should be removed and carefully attended. The prisoner pursued them with
+her eyes, and when they were no longer visible, seemed to find courage
+in her despair.
+
+"The bitterness of 't is now past," she said. "My lords, if it is your
+pleasure to gang on wi' this matter, the weariest day will have its end
+at last."
+
+
+_III.--Jeannie's Pilgrimage_
+
+
+David Deans and his eldest daughter found in the house of a cousin the
+nearest place of friendly refuge. When he recovered from his long swoon,
+he was too feeble to speak when their hostess came in.
+
+"Is all over?" said Jeannie, with lips pale as ashes. "And is there no
+hope for her?"
+
+"Nane, or next to nane," said her cousin, Mrs. Saddletree; but added
+that the foreman of the jury had wished her to get the king's mercy, and
+"nae ma about it."
+
+"But can the king gie her mercy?" said Jeannie.
+
+"I well he wot he can, when he likes," said her cousin and gave
+instances, finishing with Porteous.
+
+"Porteous," said Jeannie, "very true. I forgot a' that I culd mind
+maist. Fare ye well, Mrs. Saddletree. May ye never want a friend in the
+hour o' distress."
+
+To Mrs. Saddletree's protests she replied there was much to be done and
+little time to do it in; then, kneeling by her father's bed, begged his
+blessing. Instinctively the old man murmured a prayer, and his daughter
+saying, "He has blessed mine errand; it is borne in on my mind that I
+shall prosper," left the room. Mrs. Saddletree looked after her, and
+shook her head. "I wish she binna roving, poor thing. There's something
+queer about a' thae Deanes. I dinna like folk to be sae muckle better
+than ither folk; seldom comes gude o't."
+
+But she took good care of "the honest auld man," until he was able to go
+to his own home.
+
+Effie was roused from her state of stupefied horror by the entrance of
+Jeannie who, rushing into the cell, threw her arms round her neck.
+
+"What signifies coming to greet ower me," said poor Effie, "when you
+have killed me? Killed me, when a word from your mouth would have saved
+me."
+
+"You shall not die," said Jeannie, with enthusiastic firmness. "Say what
+you like o' me, only promise, for I doubt your proud heart, that you
+winna' harm yourself? I will go to London and beg your pardon from the
+king and queen. They _shall_ pardon you, and they will win a thousand
+hearts by it!"
+
+She soon tore herself from her sister's arms and left the cell.
+Ratcliffe followed her, so impressed was he by her "spunk," he advised
+her as to her proceedings, to find a friend to speak for her to the
+king--the Duke of Argyle, if possible--and wrote her a line or two on a
+dirty piece of paper, which would be useful if she fell among thieves.
+Jeannie then hastened home to St. Leonard's Crags, and gave full
+instructions to her usual assistant, concerning the management of
+domestic affairs and arrangements for her father's comfort in her
+absence. She got a loan of money from the Laird of Dumbiedikes, and set
+off without losing a moment on her walk to London. On her way she
+stopped to bid adieu to her old friend Reuben Butler, whom she had
+expected to see at the court yesterday. She knew, of course, that he was
+still under some degree of restraint--he had been obliged to find bail
+not to quit his usual residence, in case he were wanted as a witness--
+but she had hoped he would have found means to be with his old friend on
+such a day.
+
+She found him quite seriously ill, as she had feared, but yet most
+unwilling to let her go on this errand alone; she must give him a
+husband's right to protect her. But she, pointing out the fact that he
+was scarcely able to stand, said this was no time to speak of marrying
+or giving in marriage, asked him if his grandfather had not done some
+good to the forebear of MacCallumore. It was so, and Reuben gave her the
+papers to prove it, and a letter to the Duke of Argyle; and she, begging
+him to do what he could for her father and sister, left the room
+hastily.
+
+With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, Jeannie Deans,
+travelling at the rate of twenty miles and more a day, traversed the
+southern part of Scotland, where her bare feet attracted no attention.
+She had to conform to the national extravagance in England, and
+confessed afterwards "that besides the wastrife, it was lang or she
+could walk as comfortably with the shoes as without them"; but found the
+people very hospitable on the whole, and sometimes got a cast in a
+waggon.
+
+At last London was reached, and an audience obtained with the Duke of
+Argyie. His Grace's heart warmed to the tartan when Jeannie appeared
+before him in the dress of a Scottish maiden of her class. His
+grandfather's letter, too, was a strong injunction to assist Stephen
+Butler, his friends or family, and he exerted himself to such good
+purpose, that he brought her into the presence of the queen to plead her
+cause for herself. Her majesty smiled at Jeannie's awestruck manner and
+broad Northern accent, and listened kindly, but said:
+
+"If the king were to pardon your sister, it would in all probability do
+her little good, for I suppose the people of Edinburgh would hang her
+out of spite." But Jeannie said: "She was confident that baith town and
+country would rejoice to see his majesty taking compassion on a poor
+unfriended creature." The queen was not convinced of the propriety of
+showing any marked favour to Edinburgh so soon--"the whole nation must
+be in a league to screen the murderers of Porteous"--but Jeannie pleaded
+her sister's cause with a pathos at once simple and solemn, and her
+majesty ended by giving her a housewife case to remind her of her
+interview with Queen Caroline, and promised her warm intercession with
+the king.
+
+The Duke of Argyie came to Jeannie's cousin's, where she was staying, in
+a few days to say that a pardon had been dispatched to Effie Deans, on
+condition of her banishing herself forth of Scotland for fourteen
+years--a qualification which greatly grieved the affectionate
+disposition of her sister.
+
+
+_IV.--In After Years_
+
+
+When Jeannie set out from London on her homeward journey, it was not to
+travel on foot, but in the Duke of Argyle's carriage, and the end of the
+journey was not Edinburgh, but the isle of Roseneath, in the Firth of
+Clyde. When the landing-place was reached, it was in the arms of her
+father that Jeannie was received.
+
+It was too wonderful to be believed--but the form was indisputable.
+Douce David Deans himself, in his best light-blue Sunday coat, with
+broad metal buttons, and waistcoat and breeches of the same.
+
+"Jeannie--my ain Jeannie--my best--my maist dutiful bairn! The Lord of
+Israel be thy father, for I am hardly worthy of thee! Thou hast redeemed
+our captivity, brought back the honour of our house!"
+
+These words broke from him not without tears, though David was of no
+melting mood.
+
+"And Effie--and Effie, dear father?" was Jeannie's eager question.
+
+"You will never see her mair, my bairn," answered Deans, in solemn
+tones.
+
+"She is dead! It has come ower late!" exclaimed Jeannie, wringing her
+hands.
+
+"No, Jeannie, she lives in the flesh, and is at freedom from earthly
+restraint. But she has left her auld father, that has wept and prayed
+for her. She has left her sister, that travailed and toiled for her like
+a mother. She has made a moonlight flitting of it."
+
+"And wi' that man--that fearfu' man?" said Jeannie.
+
+"It is ower truly spoken," said Deans. "But never, Jeannie never more
+let her name be spoken between you and me."
+
+The next surprise for Jeannie Deans was the appearance of Reuben Butler,
+who had been appointed by the Duke of Argyle to the kirk of
+Knocktarlitie, at Roseneath; and within a reasonable time after the new
+minister had been comfortably settled in his living, the banns were
+called, and long wooing of Reuben and Jeannie was ended by their union
+in the holy bands of matrimony.
+
+Effie, married to Robertson, whose real name was Staunton, paid a
+furtive visit to her sister, and many years later, when her husband was
+no longer a desperate outlaw, but Sir George Staunton, and beyond
+anxiety of recognition, the two sisters corresponded freely, and Lady
+Staunton even came to stay with Mrs. Butler, after old Deans was dead.
+
+A famous woman in society was Lady Staunton, but she was childless, for
+the child of her shame, carried off by gypsies, she saw no more.
+
+Jeannie and Reuben, happy in each other, in the prosperity of their
+family, and the love and honour of all by gypsies, she saw no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Ivanhoe
+
+
+     "Ivanhoe," in common with "The Legend of Montrose" and "The
+     Bride of Lammermoor," was written, or rather dictated to
+     amanuenses, during a period of great physical suffering;
+     "through fits of suffering," says one of Scott's biographers,
+     "so great that he could not suppress cries of agony."
+     "Ivanhoe" made its appearance towards the end of 1819.
+     Although the book lacks much of that vivid portraiture that
+     distinguishes Scott's other novels, the intense vigour of the
+     narrative, and the striking presentation of mediaeval life,
+     more than atone for the former lapse. From the first,
+     "Ivanhoe" has been singularly successful, and it is, and has
+     been, more popular among English readers than any of the
+     so-called "Scottish novels." According to Sir Leslie Stephen,
+     it was Scott's culminating success in the book-selling sense.
+
+
+_I.--The Hall of Cedric the Saxon_
+
+
+In the hall of Rotherwood at the centre of the upper table sat Cedric
+the Saxon, irritable at the delay of his evening meal, and impatient for
+the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, and the return of his
+swineherd Gurth. "They have been carried off to serve the Norman lords,"
+he exclaimed. "But I will be avenged. Haply they think me old, but they
+shall find the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric. Ah, Wilfred,
+Wilfred!" he went on in a lower tone, "couldst thou have ruled thine
+unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the
+solitary oak that throws out its shattered branches against the full
+sweep of the tempest!"
+
+From his melancholy reflections, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the
+blast of a horn.
+
+"To the gate, knaves!" said the Saxon, hastily. "See what tidings that
+horn tells us of."
+
+Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced "that the Prior
+Aymer of Jorvank, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Commander
+of the Order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested
+hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a
+tournament to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche."
+
+"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but, Norman or Saxon, the hospitality
+of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome since they have
+chosen to halt; in the quality of guests, even Normans must suppress
+their insolence."
+
+The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded
+by the major domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing blazing
+torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment, followed by
+their attendants, and, at a more humble distance, by a pilgrim, wearing
+the sandals and broad hat of the palmer.
+
+No sooner were the guests seated, and the repast about to commence, than
+the major domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said
+aloud--"Forbear!--Place for the Lady Rowena." A side door at the upper
+end of the hall now opened, and Cedric's ward, Rowena, a Saxon lady of
+rare beauty and lofty character, entered. All stood up to receive her,
+and, as she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board,
+the Knight Templar's eyes bent on her with an ardour that made Rowena
+draw with dignity the veil around her face.
+
+Cedric and the Prior discoursed on hunting for a time, the Lady Rowena
+seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendants; while the
+haughty Templar's eye wandered from the Saxon beauty to the rest of the
+company.
+
+"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill
+another to the Abbot. To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race
+or language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the
+champions of the Cross!"
+
+"To whom, besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre, whose badge
+I wear, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?" said
+Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
+
+"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena,
+"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple?"
+
+"Forgive me, lady," replied de Bois-Guilbert, "the English monarch did,
+indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to
+those whose breasts have been the bulwark of that blessed land."
+
+"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, and all turned towards the spot from
+whence the declaration came. "I say that the English chivalry were
+second to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I saw it
+when King Richard himself and five of his knights held a tournament
+after the taking of Sir John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers.
+On that day each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three
+antagonists. Seven of these assailants were Knights of the Temple--and
+Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell you."
+
+A bitter smile of rage darkened the countenance of the Templar. At
+Cedric's request the Pilgrim told out the names of the English knights,
+only pausing at the sixth to say--"he was a young knight--his name
+dwells not in my memory."
+
+"Sir Palmer," said the Templar, scornfully, "I will myself tell the name
+of the knight before whose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned
+my falling--it was the Knight of Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six
+that for his years had more renown in arms. Yet this I will say, and
+loudly--that were he in England, and durst repeat, in this week's
+tournament, the challenge of St. John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I
+now am, would give him every advantage of weapons and abide the result."
+
+"Your challenge would be soon answered," replied the Palmer, "were your
+antagonist near you. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be
+his surety that he meet you. And for pledge I proffer this reliquary,"
+taking a small ivory box from his bosom, "containing a portion of the
+true cross, brought from the Monastery of Mount Carmel."
+
+The Templar took from his neck a gold chain, which he flung on the
+board, saying, "Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge, and that of this
+nameless vagrant, in token that when the Knight of Ivanhoe comes within
+the four seas of Britain, he underlies the challenge of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, which, if he answers not, I will proclaim him as a coward
+on the walls of every Temple Court in Europe."
+
+"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "my voice
+shall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised on behalf of the
+absent Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge,
+and I would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud knight
+the meeting he desires."
+
+"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I
+myself, justly offended as I am, would yet gage my honour for the honour
+of Ivanhoe."
+
+The grace-cup was shortly after served round, and the guests marshalled
+to their sleeping apartment.
+
+
+_II.--The Disinherited Knight_
+
+
+The Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby,
+attracted universal attention, as champions of the first renown were to
+take the field in the presence of Prince John himself.
+
+The laws of the tournament, proclaimed by the heralds, were briefly:
+
+First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
+
+Secondly, the general tournament in which all knights present might take
+part; and being divided into two bands of equal numbers, might fight it
+out manfully, until the signal was given by Prince John to cease the
+combat.
+
+The challengers, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were all Normans, and
+Cedric saw, with keen feeling of dissatisfaction, the advantage they
+gained. No less than four parties of knights had gone down before the
+challengers, and Prince John began to talk about adjudging the prize to
+Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and
+foiled a third.
+
+But a new champion had entered the lists. His suit of armour was of
+steel, and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by
+the roots, with the Spanish word _Desdichado_, signifying Disinherited.
+To the astonishment of all present he struck with the sharp end of his
+spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. Amazed
+at his presumption was the redoubted knight, whom he had thus defied to
+mortal combat.
+
+"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "that you
+peril your life so frankly?"
+
+"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited
+Knight.
+
+"Then look your last upon the sun," said Bois-Guilbert; "for this night
+thou shalt sleep in paradise."
+
+The champions closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a
+thunderbolt. The Templar aimed at the centre of his antagonist's shield,
+and struck it so fair that his spear went to shivers, and the
+Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that
+champion addressed his lance to his antagonist's helmet, and hit the
+Norman on the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. The
+girths of the Templar's saddle burst, and saddle, horse, and man rolled
+on the ground under a cloud of dust.
+
+To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the
+Templar scarce the work of a moment; and stung with madness, he drew his
+sword, and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited
+Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The
+marshals of the field, however, intervened, for the laws of the
+tournament did not permit this species of encounter, and Bois-Guilbert
+returned to his tent in an agony of rage and despair.
+
+The Disinherited Knight then sounded a defiance to each of the
+challengers, and the four Normans each in his turn retired discomfited.
+
+The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
+Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited
+Knight.
+
+To Prince John's annoyance the champion declined either to raise his
+visor or to attend the evening banquet, pleading fatigue and the
+necessity of preparing for the morrow. As victor it was his privilege to
+name the lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love, was to preside over
+the next day's festival; and Prince John, having placed upon his lance a
+coronet of green satin, the Disinherited Knight rode slowly around the
+lists and paused beneath the balcony where Cedric and the Lady Rowena
+were placed. Then he deposited the coronet at the feet of the fair
+Rowena, while the populace shouted "Long live the Lady Rowena, the
+chosen and lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!"
+
+On the following morning the general tournament was proclaimed, and
+about fifty knights were ready upon each side, the Disinherited Knight
+leading one body, and Brian de Bois-Guilbert the other.
+
+Prince John escorted Rowena to the seat of honour opposite his own,
+while the fairest ladies present crowded after her to obtain places as
+near as possible to their temporary sovereign.
+
+It was not until the field became thin by the numbers on either side who
+had yielded themselves vanquished that the Templar and the Disinherited
+Knight at length encountered hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal
+animosity and rivalry of honour could inspire. Bois-Guilbert, however,
+was soon joined by two more knights, the gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, and
+the ponderous Athelstane, who, though a Saxon, had enlisted under the
+Norman--to Cedric's disgust. The masterly horsemanship of the
+Disinherited Knight enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's
+point his three antagonists, but it was evident that he must at last be
+overpowered.
+
+An unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day. Among the ranks
+of the Disinherited Knight was a champion in black armour, who bore on
+his shield no device of any kind, and who, beyond beating off with
+seeming ease those who attacked him, evinced little interest in the
+combat.
+
+On discovering the leader of his party so hard beset, this knight threw
+aside his apathy and came to his assistance like a thunderbolt,
+exclaiming in trumpet tones, "_Desdichado_, to the rescue!" It was high
+time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the Templar,
+Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but ere the
+blow could descend, the Black Knight dealt a blow on the head--and
+Front-de-Boeuf rolled to the ground, both horse and man equally stunned.
+The Black Knight then turned upon Athelstane, wrenched from the hand of
+the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and bestowed him such a
+blow on the crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field.
+Having achieved this double feat he retired calmly to the extremity of
+the lists, leaving his leader to cope as best he could with Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty. The
+Templar's horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the
+Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the
+field, and his antagonist, springing from horseback, waved his fatal
+sword over the Templar's head, and commanded him to yield. But Prince
+John saved him that mortification by putting an end to the conflict.
+
+Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. The Knight of the
+Black Armour having disappeared, the Disinherited Knight was named the
+champion of the day, and was conducted to the foot of that throne of
+honour which was occupied by Lady Rowena. His helmet having been
+removed, by order of the marshals, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt
+features of a young man of twenty-five were seen, and no sooner had
+Rowena beheld him than she uttered a faint shriek. Trembling with the
+violence of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the
+victor the splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day.
+
+The Knight stooped his head, and then, sinking down, lay prostrate at
+the feet of his lovely sovereign.
+
+There was general consternation. Cedric, struck mute by the sudden
+appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward. The marshals
+hastened to undo Ivanhoe's armour, and finding that the head of a lance
+had penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side, he was
+quickly removed from the lists.
+
+
+_III.--The Burning of Torquilstone_
+
+
+Cedric, Rowena, and Athelstane, returning home with their retinue from
+Ashby, were waylaid by Bois-Guilbert and his followers, and boldly
+carried off as prisoners to Torquilstone, Front-de-Boeuf's castle. In
+those lawless times these Norman nobles trusted thus to obtain a good
+ransom for Cedric and Athelstane, and to win Rowena for a bride.
+Ivanhoe, who, enfeebled by his wound, lay concealed in a litter, unknown
+to his father, was also taken.
+
+But Gurth rallied the Saxon outlaws and yeomen of the neighbourhood to
+the rescue, the Black Knight of the tournament led the attacking party,
+and in spite of a ferocious defence Torquilstone was stormed. The Black
+Knight bore the wounded Ivanhoe in his arms from the burning castle,
+Rowena was saved by Cedric and Gurth, just as she had abandoned all
+hopes of life.
+
+One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from
+window and shot hole. But, in other parts, the great thickness of the
+walls resisted the progress of the flames, and there the rage of man
+still triumphed. The besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from
+chamber to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which
+animated them against the soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of
+the garrison resisted to the uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none
+received it.
+
+The courtyard of the castle was soon the last scene of the contest. Here
+sat the fierce Templar mounted on horseback, with a remnant of the
+defenders, who fought with the utmost valour. Athelstane who, on the
+flight of the guard, had made his way into the ante-room and thence into
+the court, snatched a mace from the pavement, and rushed on the
+Templar's band striking in quick succession to the right and left: he
+was soon within two yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his
+loudest tone.
+
+But Athelstane was without armour, and a silken bonnet keeps out no
+steel blade. So trenchant was the Templar's weapon that it levelled the
+ill-fated Saxon to the earth.
+
+Taking advantage of the dismay which was spread by the fall of
+Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who would save themselves, follow
+me!" the Templar pushed across the drawbridge, and then galloped off
+with his followers.
+
+And now the towering flames surmounted every obstruction, and rose to
+the evening skies one huge and burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed
+down, with blazing roof and rafter, and the combatants were driven from
+the courtyard.
+
+When the last turret gave way, the voice of Robin Hood was heard,
+"Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil
+to our chosen place of rendezvous, and there at break of day will be
+made just partition among our own bands, together with our allies in
+this great deed of vengeance."
+
+Cedric, ere he departed, earnestly entreated the Black Knight to
+accompany him to Rotherwood, "not as a guest, but as a son or brother."
+
+"To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon," said the Knight, "and that
+speedily. Peradventure, when I come, I will ask such a boon as will put
+even thy generosity to the test."
+
+"It is granted already," said Cedric, "were it to affect half my
+fortune. But my heart is oppressed with sadness, for the noble
+Athelstane is no more. I have but to say," he added, "that during the
+funeral rites I shall inhabit his castle of Coningsburgh--which will be
+open to all who choose to partake of the funeral banqueting."
+
+Rowena waved a graceful adieu to the Black Knight, the Saxon bade God
+speed him, and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.
+
+
+_IV.--Ivanhoe's Wedding_
+
+
+At the castle of Coningsburgh all was a scene of busy commotion when the
+Black Knight, attended by Ivanhoe, who had muffled his face in his
+mantle, entered and was welcomed gravely by Cedric--by common consent
+the chief of the distinguished Saxon families present.
+
+"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we
+last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render
+you, to grant me a boon."
+
+"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad
+moment----"
+
+"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me--but my time is
+brief--neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the noble
+Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."
+
+"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour
+of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."
+
+"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will
+admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black
+Knight--know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to
+my boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive
+to thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."
+
+"My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's
+feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."
+
+"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of
+Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a
+Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena
+must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost
+of Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to
+his memory were it otherwise."
+
+Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane,
+arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard,
+and like something arisen from the dead!
+
+"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal,
+speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"
+
+"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected
+breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed
+on bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's
+sword, stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me
+flatlings, being averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow.
+Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so
+that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin--an
+open one, by good luck--placed before the altar in church. But that
+villain Abbot has kept me a prisoner for three days and he shall hang on
+the top of this castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole. I will be
+king in my own domains, and nowhere else. Cedric, I rise from the tomb a
+wiser man than I descended."
+
+"My ward, Rowena," said Cedric--"you do not intend to desert her?"
+
+"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares
+not for me--she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glove
+better than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it--nay, blush
+not, kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than
+a country thane,--and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes
+and a thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment. Nay, as thou
+wilt needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest--Give me thy hand, or,
+rather, lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. Here,
+cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure--Hey! our
+cousin Wilfred hath vanished!"
+
+Ivanhoe had disappeared, and King Richard had gone also.
+
+Ivanhoe hastened away at a secret message to fight once more with Brian
+de Bois-Guilbert, who had abducted a Jewish maiden named Rebecca, and
+spurned by Rebecca, Bois-Guilbert only escaped condemnation by the Grand
+Master of the Templars for his offence by admitting Rebecca to be a
+sorceress, and by challenging to mortal combat all who should dare to
+champion the high-souled and hapless Hebrew maid.
+
+Bois-Guilbert fell in the lists as Ivanhoe approached, and, unscathed by
+the lance of his enemy, died a victim to the violence of his own
+contending passions.
+
+Ivanhoe and King Richard (who had followed Wilfred) hastened back to
+Coningsburgh, and Cedric, finding his project for the union of Rowena
+and Athelstane at an end by the mutual dissent of both parties, soon
+gave his consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred
+of Ivanhoe.
+
+The nuptials thus formally approved were celebrated in the noble Minster
+of York. The King himself attended, and the presence of high-born
+Normans, as well as Saxons, joined with the universal rejoicing of the
+lower orders, marked the marriage as a pledge of the future peace and
+harmony betwixt the two races.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Kenilworth
+
+
+     Scott's success in portraying the character of Mary Stuart in
+     "The Abbot" fired him with the desire of doing likewise with
+     her great rival Elizabeth; and although history has modified
+     his picture of the English Queen, the portrait still remains a
+     vivid and in many respects a faithful likeness. In his preface
+     to the first edition of "Kenilworth," which was published in
+     January, 1821, Scott, referring to his delineation of
+     Elizabeth, admits that he is a "Scottishman," and therefore
+     may be pardoned for looking at his subject with certain
+     prejudices. Another source of inspiration that led him to
+     write the romance was the old ballad of "Cumnor Hall," in
+     which the tale of Amy Robsart is told. Scott's genius for
+     depicting the life and manners and customs of the Middle Ages,
+     of visualising scenes of long-gone chivalry, is exhibited in
+     "Kenilworth" as in none other of his works. In common also
+     with all his historical novels, "Kenilworth" bears witness to
+     its author's passion for historical truth.
+
+
+_I.--At Cumnor_
+
+
+The village of Cumnor, within three or four miles of Oxford, boasted in
+the eighteenth of Queen Elizabeth an excellent inn, conducted by Giles
+Gosling, whom no one excelled in his power of pleasing his guests of
+every description.
+
+A traveller in the close of the evening was ushered, with much semblance
+of welcome, into a large, low chamber, where several persons were seated
+in different parties, some drinking, some playing cards, some
+conversing.
+
+The host soon recognised, without satisfaction, his graceless nephew,
+Michael Lambourne, who had not been heard of for long years; but, saying
+his sister's son should be called to no reckoning in his house, he
+heartily invited all who would to join them at supper in honour of his
+nephew's return. Many present remembered him as a school companion, and
+so forth, and, encouraged by the precept and example of Michael
+Lambourne, they soon passed the limits of temperance, as was evident
+from the bursts of laughter with which his inquiries after old
+acquaintances were answered. Giles Gosling made some sort of apology to
+a solitary guest who had sat apart for their license; they would be
+to-morrow a set of painstaking mechanics, and so forth, though to-night
+they were such would-be rufflers, and prevailed on him to join them.
+
+Most of Michael's old friends seemed to have come to some sad end, but
+one, Tony Foster, for whom he inquired had married, and become a good
+Protestant, and held his head high, and scorned his old companions. He
+now dwelt at Cumnor Place, an old mansion house, and had nothing to do
+with anybody in Cumnor, not entirely from pride; it was said there was a
+fair lady in the case.
+
+Here Tressilian, the guest, who had sat apart, intervened in the
+conversation, and was informed that Foster had a beautiful lady closely
+mewed up at Cumnor Place, and would scarcely let her look upon the light
+of day.
+
+Michael Lambourne at once wagered that he would force Tony Foster to
+introduce him to his fair guest, and Tressilian asked permission to
+accompany him, to mark the skill end valour with which he should conduct
+himself, and, in spite of the host's warnings, the next morning they set
+off together to Anthony Foster's dwelling.
+
+Michael Lambourne soon let Tressilian know that he suspected other
+motives than simple curiosity had led him, a gentleman of birth and
+breeding, into the company of such a scant-of-grace as himself, and
+owned that he expected both pleasure and profit from his visit.
+
+They found the gate open, and passed up an avenue overshadowed by old
+trees, untrimmed for many years. Everything was in a dilapidated
+condition. After some delay, they were introduced into a stone-paved
+parlour, where they had to wait some time before the present master of
+the mansion made his appearance. He looked to Tressilian for an
+explanation of this visit, so true was Lambourne's observation that the
+superior air of breeding and dignity shone through the disguise of an
+inferior dress. But it was Michael who replied to him, with the easy
+familiarity of an old friend, and though Foster at first made it obvious
+that he had no wish to renew the acquaintance, in a few minutes he
+requested him to follow him to another apartment, and the two worthies
+left the room, leaving Tressilian alone.
+
+His dark eyes followed them with a glance of contempt, some of which was
+for himself for having stooped for a moment to be their familiar
+companion. A slight noise interrupted his reverie. He looked round, and
+in the beautiful and richly attired female who entered he recognised the
+object of his search. His first impulse urged him to conceal his face in
+the cloak, but the young lady (she was not above eighteen years old) ran
+joyfully towards him, and, pulling him by the cloak, said playfully:
+
+"Nay, my sweet friend, after I have waited for you so long, you come not
+to my bower to play the masquer."
+
+"Alas, Amy," said Tressilian, in a low and melancholy voice. Then, as
+she turned pale as death, he added: "Amy, fear me not."
+
+"Why should I fear you?" said the lady; "or wherefore have you intruded
+yourself into my dwelling, uninvited, sir, and unwished for?"
+
+"Your dwelling, Amy?" said Tressilian. "Alas! is a prison your dwelling?
+A prison, guarded by the most sordid of men, but not a greater wretch
+than his employer?"
+
+"This house is mine," said Amy, "mine while I choose to inhabit it. If
+it is my pleasure to live in seclusion, who shall gainsay me?"
+
+"Your father, maiden," answered Tressilian, "your broken-hearted father,
+who dispatched me in quest of you with that authority which he cannot
+exert in person."
+
+"Tressilian," said the lady, "I cannot--I must not--I dare not leave
+this place! Go back to my father. Tell him I will obtain leave to see
+him within twelve hours from hence. Tell him I am well--I am happy. Go,
+carry him the news. I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is,
+when I obtain permission."
+
+"Permission? Permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhaps on
+his death-bed?" repeated Tressilian impatiently. "And permission from
+whom? Amy, in the name of thy broken-hearted father, I command thee to
+follow me!"
+
+As he spoke, he advanced and extended his arm, as with the purpose of
+laying hold upon her. But she shrunk back from his grasp, and uttered a
+scream which brought into the apartment Lambourne and Foster.
+
+"Madam, fare you well!" said Tressilian. "What life lingers in your
+father's bosom will leave him at the news I have to tell."
+
+He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room:
+
+"Tressilian, be not rash. Say no scandal of me."
+
+Tressilian pursued the first path through the wild and overgrown park in
+which the mansion of Foster was situated. At the postern, a cavalier,
+muffled in his riding cloak, entered, and stood at once within four
+yards of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed, in tons of
+resentment and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other, "Tressilian!"
+
+"What takes you here?" said Tressilian. "Are you come to triumph over
+the innocence you have destroyed? Draw, dog, and defend thyself!"
+
+Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only replied:
+
+"Thou art mad, Tressilian! I own appearances are against me, but by
+every oath Mistress Amy Robsart hath no injury from me!"
+
+Tressilian forced him to draw, and Varney received a fall so sudden and
+violent that his sword flew several paces from his hand. Lambourne came
+up just in time to save the life of Varney, and Tressilian perceived it
+was madness to press the quarrel further against such odds.
+
+"Varney, we shall meet where there are none to come betwixt us!"
+
+So saying, he turned round, and departed through the postern door.
+
+Varney, left alone, gave vent to his meditations in broken words. "She
+loves me not--I would it were as true that I loved not her! But she must
+not leave this retreat until I am assured on what terms we are to stand.
+My lord's interest--and so far it is mine own, for if he sinks I fall in
+his train--demands concealment of this obscure marriage."
+
+
+_II.--The Earl and the Countess_
+
+
+At first, when the Earl of Leicester paid frequent visits to Cumnor, the
+Countess was reconciled to the solitude to which she was condemned. But
+when these visits became rarer and more rare, the brief letters of
+excuse did not keep out discontent and suspicion from the splendid
+apartments which love had once fitted up for beauty. Her answers to
+Leicester conveyed these feelings too bluntly, and pressed more
+naturally than prudently that she might be relieved from the obscure and
+secluded residence, by the Earl's acknowledgement of their marriage.
+
+"I have made her Countess," Leicester said to his henchman Varney;
+"surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she
+should put on the coronet?"
+
+The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.
+
+"What signifies," she said, "that I have rank and honour in reality, if
+I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance,
+and suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced
+reputation?"
+
+Leicester, high in Elizabeth's favour, dared not avow his marriage, and
+Varney was always at hand to paint the full and utter disgrace that
+would overwhelm him at the Court were the marriage known, and to spur
+his ambition to avoid the ruin of his fortunes.
+
+Varney even prompted Leicester to invite the Countess to pass as
+Varney's wife, lest Elizabeth's jealousy should be aroused, and this
+suggestion and the knowledge that Varney desired her for himself (for he
+made no secret of his passion), drove the Countess to escape from Cumnor
+and to seek her husband at Kenilworth, Janet Foster, her faithful
+attendant, at first suggested that the Countess should return home to
+her father, Sir Hugh Robsart, at Lidcote Hall, in Devonshire.
+
+"No, Janet," said the lady mournfully; "I left Lidcote Hall while my
+heart was light and my name was honourable, and I will not return
+thither till my lord's public acknowledgement of our marriage restore me
+to my native home with all the rank and honour which he has bestowed on
+me. I will go to Kenilworth, girl. I will see these revels--these
+princely revels--the preparation for which makes the land ring from side
+to side. Methinks, when the Queen of England feasts within my husband's
+halls, the Countess of Leicester should be no unbeseeming guest."
+
+"Dearest madam," said the maiden, "have you forgotten that the noble
+Earl has given such strict charges to keep your marriage secret, that he
+may preserve his Court favour? And can you think that your sudden
+appearance at his castle, at such a juncture, and in such a presence,
+will be acceptable to him?"
+
+"I will appeal to my husband alone, Janet. I will be protected by him
+alone. I will see him, and receive from his own lips the directions for
+my future conduct. Do not argue against my resolution. And to own the
+truth, I am resolved to know my fate at once, and from my husband's own
+mouth; and to seek him at Kenilworth is the surest way to attain my
+purpose."
+
+"May the blessing of God wend with you, madam," said Janet, kissing her
+mistress's hand.
+
+
+_III.--At Kenilworth_
+
+
+With pomp and magnificence, Leicester entertained the Queen at the
+Castle of Kenilworth. Of the Countess he saw nothing for some days, and
+Varney let it be thought that the unhappy lady who had made her way into
+the castle was his wife, while Amy, mindful of the alarm which Leicester
+had expressed at the Queen's knowing aught of their union, kept out of
+the way of her sovereign.
+
+Then, on one memorable morning, when a hunt had been arranged, Leicester
+escorted the Queen to the castle garden, with another chase in view.
+Without premeditation, but urged on by vanity and ambition, his
+importunity became the language of love itself.
+
+"No, Dudley," said Elizabeth, yet with broken accents. "No, I must be
+the mother of my people. Urge it no more, Leicester. Were I, as others,
+free to seek my own happiness, then indeed--but it cannot be. It is
+madness, and must not be repeated. Leave me. Go, but go not far from
+hence; and meantime let no one intrude on my privacy."
+
+The Queen turned into a grotto in which her hapless, and yet but too
+successful, rival lay concealed, and presently became aware of a female
+figure beside an alabaster column.
+
+The unfortunate countess dropped on her knee before the queen, and
+looked up in the queen's face with such a mixed agony of fear and
+supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected.
+
+"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou
+have with us?"
+
+"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I
+request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one
+Varney!"
+
+"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What
+are you to him, or he to you?"
+
+"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"
+
+Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save
+her from Varney without endangering her husband.
+
+"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou
+art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee
+by inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master
+Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."
+
+Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No,
+madam, no! As there is a God above us, I am not the wife of that
+contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife
+of Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"
+
+The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, God, ha' mercy,
+woman! Tell me, for I _will_ know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art
+thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness
+than with Elizabeth!"
+
+Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of
+Leicester knows it all!"
+
+"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of
+Leicester! Come with me instantly!"
+
+As Amy shrunk back with terror, Elizabeth seized on her arm, and dragged
+the terrified countess to where Leicester stood--the centre of a
+splendid group of lords and ladies.
+
+"Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!" cried the queen.
+
+Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended
+Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before
+the queen, exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one
+can lay aught to the charge of noble Leicester!"
+
+"Why, minion," answered the queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the
+Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"
+
+At that moment Varney rushed into the presence, with every mark of
+disorder.
+
+"What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.
+
+Varney could only prostrate himself before her feet, exclaiming:
+"Pardon, my Liege, pardon! Or let your justice avenge itself on me; but
+spare my noble, my generous, my innocent patron and master!"
+
+Amy started up at the sight of the man she deemed most odious so near
+her, and besought the queen to save her from "that most shameless
+villain!" "I shall go mad if I look longer on him."
+
+"Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already," answered the
+queen. Then she bade Lord Hunsdon, a blunt, warm-hearted old noble,
+"Look to this poor distressed young woman, and let her be safely
+bestowed, till we require her to be forthcoming."
+
+"By our Lady," said Hunsdon, taking in his strong arms the swooning form
+of Amy, "she is a lovely child! And though a rough nurse, your Grace
+hath given her a kind one. She is safe with me as one of my own
+ladybirds of daughters."
+
+So saying he carried her off, and the queen followed him with her eye,
+and then turned angrily to Varney, for Leicester stared gloomily on the
+ground.
+
+"Speak, Sir Richard, and explain these riddles."
+
+"Your Majesty's piercing eye," said Varney, "has already detected the
+cruel malady of my beloved lady. It is the nature of persons in her
+disorder, so please your Grace, to be ever most inveterate in their
+spleen against those whom, in their better moments, they hold nearest
+and dearest. May your Grace then be pleased to command my unfortunate
+wife to be delivered into the custody of my friends?"
+
+Leicester partly started, but making a stronger effort, he subdued his
+emotion, while Elizabeth answered sharply, that her own physician should
+report on the lady's health.
+
+That night Leicester sought the countess in her apartment, and would
+have avowed his marriage to the queen, but for Varney's influence.
+Finding all other argument vain, Varney finally urged that the countess
+was in love with Tressilian, and mentioned that he had seen him at
+Cumnor. Leicester allowed his mind to be poisoned, and was silent when,
+on the Queen's physician declaring Lady Varney to be sullen and the
+victim of fancies, Elizabeth answered, "Nay, then away with her all
+speed. Let Varney care for her with fitting humanity, but let them rid
+the castle of her forthwith."
+
+
+_IV.--The Death of the Countess_
+
+
+Armed with the authority of Leicester's signet-ring Varney induced the
+countess to leave Kenilworth for Cumnor, declaring that the earl had
+ordered it for his own safety. But no sooner was the lady gone than
+Leicester repented of the consent Varney had wrested from him. An
+interview with Tressilian and the recovery of a letter written by Amy at
+Cumnor revealed all Varney's villainy. Too late he acknowledged his
+marriage to the queen, and when the fury of Elizabeth's anger had
+somewhat subsided, she ordered Tressilian and Sir Walter Raleigh to
+repair at once to Cumnor, bring the countess to Kenilworth, and secure
+the body of Richard Varney, dead or alive.
+
+But Varney's fell purpose had already decided that the countess must be
+got rid of. A part of the wooden gallery immediately outside her door
+was really a trap-door, and beneath it was an abyss dark as pitch. This
+trap-door remained secure in appearance even when the supports were
+withdrawn beneath it.
+
+"Were the lady to attempt an escape over it," said Varney, to his
+accomplice Foster, who held the house by Varney's favour, "her weight
+would carry her down."
+
+"A mouse's weight would do it," Foster answered.
+
+"Why, then, she die in attempting her escape, and what could you or I
+help it? Let us, to bed; we will adjust our project to-morrow."
+
+On the next day, when evening approached, Varney summoned Foster to the
+execution of their plan. Foster himself, as if anxious to see that the
+countess suffered no want of accommodations, visited her place of
+confinement. He was so much staggered at her mildness and patience, that
+he could not help earnestly recommending to her not to cross the
+threshold on any account until Lord Leicester should come. Amy promised
+that she would resign herself to her fate, and Foster returned to his
+hardened companion with his conscience half-eased of the perilous load
+that weighed on it. "I have warned her," he said; "surely in vain is the
+snare set in the sight of any bird!"
+
+He left the countess's door unsecured on the outside, and, under the eye
+of Varney, withdrew the supports which sustained the falling trap,
+which, therefore, kept its level position merely by a slight adhesion.
+They withdrew to wait the issue on the ground floor adjoining; but they
+waited long in vain.
+
+"Perhaps she is resolved," said Foster, "to await her husband's return."
+
+"True! Most true!" said Varney, rushing out; "I had not thought of that
+before."
+
+In less than two minutes, Foster, who remained behind, heard the tread
+of a horse in the courtyard, and then a whistle similar to that which
+was the earl's usual signal. The instant after the door to the
+countess's chamber opened, and in the same moment the trap-door gave
+way. There was a rushing sound--a heavy fall--a faint groan, and all was
+over.
+
+At the same instant Varney called in at the window, "Is the bird caught?
+Is the deed done?"
+
+"O God, forgive us!" replied Foster.
+
+"Why, thou fool," said Varney, "thy toil is ended, and thy reward
+secure. Look down into the vault--what seest thou?"
+
+"I see only a heap of clothes, like a snowdrift," said Foster. "O God,
+she moves her arm!"
+
+"Hurl something down on her."
+
+"Varney, thou art an incarnate fiend!" replied Foster. "There needs
+nothing more--she is gone!"
+
+"So pass our troubles," said Varney; "I dreamed not I could have
+mimicked the earl's call so well."
+
+While they were at this consultation Tressilian and Raleigh broke in
+upon them. Foster fled at their entrance, and escaped all search. He
+perished miserably in a secret passage, behind an iron door, forgetting
+the key of the spring-clock, and years later his skeleton was
+discovered.
+
+But Varney was taken on the spot. He made very little mystery either of
+the crime or of its motives--alleging that there was sufficient against
+him to deprive him of Leicester's confidence, and to destroy all his
+towering plans of ambition. "I was not born," he said, "to drag on the
+remainder of life a degraded outcast; nor will I so die that my fate
+shall make a holiday to the vulgar herd."
+
+That night he swallowed a small quantity of strong poison, which he
+carried about his person, and next morning was found dead in his cell.
+
+The news of the countess's dreadful fate put a sudden stop to the
+pleasures of Kenilworth. Leicester retired from court, and for a
+considerable time abandoned himself to his remorse. But as Varney in his
+last declaration had been studious to spare the character of his patron,
+the earl was the object rather of compassion than resentment. The queen
+at length recalled him to court; he was once more distinguished as a
+statesman and favourite; and the rest of his career is well known to
+history. But there was something retributive in his death, for it is
+believed he died by swallowing a draught of poison, designed by him for
+another person.
+
+Tressilian at length embarked with his friend, Sir Walter Raleigh, for
+the Virginia expedition, and young in years, but old in grief, died
+before his day in that foreign land.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Old Mortality
+
+
+     "Old Mortality" and the "Black Dwarf" were published together
+     as the first series of the "Tales of My Landlord" on December
+     1, 1816. The first is certainly one of the best of Scott's
+     historical romances. It was the fourth of the "Waverley
+     Novels," and the authorship was still unavowed; though Mr.
+     Murray, the publisher, at once declared it "must be written
+     either by Walter Scott or the Devil." On the other hand, there
+     were critics who did not believe the book was Sir Walter's
+     because it lacked his "tedious descriptions." Some said openly
+     it was the work of several hands. The study of the fierce,
+     fanatical Covenanters in "Old Mortality" is done not only with
+     all the author's literary genius, but a wonderful fidelity to
+     historical truth; and while the accuracy of the portrait of
+     Claverhouse--"Bonny Dundee"--will always be disputed, no lover
+     of romance will question its brilliant charm. The immediate
+     popularity of "Old Mortality" was less than many of the
+     "Waverley Novels," only two editions, amounting to 4,000
+     copies, being sold in six weeks.
+
+
+_I.--Tillietudlem Castle_
+
+
+"Most readers," says the manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, "must have
+witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of
+the village school. The buoyant spirit of childhood may then be seen to
+explode, as it were, in shout and song and frolic; but there is one
+individual who partakes of the relief, whose feelings are not so
+obvious, or so apt to receive sympathy--the teacher himself."
+
+The reader may form some conception of the relief which a solitary walk,
+on a fine summer evening, affords to the head which has ached, and the
+nerves which have been shattered for so many hours in plying the irksome
+task of public instruction.
+
+To me these evening strolls have been the happiest hours of an unhappy
+life; and it was in one of them that I met, for the first time, the
+religious itinerant known in various parts of Scotland by the title of
+"Old Mortality." He was busily engaged in deepening with his chisel the
+letters of the inscription upon the monument of the slaughtered
+Presbyterians--those champions of the Covenant whose deeds and
+sufferings were his favourite theme.
+
+For nearly thirty years this pious enthusiast visited annually the
+graves of those who suffered for the cause during the reigns of the last
+two Stuarts, most numerous in the districts of Ayr, Galloway, and
+Dumfries. To talk of their exploits was the delight, as to repair their
+monuments was the business of his life.
+
+My readers will understand that in embodying into one narrative many of
+the anecdotes I derived from Old Mortality, I have endeavoured to
+correct and verify them from the most authentic sources of tradition
+afforded by the representatives of either party. Peace to their memory!
+
+    "Implacable resentment was their crime,
+    And grievous has the expiation been."
+
+Under the reign of the last Stuarts, frequent musters of the people,
+both for military exercise and for sports and pastimes, were appointed
+by authority, and the Sheriff of Lanark was holding the wappen-schaw of
+a wild district, on the day our narrative commences, May 5, 1679.
+
+The lord-lieutenant of the country alone, who was of ducal rank,
+pretended to the magnificence of a wheel-carriage, but near it might be
+seen the erect form of Lady Margaret Bellenden on her sober palfrey, and
+her granddaughter; the fair-haired Edith appeared beside her aged
+relative like Spring, close to Winter.
+
+Many civilities passed between her ladyship and the representatives of
+sundry ancient royal families, and not a young man of rank passed by
+them in the course of the muster, but carried himself more erect in the
+saddle and displayed his horsemanship to the best advantage in the eyes
+of Miss Edith Bellenden.
+
+When the military evolutions were over, a loud shout announced that the
+competitors were about to step forth for the shooting of the popinjay--
+the figure of a bird suspended to a pole. When a slender young man,
+dressed with great simplicity, yet with an air of elegance, his
+dark-green cloak thrown back over his shoulder, approached the station
+with his fusee in his hand, there was a murmur among the spectators.
+
+"Ewhow, sirs, to see his father's son at the like o' thae fearless
+follies!" said some of the more rigid, but the generality were content
+to wish success to the son of a deceased Presbyterian leader. Their
+wishes were gratified. The green adventurer made the first palpable hit
+of the day, and two only of those who followed succeeded--the first, a
+young man of low rank, who kept his face muffled in a grey cloak; and
+the second, a gallant young cavalier, remarkably handsome, who had been
+in close attendance on Lady Margaret and Miss Bellenden.
+
+But the applause, even of those whose wishes had favoured Lord Evandale,
+were at the third trial transferred to his triumphant rival, who was led
+by four of the duke's friends to his presence, passing in front of Lady
+Margaret and her granddaughter. The captain of the popinjay (as the
+victor was called) and Miss Bellenden coloured like crimson, as the
+latter returned the low inclination he made, even to the saddlebow, in
+passing her.
+
+"Do you know that young person?" said Lady Margaret.
+
+"I--I--have seen him, madam, at my uncle's, and--and--elsewhere,
+occasionally," stammered Edith.
+
+"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark
+is the nephew of old Milnwood."
+
+"The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a
+regiment of horse with great courage at Dunbar and Inverkeithing," said
+a gentleman beside Lady Margaret.
+
+"Ay, and before that, who fought for the Covenanters, both at Marston
+Moor and Philipshaugh," said Lady Margaret, sighing. "His son ought to
+dispense with intruding himself into the company of those to whom his
+name must bring unpleasing recollections."
+
+"You forget, my dear lady, he comes here to discharge suit and service
+in name for his uncle. He is an old miser, and although probably against
+the grain, sends the young gentleman to save pecuniary pains and
+penalties. The youngster is, I suppose, happy enough to escape for the
+day from the dullness of the old home at Milnwood."
+
+The company now dispersed, excepting such as, having tried their
+dexterity at the popinjay, were, by ancient custom, obliged to partake
+of a grace-cup with their captain, who, though he spared the cup
+himself, took care it should go round with due celerity among the rest.
+
+On leaving the alehouse, a stranger observed to Morton that he was
+riding towards Milnwood, and asked for the advantage of his company.
+
+"Certainly," said Morton, though there was a gloomy and relentless
+severity in the man's manner from which he recoiled, and they rode off
+together.
+
+They had not long left, when Cornet Grahame, a kinsman of Claverhouse,
+entered with the news that the Archbishop of St. Andrews had been
+murdered by a body of the rebel Whigs.
+
+He read their descriptions, and it was clear that the stern stranger who
+had just left with Henry Morton, was Balfour of Burley, the actual
+commander of the band of assassins, though Morton himself knew nothing
+of Burley's terrible deed.
+
+"Horse, horse, and pursue, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame. "The
+murdering dog's head is worth its weight in gold."
+
+
+_II.--Henry Morton's Escape_
+
+
+The dragoons soon arrived at Milnwood, and carried off Henry Morton
+prisoner for having given a night's shelter to Balfour of Burley, an old
+military comrade of his father's. Morton acknowledged he had done this,
+but refused to give any other information. Hitherto he had meddled with
+no party in the state. They decided to bring him before Colonel Grahame
+of Claverhouse, who was expected next day at the Castle of Tillietudlem,
+the residence of Lady Margaret Bellenden.
+
+Although Henry Morton had prevailed upon the sergeant to let him be
+muffled up in one of the soldier's cloaks, Miss Edith Bellenden found it
+impossible to withdraw her eyes from him, and her waiting maid soon
+discovered his identity, and found means for the lovers (for such they
+were) to meet in secret in the room where the prisoner was confined.
+
+"You are lost, you are lost, if you are to plead your cause with
+Claverhouse!" sighed Edith. "The primate was his intimate friend and
+early patron. 'No excuse, no subterfuge,' he wrote to my grandmother,
+'shall save either those connected with the deed, or such as have given
+them countenance and shelter.'"
+
+They were interrupted by the guard, and Morton, assuming a firmness he
+was far from feeling, whispered, "Farewell, Edith; leave me to my fate;
+it cannot be beyond endurance, since you are interested in it. Good
+night, good night! Do not remain here till you are discovered."
+
+"Everyone has his taste, to be sure," said the sentinel; "but, d---- me
+if I would vex so sweet a girl for all the Whigs that ever swore a
+covenant!"
+
+After breakfast next day, Major Bellenden, Edith's grand-uncle, to whom
+she had written, approached Claverhouse, to plead for the life of the
+son of his old friend, but she heard the reply.
+
+"It cannot be, Major Bellenden; lenity in his case is altogether beyond
+the bounds of my commission. And here comes Evandale with news, as I
+think. What tidings do you bring us, Evandale?" addressing the young
+lord, who now entered in complete uniform but with dress disordered, and
+boots bespattered.
+
+"Unpleasant news, sir," was the reply. "A large body of Whigs are in
+arms among the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion."
+
+Claverhouse immediately bid them sound to horse, saying, "There are
+rogues enough in the country to make the rebels five times their
+strength, if they are not checked at once."
+
+"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they expect a
+strong body of the indulged Presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, the
+son of the famous old Roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton."
+
+"It's a lie!" said the major hastily, and begged that Henry Morton might
+at once be heard himself. Evandale drew near to Miss Bellenden, and
+addressed her in a manner, expressing a feeling much deeper and more
+agitating than was conveyed in his phrases.
+
+"I will but dispose of this young fellow," said Claverhouse, "and then
+Lord Evandale--I am sorry to interrupt your conversation--but then we
+must mount. Why do you not bring up your prisoner? And hark ye, let two
+files load their carbines."
+
+Edith broke through the restraint that had hitherto kept her silent, and
+entreated Lord Evandale to use his interest with his colonel, becoming
+bolder and more urgent as the soldiers entered with the prisoner, whom
+they had just informed that Lady Margaret's niece was interceding for
+his life with Lord Evandale, to whom she was about to be married.
+
+The unfortunate prisoner heard enough, as he passed behind Edith's seat,
+of the broken expressions which passed between her and Lord Evandale, to
+confirm all that the soldiers had told him.
+
+That moment made a singular and instantaneous change in his character.
+Desperate himself, he determined to support the rights of his country,
+insulted in his person. So he declined to answer any questions, and
+assured Claverhouse that there were yet Scotsmen who could assert the
+liberties of Scotland.
+
+"Make you peace then, with Heaven, in five minutes space. Bothwell, lead
+him down to the courtyard, and draw up your party!"
+
+A silence of horror fell on all but the speaker at these words. Edith
+sprang up, but her strength gave way, and she would have fallen had she
+not been caught by her attendant.
+
+Evandale at once addressed Claverhouse, and calling him aside reminded
+him of services rendered by his family in an affair of the privy
+council.
+
+"Certainly, my dear Evandale," answered Claverhouse; "I am not a man who
+forgets such debts. How can I evince my gratitude?"
+
+"I will hold the debt cancelled," said Lord Evandale, "if you will spare
+this young man's life."
+
+"Evandale," replied Claverhouse in great surprise, "you are
+mad--absolutely mad. You see him? He is tottering on the verge between
+time and eternity; yet his is the only cheek unblanched, the only heart
+that keeps its usual time. Look at him well. If that man should ever
+come to head an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for."
+
+He then said aloud, "Young man, your life is for the present safe, owing
+to the interference of your friends." So Morton was hurried down to the
+courtyard, where three other prisoners remained under an escort of
+dragoons; soon they were all pressing forward to overtake the main body,
+as it was supposed they would come in sight of the enemy in less than
+two hours. It was obvious, when they did so that there were old soldiers
+with the rebels from the choice of the ground, and the order of battle
+in which they waited the assault. Cornet Grahame was sent with a flag of
+truce to offer a free pardon to all but the murderers of the archbishop
+if they would disperse themselves. On his persisting in addressing the
+people themselves in spite of the warning of their spokesman, Balfour of
+Burley, whom he recognised. "Then the Lord grant grace to thy
+soul--amen!" said Burley, and fired, and Cornet Grahame dropped from his
+horse, mortally wounded.
+
+"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.
+
+"My duty," said Balfour firmly. "Is it not written 'Thou shalt be
+zealous even to slaying?' Let those who dare now venture to talk of
+truce or pardon!"
+
+Claverhouse saw his nephew fall; with a glance of indescribable emotion
+he looked at Evandale. "I will avenge him, or die," exclaimed Evandale,
+and rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and that of
+the deceased cornet, each striving to be first in revenge. They soon
+fell into confusion in the broken ground. In vain Claverhouse shouted,
+"Halt! halt! This rashness will undo us." The enemy set upon them with
+the utmost fury, crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines!
+Down with the Dagon and all his adherents!" Though the young nobleman
+fought like a lion, he was forced to retreat, and soon Claverhouse was
+compelled to follow his troops in their flight; as he passed Henry
+Morton and the other prisoners just released from their bonds,
+Evandale's horse was shot, and Morton rushed forward just in time to
+prevent his being killed by Balfour himself in hot pursuit.
+
+
+_III.--The Presbyterian Insurgents_
+
+
+John Balfour of Burley, a man of some fortune and good family, a soldier
+from his youth upwards, aspired to place himself at the head of the
+Presbyterian forces then in arms against the English government. On this
+account he was particularly anxious to secure the accession of young
+Henry Morton to the cause of the insurgents, for the memory of Morton's
+father was esteemed among the Presbyterians, and few persons of decent
+quality had so far joined the rising.
+
+Morton, on his side, was willing to join in any insurrection which
+promised freedom to the country though he abhorred the murder of Sharpe,
+and the tenets of the wilder set of Cameronians, by whom the seeds of
+disunion were already thickly sown in the ill-fated party.
+
+At the nomination of the council of the Presbyterian army Morton was
+sent with the main body to march against Glasgow, while Burley, with a
+chosen body of five hundred men, remained behind to blockade the castle
+of Tillietudlem. A command to surrender had been scorned with
+indignation by Major Bellenden and Lord Evandale.
+
+A few weeks later a pause in the hostilities enabled Morton, anxious for
+the fate of Tillietudlem, to return to Burley's camp, where he learnt
+that Evandale had been taken prisoner, and was to be hanged at daybreak
+unless the castle surrendered.
+
+Burley sullenly yielded his prisoner into Morton's hands, and Evandale,
+released on parole by the man whose life he had previously saved,
+undertook to set out for Edinburgh, with a list of the grievances of the
+insurgents. A mutiny within the castle drove Major Bellenden to evacuate
+Tillietudlem; the ladies acquiesced in the decision, and when the
+scarlet and blue colours of the Scottish Covenant floated from the keep
+of Tillietudlem, the cavalcade led by the major was on the road towards
+Edinburgh.
+
+Lord Evandale's good word saved Morton a second time when Claverhouse
+routed the Presbyterian army at Bothwell Bridge. Morton was taken
+prisoner, but his life was spared, and at Leith he was put on board a
+vessel bound for Rotterdam with letters of recommendation to the Prince
+of Orange.
+
+
+_IV.--Henry Morton Returns in Time_
+
+
+By the prudent tolerance of King William Scotland narrowly escaped the
+horrors of a protracted civil war. The triumphant Whigs re-established
+Presbytery as the national religion, and only the extreme sect of
+Cameronians on the one side, and the Highlanders, who were for the
+deposed Stuart king, on the other, disturbed the peace of the land.
+Balfour of Burley refused to sheathe his sword, and Evandale followed
+his old commander Claverhouse (now Viscount Dundee) in joining the rebel
+Jacobites. Major Bellenden was dead.
+
+No news had ever come of Henry Morton, and it was believed with good
+reason he was lost when the vessel in which he sailed went down with
+crew and passengers. But Morton was already back in Scotland, in the
+service of King William.
+
+In the belief of her Morton's death, Edith Bellenden had become
+betrothed to Lord Evandale, though she postponed marriage, and her
+prayers went out to him that he would refrain from joining Claverhouse,
+when he came to bid her farewell.
+
+"Oh, my lord, remain!" said Edith. "Do not rush on death and ruin!
+Remain to be our prop and stay, and hope everything from time."
+
+"It is too late, Edith," answered Lord Evandale. "I know you cannot love
+me, that your heart is dead or absent. But were it otherwise, the die is
+now cast."
+
+As he spoke thus an old servant rushed in to say a party of horse headed
+by one Basil Olifant, a rascal who was anxious to take Evandale for the
+sake of reward, had beset the outlets of the house.
+
+"Oh, hide yourself, my lord!" cried Edith, in an agony of terror.
+
+"I will not, by Heaven!" answered Lord Evandale. "What right has the
+villain to assail me or stop my passage? I will make my way, were he
+backed by a regiment. And now, farewell, Edith!"
+
+He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then rushed out and
+mounted his horse, and with his servants rode composedly down the
+avenue.
+
+As soon as Lord Evandale appeared, Olifant's party spread themselves a
+little, as if preparing to enclose him. Their leader stood fast,
+supported by three men, two of whom were dragoons, the third in dress
+and appearance a countryman, all well-armed. Whoever had before seen the
+strong figure, stern features, and resolved manner of the third
+attendant could have no difficulty in recognising Balfour of Burley.
+
+"Follow me," said Lord Evandale to his servants, "and if we are forcibly
+opposed, do as I do."
+
+He advanced at a hand gallop; Olifant called out, "Shoot the traitor!"
+and four carbines were fired upon the unfortunate nobleman. He reeled in
+the saddle, and fell from his horse mortally wounded. His servants fired
+and Basil Olifant and a dragoon were stretched lifeless on the ground.
+
+Burley, whose blood was up, exclaimed, "Down with the Midianites!" and
+advanced, sword in hand. At this instant the clatter of horses' hoofs
+was heard, and a party of horse appeared on the fatal field. They were
+foreign dragoons led by a Dutch commander, accompanied by Morton and a
+civil magistrate.
+
+Only the belief that Evandale was to marry Edith had kept Morton
+hitherto from revealing his return.
+
+A hasty call to surrender, in the name of God and King William, was
+obeyed by all except Burley, who turned his horse and attempted to
+escape. Pursued by soldiers he made for the river, but was shot in the
+middle of the stream, and felt himself dangerously wounded. He returned
+towards the bank he had left, waving his hand as if in token of
+surrender. The troopers ceased firing, and as he approached a dragoon
+laid hands on him. Burley, in requital, grasped his throat, and both
+came headlong into the river, and were swept down the stream. They were
+twice seen to rise, the trooper trying to swim, and Burley clinging to
+him in a manner that showed his desire that both should perish. Their
+corpses were taken out about a quarter of a mile down the river.
+
+While the soul of this stern enthusiast flitted to its account, that of
+the brave and generous Lord Evandale was also released. Morton had flung
+himself from his horse, to render his dying friend all the aid in his
+power. Evandale knew him, for he pressed his hand, and intimated by
+signs his wish to be conveyed to the house. This was done with all the
+care possible, and the clamorous grief of the lamenting household was
+far exceeded in intensity by the silent agony of Edith. Unconscious even
+of the presence of Morton, she was not aware that fate, who was removing
+one faithful lover, had restored another as if from the grave, until
+Lord Evandale taking their hands in his, united them together, raised
+his face as if to pray for a blessing on them, and sunk back and expired
+in the next moment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The marriage of Morton and Miss Bellenden was delayed for several months
+on account of Lord Evandale's death. Lady Margaret was prevailed on to
+countenance Morton, who now stood high in the reputation of the world,
+and Edith was her only hope, and she wished to see her happy. So Lady
+Margaret put her prejudice aside, for Morton's being an old Covenanter
+stuck sorely with her for some time, and consoled herself with the
+recollection that his most sacred majesty Charles the Second had once
+observed to her that marriage went by destiny.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Peveril of the Peak
+
+
+     "Peveril of the Peak," the longest of all the Waverley novels,
+     was published in 1823. For the main idea of the tale Sir
+     Walter was indebted to some papers found by his younger
+     brother, Thomas Scott, in the Isle of Man. These papers gave
+     the story of William Christian, who took the side of the
+     Roundheads against the high-spirited Countess of Derby, and
+     was subsequently tried and executed, according to the laws of
+     the island, by that lady, for having dethroned his august
+     mistress and imprisoned her and her family. "Peveril" is one
+     of the most complicated, in respect of characters and
+     incidents, of Scott's works. The canvas is crowded with
+     personages, good, bad, and indifferent, yet all full of
+     vitality and responding to the actual forces which their
+     creator set in motion.
+
+
+_I.--Cavalier and Roundhead_
+
+
+In Charles the Second's time, the representative of an ancient family in
+the county of Derbyshire, long distinguished by the proud title of
+Peverils of the Peak, was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man with the
+attributes of an old-fashioned country gentleman.
+
+When the civil wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak raised a regiment for
+the king, and performed his part with sufficient gallantry for several
+rough years. He witnessed also the final defeat at Worcester, where, for
+the second time, he was made prisoner, and being regarded as an
+obstinate malignant, was in great danger of execution. But Sir
+Geoffrey's life was preserved by the interest of a friend, who possessed
+influence in the councils of Cromwell. This was a Major Bridgenorth, a
+gentleman of middling quality, who had inherited from his father a
+considerable sum of money, and to whom Sir Geoffrey was under pecuniary
+obligations.
+
+Moultrassie Hall, the residence of Mr. Bridgenorth, was but two miles
+distant from Martindale Castle, the ancient seat of the Peverils; and
+while, as Bridgenorth was a decided Roundhead, all friendly
+communication which had grown up betwixt Sir Geoffrey and his neighbour
+was abruptly broken asunder at the outbreak of hostilities, on the trial
+and execution of Charles I., Bridgenorth was so shocked, fearing the
+domination of the military, that his politics on many points became
+those of the Peverils, and he favoured the return of Charles II.
+
+Another bond of intimacy, stronger than the same political opinions, now
+united the families of the castle and the hall.
+
+In the beginning of the year 1658 Major Bridgenorth--who had lost
+successively a family of six young children--was childless; ere it
+ended, he had a daughter, but her birth was purchased by the death of an
+affectionate wife. The same voice which told Bridgenorth that he was a
+father of a living child--it was the friendly voice of Lady Peveril--
+told him that he was no longer a husband.
+
+Lady Peveril placed in Bridgenorth's arms the infant whose birth had
+cost him so dear, and conjured him to remember that his Alice was not
+yet dead, since she survived in the helpless child.
+
+"Take her away--take her away!" said the unhappy man. "Let me not look
+on her! It is but another blossom that has bloomed to fade."
+
+"I will take the child for a season," said Lady Peveril, "since the
+sight of her is so painful to you; and the little Alice shall share the
+nursery of our Julian until it shall be pleasure, and not pain, for you
+to look on her."
+
+"That hour will never come," said the unhappy father; "she will follow
+the rest--God's will be done! Lady, I thank you--I trust her to your
+care."
+
+It is enough to say that the Lady Peveril did undertake the duties of a
+mother to the little orphan, and the puny infant gradually improved in
+strength and in loveliness.
+
+Sir Geoffrey was naturally fond of children, and so much compassionated
+the sorrows of his neighbour, that morning after morning he made
+Moultrassie Hall the termination of his walk or ride, and said a single
+word of kindness as he passed. "How is it with you, Master Bridgenorth?"
+the knight would say, halting his horse by the latticed window. "I just
+looked in to bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that Julian
+is well, and little Alice is well, and all are well at Martindale
+Castle."
+
+"I thank you, Sir Geoffrey; my grateful duty waits on Lady Peveril," was
+generally Bridgenorth's only answer.
+
+The voice of Peveril suddenly assumed a new and different tone in the
+month of April, 1660. He rushed into the apartment of the astonished
+major with his eyes sparkling and called out, "Up, up, neighbour! No
+time now to mope in the chimney-corner! Where is your buff coat and
+broadsword, man? Take the true side once in your life, and mend past
+mistakes. Monk has declared at London--for the king. Fairfax is up in
+Yorkshire--for the king, for the king, man! I have a letter from Fairfax
+to secure Derby and Chesterfield with all the men I can make. All are
+friends now, and you and I, good neighbour, will charge abreast as good
+neighbours should!" The sturdy cavalier's heart became too full, and
+exclaiming, "Did ever I think to live to see this happy day!" he wept,
+to his own surprise as much as to that of Bridgenorth.
+
+The neighbours were both at Chesterfield when news arrived that the king
+had landed in England, and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his purpose
+of waiting upon his majesty, while the major desired nothing better than
+to find all well at Martindale on his return.
+
+Accordingly, on the subsequent morning, Bridgenorth went to Martindale
+Castle, and gave Lady Peveril the welcome assurances of her husband's
+safety.
+
+"May Almighty God be praised!" said the Lady Peveril. The door of the
+apartment opened as she spoke, and two lovely children entered. The
+eldest, Julian Peveril, a fine boy betwixt four and five years old, led
+in his hand a little girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered
+along.
+
+Bridgenorth cast a hasty glance upon his daughter, and then caught her
+in his arms and pressed her to his heart. The child, though at first
+alarmed at the vehemence of his caresses, presently smiled in reply to
+them.
+
+"Julian must lose his playfellow now, I suppose?" said Lady Peveril.
+"But the hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often."
+
+"God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie," said Major
+Bridgenorth hastily; "it has been the grave of her race. The air of the
+low grounds suited them not. I will seek for her some other place of
+abode."
+
+"Major Bridgenorth," answered the lady, "if she goes not to her father's
+house, she shall not quit mine. I will keep the little lady as a pledge
+of her safety and my own skill; and since you are afraid of the damp of
+the low grounds, I hope you will come here frequently to visit her."
+
+This was a proposal which went to the heart of Major Bridgenorth. He
+expressed his grateful duty to Lady Peveril, and having solemnly blessed
+his little girl, took his departure for Moultrassie Hall.
+
+
+_II.--Separation_
+
+
+The friendly relations between the inhabitants of Martindale and
+Moultrassie came to an end with the common rejoicing over the
+restoration of Charles II.
+
+The Countess of Derby, queen in the Isle of Man, whose husband had
+perished for the crown, took refuge at the castle, fleeing from a
+warrant for her arrest, and told her story to Lady Peveril in the
+presence of Major Bridgenorth.
+
+The countess had kept the royal standard flying in Man until her vassal,
+William Christian, turned against her. Then for seven years she had
+endured strict captivity, until the tide turned, and she was once more
+in possession of the sovereignty of the island. "I was no sooner placed
+in possession of my rightful power," said the countess, "than I ordered
+the dempster to hold a high court of justice upon the traitor Christian,
+according to all the formalities of the isle. He was fully convicted of
+his crime, and without delay was shot to death by a file of musketeers."
+
+At hearing this, Bridgenorth clasped his hands together and groaned
+bitterly. "O Christian--worthy, well worthy of the name thou didst bear!
+My friend, my brother--the brother of my blessed wife Alice, art thou,
+then, cruelly murdered!"
+
+Then, drawing himself up with resolution, he demanded the arrest of the
+countess.
+
+This Lady Peveril would not permit, and Bridgenorth left the castle. The
+arrival of Sir Geoffrey from London with news that the council had sent
+a herald with the king's warrant for the Countess of Derby's arrest,
+made flight to the Isle of Man imperative. Bridgenorth, with a number of
+the old Roundheads, attempted to prevent the escape, but were beaten off
+by Sir Geoffrey and his men, and the countess embarked safely for her
+son's hereditary dominions, until the accusation against her for breach
+of the royal indemnity by the execution of Christian could be brought to
+some compromise.
+
+Before leaving Martindale, the countess called Julian to her, and
+kissing his forehead said: "When I am safely established and have my
+present affairs arranged, you must let me have this little Julian of
+yours some time hence, to be nurtured in my house, held as my page, and
+the playfellow of the little Derby."
+
+Five years passed.
+
+Major Bridgenorth left his seat of Moultrassie Hall in the care of his
+old housekeeper and departed to no one knew whither, having in company
+with him his daughter, Alice, and Mrs. Deborah Debbitch, the child's
+early nurse at the castle.
+
+Lady Peveril, with many tears, took a temporary leave of her son,
+Julian, who was sent as had been long intended for the purpose of
+sharing the education of the young Earl of Derby. The plan seemed to be
+in every respect successful, and when, from time to time, Julian visited
+the house of his father, Lady Peveril had the satisfaction to see him
+improved in person and in manner. In process of time he became a gallant
+and accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the Continent
+with the young earl.
+
+
+_III.--The Island Lovers_
+
+
+Julian, leaving the earl to go on a sailing voyage, assumed the dress of
+one who means to amuse himself with angling. Then, mounted upon a Manx
+pony, he rode briskly over the country, and halted at one of the
+mountain streams, and followed along the bank until he reached a house
+where once a fastness had stood, called the Black Fort.
+
+He received no answer to his knocks, and impatience getting the upper
+hand, Julian opened the door, and passed through the hall into a summer
+parlour.
+
+"How now--how is this?" said a woman's voice. "You here, Master Peveril,
+in spite of all the warnings you have had!"
+
+"Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril. "I am here once more, against
+every prohibition. Where is Alice?"
+
+"Where you will never see her, Master Julian--you may satisfy yourself
+of that," answered Mistress Deborah. "For if Dame Christian should learn
+that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you we
+should soon be obliged to find other quarters."
+
+"Come now, Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured," said Julian. "Consider,
+was not all this intimacy of ours of your own making? Did you not make
+yourself known to me the very first time I strolled up this glen with my
+fishing-rod, and tell me that you were my former keeper, and that Alice
+had been my little playfellow?"
+
+"Yes," said Dame Deborah; "but I did not bid you fall in love with us,
+though, or propose such a matter as marriage either to Alice or myself.
+Why, there is the knight your father, and my lady your mother; and there
+is her father that is half crazy with his religion, and her aunt that
+wears eternal black grogram for that unlucky Colonel Christian; and
+there is the Countess of Derby that would serve us all with the same
+sauce if we were thinking of anything that would displease her. Though I
+may indeed have said your estates were born to be united, and sure
+enough they might be were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth."
+
+The good nature of Dame Debbitch could not, however, resist the appeal
+of Julian, and she left the apartment and ran upstairs.
+
+The visits of Julian to the Black Fort had hitherto been only
+occasional, but his affections were fixed, and his ardent character had
+already declared his love. To-day, on her entrance to the room, Alice
+reproached him for again coming there against her earnest request. "It
+were better that we should part for a long time," she said softly, "and
+for heaven's sake let it be as soon as possible--perhaps it is even now
+too late to prevent some unpleasant accident. Spare yourself, Julian--
+spare me--and in mercy to us both depart, and return not again till you
+can be more reasonable."
+
+"Reasonable?" replied Julian. "Did you not say that if our parents could
+be brought to consent to our union, you would no longer oppose my suit?"
+
+"Indeed, indeed, Julian," said the almost weeping girl, "you ought not
+to press me thus. It is ungenerous, it is cruel. You dared not to
+mention the subject to your own father--how should you venture to
+mention it to mine?"
+
+"Major Bridgenorth," replied Julian, "by my mother's account, is an
+estimable man. I will remind him that to my mother's care he owes the
+dearest treasure and comfort of his life. Let me but know where to find
+him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead my cause
+with him."
+
+"Do not attempt it," said Alice. "He is already a man of sorrows.
+Besides, I could not tell you if I would where he is now to be found. My
+letters reach him from time to time by means of my Aunt Christian, but
+of his address I am entirely ignorant."
+
+"Then, by heaven," answered Julian, "I will watch his arrival in this
+island, and he shall answer me on the subject of my suit."
+
+"Then demand that answer now," said a voice, as the door opened, "for
+here stands Ralph Bridgenorth." As he spoke, he entered the apartment
+with slow and sedate step, and eyed alternately his daughter and Julian
+Peveril with a penetrating glance.
+
+Bidding his daughter learn to rule her passions and retire to her
+chamber, Bridgenorth turned to Julian and told him he had long known of
+this attachment, and went on to point out calmly the differences which
+made the union seem impossible. "But heaven hath at times opened a door
+where man beholds no means of issue," continued Bridgenorth. "Julian,
+your mother is, after the fashion of the world, one of the best and one
+of the wisest of women, with a mind as pure as the original frailty of
+our vile nature will permit. Of your father I say nothing--he is what
+the times and examples of others have made him. I have power over him,
+which ere now he might have felt, but there is one within his chambers
+who might have suffered in his suffering. Enough, however, of this, for
+to-day this is thy habitation."
+
+So saying, he stretched out his thin, bony hand and grasped that of
+Julian Peveril.
+
+Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a pleasant dream from
+which he fears to awake, and whose delight is mingled with wonder and
+with uncertainty, Julian found himself seated between Alice Bridgenorth
+and her father--the being he most loved on earth and the person whom he
+had ever considered as the great obstacle to their intercourse.
+
+It was evening when he departed. "You have not, after all," said
+Bridgenorth, bidding Julian farewell, "told me the cause of your coming
+hither. Will you find no words to ask of me the great boon which you
+seek? Nay, reply not to me now, but go, and peace be with you."
+
+
+_IV.--The Popish Plot_
+
+
+Julian Peveril set out for London when the fictitious "popish plot" of
+Titus Oates had set England "stark staring mad," promising the countess
+that he would apprise her should any danger menace the Earl of Derby or
+herself. He had learnt that Bridgenorth was on the island with secret
+and severe orders, and that the countess in return was issuing warrants
+on her own authority for the apprehension of Bridgenorth, and before
+leaving he obtained one more interview with Alice, who was alive to the
+dangers on all sides.
+
+"Break off all intercourse with our family," said Alice. "Return to your
+parents--or, what will be much safer, visit the Continent, and abide
+till God sends better days to England, for these are black with many a
+storm. Placed as we are, with open war about to break out betwixt our
+parents and friends, we must part on this spot, and at this hour, never
+to meet again."
+
+"No, by heaven!" said Peveril, venturing to throw his arm around her;
+"we part not, Alice. If I am to leave my native land you shall be my
+companion in my exile. Fear not for my parents; they love me, and they
+will soon learn to love, in Alice, the only being on earth who could
+have rendered their son happy. And for your own father, when state and
+church intrigues allow him to bestow a thought upon you, will he not
+think your happiness is cared for when you are my wife? What could his
+pride desire better for you than the establishment which will one day be
+mine?"
+
+"It cannot--it cannot be," said Alice, faltering. "Think what I, the
+cause of all, should feel when your father frowns, your mother weeps,
+your noble friends stand aloof, and you--even you--shall have made the
+painful discovery that you have incurred the resentment of all to
+satisfy a boyish passion. Farewell, then, Julian; but first take the
+solemn advice which I impart to you: shun my father--you cannot walk in
+his paths; leave this island, which will soon be agitated by strange
+incidents; while you stay be on your guard, distrust everything----"
+
+Alice broke off suddenly, and with a faint shriek. Once more her father
+stood unexpectedly before them.
+
+"I thank you, Alice," he said solemnly to his daughter, "for the hints
+you have thrown out; and now retire, and let me complete the conference
+which you have commenced."
+
+"I go, sir," said Alice. "Julian, to you my last words are: Farewell and
+caution!"
+
+She turned from them, and was seen no more.
+
+Bridgenorth turned to Peveril. "You are willing to lead my only child
+into exile from her native country, to give her a claim to the kindness
+and protection from your family, which you know will be disregarded, on
+condition I consent to bestow her hand on you, with a fortune sufficient
+to have matched that of your ancestors when they had most reason to
+boast of their wealth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet,
+so little do I value the goods of this world, that it might not be
+utterly beyond thy power to reconcile me to the match which you have
+proposed."
+
+"Show me but the means, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril, "and you shall
+see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to your
+conditions."
+
+"This is a critical period," cried the major; "it becomes the duty of
+all men to step forward. You, Julian Peveril, yourself know the secret
+but rapid strides which Rome has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry
+within our Protestant land."
+
+"I trust to live and die in the faith of the reformed Church of
+England," said Peveril. "I have seen popery too closely to be friendly
+to its tenets."
+
+"Enough," said Bridgenorth, "that I find thee not as yet enlightened
+with the purer doctrine, but willing to uplift thy testimony against the
+errors and arts of the Church of Rome. At present thy prejudices occupy
+thy mind like the strong keeper of the house mentioned in Scripture.
+But, remember, thou wilt soon be called upon to justify what thou hast
+said, and I trust to see thy name rank high amongst those by whom the
+prey shall be rent from the mighty."
+
+"You have spoken to me in riddles, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril;
+"and I have asked for no explanation. But we do not part in anger?"
+
+"Not in anger, my son," answered Bridgenorth, "but in love and strong
+affection. I accept not thy suit, neither do I reject it; only he that
+would be my son must first show himself the true and loving child of his
+oppressed and deluded country. Farewell; thou shalt hear of me sooner
+than thou thinkest for."
+
+He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, leaving him with confused
+impressions of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Surprised to find himself so
+far in the good graces of Alice's father, he could not help suspecting
+that Bridgenorth was desirous, as the price of his favour, that he
+should adopt some line of conduct inconsistent with the principles of
+his education.
+
+Arrived in England, Julian first hastened to Martindale, only to find
+the castle in the hands of officers of the House of Commons and his
+mother and Sir Geoffrey prisoners on suspicion of conspiring in the
+popish plot, and about to be escorted to London by a strong guard. On
+their departure the property of the castle was taken possession of by an
+attorney in the name of Major Bridgenorth, a large creditor of the
+unfortunate knight.
+
+Julian himself was soon seized and put to trial with his father. But the
+fury of the people had, however, now begun to pass away, and men's minds
+were beginning to cool. The character of the witnesses was more closely
+sifted--their testimonies did not in all cases tally. Chief Justice
+Scroggs, sagacious in the signs of the times, saw that court favour, and
+probably popular opinion also, were about to declare against the
+witnesses and in favour of the accused.
+
+Sir Geoffrey and. Julian were both declared "not guilty" of the
+monstrous and absurd charges brought against them and the accusation
+against Lady Peveril was dropped.
+
+No sooner had the Peverils, father and son, escaped to Lady Peveril's
+lodgings, and the first rapturous meeting over, than Alice Bridgenorth
+was presented by Julian's mother as the pretended daughter of an old
+cavalier, and Sir Geoffrey embraced her warmly. Julian, to whom his
+mother whispered that Alice was there by her father's authority, was as
+one enchanted, when a gentleman arrived from Whitehall bidding Sir
+Geoffrey and his son instantly attend upon the king's presence.
+
+The Countess of Derby had come openly to court, braving all danger, when
+she heard of the arrest of the Peverils, resolved to save their lives.
+From the king's own lips she heard of the acquittal, and Charles II.,
+for the moment anxious to reward the fidelity of his old follower,
+invited them forthwith to Whitehall.
+
+Sir Geoffrey, with every feeling of his early life afloat in his memory,
+threw himself on his knees before the king, and Charles said, with
+feeling, "My good Sir Geoffrey, you have had some hard measure; we owe
+you amends, and will find time to pay our debt."
+
+Later in the evening the Countess of Derby, who had had much private
+conversation with Julian, said, "Your majesty, there is a certain Major
+Bridgenorth, who designs, as we are informed, to leave England for ever.
+By dint of the law he hath acquired strong possession over the domains
+of Peveril, which he desires to restore to the ancient owners with much
+fair land besides, conditionally that our young Julian will receive them
+as the dowry of his only child."
+
+"By my faith!" said the king, "she must be a foul-mouthed wench if
+Julian requires to be pressed to accept her on such fair conditions."
+
+"They love each other like lovers of the last age," said the countess;
+"but the stout old knight likes not the roundheaded alliance."
+
+"Our royal word shall put that to rights," said the king. "Sir Geoffrey
+Peveril has not suffered hardship so often at our command that he will
+refuse our recommendation when it comes to make amends for all losses."
+
+The king did not speak without being fully aware of the ascendancy which
+he possessed over the spirit of the old Tory; and within four weeks
+afterwards the bells of Martindale-Moultrassie were ringing for the
+union of the two families, and the beacon-light of the castle blazed
+high over hill and dale.
+
+
+
+
+
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+     https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234
+
+or filename 24689 would be found at:
+     https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689
+
+An alternative method of locating eBooks:
+     https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL
+
+
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